TWO

The last night I saw Cate, she was drunk. Or on drugs. Or just plain crazy.

Take your pick.

I snuck into her room on the eve of her sentencing. It was close to midnight. None of her lights were on, but a full moon spilled a silvery wash across the floorboards, the far wall.

I huddled at the foot of her bed, like a rodent in sawdust.

I was scared.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she told me.

My chest hiccupped, once, twice. I was filled not only with fear, but that unbearable sting of sadness and grief: I was losing my sister. In truth, she’d been lost for some time now, but I didn’t want her to go. Only she’d caused so much pain, she didn’t deserve to stay.

I knew that.

And it made me sad.

Forcing down the lump rising in my throat, I whispered, “Why’d you do it?”

Cate snorted. “Oh, so you think I did it now, do you? You think I’m guilty?”

“Well, I guess … well, you pleaded guilty, didn’t you? That’s what the judge said.”

“Fuck you, Jamie! Just fuck you! You’re like all the rest of them!”

“Shhh!” Her anger scraped my nerves. “Stop screaming, all right!”

My sister leaped from her bed and spun herself toward the window. She wore hardly anything the way she always did. Just panties and some sheer top. I turned away and didn’t look. I didn’t dare. I was fourteen. She was sixteen. I knew better.

“If you didn’t do it, then who did?” I asked, my face still staring at the wall. Actually I was staring at a poster of Anne Parillaud from La Femme Nikita. It was hard not to. Those lips. Those eyes.

That gun.

From across the room, I heard the sharp flick-whoosh and hiss of a butane lighter. The sound chilled me. It set my hands tingling. It reminded me of my own secret. The one I’d vowed not to tell, but knew I’d never forget. Cate took a deep inhale of whatever it was she was smoking, then blew it all back into the night like a promise. “Oh, right, little brother. You’re real good, you know that?”

“Good at what?” I asked.

She laughed loudly, her throaty voice deeper and more cutting than it’d ever been. “Acting like you don’t know anything.”