Page 17 of We Already Dug the Grave

“You don’t want to go with me?” I blinked quickly. If I cried, I swear to God I’d find the nearest cliff and walk right off it.

Casey’s eyes widened. “No. No I do want to go with you. Mill, it’s all I want. But… I just meant… Forget it.”

“Tell me,” I said.

He bit his bottom lip. “I meant, if you’ve changed your mind, I’d rather you tell me and us be okay than for you to be upset.”

“Casey. That’s…” Sweet. Kind. Mature. “That’s so dumb. Of course I want to go with you.”

He heaved a sigh. “Okay. Good. There’s one more thing.”

“Shoot.”

“So… You know about the senior bonfire?”

Of course I did. Everyone knew about the annual homecoming bonfire, but my stomach plummeted at the mention. The social scene in Puddle Creek revolved around bonfires and pasture parties. Pickups parked in random fields, a fire, and passing around whatever booze someone pilfered from their parent’s liquor cabinet. Sometimes a keg if someone’s older sibling felt charitable.

After my humiliation at the last party, I didn’t care if I ever attended another one. But this was homecoming…not a bonfire. The bonfire. Still. I’d been planning on skipping.

But Casey was bringing it up…

“Yeah?” I looked down at my ratty cuticles and chipped polish.

“You want to go? With me? I mean… I’d have to meet you there because, you know, all I have is my bike. But, you know what I mean.” His gaze dropped and I realized…the blushing, the fidgeting, the weird way he’s talking…

This, this thing between us wasn’t one sided. A smile, wide and bright, spread over my face. “Of course. Yes. I’d love that.” I said “love.” Oh God.

“Cool.” He grinned.

I slid Hattie-May’s debit card into the machine, then waited as the register spit out my receipt, all while trying to remember how to be normal.

“Casey?” a deep voice called out. We both looked in the direction of the soup aisle.

“Well.” Casey grabbed a pack of cinnamon gum and slid it into my bag. The gesture was sweet. He thought it was my favorite because I’d chewed so much of it when preparing for our first, planned kiss in sixth grade, when we’d pressed our lips together to see what all the fuss was about, then declared kissing stupid. It sure didn’t feel stupid anymore.

He said, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

“Casey! Here. Now.” The voice boomed again. Casey shrugged, and I watched as he walked away.

Sometimes I think, even with Frances being all mad, even with everything feeling on uneven ground, that moment was the last time I was ever happy.

Chapter 5

Now

Spying on my sister was a slippery slope, but it wasn’t hard. While I’d run away and disappeared, she’d stepped onto the world’s stage. And though it had been a while, I couldn’t say this was the first time I peeked into her life.

I reactivated my incognito Instagram account.

My little sister had quite the following. Mostly women who hoped if they imitated her skin care routine, wardrobe, or recipes, that they too could land a rich partner and a soft life. There were no posts about the things she’d loved once upon a time. No math jokes that no one would get or pictures of moss on trees or beetles on the sidewalk after the rain. Her grid was stylized, all bright and clean. Aesthetic.

Years ago, I’d spent days—weeks—in the apartment, missing work, hiding behind fake profiles and staring at my sister’s life through photos, obsessing over how I didn’t fit into it.

In her profile pic, Frances wore a linen sundress and lounged in a pale blue Adirondack chair, bathed in rosy evening sunlight as she stared into the middle distance. Burt stood behind her dressed like a Vineyard Vines ad, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder.

Hard to believe a woman like that knew someone like me at all. I was probably nothing more than a wisp of childhood memory.

But now? Something had changed. My sister had stood on the steps of the Alabama State Capitol and broadcast our distress signal. If whoever had given my boss that message had also contacted Frances, then maybe I was the only one who could help her, because I was the only one who could understand. Wasn’t like our childhood was typical. We were connected by more than blood. We were connected by secrets.