It was me, I nearly cried, just to burst the tension in my chest.I did it. I lit the bushes on fire. But I couldn’t get my lips to part. The guilt choked me, leaving me suffering in silence.
“No wonder his parents had a difficult time deciding who’d take him after that.” Mrs. Johnson said with a curl of her lip. “I would have, too.”
Mrs. Conan muttered into her mimosa, “Surprised they hadn’t done it sooner.”
“Beckham—” The name came out of me like it’d been punched from my lungs, barely making it through my closing throat. I bolstered myself to get through the next lies. “Apologized, actually. He said that it was an accident. He’s been nothing but respectful since.”
“See?” Ms. Jennings lifted her flute. “Respectful. How do you spell that, Nell?”
Even amidst my building panic, I could spell, “R-E-S-P-E-C-T-F-U-L.”
“You could take to learning it, ladies.”
I imagined this was how Beck felt the other day, sitting at the table with a chest that felt like it was about toexplode. I couldn’t stand it any longer. “I’m going to run to the bathroom.” I shoved my chair back, making sure my foot stomped on Lydia’s as I did so. She yelped, the sound drowned out by the tear of my chair legs across the floor. Mom tried to catch at my arm again, tried to turn and peek at my expression, but I kept it locked down.
Leaving the room wasn’t the smartest thing, because now the ladies would assume I’d left because I couldn’t bear to listen to the memories their words dredged up. Right, but wrong. Their claims of what happened were wrong, but the way I felt was right.
That day in the garden had been blurry, almost like the smoke that clogged the air still curled in my head. I’d lit the one rose on the bushes on fire with Beck’s lighter, but had quickly blown it out, too afraid of getting in trouble. Or I’dthoughtI’d blown it out. But while my back had been turned, the flame bloomed once more, swallowing up the immaculate rosebush wall as if it were made of nothing more than paper.
Beck had pulled me back, away from the flames, positioning himself between them and me. It felt like an eternity before Mrs. Johnson rushed over with a fire extinguisher, one she’d gotten from the ADP hallway, and saved the day.
Saved and doomed it, both at the same time.
I thought you were better than your sister, kissing bad boys.
I could not be like my sister.
I drew in breath after shallow breath, pressing my palms to the wall. I’d been wrong when I’d told Beckeveryone had forgotten about what’d happened—they hadn’t. Instead, it was rooted in their minds, built with each embellishment.
Beckhadn’tlit the garden on fire.
I had. It’d been an accident, but blaming him hadn’t been.
And it was the biggest regret of my life.
“Ugh, Eleanor!” I jumped as Ms. Jennings came out into the hallway, stumbling a little in her heels as she turned. “Don’t end up like those airheads. No humanity toward a child, I swear. I’m more motherly than they are, and I never even had children!”
My throat felt impossibly tight, like a hand squeezed around it.
“Not your mother, of course.” Ms. Jennings pressed the backs of her fingers to her cheek. “Your mother is just protective of you. I understand that.”
Do you know?I wanted to ask Ms. Jennings. Fear kept my mouth shut.Do you know the truth?
Ms. Jennings blinked against the way the boozy mimosas hit her, but her gaze was still focused on my necklace at my throat. “Oh, dear, your clasp is showing.” Ms. Jennings’s fingers were gentle as she readjusted the clasp to the back of my neck. “There. Perfect.” She didn’t immediately pull back, though. Her finger traced the pendants, lingering on the four-leaf clover.
“Beck’s lucky to have you,” I finally managed to get out. “The way you defend him.”
“You did too, in there.” Her eyes lifted, tracing mine. Despite how tipsy she was, it felt like she could read meclearly. “I’m grateful for it. He’s had… a rough time. College was hard.”
“Why did he come to stay with you? Why not his parents?”
“Like I said.” Ms. Jennings drew her hand away from my necklace and gave her head a little shake. “I’m more of a parent than most of the people around here. Andthatis truly messed up.”
She stumbled down the hallway, her heels clacking unevenly, and she nearly ran into an Alderton-Du Ponte employee. I knew I should’ve offered to escort her wherever she was going, should’ve offered my arm to steady her, but I only leaned more of my weight against the wall.
Whenever I’d imagined Beck these past four years, I’d pictured him doing well. Happy. Making new friends at school, maybe playing a sport.
Not hurting. Not hollow.
