She closes her eyes for a beat, and when she opens them again she looks so, so sad. “I’m going to leave. Please, though, tell someone about these. An adult. Your parents. These letters…This is so fucked-up. You have to do something. This guy is obsessed with you. Look at all these letters. He’s not going to stop until you do something—until you tell someone who can help. This is sick. Don’t you see that, May? Don’t you?” She looks at me imploringly, and when I don’t respond, she sighs. She gathers her coat and purse, and all the while I stare at my feet, refusing to look up until the bedroom door shuts behind her.

Chapter Forty-four

When my phone rings midday Saturday and I see that it’s May, I sit up in bed and check myself in the mirror before I answer, like she can see me.

“Take it down a notch, Teller,” I mutter. I flop back down on my stomach, propping myself up on my elbows. I’ve been sprawled here since Conor dropped me off an hour ago. He dragged me to the mall earlier because he wanted to buy a new shirt. I think he’s trying to impress Lucy.

“May!” I practically yell her name into the phone. I cringe. I sound so fucking lame I’m tempted to hang up. I clear my throat. “How are you?”

There’s silence on the other end and then a sniffle. “Hey.” Her voice is thick, like she’s been crying. I’m quiet, trying to figure out what to say. “Are you there?”

“Yes. Hi. I’m sorry.” There’s another sniffle from her end of the line. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She coughs a phlegmy cough. She’s obviously lying.

I don’t know how to respond. With Rosa, it was easy. She always wanted me to know every single thought that passed through her head, good or bad, and even though that was beyond exhausting at times, she was never a mystery. May is another story.

Her voice cuts through my thoughts. “Can you come over?”

“Right now?” I cringe as the words leave my mouth. Will I never learn to think about what I’m saying before I say it? “I mean, yes. Definitely. When? I’m there.” Now my words are tumbling over each other like they can’t figure out how to leave my mouth in the proper order. May lets out a bark on the other end of the line. At least my awkwardness is occasionally useful.

“Now would be great, if you don’t mind.”

“No! Yes, I mean. Wait, no—I don’t mind.” I shake my head and force myself to shut up for a second to control my verbal diarrhea. “I’ll be there soon.”

—