Where Silence Gathers (Some Quiet Place #2)(17)

“Alex.” Halting, I keep my gaze on the floor. I can feel Missy fixing her worried eyes on me, though. “What can we do?”

“What?” I can’t do this right now. I can’t.

“What can we do?” she repeats, more forcefully this time. “You know, I thought it was strange that Briana got her acceptance letter from UW and we still hadn’t heard anything. So I called the school to check on your application. They informed me that they’d never received one … which means you’ve been lying to us for months. We could take your car away, we could ground you, we could make you clean the entire building. We could even revisit counseling. But none of that’s going to help you, though, is it? I’m not delusional, Alex. Everyone has secrets, especially teenagers. I just wish you would talk to us. So I’m asking. What can we do?”

“Missy, I … ” She waits. I angle my body toward her, making a helpless gesture. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I just … I have some things to figure out.”

One side of her face quivers from the light of the TV. It matches her voice when she asks, “Like whether or not you want a future?”

“No.” Like whether or not someone else should have one.

But I can’t say that. I can’t offer her any promises or tell her things are going to change, either. All I can say is this: “I’m sorry. I am.”

My aunt just looks at me for what feels like a very long, long time. Then she whispers, “Destroying yourself isn’t going to bring them back, Alex.”

Silence. She saves me from having to answer by getting up. Slowly, she walks past and creaks down the hallway. Into her room. Click.

The stench of Guilt fills my nostrils. Her hand settles on my shoulder and it feels as if she’s made of concrete, it’s so heavy. I walk away. Without showering or brushing my teeth—again—I go to bed. I stare at nothing. Soon, Angus knocks on the wall.

For the first time, I don’t knock back.

Saul comes home around ten. But he doesn’t come up to the apartment. Instead, I hear him tinkering around in the shop below, playing the instruments no one wanted anymore. After a while, I recognize the melody: Swan Lake. It was one of my dad’s favorites. He’d been teaching it to me before he died. Saul plays it over and over again, and a lump forms in my throat as I listen. The voices of those sad pianos eventually lull me into dreamland … the music of something forgotten, something aching to be remembered.





SEVEN


I dream of my family.

We’re laughing, teeth glinting in the sunlight. The grass is green and birds sing. A circle of Emotions surround us where we sit in the park. Joy, Love, Anticipation, Hope. All the good ones, whose touches are like a drug. Enthralling, thrilling, addicting. I sit between my parents—twelve years old again—with Hunter in my lap. He’s sucking on his thumb.

“William, don’t,” Mom suddenly says, her voice high and frightened. The sun ducks behind some clouds, casting shadow over all of us. I turn my head to look at Dad, but he’s cut off from us now, surrounded by a different group of Emotions. Anger, Despair, Desperation, even Hate. All I can see are the backs of their heads.

“Mom? What’s happening?”

She covers my eyes, holding me close as if to shield me. “He’s doing it for you, he’s doing it for you,” she starts chanting. I’m a quiet hole of fear. I want to run to Dad and I want to run away all at once. Mom’s smell wraps around me just as securely as her arms. Honeysuckle.

Then the sun brightens.

I open my eyes, and I’m utterly alone. Mom and Hunter are gone. I turn to where Dad was, but he’s disappeared too, along with the Emotions haunting him. The only thing left in his place is a single, glinting flash drive.



The town clock is sounding, over and over again. Wake up, wake up, it says. I want to take a hammer and smash it into silence.

My eyes flutter open, and even before I see her I know she’s here. “I hate you,” I rasp.

Dream blinks, the movement slow and deliberate. She’s a new Element that—for some reason—replaced the old Dream. There was something especially disturbing about him, anyway, so I accepted the change without bothering to ask questions. She stands next to my bed. She’s one of the strangest-looking Elements there is: black hair and eyelashes, skin so pale I should be able to see veins, long limbs that are almost unnatural. Her lithe body is draped in a gossamer gown of more black. Her feet are bare and her toes peek out at me. Long, bony toes.

“No you don’t,” she replies, in a voice that’s made of feathers. Then it’s my turn to blink, and my room is empty.

She’s right. I don’t hate her. Twisted as it is, she gave me back my family for one night.

I must be running late; the air smells of burnt bacon and the clock struck eight times. Missy didn’t wake me up. I fly out of bed, stumbling over clothes on the floor. The window is tightly shut, exactly as it should be. Relief blooms in my chest and I dart to the bathroom, ignoring the Emotion hurrying after me.

Fifteen minutes later I’m tentatively poking my head into the kitchen. My wet hair drips, and my eyebrow ring must be getting infected because it hurts. Saul is in his usual spot, chewing loudly. There’s a bowl of cereal in front of him and Missy is nowhere to be seen. He doesn’t even look up when he asks, “What happened to your car mirror?”