Please Don't Tell Part 31

I'm not ready to let go.

I run to the kitchen. It's clean, empty. No sign of Grace. But even if she saw Levi, she wouldn't guess the truth. There's no Adam in him.

He's reaching for the door.

"I don't want you to be temporary," I blurt.

"Are you, like . . . mad?" he says in a small voice. "That I'm leaving?"

"Did you think I'd be a jerk about it and not be happy that your mom's okay?" Which is exactly what I'm being. "Did you think I'd flip out? Because, okay, I am flipping out, but that's only because I'm upset that you thought I'd do that, so this is a self-fulfilled prophecy-"

"Other people, they can hide their reactions," he cuts in. "Not you. I knew if you said, 'That's great, Levi! I'm so happy for you!' or any nice thing that a friend would say, that'd be the end of it, that'd be how you really felt."

"I swear, I am happy for you, Levi." I'm a terrible friend.

He runs his hand through his hair. "I didn't want that to be your reaction. I wanted you to be p.i.s.sed that I was leaving."

"What? Why did you want me to be p.i.s.sed?"

"Joy? Who's that?"

I turn and Grace is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, a cereal-flecked bowl in her hand, one of the heavy clay ones. All my excuses dissolve on my tongue. I realize with sudden absolute clarity that none of them would matter to her.

She clears her throat. "Sorry . . ."

She doesn't recognize him. How could she? She doesn't know.

"You must be Grace." Levi smiles.

She's makeupless. Her shirt's stained. She didn't know I had someone over. But she can't run back upstairs, she's invested in this interaction now. Thirty seconds of halfhearted chat and she'll leave. Please don't mention Adam, Levi.

"This is my American History tutor," I make myself say.

"Joy always talks about you." His happiness is genuine.

She gives a tiny smile. Then she edges past us, rinses out her bowl in the sink, and fishes a bag of microwave popcorn from the cupboard. She opens the microwave and sticks the popcorn in. It's all very ch.o.r.eographed. She keeps the bowl tucked under her arm like a talisman.

Two minutes and fifty seconds on the microwave. The timer to a nuclear holocaust.

"I like your shirt," Levi offers.

There are so many unlit fuses in the room.

"Are you a freshman?" She stays on the other side of the kitchen, away from him. "I haven't seen you around."

"Junior. I'm visiting from Indiana."

"I always forget about Indiana," she says, relatively normally. "All the I states."

She doesn't suspect.

"How many even are there?" agrees Levi. "Idaho . . ."

This is fine.

"Iowa," she says.

The popcorn's going off like gunfire.

"Anyway," Levi says. "I don't know if you knew Adam Gordon, but I'm his half brother. I came up for the funeral and ended up staying a while. Joy was the first person in town I met-at the funeral, actually-and she's been . . . great . . ."

His voice trails off as horror and confusion are unfolding in Grace's expression, like awful flowers.

It's okay. It'll be fine. I'll send Levi away. I'll explain everything- It takes only a second. Her arm whips up and there's a crash. The kitchen floor turns into a minefield of clay shards and Levi's half collapsed against the stove, one hand clapped to his forehead, bright neon electric glowing red blood pouring out between his fingers.

"Grace!" I scream.

"What the f.u.c.k, Joy?" She cries. "What the f.u.c.k?"

This is not the Grace I fell asleep next to last night.

This is a Grace I've never met.

I reach for Levi, peel his hand back from his face. There's a thin gash bisecting his eyebrow, blood pouring out of it. The rest of him is milk pale. He pulls his hand from my grasp and looks wonderingly at the blood on it.

"At the funeral?" Grace is snarling. "Like, hey, let me show you around? Did you take him to the Ice Cream Palace? I know you took him into our house! Where I live!"

I can't hold both her and Levi together at the same time. Both of them are bleeding bright terrible colors.

I finally got her mad at me. I didn't know this is what it would look like.

"You have a right to be angry-" I whisper.

"You should be angry. But you're not. Not enough." Her bangs stick to her forehead with sweat. She's not making sense. "You never were. You didn't have to be."

Levi staggers upright, half his face streaked crimson.

My sister did this.

She lied to me. She's not okay.

"You need help." I straighten as calmly as I can manage. My voice breaks anyway. "We'll get you help, Grace."

"All I needed was for you to be on my side," she throws at me.

