“ELLE, IT’S ABOUT MARK.”
I barely recognize her voice. This isn’t the first time she has called at 2 a.m.—she’s nocturnal, awake when the rest of us are drooling into our pillowcases. This isn’t the first time she has called and sounded scared. This isn’t the first time she has started with Elle, it’s about Mark. The fights are getting more intense, the days between an argument getting shorter. She never used to call—it was always a text. But lately she needs to hear my voice. Or needs me to hear hers.
“What did he do now?” I snap up in my bed, pushing sweaty hair out of my face. “Where are you?”
“He fell.”
“What? Fell where?”
“In the woods, Elle.”
“On what? Is he okay?” Hopefully, he didn’t break anything. Mark the Shark needs all body parts intact for his illustrious swimming career. Even though that isn’t going so well anymore—You ruined my life, I heard him tell Tabby at my last party. A conversation she denied ever happened when I asked her about it later.
Tabby never lied to me before Mark came along. Even though I didn’t pay her the same courtesy.
“This is serious, Elle.” Her voice trails off. “He’s not okay. He’s…”
I know it before she says it, by the weight of her silence. I know it.
“He’s dead.”
And for a terrible few seconds, or maybe longer, I’m relieved.