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  Finally, she said, “They’re selling Shaun’s car.”

  He glanced at her. “Really? How do you know?”

  “I went to Nan’s.”

  Ré’s brows shot up. “Whoa,” he said quietly. “How is she?”

  She gave him a look like, how do you think? But she didn’t say that. She looked down at her lap. “She asked me to tell him to come home.”

  “Fuck,” he said, breathing out. He checked his mirrors. He hadn’t seen the cops lurking around the school in a while. Maybe the worst was over? Maybe that thing with the bear grease had actually worked? “Ev,” he said, “can I ask you something kinda weird?”

  She looked at him, curious.

  “I was wondering if I could cook something at your house,” he said. “It’s meat. Please don’t ask why.”

  She didn’t laugh, like he’d thought she might. She just nodded like she was thinking it over, then said, “When?”

  “I was thinking maybe Saturday?”

  Again, silence. He glanced at her, fully expecting a no.

  She leaned against the headrest and looked out the window. “Is it a secret thing?” she asked.

  “Uh, kind of,” he admitted. “It’s also just a roast, but I can’t do it at home or my folks will think it’s dinner.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Will it be disgusting?”

  “Nah,” he said. He hoped. “It’s pretty normal, I guess.” If gorging on bear meat to kill a demon is normal.

  She shrugged. “Okay.”

  He smiled, relieved. “Thanks, Ev.”

  After a while she said, “Can we go to your place right now? I don’t feel like seeing my mom today.”

  He looked at her, puzzled. She stared back, big blues, her dark hair sliding across her cheek in the breeze. He checked his watch and calculated how many brothers might be home at this time of day. Two at most. Maybe none. “Sure,” he said, heart fluttering again.

  He pulled a U-ie at the next lights, and five minutes later they were in his driveway.

  25

  R

  Réal led her into the front room, then stood in the doorway, not sure what to do next. He scratched behind his ear. “You thirsty?”

  She shrugged. “Not really.”

  He tried to see his living room the way she was seeing it now, for the first time. All the toys and shoes and laundry in baskets that would probably just get picked through and worn again before it was ever folded. He might have once been embarrassed by the mess, but that was pointless. This room never looked any better than it did now.

  “Where’s your dog?” She nudged a leash on the floor with her sneaker.

  “Upstairs, probably. He’s super old. The twins’ll walk him when they get home.”

  She nodded. She stood with her hands balled in the pockets of her cutoffs.

  “How come you don’t want to see your mom?” he asked.

  She glanced at him and took a deep breath, letting it out before saying, “You keep asking me what I’m doing about the baby.” Before he could protest that he’d laid off, she continued. “And I didn’t tell you ’cause I didn’t know. I didn’t want to think about it. But when I saw Nan the other day…I don’t know. Something happened.”

  Réal kept quiet, waiting.

  She cupped her hand around the little bundle of her belly. You’d hardly even notice it unless you were looking for it. “It’s not just an alien,” she said. “It’s Nan, and it’s Shaun, and it’s his mom. And it’s me, even though I don’t love it yet.” She shook her head, her voice sad and hollow. “And I might never love it, but…I’ve decided to keep it, for now.”

  “For now?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I mean, I’ve decided to have it. I’m thinking about adoption.”

  Ré breathed out in a rush. “Wow,” he said. “That’s huge.”

  “Yeah.” She glanced at him. She looked scared as hell. “So I gotta tell my mom, I guess. But just not today.”

  “Shit, Ev, that’s great. I mean, that you figured it out and all. That’s awesome. Right?” From the look on her face, he couldn’t tell how she felt about it, and maybe that was because she still didn’t know. He hesitated, then stepped over and put his arms around her. She didn’t resist, but she kept her hands in her pockets.

  “Sunny knows,” she said into his shoulder.

  Ré stiffened. There she was. Good ol’ Sunny, jumping out whenever Evie was around. He pulled back a little, looking into her eyes. “Does that matter?”

  Evie shrugged, looking miserable. “I guess not.”

