The Edge of Everything (Untitled #1)(48)

At midnight, her door creaked open, and Jonah crept in, along with a cone of yellow light from the hall.

Zoe pretended to be asleep. Dealing with her brother was not on her list of priorities.

She let out a loud snore.

“I know you’re awake,” said Jonah. “Duh.”

Zoe snored louder.

“Faker,” said Jonah. After a moment, he added, “Where’s X? Why isn’t he back? I liked it when he was here.”

Zoe groaned, and sat up in bed.

“He had to leave,” she said. “You know that, bug.”

“But, like, leave leave?” said Jonah. “Forever leave?”

His voice faltered.

The reality of the situation flooded through Zoe, too. Maybe she’d never see X again. Maybe their kiss had been so engulfing, so singular, because it would be the only one.

“I don’t know about forever,” she said. “All I know is that he wants to come back and that he’s stubborn, like us.”

Jonah seemed to accept this. He approached the foot of Zoe’s bed and prepared to burrow under the blankets.

“No, bug,” she said. “You can’t sleep here. Not tonight.”

He didn’t think she was serious. He lifted the covers.

“No, bug,” she said, snatching away the sheet and blanket.

Jonah left the room without a word, trailing a cloud of hurt. Zoe fell back onto the bed. Through the wall, she could hear Jonah push open their mother’s door and say, “Zoe is the worst. Can I snuggle with you?”

Zoe changed positions yet again. She missed X—there was a lake of pain where her heart should have been—and now she felt guilty, too. Up on the roof, a clump of snow broke apart. It slid down the shingles, dropped past the windows like a body falling, and landed in the snow with a thunk.

She was never going to sleep.

Exasperated, Zoe sat up and hurled her pillow across the room. It struck the shelves above her desk, and sent some trophies clattering to the floor. She tried to assess the damage, but, in the darkness, could only identify an award for Best Sheep Shearer among the casualties. The trophy was of a golden half-naked sheep. It was one of Zoe’s favorites because it reminded her of Val, who shaved the left side of her head. (Val was so gorgeous she could get away with it.) Zoe had bought the trophy at a thrift store in Columbia Falls. The man behind the counter—he’d been dozing and she had to wake him up with the shiny hotel bell—was so surprised that someone wanted the thing that he said, “For real?”

Zoe banged the back of her head against the wall in frustration. Once, twice, three times. Her mother must have thought she was knocking because she knocked back. It was a comforting sound.

Zoe realized she didn’t really want to be alone.

The door to her mom’s room stood open. Zoe entered tentatively, wondering if she’d be turned away. Her mother and Jonah lay huddled under the blankets, whispering like conspirators. Jonah heard Zoe’s footsteps and lifted his head.

“This room is for sad people only,” he said.

He’d been crying.

“I’m sad, too,” said Zoe. “I promise.”

Jonah put on his frowny thinking face. Finally, he nodded.

Zoe went to the foot of the bed and tunneled under the blankets like a gopher, for Jonah’s benefit. When she popped her head out, she saw him snuff out a smile he didn’t want her to see.

Zoe settled against the wall so that she and her mother lay shielding Jonah like parentheses.

“Your body’s so warm,” she told him.

“I get warm when I’m sad,” he said. “Because of science.”

Zoe and her mother took turns patting Jonah’s hair. A clunky metal fan that their mom used to lull herself to sleep spun noisily in a corner, like the propeller of an old plane.

Jonah fell asleep within minutes, and Zoe’s mother drifted off soon after. Zoe lay on her side, her thoughts swirling. Was this what love was like—one part pleasure, two parts pain? Zoe thought of Val’s obsession with Gloria. She understood it now. She’d never felt anything like that with Dallas—it had never even occurred to her to make a Tumblr about his feet. For one thing, she was pretty sure he waxed them.

Zoe laughed softly, and her body relaxed, muscle by muscle. She could feel sleep coming for her at last.

But then Jonah, who’d apparently not been sleeping, announced into the darkness, “I’m not going to school tomorrow.”

Zoe clenched.

“Shhh,” said her mother, her voice soggy with sleep. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“Okay, but I’m not going,” Jonah said, as defiantly as he could. “And you can’t make me.”

“We will talk about it in the morning.”

“I know you’ll try to make me. But I won’t. I hate it.”

Zoe knew she should keep her mouth shut. But the idea that Jonah hated school was ridiculous. His homeroom teacher, Miss Noelle—he worshipped her. Once, he’d drawn a picture of her on his arm, like a tattoo.

“You don’t hate it, bug,” she said. “Don’t say that.”

“I hate it if I say I hate it,” he said.

He sat bolt upright, and kicked the covers to the bottom of the bed.

Crap, thought Zoe. Here comes a meltdown.