Page 40 of What’s Left of Us

I was sobbing too hard to manage words. Incoherent rambling bubbled from me, but I didn’t tell him what he already suspected. I didn’t admit that I did know about the drugs. I didn’t admit that I’d known for a year, and that I’d kept quiet, foolishly believing Nat would get better.

She promised she was getting better so many times. It was stupid to believe her, but it was stupider to trust Atlas. I should have kept my fucking mouth shut. If I had, none of this would be happening. I could have found a way to help Nat without ruining everything.

Undo, undo, undo. The word circled uselessly through my mind, even as Dad shook my shoulders. I didn’t hear anything else he was saying, and eventually, he got tired of waiting.

“Don’t even think of coming out until I tell you.” He yanked me from the wall and shoved me into my bedroom. I stumbled onto my knees, and rather than get up, I curled into a ball on the floor. The door slammed shut, and I closed my eyes, crying until there were no tears left.

I kept hoping I’d get the nerve to stand up, to go downstairs and at least be at Nat’s side while she faced this. A good sister would. Instead, I was a child on my floor, flinching every time Dad’s voice raised.

He’d taken my phone, but it didn’t matter. There wasn’t anyone to call. Until we’d walked through the door, until I’d seen those little baggies out on display, like a museum of Nat’s personal shame, I never imagined this would be my reality. Since I was a kid, I’d always had someone to run to, whether it was Nat or Atlas.

Now, I was horridly alone, and I had no one to blame but myself.

Hours later, when I snuck from my room to use the bathroom, I saw Nat in the living room. She was on the couch, facing me, facing our parents. Foolishly, I lifted a little ‘o’ to my temple, our signal, asking if she was okay.

Her eyes shifted to me, so vacant I barely recognized them. She didn’t signal back, and that was the last time I ever saw her.

Chapter 17

now

“I’m a little disappointed you guys aren’t swimming,” Hayden says as we pull up to the basketball court. “I mean, that’s what he does, right? We could be looking at him in a Speedo right now.”

I don’t reply. I’m too busy studying Atlas as he stands on Aberlena Park’s basketball court. It’s situated across from the college, and unsurprisingly, there are a lot of people here. It’s Friday afternoon, most classes are done for the week, and the weather is pleasantly warm. Not too hot, no wind, and not a cloud in the sky.

The playground is packed with kids. The volleyball court is overcrowded with shirtless men and women in bikinis.

A few men linger near the basketball court, faces shiny with sweat and a basketball forgotten on the ground between them. Atlas is the only one currently on the court. He stands beneath one of the hoops, dribbling lazily with one hand and scrolling his phone with the other. He’s wearing a plain black T-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts.

“I mean, he could at least take his shirt off,” Hayden adds when I ignore her. “Maybe you should ask if he wants to play shirt versus skin?”

I twist in the passenger seat to glare at her.

“Remind me why I invited you.”

“Because I’m awesome,” she says. Then, “And because you don’t have a car.”

“Right.” I look back at Atlas. He hasn’t noticed us. He stops dribbling and tucks the ball beneath his arm. Not far off, a pair of women have taken notice of him. They’re leaning into each other, giggling and shoving each other playfully as they edge closer.

When they make the joint decision to approach Atlas, I roll my eyes. Hayden lets out a pleased, devious laugh.

“You are so fucked,” she squeals. “Look at you. Jealous over some random women Atlas hasn’t even noticed.”

“I’m not jealous,” I say. Hayden’s right though. Atlas hasn’t noticed them, despite the fact they’re now on the edge of the basketball court. It seems they’ve lost their gusto, and a small—very small—part of me feels for them. I’d never have the confidence to approach Atlas if I was seeing him for the first time at this age. He’s ridiculously tall and crazy hot. The rejection would sting too hard.

“It’s five minutes past.” Hayden turns off the car. When I whip around, eyebrows raised, she smirks at me. “Don’t worry, I’m not going over there. You have lover boy all to yourself.”

“He’s not…” I scowl at her. “Did me pouring my heart out to you mean nothing? He’s not a lover boy. He’s a traitor. I don’t want him all to myself. I don’t want him at all.”

“O-kay,” Hayden sing-songs.

There’s no point arguing with her. After telling her everything about what happened between me and Atlas five years ago, I expected her to have a bit more understanding, if not more sympathy. It’s not like Atlas and I broke up because we were going to different colleges. No, he sold out my sister’s darkest secret—the one I’d trusted him to keep—and it led to her running away.

Disappearing into the night, never to be seen again.

Yet, of course. We’re obviously going to find her. And once we do, she’ll come home and she’ll make a new bucket list. She’ll tease me for completing the list she made at nineteen, and eventually, the scars she left will heal to the point I forget they were ever there.

“Seven minutes past.” Hayden punches my shoulder. “You’re probably stressing him out.”