  Ré stepped back and ducked a little to see her eye to eye. “Evie,” he said, “it does not matter. She does not matter, okay? Nobody does but you. This is your life and it’s your decision and you are the only one who can tell you how to feel about any of it.” Evie just stared at him, not even blinking. “If she messes with you—if anyone does—I got your back, Ev. I told you—whatever you need, I’m there.”

  Now she blinked, and the tears spilled. She said, “What makes you such a saint, Réal? I don’t get it. You don’t even know me.”

  He stared for a second, surprised, then looked away. “I’m no saint,” he said. “Pretty far from it, actually.”

  Câlisse. What could he say? Everything honest was terrible. He slid his hands into his back pockets and told her, “Shaun was my best friend. My brother. I just want to do right by him, that’s all.”

  She said nothing. And then, “Will you help me tell my mom on Saturday?”

  “I will.”

  She smiled sadly. “And what about Sunny?”

  He looked at her a long time, trying to figure out exactly what she was asking.

  She is awfully pretty, he thought. She is all soft curves and eyes. The kind you wanna swim in, the kind that’d drown a guy if he wasn’t careful. Her hair was always a wavy mess, and she wore boyish, oversized shirts, though that might have been just to hide her growing belly. She had pale freckles across the bridge of her nose that he’d only just noticed now, in this light.

  She was the kind of girl you had to look at twice before you really saw her.

  And she was a dreamer, just like him.

  “Sunny and I are over,” he said.

  He could see the words take shape inside her, her heart jump up her throat. Maybe it wasn’t what she’d been asking, but there it was, out loud. He almost laughed at how nervous he felt, how naked and silly and plain vulnerable those words had just made him. And then she threw out a rope and saved him—she smiled.

  Not a huge, happy smile, not a gleeful, victorious one. One that barely touched her lips but reached all the way into her eyes, and he knew it was real.

  He said, “Evie, I…” But the words got stuck partway. That night, in my car, he wanted to say. And the way you look at me… I hope it’s serious. It feels so fucking serious.

  “Me too,” she said, and he fell right through the floor, into the basement, into the earth, all the way to China and out the other side. Flying in space. Câlisse.

  He was so happy and so scared all at the same time. Miigwech, he thought, miigwech, Gitchi-Manidoo. I don’t deserve this.

  She took his hand and pulled him toward her. He swallowed. Magnificent strings of sacres flew through his brain as his mouth went dry. He licked his lips; he looked at her lips. She tipped her chin up and he ducked down, and he kissed her.

  Instantly he was filled with the tingle and warmth of wine, and he was drunk. She put her fingers on his cheek lightly. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her to him, feeling the curve of her belly press into him. Together they fell against the doorframe, her breath all over his neck, his hand in her hair. His joy was so heavy he didn’t know if he could even stand up anymore.

  He pulled away. “Ev,” he said. “I—I don’t do this. I don’t just bring girls here.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  “I just want you to know,” he told her. “I’m not like Shaun, like that.”

  “Ré,” she
said, “it’s okay.”

  “I mean, I want to,” he continued. “With you. I really want to.” Her eyes were melting his legs out from under him. “It’s just…I don’t know if I want to right now. Is that okay?”

  “Ré, please. Just shut up.” She was grinning now.

  He couldn’t help but smile too. They were still bundled in each other’s arms, smiling, pressed awkwardly against the doorframe. He ducked and kissed her again, and she made a little sound that nearly killed him. Good lord, he thought.

  “Dude,” came a voice behind them. Réal jerked back, almost dropping her from his arms. His brother Beni came down the stairs and passed them, looking deeply offended. “Get a frickin’ room.”

  Ré chewed at the grin on his lips as he looked down at Evie. She was blushing furiously. He cupped her head in his hand and leaned his cheek to her hair. Beni disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Do you want to go to my room,” Ré asked, “and just hang out a while?”

  She nodded, and he led her up the stairs and down the hall. The dog on his parents’ bed barely raised his head as they passed, tail wup-wupping halfheartedly against the duvet.

