Burn Our Bodies Down(56)

And now I know. This is how Gram punishes. This is where Mom learned it, only it’s different here, sweeter and sharper at the same time, and I don’t know how she survived it as long as she did, because I can’t breathe, and I can’t be here, and I can’t do this for one second longer.

I claw at the dress, fumble over my shoulder for the zipper. One of the seams splits as I pull at the back, yank at the fabric until it tears along the zipper and falls away from me. My whole body hot, my skin itching, crawling, but the dress is off and falling to the floor. I step out of it, kick away the fabric tangling around my feet.

The air cold, sweat like salt in my mouth. For a second I stand there and catch my breath, my skin so pale it’s edged in a glow. Not right. Something with me is not right. Gram and Fairhaven, and I’ve been letting it happen all around me, shutting my eyes and pretending, when of course that girl lived here, and of course Gram knew her, and loved her, and let her die.

I hurry back into my clothes, run downstairs and through the hallways, bang out the screen door and into the sunlight. I brace my hands on my knees, feel an acid sting in my stomach. But I won’t. I refuse. Tears pricking my eyes, bile climbing my throat—none of it will ever sneak out. Fuck this family, and fuck this house. I don’t have to stay here a second longer.





twenty





mrs. Miller doesn’t look surprised to see me when I turn up on her porch, breathing hard and on the edge of tears. It’s around lunchtime, and over her shoulder I can see the table set for two, silverware gleaming, but she lets me in without a moment’s hesitation and asks if I’m hungry.

“No, thank you,” I say, my throat embarrassingly tight. “I’m sorry to just show up.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re welcome anytime,” she says, depositing me on one of the couches in the open living room and going into the kitchen. I hear the clink of ice cubes in a glass, and she’s back in a second with water for me. I take the glass from her and try not to drop it when she smooths her thumb along my forehead. “I’ll call Tess down.”

I haven’t seen Tess since the station. Haven’t even thought about her except to wonder if she got in trouble. But if Mrs. Miller’s smile as she leaves is anything to go by, Tess is fine.

The quiet presses in as soon as I’m alone. My mom somewhere in Phalene, waiting for me. Gram at Fairhaven. And me here with the Millers, with a family whose roots reach almost as deep as mine. This is a family that can help me.

“Hey,” Tess says, coming down the hallway from the staircase, her mom behind her. Tess only has one sock on and is in the middle of pulling on the other, her balance precarious, ponytail coming loose.

I get up from the couch, checking to make sure I haven’t left any dirt on the white fabric. “Is Eli with you?” I ask. I have things I need to ask Tess, but I don’t want to have this conversation with him around.

“Yes, is he?” Mrs. Miller adds.

“No, he’s at his.” Her tone is light and easy, but there’s a strain to her smile I think I’m not supposed to notice. Did she get in trouble for being at the station? I was pretty sure she’d gotten away clean. “You said to ask next time he stayed. And I didn’t ask, so he’s not here.”

“Look at that,” Mrs. Miller says, and Tess sighs.

“I’m a very good daughter, you know.”

“A very good daughter who’s about to skip lunch, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Tess nods to the doors behind the dining room table, which open onto the back porch. “Want to go outside, Margot? Or more importantly, want to not be here?”

It doesn’t sound like a joke, the way it’s supposed to. I look guiltily at Mrs. Miller, but she doesn’t seem to be bothered. “I’ll leave plates for you both,” she says, and before I can respond, Tess is pulling the back doors open and tugging me through.

It’s just like Fairhaven. Or what Fairhaven must have been, once. The same kind of view, the same kitchen light behind me. But this place is still a working farm. Machinery waiting in the distance, a trio of silos far enough away that they look like toys. Gram must have cut Fairhaven in half when she sold this plot to the Millers.

“I won’t ask you what happened,” Tess says, and I jump. “But if you want to tell me, I want to know.”

I’d forgotten she was there. Next to me, in a sweatshirt that’s probably Eli’s and a pair of basketball shorts that definitely are. Startlingly serious, her eyes red and weary.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She waves me off and drops to sit on the edge of the porch, stretching her legs out into the grass, tracks left there by the mower still clear. “Fine. Come on. You look like you’re about to keel over.”

I join her, leaving space between us that she immediately fills, twisting to lean back against one of the porch posts and tucking her feet against my thigh, her knees drawn up to her chest. For a moment she just looks at me and I look right back.

I don’t know what this is. The reaching in my chest. I thought I recognized it when I met her—the attraction I’m familiar with, the one I know from girls at school. But it’s not that. Tess is…she’s someone who knows. I don’t want to be with her. I just want someone to see me, and she does.