“Whose side are you on, asshole?” I ask, taking a step towards him. My patience is running fucking thin with this guy.
“Yours. I’m on yours.” Breaker erratically points at me, forcing me backwards. “Always have been, douchebag, but I’m also on hers.” He rolls his eyes over to Palmer, and she laughs. “You don’t have to talk to him, not yet, if you don’t want to, and you”— he glares at me over his shoulder— “it’s about damn time.”
Breaker storms off, and I would think he’s mad if it wasn’t for the stupid grin on his face. I pick up Palmer’s backpack and sling it over my shoulder. She follows my lead, falling into step beside me. We have eyes on us as we make our way through campus. It’s something I’ve grown used to since freshman year when I no longer could stay invisible.
“They’ve all backed off. Everything is back to what it was before. I’m invisible,” Palmer whispers. “Let me guess, you played a hand in that?”
“You can say that.” I tuck my hands into my pants pockets, forcing myself to stare straight ahead and not look at her.
“If you’re expecting a thank you, then you can fuck right off.”
I shouldn’t laugh, but I fucking do. This right here is one of the reasons why I fell for Palmer in the first place. She’s a snarly attitude attached to a pretty face.
“We’re still doing this then?” I jump in front of her, blocking the path. She tries to sidestep me but fails. “You want to hate me forever, Palmer, is that it?”
“As if I don’t have a reason to.” Her flat palms slam into my chest. I’m unmoving. My hands wrap lightly around her wrists, and she tugs. “Please, let go of me.”
“Fine.” I release her. “But you need to know, the fact that my actions caused you any hurt, kills me, Palmer. The intimidation was all a lie. Everything else, it was me.”
“If you think that makes it any better, you’re an even bigger asshole than I thought,” she groans. “What is with you boys, thinking because you say I’m sorry it makes it all go away?”
“Then how come you’ve forgiven Breaker?”
“Because I didn’t care for him like I cared for you, Marek.” Her eyes narrow, and her brows furrow. “Are you that dense, that you didn’t even notice how deep you burrowed under my skin, even when you were pretending to hate me?”
“No, I’m not that dense.”
“It’s taken me so long to put my mind at rest, to understand that horrible things happen to relatively good people, but no matter how hard I try, this part of me always felt in limbo between grieving her and an urgency to fill this void she left.” She shrugs, uncertainty masking her face. “I don’t know how to be okay, and you showing up like this?”
“Maybe it’s okay to hurt,” I offer, knowing she isn’t looking for advice from me. I’m the last person she’d turn to.
“Is that what you are?” Her head tilts, her gaze burning into me. “Hurt?”
I close my eyes, collecting my breaths like they’re earnings. When I open them, Palmer is waiting. “I still remember the day my sister died.”
“Your sister?” She inches closer to me. “I didn’t know.”
“You weren’t meant to.” I shove my hands in my back pockets, uncomfortable with being uncomfortable. Vulnerability isn’t something I’ve been taught. “It was ten years ago. I was eight. She was just shy of her fifth birthday, so certain I’d make her dreams come true and have a real unicorn at her party. Penelope was a force to be reckoned with.”
The memory of my baby sister is too much. This is why I’ve pushed her down, made her disappear in my mind. Until now, seeing Palmer still hurting so bad, so lost in her own grief, forces me to acknowledge we aren’t much different.
“She wanted to go swimming that day. Henry was at the house to watch us. He was distracted with a girl in the upstairs bedroom, not to mention the lines of cocaine on the table. I was eight, but not stupid.” I swallow hard and continue. “I pushed Penelope out of my room, told her I’d help her into her swimsuit after I finished doing whatever I was doing at the time. It was meaningless. I can’t even remember what it was that distracted me from my sister. My uncle found her face down in the pool an hour later, wearing her pink-striped bathing suit. He tried to revive her, pressed on her fragile chest until the paramedics showed up, but it was too late.”
“Marek.” My name is as soft as velvet, trying its hardest to sooth me, make me not feel less than, but nothing ever will.
She takes another step towards me, but I hold up my hands, stopping her. I don’t want her affection because she pities me in some way.
“No, I want to talk about it.” I nod, ready to speak these words I’ve held in for so long. It’s a big secret, a lot of weight to carry around. “Henry told my mother I said I would watch her. He blamed me, an eight-year-old, for the tragic death of his own baby sister. After that day, my own mother could barely look at me. My father had always been absent, but it created an even bigger hole in our family.”
“You were eight, Marek. None of that was your fault.”
“That’s why Henry’s been spending the last ten years trying to make it up to me. Offering me the bid at Glass Heart Academy, equipping me with the best and greatest things money can buy. Everything bought and paid for with blood money.”
“Did you ever try to tell your parents the truth?” Palmer sits on the brick wall of the stairs leading to the building. She eyes the spot next to her, and I reluctantly take it.
“Once, but it didn’t matter. The damage had already been done. Only Henry and I know that when he stumbled down the stairs and found her, he could barely stand up on his own. How he sent me back inside the house to clean up his mess, too afraid my parents would see the truth. And I did it all. It’s why I don’t go in the water. My parents sent me to a therapist, and they believe the trauma caused my brain to forget how to swim. Like subconsciously reprogrammed my brain.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?”
“Because you aren’t alone. Every day, I feel that void you’re talking about. My loss turned me into a monster. Yours carried you into the arms of one.”
“Two fucked up souls.” She pats me on the leg. For the first time, we understand each other. We’d never reached this point before I fucked everything up.
“No more secrets between us, Palmer. Now you get to decide whether you’re willing to dance with all of my skeletons.”
“Thanks for walking me to class, Marek, and for”—she ghosts her hand between us— “whatever that meant.”
“I’ll be here to walk you to your next!” I yell as she walks up the steps. Her hand stills on the door handle, and she stares down at me, opening her mouth to disagree. “Palmer, I’ll be here. I promise.”
After every class, Palmer walks out of with wide eyes and a grumpy attitude, and I show up like a lovesick puppy.
“Your face is going to get stuck if you keep doing that!” I holler from the bottom step.
She stands above me, scanning her eyes around the space. Is she going to jump over the bushes to avoid me? She takes several steps down, crossing her arms over her perfect chest.