I don’t like thinking about that distance now. I always thought things would go back to normal. That there would be lots of time to mend whatever had gotten messed up in our sister bond. You never think you’re going to be out of time until you are.

“Did your parents notice that Parker was different?” I ask.

“I mean, they definitely knew. He would say awful things at dinner sometimes, and at first, Mom and Dad would argue with him. When he kept saying the things, they grounded him, but he didn’t seem to care. He never wanted to go anywhere but his room anyway. Eventually, they stopped arguing with him. And stopped grounding him. It’s like they got scared of Parker. Mom, especially. So she—I mean, we all stopped trying.”

“What awful things?”

Quinn shakes her head. The end of her ponytail brushes against my back. “I don’t want to say.”

“You have to.”

“I really don’t want to, Core.”

I reach for my notebook again, but she turns around and grabs my hand to stop me.

She chews her bottom lip. We’re sitting face-to-face now. I slowly pull my hand away from her.

“It’s bad,” she says.

“I know,” I say. “I read the articles. I know all about the websites he used to leave comments on. The forums or whatever.” I pick up a dead leaf and shred it between my fingers. When you remove the meat of a leaf, you’re left with a skeleton hand.

“Then why are you making me talk about it?”

I don’t look up at her. I stare at the mangled leaf in my palm. “Because I want to know what’s true. Knowing the truth is important. I told you, the specifics are what are going to help us to visualize.”

“Right, okay.” Quinn says.

A question rolls around inside my brain. I’m scared to ask it, but I do anyway. “Did he go after Mabel because she was Muslim?”

Quinn’s face drains of color. “I—I—I—I don’t know. Mabel wasn’t, I mean, you guys aren’t even—”

I know she’s trying to say that my family isn’t that Muslim. Which is true. We’re technically Muslim, but we aren’t very religious people, but I’m not sure if that distinction would’ve mattered to Parker. Dad never taught Mabel or me much about Islam besides the basic things. He did tell us a lot about the achievements of Islamic scientists and mathematicians, though. I’ve always been proud of that history. There’s a painting of the Dome of the Rock hanging in our kitchen. There’s also one framed Quranic verse, written out in fancy calligraphy, but since I can’t read Arabic, I always forget which one it is.

So who is Quinn to say what we are or what we aren’t? I don’t like when people say that because it makes me feel like they’re telling me I’m not the kind of Muslim they’re scared of. Like if I was more obviously religious, they’d have a problem with me. And that’s all kinds of messed up. It’s not fair that other people get to decide how much of something I am.