Page 49 of Head Under Water

“Um. Yep.”

He nods once. Barely. “Have fun, Opie.”

“I’ll try.” The answer is unexpectedly honest, and I want to make a joke, but somehow, this time, I’m at a loss.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

PRESENT DAY

The next day when I wake up, it’s to the sound of voices outside my room. It takes a moment for the fog of sleep to fade away, for me to be able to make out what they’re saying.

“Mom’s being really weird about it,” Will says.

“Well, we should probably just leave it alone then.” There’s the other voice. “It’s none of our business.”

“Ruth will always be our business,” Will argues. “She was ours, and we were hers. How can you say that?”

The missing piece clicks. The second voice is Cory, Will’s brother.

“So, what? You’re going to accuse Mom of something? Of killing her best friend?” A shiver runs through me. What are they talking about? Why would he say that?

“Of course not.”

“We’ve already lost Ruth. Whatever you do, it won’t bring her back.”

I sit up in bed, listening. What is going on? What do they know?

“We deserve to know the truth,” Will says. “Whatever it is. The police might be closing the case, but it doesn’t make sense. Why would Ruth lie about the blue truck? We both know it wasn’t a delivery guy. There’s something else going on.”

“We don’t even know if the guy had anything to do with this,” Cory says. “I get why you want answers, we all do, but maybe the answers don’t exist. Maybe it was just a horrible fucking accident that no one could’ve prevented.”

“But it doesn’t add up. Why haven’t they been able to find him? There are records for deliveries. You said it was there the week before she died, right? They should’ve found him by now.”

“I don’t know, Will. Maybe. I mean, yes, a blue truck was there, like, a week before it happened. I don’t remember the exact day. Ruth said it was a delivery driver. For all we know, it was. But even if it wasn’t, what does that prove? She was alive for a whole week after that. Alive and fine. The police are saying it’s nothing, so I need to believe them. We need to trust them.”

“But what did it look like? What kind of truck? Specifically. You’ve never said. Give me something. What shade of blue? Make, model?”

“Light blue, maybe. I told the police, just like I’ve told you. I didn’t pay that much attention. I didn’t know I’d need to remember it.”

I move quietly across my room, trying to get closer to the door, but my hip catches the nightstand, slamming it into the wall.

Their voices fall silent.

“Who is that?” Cory asks, his tone cautious. “You have a girl over?”

“Define girl,” Will says.

I whip open the door, glaring at Will.

Cory’s eyes travel over me, pure shock washing over his expression. “Opal? Hey. Happy belated birthday.” His smile fades, face turning unreadable for a moment, then horrified. “Oh my god, why are you here?” He looks back and forth between Will and me. “Are you two…”

I storm past Will. “Oh my god, no.”

“She wishes,” Will mutters.

I launch into Cory’s waiting arms. He squeezes me hard, lifting me off the ground and wiggling his hips. He plants a loud kiss on my cheek.

When he places me back on the ground, he wipes imaginary sweat from his brow. “Thank god. Can you imagine? You and Will?”