Marion shakes her head. “She never pays much attention to me. I don’t think she had any idea. But I was scared. So I—” She looks at Davy.
I stare at my brother. “You knew?”
“I lied to him,” Marion says before Davy can speak. “I told him it was Thatcher who killed Fiona, and that Kendall killed Thatcher. I needed someone on my side, and I thought if I told him the whole truth, that it was my sister who killed his sister and I didn’t turn her in—I didn’t think he’d ever forgive me. So I lied.” She hangs her head.
“It wasn’t her fault,” Davy breaks in. “She was—”
“It’s okay,” Marion says quietly. Davy falls silent. “I know I screwed up. I just— I was so scared. She’s my sister. My brother was already dead, and she’s my sister, and I didn’t know what to do.”
“You could have come to me,” Seth says.
Marion looks at him. “I didn’t know who I could trust. I thought my parents might have been protecting her. I didn’t know whose side you’d be on. The police kept asking me questions, especially Detective Carter, after they found out I was here that night. I kept telling them I didn’t see anything. But I don’t think I’m a good liar. And I didn’t know how long I could lie about it. Kendall killed Thatcher to keep it a secret—how did I know she wouldn’t kill me, too? So—” She looks at Davy.
“So we decided to run.” Davy looks at me now. “She told me the truth when we were on our way. But I didn’t think— You told me you’d be okay. That they weren’t going to arrest you.”
“They weren’t,” I say.
“Kendall tried to kill her, though,” Seth says. His voice is calm, not angry or threatening. But his words fall like stones into the middle of our living room. “She tried to kill me, too.”
“I’m sorry, Seth,” Marion whispers. “I just felt so alone.”
“You’re not anymore,” he says, more gently this time.
“My parents are so mad at me—”
“You don’t need them,” he says. “You’ve got me.”
Marion gives him a tremulous smile. “Thanks,” she whispers. Then, to both of us: “And I’m sorry.”
And I realize—I’m not angry at her. I don’t know what it’s like growing up in a family like that. The poison that comes on those silver spoons. And I don’t have it in me to carry around resentment for Marion, too.
Just then the doorbell rings.
I’m nearest, so I open the door to find Detective Carter on our stoop.
“Addie.” He hands me a brown paper bag. “Thought you might want this. The phone we need to keep for evidence, but we made copies of Fiona’s journal, so if you want to keep the original—it’s yours.”
I stare down at the bag, then take it from him. “Her— You—you found it?”
He nods. “Hidden under the floorboards in Kendall’s room.”
I swallow. “Thank you.”
52
Davy asks if Marion can stay with us for a little while, and Dad says okay, even though Seth said she could return to the house anytime she wanted. Thatcher Sr. and Seth’s aunt have moved out, while Seth’s own father is in the city. Seth’s mom knew nothing about anything, apparently, so it’s just the two of them there. Seth said they could get Marion her own lawyer, someone not controlled by her father.
Caleb rises and says he needs to get home. “Thank you for bringing them back,” my father says, shaking his hand. I wonder if being able to help Thatcher’s sister has given him any amount of peace or closure, but I don’t know him well enough to ask. So I just give him a nod and let him go.
Then it’s just us and Seth and Marion. I have the journal in my hands. “I’m going to order a pizza,” Dad says. “You’re welcome to stay, if you want.”
Seth looks at me.
“Stay,” I say. “I just need a minute.”
He nods, and I flee to my room with Fiona’s words between my hands.
I don’t know if she’d want me reading it. But she isn’t here anymore to tell me not to.
I sit down on my bed, touch my necklace, and open it.
The journal begins last winter, a year and a half ago. It’s a lot of dance, a lot of hopes about ballet school. Almost nothing about us. At first. I read about her despair at the money, her deciding to ask Thatcher, her rage when he said no.
It’s not fair that some people get everything they want and others don’t, just because of who they were born to. If I were Kendall, this wouldn’t even matter. I would be set. It’s not fair.
Then her conflict. Mr. Montgomery said he can help me out if I’d be willing to “spend more time with him.” I’m not an idiot, I know what that means, and it makes me feel sick—but I’ll do anything for ABA. Life isn’t fair, so isn’t it up to me to make it fairer for myself?
There are almost no details about the affair itself. I guess she didn’t want to relive any of it here. Just a lot more about dance. Trying her best to disassociate from what she was doing by retreating into the thing she knew best.
Then I get to this line:
It’s the only thing I’m good at. I’m not a good sister anymore, and I’m not a good daughter, my mom left me, and Addie is better at taking care of people than I’ll ever be. I’ll go do the only thing I can, and they won’t miss me.
I touch my necklace again. I want to tell her she was wrong. That no matter how bad we feel about ourselves over the things we’ve done or failed to do, there are people who still love us. Who still need us. I wish she’d talked to me about it. I wish I’d gotten over my resentment toward her in time to talk to her about it. I wish so many things had been different.
But wishing doesn’t change the past. Nothing does. All I can do now is move forward, taking everything I’ve learned with me.
And I know where I have to start.
