“Evie, I—” Dad began.

I sighed. “Dad, the movie was fine and we’re good. Thank you for giving us the money. A couple of kids from school were laughing about the hearse, that’s all. But I don’t want to talk about it. Please and thank you.”

“Oh,” he said. Since I was practically mashed up against him, I felt him deflate a little. “Well, I am sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” I said, working hard not to sound snarky. But which part of “I don’t want to talk about it” did he not get?

Maybe he did get it though, because we drove the rest of the way home in silence.

I led Oren down to the basement and thought about leaving him there. I just wanted to go up to my room and be by myself for a while.

But as mad as I was, I couldn’t abandon him. I kept thinking about how the girls had called him Zombie Boy. I knew how it felt. And it was my fault.

So I decided to stay with him until his uncle picked him up. I turned on the TV and started flicking through the channels. My phone pinged, but I ignored it.

Oren huffed.

I ignored him too.

He poked me in the arm and then aimed his phone at me, showing me the text he’d just sent.

Why did you let them get to you?

I looked from his screen up to his face. “Are you serious?”

He nodded.

“Because they tell everyone at school those things.”

He shrugged.

So what? You don’t want any friends anyway!

I stared at him. He stared at me.

I looked away first. “They called me Corpse Girl,” I said quietly.

You should have stood up for yourself if it bothers you.

That made me mad. Really mad.

“I didn’t see you standing up for yourself, Oren. Or me. You know, that might have been nice. For you to stand up for me and tell them that I don’t smell like death or rotting flesh! That I’m not a Corpse Girl!”

He recoiled.

I wasn’t done either. “Thanks for nothing. Though I bet if you’d texted them something, they would have backed down for sure.”

He looked horrified. But I was still mad. My heart was pounding so hard. My mouth went dry even as my eyes started to fill with tears.

He shook his head.

“Yes you can speak!” I said, answering what he hadn’t said. The tears were rolling down my cheeks now. “You just don’t want to.”

He frowned.

“I know you could if you wanted to,” I said, crossing my arms. “But why won’t you? Is it because you want everyone to keep feeling sorry for you because your parents died? Why?”

He started to cry then, his face crumpling in agony. My heart lurched as I was overcome with guilt. I’d gone too far. Way too far.

“Oren, I—”

“I killed them, okay?” he yelled. “I killed my parents. That’s why!”