Frost

He pushed by me, across the hall, into my bedroom. I leaned against the wall next to Celeste’s desk, pressed fingertips against my forehead. What had just happened? My whole body felt cold with dread.

I heard the sound of David putting his coat on, then metal jangling. He stood inside my room, near the door, where I’d hung my keys since the day Celeste gave me his room key. I assumed he was taking it back. Please don’t.

“I understand what you’re feeling,” I said, moving into the hall, closer to him.

He came out of my room, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his army jacket. “No you don’t. You don’t love your family the way I do.”

I froze. “What?”

His heavy lids narrowed his eyes into slits. His expression wasn’t just anger; it was disgust. “I would die for my sister. You . . . you don’t want anything to do with your family. You don’t even know what family means.”

“That’s not true,” I said, barely able to speak. It felt like he’d taken the hammer and driven a spike straight in my chest. “I love my family. And my . . . my friends are like family.” I did. I loved my family and friends—more than anything.

“Who? Viv? Abby? I don’t think so. And not me and Celeste, obviously. Unless you show your love through betrayal.”

Along with the throbbing pain in my ribs, a fire burned in my head, and coldness penetrated the rest of my body. Anger now. The voice echoed inside my skull. Cubby’s voice. The closet’s voice. Tell him, she said. Tell him, Leena.

“What about you?” I said. “You and Celeste are so bonded it’s creepy.” Tell him. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the one who’s been hurting her.”

The words sucked the air out of the hallway.

David and I stared at each other. His lips parted, jaw slack. As shocked as I was that those words had come out of my mouth.

“You think I would hurt Celeste?” he said.

Did I?

Of course you do.

I shook my head to clear her words out. “No. I don’t know. I know it wasn’t some . . . some ghost.”

“How could you be so close to me, and think I would do that?” he said.

“I didn’t. I don’t.” My brain was spinning. Had I ever really thought that? I’d had my suspicions, but did I really believe he was capable of that? “I just don’t understand how you can think she’s not sick.”

“Because she’s not!” he said. “How could you be with someone you think might be abusing his sister? God, Leena.”

“I don’t think that. Really. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know why I did.” I wrapped my arms around myself. I was shaking. “David, I told the dean because I’m worried about Celeste. I did it even though I knew it might mean I’d lose you. Doesn’t that tell you anything? I love you, but your sister is sick.”

David had started walking down the hall, toward the common room. He paused and turned his head slightly, so I was looking at his profile. Turn, I willed him. Meet my eyes. Let me know it will be okay. He didn’t.

“Who’s the sick one here, Leena?” he said.

He didn’t wait for an answer.

Chapter 40

A STRANGE CALM SETTLED over the hallway once the side door banged shut behind David. Okay. Okay. It had happened. My limbs tingled on the edge of numbness. I touched my arms. I was still there. I was alive. I touched my face. Dry. I did the same body check I’d done the one time I’d been in a car accident, making sure all of my parts were in their right places. Numb, but intact.

Okay. I was okay. I stumbled into the bedroom. Only, I couldn’t feel the floor under my feet.

Once I was back in the closet, physical sensations started to return. First, a sense of the mattress as it held my body, then of the clothes that dangled above and brushed against me. I curled into a fetal position, holding Cubby. As the feeling came back to my skin, though, I realized the numbness had penetrated all the way inside. Where I expected to feel the intensity of sadness, there was nothing.

The worst had happened. I’d lost David, and in a way that meant I’d never have him back. But it didn’t seem real. The numbness seemed to be my body refusing to believe what had taken place. I knew this feeling—or lack of it. The moment of divine intervention before all hell breaks loose. “We’ve grown apart, Leena,” my mother had said, the first time my world was demolished. For days I’d been fine after she’d said that. Hadn’t told any of my friends, had played the part of the understanding daughter. I’d been fine until the feelings came crashing down, the day I’d emptied my parents’ medicine cabinet and lined the pills up on my bed according to size and shape.