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But I can’t wrap my head around the idea that Devon would do that to me. He loves me. We made plans.
But she wasprettier than me. And just…better.
I hear someone push my door open and then Grace’s voice. “Come downstairs. Now.”
I drag myself out of bed and follow her down the staircase and into the dining room.
“Sit down, Ally. You have a phone call,” Mark says.
I sit down at the table across from him. Grace leans against the wall behind him with her arms crossed in front of her body.
He slides the phone across the table, and I stare at the screen:Oregon Department of Corrections. Tears spring to my eyes as I bring the phone to my ear.
“Mom?”
“Hi, baby. Oh my god, it’s so nice to hear your voice. I miss you so much. How are you? Are you good?”
“Yeah,” I lie. “Yeah, I’m good. Are you okay?”
She chokes back a sob. “It’s hard. I hate it here. I’m not…”
“No, you’re not,” I tell her.
Not a criminal, not a bad person, not someone who belongs there.
“I think about you every day,” she says. “Are they treating you okay? Do you like school? Do you have a lot of friends? I’m sorry; I just know we don’t have a lot of time.”
“Yeah, Mom. Everything is great. I like school, and I have a lot of friends. I’m on the volleyball and track teams. I was thinking of sending you some of my ribbons.”
“I would love that so much. And some new pictures—maybe some ofyour art. I miss it.”
“Yeah, I can do that.”
“Mark was just telling me that he would look at my case and see if he could get me up for parole early. I’ll still miss your eighteenth birthday,” she sobs, “but maybe I can take you out for a drink when you turn twenty-one.”
I look across the table at him, my brows furrowed in confusion. Why would he do that?
“Time’s up,” he says and reaches for the phone. I hand it to him, and he ends the call without notice.
“I’ve made an appointment for you to talk to the police about what happened last weekend. I’ll be going with you as your attorney. If you do what you’re told, you can go to school tomorrow.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that you’ve humiliated us!” Grace yells. “And you’re going to fix it!”
“Leave the room, Grace,” Mark says.
She sulks but does as he asks, casting a stony glare over her shoulder before passing through the doorway.
“This is an election year, Ally. And I cannot express to you how important it is that I don’t have a niece living with me who is wrapped up in a goddamn murder investigation.”
“Devon didn’t do it.”
“Don’t!” he yells, hitting the table with both fists. “Don’t even say his name. He’s told police that he was with you all night. That better not be true.”
I stare straight ahead, unsure of how to respond.
“You’re going to tell them it’s not true,” he says. “You’re going to take their eyes off this family so I can get my campaign back on track. This falls back onallof us.”