  They came to his bedroom door. No girl outside his own family had ever been in there. It wasn’t any rule he had. It wasn’t religious or anything. It had just never happened. Never been right. He pushed open the door and stepped in.

  E

  Evie looked around, trying not to show her surprise. Réal’s bedroom was nothing like she’d expected. It was smaller than her attic room, but it was immaculate. Almost military-tidy. The double bed was neatly made, striped sheet folded stiffly down. A dresser, a bookshelf, a night table with a lamp. Besides the bed, that’s all there was. The closet doors were closed, everything else hidden away—if there even was anything else.

  She didn’t have so much experience with boys’ bedrooms to have an opinion, but it was definitely a surprise.

  He caught her eye as she looked around. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah, of course,” she said. “It’s just so clean.”

  He laughed shyly and looked around too. “The rest of this house kinda drives me crazy,” he said. “I like things to be a little more…” He gestured vaguely with his hand.

  “I can see that,” she said. Since the bed was the only place to sit, she sat there.

  “I have music,” he said. “Wanna listen to something?”

  “Sure.” She watched him with a little smile on her lips. He seemed nervous, so unlike the Ré Dufresne people saw at school—cocky, silent and aloof. Toughest guy in the world. This guy’s hands were shaking.

  He went to the bookshelf, and she noticed a little black speaker nestled between the books. He flicked it on, then pulled his phone from his pocket and thumbed around, putting it down on the dresser as the speaker picked up the signal.

  Ré liked heavy metal. He liked punk and thrash. He liked stoner rock. It was all that had ever played in his car, before Shaun died. Like Sunny had said, dinosaur music. But what came out of that little black speaker was another surprise—soft guitar, little drops of piano and a voice rasping quietly about the moon. “What is this?” she asked.

  He sat next to her on the bed. He took her hand and pressed it between his, folding their fingers together, his leather watch pressing her wrist. “Nick Drake,” he said, tracing her skin.

  “I didn’t know you liked stuff like this,” she admitted.

  “You don’t really know anything about me,” he said, smiling a little.

  She smiled too. It was sort of true.

  She looked at the side of his face as he looked down at their clasped hands.

  Big brown eyes hidden by his paintbrush lashes. Nose bent where it had been broken, angling down toward his lips…She closed her eyes and breathed. When she opened her eyes, those lips were just as nice as they’d always been. Plum-colored and perfect. She wanted to run her fingers over them, trace them into memory.

  She felt like she could really see him now, finally. Past his camouflage. Past the tough armor. Under the hard shell that kept his softest parts safe from other people.

  Underneath all of that, he was just a normal boy.

  It almost hurt, looking at him. He was not like Shaun at all. Shaun didn’t have camouflage, he didn’t have layers to dig through and peel back and etch away into something better than what he seemed. Shaun was loud. He was obvious and full of needs. He wanted everything.

  But Ré never asked for anything, even when he needed it. All he did was give. True, she didn’t know much about him, but she did know that.

  And then she spoke very quietly, almost hoping he wouldn’t hear. “I could love you, you know. If you asked me to.”

  He looked up, startled. Then his perfect, plum-colored lips curved into a sweet, surprised little smile, and he blinked at her like he was looking into the sun.

  26

  E

  A picture of Shaun, standing in her driveway throwing stones. “Come down,” he’d yelled. “Come on!” Waving her into his car.

  That night he’d driven her to the Grains, not talking, eyes brimming with hot sparks. She’d been half asleep when they’d climbed the fence. And when she’d slid through the boarded window into the dark, he was already long gone up the stairs.

  She’d heard the trucks of his skateboard rattle as he threw it down, the wheels whiz as he shoved off. She’d climbed the stairs after him, resentful. Why was she there if he wasn’t going to wait for her, talk to her?

  At the second floor, his shadow had arced around the farthest pillars. He’d been angry. It had made her angry—he’d got her out of bed just to ignore her. She’d stood there, thinking, Maybe if I close my eyes, I’ll wake up in my own bed, dreaming.

