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We both shake our heads, but Finn is the only one telling the truth. I’d rather die than tell that monster where Dare is.
“What does uncle Dickie want with Dare?” I ask her as she turns to leave.
She pauses, her face drawn and tight. “It’s grown-up stuff, Calla Lily. Don’t fret about it.”
But of course I do.
Because every time Uncle Richard finds Dare, I hear screaming.
And even though you’d think that was the worst part, it’s not.
The worst part is when the screaming stops.
Because silence hides an abundance of sins.
That’s what my mom says.
And she’s always right.
At least, that’s what my dad says.
At dinner, I mention my dad.
“I miss him,” I tell my mom. “Why doesn’t he ever come with us in the summers?”
She sighs and pats my hand before picking up her shrimp fork.
“He does, Calla. You know that. He’ll be here for the last couple of weeks, just like he always is.”
“But why do we come here every year?” I ask again, and I feel stupid, but it’s a good question. Every summer, year after year. Dad has to stay home in Oregon to work, but we get to come here because mom’s family is rich.
“Because Whitley is also our home, and we have to,” my mom says tiredly. “And because of the Savage name, you have opportunities. The best doctors, the best of everything. But we have to spend summers here to get that. You already know all of this, Calla. I have to make sacrifices for you, Calla. Just appreciate that.”
I do.
I do appreciate that. I don’t understand it, but I appreciate it.
What I don’t want to tell her is that sometimes, what I know blends with what I don’t. It twists and turns and bends, turning into shapes that I can’t recognize. Facts blend with dreams, and dreams blend with memories, and then reality isn’t real.
I always feel too silly to ask anyone but Finn what is real and what is not.
They’d think I’m crazy.
I’m not.
Dare kicks me lightly beneath the table and I glance at him quickly.
He grins, his familiar, ornery grin and I love it. Because it always seems like he’s daring me when he smiles.
Daring me to…what?
He leans over.
“I’m going to the garden tonight after dark. Wanna come?”
I hesitate.
It’s dark out there. And the moors. And at night, they growl.
