“I feel awful,” he said. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I should’ve just believed you when you said she needed you. I—” he broke off, cleared his throat like he was staving off tears. “I’m sorry. Tell her I’m sorry.”

“I have,” I said. “I will. And it wasn’t your fault.” It was mine. “I have to go.”

He paused, his breathing shallow. Finally, he let me go. “See you at school,” he said softly.

“Yeah, see you next week,” I said.

“It’s going to be so weird, being back as a senior again, all my friends gone.”

“You have me,” I said, smiling at the idea of seeing him at school—of being able to see him every day again.

• • •

The night before the first day of school, Elise and I packed our bags and went to bed early. But after Elise fell asleep, I slipped out of bed alone. Something had been bothering me ever since she left the hospital. When we went to the Pink Mansion to pack up her things, I saw her go up into the attic. She said she was looking for a picture of her mother to take with her, but I knew that couldn’t be true. I thought about it on and off all week and finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer.

Most of Elise’s boxes had been put into the guest room for now, and that’s where I started. Quietly, I began sifting through them. It took almost an hour but I finally found what I was looking for: the gun case. Taking a deep breath, I undid the snaps and looked inside.

“No,” I whispered. The bullets were there, the cleaning kit too. But the revolver was missing.

“What are you doing?” Elise asked, and I almost screamed. She was at the door, standing in her tank top and athletic shorts, rubbing her eyes.

There was no point in trying to hide it. I rose slowly, showed her the case. “Where’s the gun?”

“What are you doing looking for it?” she said, snatching the case out of my hands.

“Where is it?”

She didn’t answer.

“You can’t be serious. At least tell me you’re not carrying it everywhere,” I begged.

She remained quiet.

“Please, Elise. Tell me it’s not in your messenger bag, that you’re not bringing it to school tomorrow.”

“No, of course not,” she said. “Don’t be silly. I’ll leave it in the car when I’m at school.”

“You can’t,” I said, panicking. “You can’t bring a gun onto school grounds.” She was smart, I thought. There was no way she’d do it.

“It’s my gun. I can do whatever I want with it. And you know exactly why I have it.” She sat down on the guest bed and seemed very tired.

“But your dad—”

She cut me off with one look.

“Exactly. My dad. What, you think a protective order will actually protect me? It’s nothing but a piece of paper, Remy. He’s out on bail now and I can’t stop him from coming for me if he wanted to.” The fear and anger in her voice stopped me cold. For a long moment, we sat there in silence.