I grope for Levi's wrist, clutch it tight. He stares transfixed at my sister, then at me. His forehead's still bleeding. "Are you-" he starts.

"Go outside just for a second, okay? Stay on the porch. I'll handle this."

"Now I'm something to be handled." Grace's eyes glint with tears.

Holding a tea towel to his forehead, Levi opens the front door with his free hand and disappears through it.

I'm alone in my bloodstained shattered kitchen with my bloodstained shattered sister.

She starts shaking.

"Oh my G.o.d." She's paralyzed with sudden guilt. "I didn't mean-I was scared-I don't know what-"

I want to hold her, but I don't know if it would help or make it worse.

"It was like-" She chokes. "You think every trace of a person is gone from the world-and then part of him is standing in your kitchen-"

"There's no part of Adam in Levi," I say quickly, my heart pounding.

"How do you know?"

"Trust me." But she doesn't. She doesn't trust me anymore. My chest throbs. "Things still aren't okay with us, are they?"

She shies back like a cat. "This is about you, not me. This is about you betraying me."

"It's okay to need help, Grace." Calm, calm. I know what path she needs to take now. "Therapy helped November-"

"I don't need that," she snarls. "I'm not that kind of person."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of-"

"Not me." She backs away. "I'm different."

"Grace-"

But she's already sprinting up the stairs.

Levi rea.s.sures me on the porch as I examine his cut. "My forehead's fine. Head scratches bleed a lot, is all."

He's right. It's barely bleeding anymore. It doesn't make me feel better.

"What happened?" he asks.

"I don't know," I lie. Now that she's not in front of me, I'm shaking as hard as she was. Fights never catch up to me until they're over.

"Tell her not to feel bad, okay?" He twists the b.l.o.o.d.y towel in his hand. "I get it. It's not her fault. My mom's been there."

"She's not crazy!" I snap before remembering he doesn't like the c-word.

But isn't that what I told her when I said she needs professional help? Now I understand why he doesn't like that word. It makes something sound so much worse than it is.

He looks at me with a little bit of pity. "We don't have to talk about it right now."

"I know that wasn't what you were expecting."

"I'm sure she's a good person." He nudges me, echoing what I said.

We sit in silence for awhile in the cold breeze, recovering. There's a pit in my stomach at the thought of going upstairs and talking to Grace.

"Look," he says. "This isn't the best time, I get that. And I understand if you have to be with her. But everything between us has been about our siblings since the day we met. Tomorrow's my last real day here. That Halloween fair is happening. There's no school, it's a teacher conference day. Let's go together. Let's talk about something other than them."

I'm supposed to be centering my life around her again.

But Levi is going away forever.

"If you're up to it, that is." He flushes. "You were sick. You are sick. And I mean, if I'm feeling up to it, with my excellent new battle scar and all."

One last moment of stolen time. Then he'll leave and I'll go back to being hers alone.

"Okay," I say, ignoring the wave of guilt.

He smiles uncertainly beneath the blood on his face, like he's not sure it's right, either. "Meet you at the ticket booth at noon."

When Mom and Dad get home, the house fills with normal sounds. Pots clattering, cooking noises. Grace's door hasn't opened yet. I've been waiting for her to go downstairs first.

I cleaned up, but maybe I missed a broken shard, a spot of blood. Maybe Mom will come upstairs and ask what happened and I won't have to start this conversation.

But she doesn't.

So I get out of bed.

It's Grace's choice to tell them about Adam, but I still have to tell them she needs help. If they refuse to see it for themselves, I'll make them look.

Before I can do anything, my phone buzzes.

All my blood leaves my body.

What does Ca.s.sius want? He said it was over.

To Joy Morris- There's one last thing that I need you to do.

I don't bother scrolling down. Preston was right. I shouldn't have let him get away with it.

I open Facebook, find Ca.s.sius's cell number, and call it.

He answers on the third ring.

"What the h.e.l.l is wrong with you?" I don't realize how furious I am until I speak.

"Who is this?"

"I was going to forget about it, Ca.s.sius. I was going to chalk it all up to some kind of temporary insanity after what went on with your sister. G.o.d knows I understand that feeling. I even felt bad for you. But do you seriously think you can pull this s.h.i.t when you already told me I didn't kill him? What part of your brain made you think that would work?"