Page 72 of We Already Dug the Grave

“You must be tough. You must be careful. You understand? You’re not a kid anymore. Not after tonight—no matter how unfair that may be.”

I nodded. I hadn’t felt like a kid in a long time. Not since that morning in the kitchen with Mama.

“Ruthie and I were talking,” she said. “When your teacher is reported missing, y’all don’t need to be at that school. You know how this town is. Everyone will be talking, throwing around theories. It would be a lot of pressure for anyone. Especially you and your sister.”

Girls whose mama was in jail and whose aunts were a bit witchy while living in the Bible Belt. Girls who’d dared to fight back.

“What are we going to do?” I heard myself ask.

“Your sister’s going to start her new school earlier than we planned. And we think it would be a good idea if you finished up at home. Maybe homeschool. Get your GED—go ahead and start college next semester.”

“How?” I asked. “I need the salutatorian scholarship to be able to afford it. Even if I get grants and student loans, it’ll be too much by the time I pay room and board and books.” I’d already done the math many times over, ready to be done with Puddle Creek High. If there was an option that allowed me to leave early, I’d have known about it, even if I’d never have left Frances behind.

Aunt Hattie-May nodded. “I see. Well, don’t worry about it tonight. We’ll figure it out.”

The buzzing of the grinder stopped abruptly.

“Aunt Hattie, I need some help in here,” Ruth’s voice echoed from inside the shop.

Hattie-May shrugged, then gave me a gentle hug. “Milly, we love you. We’ll get through this together. Now, go get cleaned up and get some rest.”

So that’s what I did.

After the world’s hottest shower, I curled next to Frances on the bottom bunk, the way I’d done when we were little, on our first night in our strange new home.

The way I’d done in the meadow.

Each time my eyes closed, Mr. Fortenberry was there, waiting. Sometimes in the forest. Sometimes hanging in Aunt Ruth’s shed. Sometimes lecturing in his classroom, or with his arms around my sister.

My eyes sprung open. I pushed up and gasped.

Casey was coming here.

The alcohol had worn off enough for me to think and the memory of him promising again to come by tonight, right before Frances took the keys to drive us home.

I’d told him when to meet me. Where. Shit.

I couldn’t have him stumbling into something he should have no part of.

The glowing numbers of my alarm clock said it was not quite two.

There was still time. I crawled out of bed, grabbed my shoes, and tiptoed out of the room.

I waited on the front porch until Casey appeared at the edge of the yard, pushing his bike. He sat it gently on its side, then jogged toward me. Before he could open his mouth, I held an index finger over my lips and shook my head. Not here.

I took his hand and led him to the backyard, to the greenhouse path. The moon was full, but I had followed the trail many times in total darkness. Both my feet and my heart knew the way. We didn’t stop until we were sitting in the grass, propped against the building, the aluminum and glass biting into our backs.

We sat close to each other, fingers twined together, his silver ring pressing into my finger like a heartbeat. Even with him so close, I felt alone. I couldn’t imagine ever not feeling alone. “Now will you talk to me?” he whispered.

Instead of the warmth that usually spread through me whenever we were together, I felt…empty. I rested my head on his shoulder, as his thumb stroked the side of my hand.

In that moment we were the only two people who existed. I could feel the secret bubbling up, ready to escape, but I wanted it keep it in, I swear I did. When he kissed the top of my head, when he told me it was okay if I didn’t want to talk, that we could still sit together, I opened my mouth, and the entire story spilled out.

I hadn’t meant to tell.

But I can’t lie and say it didn’t feel good.

Casey didn’t say a word until I finished.