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“In all my life I never seen the likes a devils like that. Burnin’ a house with women in it. Every one a them will have to answer to God Almighty Himself in the hereafter.” Ivy’s voice faltered.
It took a moment for Ivy’s words to register.
“What do you mean, burnin’ a house with women in it?”
“I’m so sorry, child.”
Genevieve felt her legs buckle beneath her. She knelt in the mud, the rain running down her face, mixing with her tears. Her mother, her sister, Greenbrier—they were all gone.
Genevieve looked up at the sky.
“God’s the one who’s goin’ to have to answer to me.”
It pulled us out as fast as it had sucked us in. I was staring at the preacher again, and Lena was gone. I could feel her slip away.
Lena?
She didn’t answer. I sat in the church in a cold sweat, sandwiched between Aunt Mercy and Aunt Grace, who were fishing in their purses for change for the collection basket.
Burning a house with women in it, a house lined with lemon trees. A house where I’d bet Genevieve had lost her locket. A locket engraved with the day Lena was born, but over a hundred years before. No wonder Lena didn’t want to see the visions. I was starting to agree with her.
There were no coincidences.
9.14
The Real Boo Radley
Sunday night, I reread The Catcher in the Rye until I felt tired enough to fall asleep. Only I never got tired enough. And I couldn’t read, because reading didn’t feel the same. I couldn’t disappear into the character of Holden Caulfield, because I couldn’t get lost in the story, not the way you need to be, to become somebody else.
I wasn’t alone in my head. It was full of lockets, and fires, and voices. People I didn’t know, and visions I didn’t understand.
And something else. I put the book down and slid my hands behind my head.
Lena? You’re there, aren’t you?
I stared up at the blue ceiling.
It’s no use. I know you’re there. Here. Whatever.
I waited, until I heard it. Her voice, unfolding like a tiny, bright memory in the darkest, furthest corner of my mind.
No. Not exactly.
You are. You have been, all night.
Ethan, I’m sleeping. I mean, I was.
I smiled to myself.
No you weren’t. You were listening.
I was not.
Just admit it, you were.
Guys. You think everything is about you. Maybe I just like that book.
Can you just drop in whenever you want, now?
