I SLINK LOWER, the cold porcelain biting at my skin as I settle against the back of the tub. I bend my knees and dip even lower as the water rises—first to my chest, then to my chin, then to my nose. Sadbath central, but who cares. Allison has been screaming at me about my reports, and I just—I just need it to be quiet.
It’s almost peaceful floating here, the water enveloping me, making me feel safe in a way I don’t anywhere else. Somewhere in the back of my head, I know I should get out, need to get out, that I can’t float here forever.
But there are bad things waiting on the other side of the bathroom door. Like the fact that Peak hates me, like I knew she would. She didn’t even respond to the half-assed text apology I sent—not that I expected her to—or to the three I sent after it either. At the moment, exploring alternatives to living with what I’ve done seems pretty appealing.
I even tried calling my mom, telling her I was feeling down, that being here wasn’t what I thought it would be. But she was rushing out to meet some friends and told me the standard “Tough it out, Rid. Tomorrow is a new day.” Which, I guess, but.
The steam rises from the water and disappears into the air. I wonder what it’s like to be like that, to fit so perfectly in the universe that you can disappear in it. I just want to fit. Somewhere. Anywhere. I don’t know. I almost did for a minute. It felt like it anyway; goofing off at Verona with Jubilee was the closest I ever felt to home.
I slide down, all the way down this time, my hair floating up as my head hits the bottom of the tub. The water drifts up my nose and in my ears; it’s a little uncomfortable but not bad, and everything is so quiet, just a hint of splashing and the sound of my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Somehow even that seems watery and far away, like it’s someone else’s heart in someone else’s body. And it must be—it has to be—because it feels like Peak’s got mine in her fist in the next town over.
I plant my feet against the front of the tub and shove up, breaking through the surface with a gasp as water splashes everywhere. The air feels good against my too-hot skin as I crawl out, grabbing a towel and leaving little wet footprints in my wake. I’ll clean it up later. Or I won’t. I suppose either way it doesn’t actually matter.
I pull on some sweats and grab my phone, scrolling through to my sister’s name. I promised Gray I would always call in an emergency, and I think maybe this is one. I know she’s in Boston again, visiting friends, and I shouldn’t be bothering her. But still, this is me keeping a promise for once in my life.
“Hey, Ridley,” she says, picking up on the second ring, and I can hear her smile through the phone. It’s loud wherever she is, and I glance at the time. It’s barely nine o’clock; she’s probably still out to dinner or something. Gray’s like that—she’s the kind of person who’ll have dinner at eight, the kind of person other people want to be around.
“Hi.” I try to sound cheerful. I am so not her problem, and I feel bad for calling now.
“Shit, hang on a second?”
“It’s okay,” I say, because truly I don’t want to fuck up her night. I wouldn’t have called if she hadn’t made me swear.
“Can you hear me?” she asks half a minute later. Wherever she is now, it’s quiet.
“Yeah, but don’t worry about it.”
“Shut up, Ridley. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I lie. “I was just bored.”
“You sure?” She hesitates, and I know what’s coming. “Are you safe?”
I roll onto my back and drop one arm over my eyes. I hate when she asks if I’m safe. It makes me feel like I’m two years old. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. I was just calling to say hi.”
“I’d rather talk to you than anybody in that room, and you know it. Whatever it is you’re trying not to tell me, spill, or I’m driving over right now to make you say it face-to-face.”
I scoff. “Boston’s like ninety minutes away.”
“Sixty in a rush,” she says, her voice firm and worried. “Don’t test me.”
“Peak is Vera Flores’s stepdaughter,” I blurt out, because Peak has been the subject of probably 60 percent of my texts with Gray lately, and she’ll get exactly how bad that is.
“Holy shit,” she says, and then goes quiet for a second. “How is that possible?” I don’t answer, and there’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. “You knew when you agreed to do this, didn’t you?”
I roll onto my side, blinking hard. “Yeah.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t put this together. Ridley, this is really . . .” She trails off like she doesn’t know what else to say.
