Page 99 of Head Under Water

“You’re good at it,” I tell him, and it’s not just a platitude. I’ve seen the way he interacts with the students in the hallway, how he plays with them at recess, how they joke around with him in the cafeteria.

He genuinely cares about the kids, and it makes a difference.

“What about you? Think you’ll stick around? I keep trying to get a read on whether or not you’re happy here. I know it’s small compared to your last school.”

“I’m happy,” I tell him, and the truth of that spreads warmth through my chest like a bloom. “Being home has been nice for me. I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

“Good.” We stop at my car, and he takes a deep breath. “Hey, listen⁠—”

“Mr. Thompson.” The voice interrupts us, drawing our attention. George crosses the parking lot with one hand in the air. “Kay needs you inside. Something about a leak in the hallway.”

“Oh.” Banks looks back at me, then toward the school. “I guess we’ll have to catch up another time. Be careful on your way to the hospital, Opal.”

“Thanks.” I watch as he walks back inside, and once he’s gone, I realize George is still standing there, staring at me. Something uneasy swims down my spine. “Did you have a nice day?”

His eyes skirt back to the school, then return to me. “You should be careful around him.”

“Banks?” The warning seems absurd. “We went to college together. We’re old friends.”

His face is stone, serious. “I don’t trust him around you.”

That feels overreaching and inappropriate. I don’t know George half as well as I know Banks. “Why not?”

His eyes search the emptying lot, not meeting mine. Then a tight smile crosses his lips. “Just a hunch. Take care of yourself, okay?”

I think over his words, still not understanding, but before I can press him further, my phone buzzes with an incoming call from Mom. “Well, have a good night,” I say, turning away from him. “See you tomorrow.”

I swipe my finger across the screen to answer and slip into the car.

“They’re waking her up,” Mom says before I can get a word of greeting in.

Panic seizes my lungs. We’re not ready. “Now? Does Will know? I’m just leaving the school. I thought it was supposed to be later this evening.”

“They moved it up. The boys are on their way. I told him I’d tell you. I was in town when Cory called, but I’m going to swing by the house and grab a few things for Margie from her place. I don’t know if it makes sense, but I was thinking if they can get her to wake up, some comfort things might be nice. Photos, a blanket.”

“I can do that,” I offer. “You go on to the hospital.”

She hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. The boys need you. I’ll go by Margie’s first and meet you at the hospital in an hour. Keep me posted.”

As we end the call, my breath stills in my throat.

Ahead, the blue truck is turning around in the quiet parking lot. Shivers crawl across my skin like thousands of tiny spiders.

I should call someone, but the only people I could call are on their way to something more important. I lock my doors and back out of the spot, watching the blue truck disappear into the distance.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

PRESENT DAY

Margie’s house is dark and quiet when I arrive. It’s weird being here now, this place so full of happy memories, when at this moment I feel only sadness. My eyes find the pair of wide steps leading from the living room to the kitchen. When we were little, the boys and I would launch ourselves off them, trying to see who could jump the farthest. Now, there’s a dark stain at their base where someone—Mom, I’m guessing—tried to clean up the blood after Margie’s fall.

It makes the space under my ribs feel hollow. Strange.

This house is nearly a carbon copy of ours, though the decor is all different and everything smells like Margie in a way I can’t explain. Not bad and not of anything in particular, just…it smells like her. Them.

The versions of them I hold onto so tightly.