Where’d you go?
What happened?
people think you set the fire and fled the scene
I told them you didn’t but I don’t think they believe me
Where are you?? are you okay?
did you go to the woods???
I started mashing out a response, then gave up and called her instead. It rang once before she picked up.
“Oh my god, what happened?”
I told her what Bach had said. Ludwig’s name, that he knew me. Artemis listened carefully. It felt better, talking about it. Like while I was talking about firestarters, they couldn’t hurt me. Ludwig couldn’t be sitting right behind me now, or lurking outside my window.
When I finished, Artemis was quiet, then said, “Bach might be able to help now. That’s good.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you okay? If he’s the one from last year—”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I can—I can do it, if you want. I could take the Chevelle and try to—”
“No. It’s my responsibility.”Why.Why did it have to be mine?
A knock came at the door.
“Can I call you back?” I hung up as the door pushed open. Sadie stuck her head in. “What is it?” I said.
“Jesus, I didn’t even say anything yet.” She slipped into the room.
“Sure, you can come in,” I said.
She shut the door and planted herself at the end of the bed. She wore an old Addamsville High sweatshirt, a scarf, and a pair of mittens she’d made during her knitting phase, and her hair was half up in a ponytail. The other half had fallen out. Dark bags ringed her eyes.
“I didn’t sleep last night.” Her hands hung loose at her sides. Her lips pressed together. “I need to talk to you.”
“I’m sorry about running away. I know it looked bad.”
“That’s not why we need to talk. What do you know that I don’t know?”
I stopped and blinked at her. “About what? The float? I didn’t—”
“I know you didn’t do it, but you know something about it that I don’t. Mom’s notes, her pictures. What it all meant. You and Artemis both knew something.” Sadie’s face grew paler as she talked, her eyes shadowed by the lamplight. “Mom always spent more time with you. She was always taking you places, showing you things.”
“She loved us both.”
“I know that,” Sadie snapped, “but there was something—you know something about her that I don’t. You always have, and I always knew that, but I didn’t say anything because I figured some parents just have favorite children.”
“I wasn’t her favorite—” I stopped myself. Was that even true? Had I been Mom’s favorite? I’d never thought about Sadie being the outsider—Sadie had Dad—but I’d also never thought about Mom not spending as much time with her as she did with me. “I—” I sighed. “It’s worse, knowing it. She said never to tell you and Dad, because it would be worse.”
Tears rimmed her eyes and anger sharpened her voice. “Nothing is worse than not knowing. What’s going on? Is it the reason she went missing?” She swallowed, hard. “I’m her daughter, too. I deserve to know.”
She was right. What was the point of keeping it from her now? She’d seen the notes and the pictures. Maybe Mom would want her to know, at this point. Maybe knowing would keep her safer.
