Chapters (53)
- Front Cover
- Letter from the Author
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- • One •
- • Two •
- • Three •
- • Four •
- • Five •
- • Six •
- • Seven •
- • Eight •
- • Nine •
- • Ten •
- • Eleven •
- • Twelve •
- • Thirteen •
- • Fourteen •
- • Fifteen •
- • Sixteen •
- • Seventeen •
- • Eighteen •
- • Nineteen •
- • Twenty •
- • Twenty-One •
- • Twenty-Two •
- • Twenty-Three •
- • Twenty-Four •
- • Twenty-Five •
- • Twenty-Six •
- • Twenty-Seven •
- • Twenty-Eight •
- • Twenty-Nine •
- • Thirty •
- • Thirty-One •
- • Thirty-Two •
- • Thirty-Three •
- • Thirty-Four •
- • Thirty-Five •
- • Thirty-Six •
- • Thirty-Seven •
- • Thirty-Eight •
- • ∞ •
- • Thirty-Nine •
- • Forty •
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- Excerpt from Be Dazzled
- One
- Two
- About the Author
- Back Cover
“Yeah, but in this case it might be illegal.”
Sophia drifted farther into the inky interior while Kane climbed to the second floor. From below she called, “You never know. Maybe you’re suppressing your memories subconsciously.”
Kane thought this was a very clever way of making him feel guilty for not being able to produce an explanation. Sophia continued: “Maybe it’ll only manifest through, like, art or something. You should try drawing, or painting, or—” There was a small crash that awoke a brood of bats somewhere in the rafters. Sophia appeared at the top of the steps. The bats settled. “Maybe you should decoupage something. You used to decoupage a lot of things.”
“You think delivering my testimony as a kitschy craft project is going to convince a judge that I’m not dangerous?”
“Maybe.”
“Sophia, that is the gayest thing I have ever heard.”
Like a sudden spark, the familiar joke flared between them. In unison, the siblings repeated their favorite refrain: “Just gay enough to work!”
They laughed, and for a second, Kane wasn’t full of dread.
Sophia hopped over a mess of broken bottles to join Kane on a crumbling sill that overlooked the river. They sat in silence in the mill’s stagnant air until Sophia hugged his shoulder. This surprised him; she hated hugs.
“Hey,” Sophia murmured. “We’re all glad that you’re okay. That’s what matters most. We should be grateful for just that.”
A stitch of guilt pulled tighter in Kane’s chest. He agreed that being okay was what mattered most. He just didn’t agree that okay was what he was.
“Plus,” Sophie said, “your scars are gonna look awesome.”
Kane smiled. His fingers itched to feel the tidy network of burns that wrapped like a crown around the back of his head, from temple to temple. They perplexed the doctors. They were shallow and would heal quickly, but sometimes at night they prickled with heat, turning his dreams to smoke and ash.
A gust dragged across the river, hit the shore, and whipped against the hemlocks and birch.
“Have you talked to anyone from school?” Sophia asked.
“Homeroom sent a card. The librarians sent flowers.”
“What about friends?”
“Lucia sent a note.”
“Lucia is a lunch lady, Kane.”
Kane chewed the soft flesh of his cheek. “I know that.”
“I know you know that. But what about people in your grade?”
“Umm…” Kane felt her consideration as a physical thing. “Homeroom sent a card.”