Page 45 of We Already Dug the Grave

Her hands went to her hips. “Do you think I care if it’s on purpose or not? You ruined everything. Everything. We were going to be together. As soon as I was old enough, we were going to be together like a real couple.”

“For God’s sake, he’s married.” Meanwhile, she’d just gotten her braces off this year.

“So what?” Frances’s face contorted, thready blue veins popping from her temples. “He doesn’t love her—not like he loves me.”

“Did he tell you that?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “If he loves you so much, why does he want you to pass on the scholarship and miss out on the Tennessee Math & Science School? If he loves you, wouldn’t he want what’s best for you?”

My sister’s pale complexion reddened. “He wanted me to go. I’m the one who wants to stay.”

I’d never seen my sister so angry, and it should’ve been my cue to shut up. But how could she not understand?

“Okay. That makes sense. He wants you to go away to school because you’re getting too old for him. He probably has a middle schooler in mind to take your place.”

“I hate you,” Frances said, quietly, intently. “I hate you, and I know I’ve said it before, but I’m dead serious. I’ll never forgive you, Milly.” She spun and stomped down the path toward the music.

The words stunned me.

“You don’t mean that,” I called to her back.

She said nothing. I followed behind. “Frances. Please. Say you don’t mean it. I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just so angry.”

Frances stopped abruptly.

“Sister,” I pleaded with her back. “You have to believe that I never wanted to hurt you. I love you, okay? You’re my baby bird, the most important thing to me. I’d do anything for you, Frances. Anything.”

She tilted her head, like she was listening, weighing my words, then straightened her shoulders and marched away toward the sounds of the party.

My heart ached like someone had gripped it in their fist. Like it was being yanked from my chest. My hands flew to my sternum and I gasped.

Is this the death I saw? Am I dying now, right here? I forced a deep breath. Another. I kept forcing air into my lungs until the pain was behind me.

I could survive this. We could survive this.

When I got to the field, the senior class sprawled before me. Someone had driven their truck out, and a group danced in its bed to the music blasting from the cab, swaying red plastic cups filled with cheap beer over their heads. Foam sloshed down their hands and wrists.

The volleyball team was tangled together on a blanket, passing around a bottle of something harder. The scent of weed lingered in the air, immediately making me think of Hattie-May’s greenhouse.

In the middle of everything was the skeleton of the bonfire, wooden poles waiting to be lit once the sun sank below the horizon. It was early evening, and there was the smallest taste of chill in the air.

Still, it was too warm for such a massive fire. We were all going to sweat our asses off.

I searched for Frances and found her standing alone, staring at the unlit branches. She looked so pitiful, hunched forward, chin jutting.

When I turned around, Casey stood behind me, his disposable camera shoved in my face. Click. He snapped a photo. “I was wondering when you’d get here.”

“I’ll take that.” I snatched the camera from his hand.

“Hey,” he laughed. “No fair.”

He swiped for it, but I stuffed the camera in the pocket of my hoodie.

“You going to give that back or am I going to fail my project?”

“Don’t act like I didn’t warn you.”

He touched my arm, and suddenly I was aware of exactly how close we stood. For a sweet moment, all thoughts of my sister and my bad mood and even what I’d seen in the teacup were erased.

“You seem better.” His eyes searched my face, his breath minty. “Did you and Frances make up?”