“I screwed up. I know.”
“Peak was your in this whole time? I thought you liked her.”
“I do like her! I really like her! But Dad was so happy, and it just snowballed. All of a sudden, I was back in my old room, and he was taking me out to dinner and making small talk, and he’s never been like that with me.”
“Ridley—”
“You know that’s true! You and I might have the same last name, but we don’t have the same parents. They aren’t there for me the way they are for you. And when he dangled a chance to come home—”
“That’s not home, Ridley. It’s just a house we used to live in.”
“You don’t understand.” My eyes burn, because she doesn’t. She really doesn’t.
“I’m trying,” she says. “But you can’t keep this up. It’s not healthy for you, and it’s not fair to her.”
“I know. I told her today that I was Bats.”
“Oh god, what did she say?”
“She seemed happy at first.”
“At first?” Her voice sounds hesitant, and I squeeze my eyes shut because if I don’t, I’m going to start bawling.
“Yeah.” I sniff. “And then I told her my real last name, and she slammed the door in my face.”
She sighs, and I count to five before she speaks again. “Okay, walk me through it.”
I shrug, even though she can’t see me. “There’s nothing really to walk through. I told her everything, and now she hates me.”
“All of it?”
“Well, she guessed a lot of it herself, but yeah.”
“Oh, Ridley.”
“I just couldn’t do it anymore,” I say, dragging a hand through my still-wet hair. “I care about her too much to lie.”
“Do you love her?” Gray asks, and there’s no judgment there, just a question.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s a hell of a reveal for ‘I don’t know.’”
“Yeah. So how do I fix it?”
Gray’s quiet again, and for the first time, I wonder if maybe she doesn’t have the answer, but that’s impossible. Gray has had the solution to everything since I was born.
“Grand sweeping gesture?” she says finally. “It works in the movies.”
“Are you being serious?”
“No. Don’t actually do that. Just try to talk to her, if she’ll let you. And try to rebuild her trust. And stop spying on her store.”
“About that. I’m actually not. It turns out I suck at screwing people over. No wonder I’m the black sheep of the family.”
“Wow, thanks.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I say, even though I kind of did. “But yeah, I’ve been sending fake reports too. I’d never tell Dad, but I did find out one thing that—”
“Don’t tell me about it either.”
I stare down at my feet, the reality of the situation washing over me again, making everything seem impossible. I swallow hard. “What do I do if she won’t talk to me?”
“Then you back off and give her space,” she says softly. “Either she comes around on her own, or you chalk it up to a lesson learned.”
“That’s it? You’re telling me to give up?”
“It’s not giving up; it’s respecting what she wants, which you should have done in the first place by being honest with her. I want this to work out for you so bad, but what you did was beyond reprehensible, even if I get the reasons why you did it. Just be prepared, okay? Sometimes you can’t fix things once they’re broken. If she doesn’t want to talk, then you need to back off.”
“Yeah.” I swallow hard and don’t mention the fact that Peak’s already been ignoring my texts.
Gray sighs again, and I swear I feel that shit in my soul. “Maybe tearing it all down wasn’t the worst thing. Nothing good would ever come from the lies. So either you sped up the inevitable, or you have the chance to build something that’s actually solid.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I say, even though I don’t really believe it.
“I’m glad you called, Rid. Let’s do something this weekend. Pick a cool spot to eat. We’ll see a movie and go out to dinner after.”
“Sure,” I say, pretending not to notice that she’s giving me something concrete to look forward to, a goal to reach. She read a bunch of self-help-type books a few years back—once she figured out what a mess I was—and decided I would benefit from concrete goals and plans. She’s been not so subtle about doing it ever since.
“All right, let me know how it goes. I expect a text every day with an update.”
“Yes, Grayson,” I say, rolling my eyes at her and her goals.
It does weirdly help, though.
I set the phone down and then think better of it, scrolling to the last song Peak sent me. I put it on a loop and stay awake as long as I can, listening. And when I do fall asleep, I dream about butterflies.