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It hasn’t rained in a week, not since that night in my driveway. If that doesn’t confirm how apathetic the universe is to our suffering, I don’t know what does.
“Jeremy?”
I hear my name, but it’s just noise. Just a remnant of a stupid, old forgotten song that has my lip curling with bitterness.
I can imagine what they’re all thinking—my parents. Cousins I haven’t seen in years. Aunts, uncles…the people from this town who’ve known us our whole lives, known me.
They’re thinking, Jeremy will do as he’s told.
Jeremy won’t cause a scene.
Jeremy’s the quiet, meek twin…the well-behaved twin…the stoic one…
The rose slips from my fingers, landing in the bright green grass speckled with dirt.
I can’t do this. I won’t. Not yet…not yet…
Please don’t make me.
“Jeremy!” a voice calls out, but I’m already gone.
With the sun blaring overhead, and a sky so blue, it could be a picture in a graphic novel, I run toward Waylon—toward a future where limbo awaits, rather than closure. Uncertain and terrifying, but far more appealing than the one I leave with that empty coffin.
These people don’t know me.
They don’t know a single damn thing.
Waylon spots me, and something like determination sparks in his eye.
I’m not Jeremy the Coward anymore.
I’m Jeremy the Wicked.
And if hope shall be my downfall…
Then fall I will.
Ivy drops us off at the Wyatts’.
She doesn’t stay, nor do we expect her to.
There’s a luncheon happening at Chickie’s diner, and seeing as Gavin’s truck is still here—indicating he’s taking his babysitting duties seriously—I assume Sherry and Phoebe will stop over there first, before coming home.
Inside, it’s quiet, save for the quiet, muffled sounds of a television filtering from the living room.
At the sound of the door closing behind us, a gruff voice calls out, “Sher, that you?”
Waylon and I exchange a quiet look, before he steps into view of the living room. I follow.
When Gavin sees us, he pushes off the couch to a stand, eyes wide.
“We couldn’t do it,” Waylon says without preamble.
Gavin doesn’t ask him to clarify. His furrowed gaze darts between us, and I register belatedly how red his eyes are.
He nods solemnly. “He’s not in a good place today.” His dark gaze finds mine. “But I reckon you’re not either.”
Clenching my teeth, I say nothing.
