I WANTED TO GO FASTER, but my arms and legs had turned to gelatin, like my bones had softened inside me and were now useless. The tree and fire, the camera and Neil, me yelling at Chris—those words still echoing through the air, still pounding through my body—had washed out all my thoughts and used up everything I had in me.
It was almost eleven by the time I got home. Everyone was in bed, the house dark, as usual. I was hungry and tired. All I wanted was to keep my mind exactly as it was: not thinking, not feeling. I wanted to take my leftover mac and cheese up to my room and eat it in bed, and then fall asleep without even brushing my teeth.
I trudged up the stairs, each step a chore. As I walked by Mallory’s room, Roxie lifted her head, like she did every night. I brought my microwaved container, along with a fork and a glass of water, and set it down on Mallory’s nightstand, then silently closed the door behind me.
I didn’t turn on the light as I sat down on her bed. The moon shone through the window, offering just enough light to see. Roxie sniffed at the air and watched closely as I speared the individual noodles with the tines of my fork and proceeded to eat them four parallel noodles at a time. As the food settled into my stomach, the blankness in my mind began populating with thoughts again. I looked down at the palms of my hands, scraped and stinging.
Mallory hated me—she fucking hated me.
I had the urge to call Hayden. I wanted to tell her everything, but I wasn’t sure where to start. I didn’t know how to explain the handful of tiny things that had happened in the few days she’d been gone. I didn’t know how to explain the way those things had changed everything. She was probably busy having fun, and besides, she wasn’t going to be able to tell me what I wanted to hear. I wanted her to tell me I’d done nothing wrong, that everything was okay and things would go back to normal soon, that I was a good person, that my sister didn’t really hate me.
I leaned back onto Mallory’s bed, let myself sink into her pillows. Roxie rested her chin on my foot, and sighed.
So, I had yelled at Chris.
I’d yelled at him for being the kind of guy who thinks he’s the answer to some girl’s problems, a girl he doesn’t know the first thing about. I knew I’d been harsh with him, but what was more important was this insipid, nagging thought in the back of my mind. If Mallory truly hated me, nothing I could do now would ever be able to change that.