She appears in the doorway about ten minutes later and my first thought is:Who is that? That’s not Cinna.
My bestie is always composed and put-together. Hair arranged, outfit considered, every detail attended to. I know I woke her up from sleep, but that’s happened in the past. I’ve called her about some issue or another and she’s hurried over to comfort me. And when she showed up those times, she had on PJs but her hair was still perfect. And, even without makeup, she was flawless.
The girl in the doorway is wearing sweatpants and a wrinkled AlariaU sweater. Her honey-blonde hair looks like a bird’s nest, and her face is swollen and blotchy like she’s been sobbing the entire way here. Her hands are shaking at her sides.
She looks at Aeron in the bed and her entire body wilts.
She crosses the room on unsteady legs and goes straight to the end of his bed, touches his ankles, and starts sobbing. This is full-body, hysterical sobbing that shakes her shoulders and presses her forehead against the mattress beside his feet.
I watch from my chair and a tired alarm bell goes off in my brain. Cinna and Aeron have never been close. She’s always friendly with him the way you’re friendly with your best friend’s younger sibling, but this level of devastation is what Mom should feel. What I feel. Cinna should be sad and shaken andworried, but this reaction belongs to someone who is at least friends with him.
Mom stands. She sways and catches herself on the bed rail. “I need to get something to drink before I pass out,” she says, her voice flat and far away.
“Dorien, go with her?” I ask. “Make sure she’s okay. Maybe get me something small, please? I’m sure I need a drink too.”
I can tell he doesn’t want to leave. His eyes move to Cinna, then back to me, and I’m sure he’s as alarmed by Cinna’s reaction as I am. But he stands and follows Mom out.
The door clicks shut. Just me, Cinna, and my brother’s machines.
She moves to where my mom was sitting and takes Aeron’s hand. She presses her forehead against it, shaking. I move to her side of the bed and pull her into a hug because I’m worried about her. She’s coming apart in a way that’s hard to witness, and concern overrides everything else for the moment.
“Cinna.” I rub her back. “Hey. Breathe.”
Her arms clamp around me. She’s gripping my sweater, pulling at the fabric, and the sobs get worse until she’s hyperventilating and choking on tears and air.
I grab a tissue from the table by the bed to start cleaning her face. “Hey. You’re gonna pass out. Just take some deep breaths.”
She finally manages to calm down. She grabs a fresh tissue and dabs at her face. Her eyes are so swollen from sobbing that they’re barely open.
“I… I didn’t…” She’s gasping between words.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. What have I done?”
I brush wet strands of hair from her face. “About what?”
“I didn’t mean…” Her voice crumbles.
“What are you talking about? Hey. Take some deeper breaths first.”
She breathes as deeply as she can, then she blows her nose and starts to compose herself a little more. She looks too fragile, so I pull her back into a hug.
“What happened?” I ask.
“June.” Her face is pressed against my collarbone and her voice is muffled and wrecked. “I… I did it. All of it.”
“Did what?”
The words come in a torrent. “It wasn’t Aubrey. It was me. I-I started all the exhibition rumors and I was the texter. And I sent those diary pictures to Aeron, but I didn’t think he’d do this. I didn’t know he was strugglingthismuch?—”
She keeps rambling, confessing in a rush, sobbing, frantic, her fingers digging into my arms, and I sit beside her with my hands still on her back. My brain goes blank.
I pull away and my arms fall to my sides. It’s like she just spoke a foreign language and I’m trying to piece together some meaning in the sounds.
“The… the phone.” My voice comes out flat and slow. “There was… a phone. Aubrey’s bag.”
Cinna covers her face with both hands. “I put it there.” Her voice pinches each word. “I got you into that room because I figured you’d find it. If you didn’t, I would’ve planted it some other way.”
