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My eye catches on an odd-looking piece of crust in the wall behind the bed, almost like a loose plate that’s been pulled open and pushed back several times without anyone noticing. But the fire has singed the edges and maybe …
My fingers hook underneath the plate, and it cracks as I pull it away, pieces of the burnt paint falling off.
Behind is a small crevice, and on the bottom lies a laminated kind of image that’s survived the blaze. I fish it out. It’s a photograph of Eve and Penelope with an adult man and woman with their hands on their shoulders.
But what makes my brows furrow is the surname on the back …
“The Ricci family,” I mutter, frowning.
That’s strange.
She told us her name was Richards.
Is this picture a fabrication?
Or did Eve … lie?
Penelope
“Here it is,” my mom says as she hands me Eve’s phone. “I haven’t touched it since … well, you know.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“What do you need it for?” she asks.
I avert my eyes. “I just need to know some things.”
She clutches the front door and leans in to whisper, “You’ve found something, haven’t you?”
I nod. “Please don’t tell Dad. Not yet.”
She quickly pulls me in for a hug. “Only when you’re ready.”
“Thank you,” I reply. “I just need to know for sure first.”
“Of course,” she says.
“But yes, I have found the people responsible for her decision,” I say as I lean back.
My mother grabs my face, and our foreheads collide for the most intimate of gazes. “Pen, give them hell.”
Her words emblazon my soul. “Oh, don’t fucking worry. I intend to make it hurt.”
“Emilia? Who is it?” Dad calls from across the hall.
My mother pushes me back. “Go. Before he sees you. We’ll talk later.”
I nod and quickly run off the property right before my dad shows up.
I’m normally not the type to run like that.
I love my dad to bits, and he has a heart of gold.
But if he knew the truth … Lord have fucking mercy on the souls of Spine Ridge U.
I go to the bus stop and hop on. I know where I’m going, but my eyes focus only on one thing.
Eve’s phone. Damaged. The screen almost peeling off.
But I still managed to load up the phone with my portable battery.
The noises in the bus make it hard to concentrate, but I still go through every image, every text, every file meticulously. Something my mother didn’t want to do because it was too painful to even look at it, let alone acknowledge a sliver of her still existed, like a still in time, an unreachable image, left somewhere out in the open.
My sister’s phone is a gateway into her memories, and I will sift through it without stopping, even if my life depends on it.
Until I find the answer to my question.
The why.
Why she needed to end things. Why the dean wanted her gone. Why she never told them the truth.
An email, sent to herself with a picture attached on the day of her death. Just in case someone would try to empty her phone, she still left crumbs of proof scattered throughout. Because she knew I would see this one day. That I wouldn’t stop until I uncovered the truth.
The phone almost crushes in my hand.
Until I find the email she sent to the dean.
On the image included is a test with two pink lines. The same image she sent to herself for safekeeping.
I guess the saying is true …
A picture says more than a thousand words ever could.
Just as the havoc I will wreak.
I grab my phone and call my mom. “I know the truth now. She was pregnant.”
She begins to sob.
“Mom, don’t cry.” I swallow back my own tears. “It’s okay.”
There’s a pause, and she sucks in a breath. “You know what I told you a long time ago?”
“The story about how you and Dad met?”
“Yes.”
I gulp. “I promise, I’ll make things right.”
“Good,” she says.
I hang up the phone and immediately contact Jeremy. “Hey. It’s me. Do you have a minute?”
“Penelope? Of course. Where have you been? I haven’t seen you at school. I thought you got expelled or some shit.”
“Just taking a small break,” I muse. “Hey, I have a question about your dad’s business.”
“Wait, my dad?” He snorts. “You need gas or something?”
“I’m serious.”
“Okay, what do you want to know?”
“I’m going to need you to help me out here. How much does it cost to buy a couple of barrels and get them delivered?” I tuck Eve’s phone into my pocket. “Asking for a friend.”
Dylan
That night
In the middle of the night, my door slams open and hits the wall so hard I fall out of bed with my head on the carpet.
I groan. “Fuck … who the fuck—”
“Wake the fuck up, Dylan,” Felix snarls as he pulls my pillow away from my face. Boy, that angry face of his was the last thing I wanted to see after that wet and wild dream about Penelope I just had.
