Except I have one thing that Braden didn’t have.
I reach into my pocket, and my fingers close around my dad’s pocketknife. After he gave it to me, I practiced in my room. I practiced opening and retracting the blade quickly, the way I have seen Dad do it. Mr. Lowell is staring at my face, so he doesn’t see me slide the knife out of my pocket and extend the blade. He doesn’t see the glimmer of the knife in the overhead lights until I have jammed it right into his belly, exactly where my dad told me to put it.
And then I twist it.
Mr. Lowell howls. I got him right where it hurts. Well, like Mom says, it hurts more between the legs, but I didn’t really want to go for that area. This did the job anyway. Mr. Lowell sinks to his knees, clutching his belly.
“You bitch,” he gasps.
I don’t have time to think. I race past him, prying the door open, and then before he can get back up again, I shove it closed again.
The keyhole on the door is calling out to me, but I don’t have a key. I can’t lock it. So I do the only thing I can do, which is run out of the house as fast as I can.
When I came in, Dad was working in the backyard. But he’s gone. I don’t know where he went. Maybe back in our garage to get some more equipment? I don’t know. I want to look for him, but I also really want to go home.
When I get inside, I run up the stairs. I run to my parents’ bedroom, looking for either one of them, but the bedroom is empty. And then, while I’m standing in the doorway, I hear the footsteps behind me. Growing louder.
Oh no.
It’s Mr. Lowell. I should have figured out a way to block off that door. Or stabbed him again, just to make sure I finished the job. But I stupidly left him there. And now he’s followed me back into my house.
He’s ready to finish me off.
But then I turn around, and my shoulders sag. It’s not Mr. Lowell. It’s Nico, standing in the hallway, his mouth hanging open.
“Ada?” He has a horrified expression on his face. “What happened to you?”
For the first time, I look down at my clothing. I have a few small bloodstains on my shirt, but my right hand is wet with it. Also, the knife has a lot of blood on it. I didn’t even notice.
“Ada?” Nico says again.
“Where… Where’s Dad?” I stammer.
“In the garage getting some equipment, I think.” Nico frowns at my bloody hand, still clutching the knife. “Ada, what happened?”
“I…”
I can’t tell him. How can I tell anyone what I’ve done?
“Ada?”
“I… I think I might have killed Mr. Lowell.” The words come out in a jumbled rush. “I think he might be dead.”
“What?”
I wipe tears from my eyes, smearing blood on my face. I’m only making this worse. “I didn’t tell anyone what you told me—I swear. But I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to tell him to leave you alone.”
“Ada…”
“He wouldn’t let me out of the little room.” My voice breaks. “So I had to…”
We both look down at the knife, glistening with Mr. Lowell’s blood. He’s definitely dead. I stabbed him with the knife right where Dad told me to—and I twisted it. I watched the color drain out of his face as he sank to the floor.
Oh God.
“I need to talk to Dad,” I blurt out.
Nico’s eyes widen with panic. “You can’t tell Dad. You can’t tell any grown-ups. You will be in such big trouble.”
“Dad won’t let anything bad happen to me…”
“It’s not up to him. You know what happens to kids who do bad things, right?” He chews on his lower lip. “They take you away from your parents. You have to go to this kid jail called juvenile tension. My friend said his brother had to go after he stole something. And that’s just for stealing. You killed someone.”
I start to cry. He’s right. I can’t just tell people I killed Mr. Lowell and expect not to get punished at all, even if he was the one doing something wrong.
“So what should I do?” I ask.
“Did anyone see you there?”
I shake my head no.
“Then nobody will know it was you, right?”
I look down at the knife in my hand and realize that he’s right. I can wash the blood off the knife and stuff it in the back of a drawer. I can wash the blood off the shirt and hide it in my closet. Nobody will know.
Nothing bad will happen.
PART IV