  Then she’d turned and gone up to the third floor, listening to the wheels curving close, then away, at the bottom of the stairs, no intention of following her up. Let him skate all night for all I care.

  She’d gone to the hole in the wall and looked out over the broken fire escape, the tracks, at the stars cutting through blue velvet sky, and she’d imagined she was nothing, that she wasn’t even there.

  Evie stood in that broken doorway now, in bright daylight. In her pocket, she rolled a little silver bead between her fingers. She’d walked over the steps they’d taken that night, looking at the ground, the marks in the dust. They were almost clear. If you knew, you could see where he’d been, where she had been. All scuffs and scuffle, empty bottles, broken glass.

  She sat down in the busted-out doorway, leaning against the frame. She’d written her last exam that afternoon. She should have been happy, but instead she was only jealous. After today, they’d all be free, Sunny, Ré and Alex. They could flee this town and never come back, if that’s what they wanted. She dipped her toes into the loneliness and wiggled them around, testing the waters.

  If Shaun were still alive, she would have at least had him. Deep down, she even thought that might be why he’d chosen her in the first place. That the answer to why me, why now was simply that she’d still be in school when he graduated. They might even graduate together, if he kept missing class. Then he’d never be alone.

  Evie sighed. She looked at the drop below the broken fire escape to the second-floor landing, and through the rusted slats there to the scrubby grass below. Tomorrow, she’d tell her mom everything. Not just about the baby, but about Shaun too. The truth. Not Shaun the Invincible—the real truth. The one no one knew.

  Evie swallowed at the lump in her chest, remembering Réal yesterday. His sweetness, his perfect lips, her hand in his, warm and secure. The word love out loud…

  If he was serious about being there for her now, he’d hear the real story too.

  She had no idea how he’d take it. How many times had he told her he and Shaun were like brothers? Grown up together, lives entwined, as good as blood, et cetera. Ré loved Shaun. They all did. He was the sun they had all spun around.

  But that night, he’d been the
other Shaun. The one that only she knew. Pushy. He was so pushy, always laughing at her when she pushed back, making her feel small. Aw, come on, always. It was just so much easier to let him crash over her.

  Like that night, after the lake. Drunk, driving home. Her lip swollen and hot. He’d followed her up the attic stairs, lifting her clothes when all she’d wanted was to go to sleep, mad and alone.

  “Shaun, stop it,” she’d said. “You’re drunk.”

  “Don’t be so frigid.” He’d laughed, not stopping.

  Should she have bothered saying please? Did please work on freight trains?

  She’d let him undress her, let him breathe and sweat. Because he wasn’t always like that. He was nice, mostly. Not the monster you imagine boys who don’t hear no to be. He was still Shaun, even when he hurt and when he wouldn’t listen. It was all so confusing, she hadn’t known how to feel, even though it had all felt wrong somehow.

  Evie blinked tears from her eyes, staring out at the field where he was found.

  Where should she have drawn that line, exactly? When did it stop being okay for him to always get what he wanted? He was her boyfriend, not some stranger climbing in the window. They’d had sex plenty of times, and it had mostly been nice, his face nuzzled into her neck, his heart beating fast against hers.

  Just…sometimes it hadn’t been like that. Sometimes he hadn’t cared if she’d wanted it or not, and then it had felt like their whole relationship was just for him. Like she was hardly even there at all.

  Inside her backpack her phone buzzed. Evie sniffled and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. She dug her phone out and read the screen. Hey. You home?

  Butterflies flew out from under her ribs. She looked across the field. Réal’s place was that way, just over the tracks and trees.

  She typed back At the Grains.

  There was no dot, dot, dot indicating a reply.

  R

  At the Grains.

  He lay on his bed, head propped on a bent arm as he stared at the phone in his hand, thinking, What in hell is she doing over there? He rolled and stood up, pulled his jean jacket from the back of his bedroom door.