When morning finally came, Violet wanted to stay in bed and skip school. But somehow the idea of her mother hovering around her all day, asking if everything was okay, was even less appealing than trying to make it through another sleep-deprived day.
She managed to drag herself out of bed, feeling fatigued and unenthusiastic. The shower helped—a little. But breakfast only made her queasy. She felt off, out of sorts. And it completely sucked, because she knew she would be sleepwalking through this day, and probably the next, and the one after that. Until whoever was inside that container could be found and properly buried.
Her phone buzzed just before she walked out the door; she had a new text message:
Check the news. It was from Jay.
As she stood, Violet grabbed the remote and flipped through the local TV channels. It didn’t take long to find what Jay wanted her to see; it was on all the stations.
A four-year-old boy had been found on the Seattle waterfront late last night. Inside a cargo container. They flashed a picture of the blond-haired, cherubic-faced little boy.
Violet recognized the photo; she’d seen his face before, on the news, a story that she’d too easily ignored. An Amber Alert had been issued when he’d first disappeared—several weeks earlier—after he’d gone missing from his home in Utah.
And even then, she remembered thinking . . . vaguely . . . in the back of her mind, that the boy on the screen reminded her of her little cousin Joshua.
Violet felt sick. She had to sit on the edge of the coffee table to calm her suddenly shifting equilibrium. She felt like all of the air had been sucked from her lungs.
But at last she understood her dream on Saturday night.
She had dreamed of a dead boy. A real dead boy.
She dropped her backpack on the floor, deciding to give in to her exhaustion and stay home from school.
If only she’d been wrong, if only the container had held nothing more than a dead animal, then everything would be different now. But as it was, knowing that she hadn’t been mistaken, that she’d somehow known what—or rather who—had been in there, she felt crushed by the burden.
She turned off the television and headed back to her room. She knew there would be no peace for her until this boy’s family was able to reclaim and bury him.
She sat on her bed. At least in the privacy of her bedroom she didn’t have to go through the motions of normal, everyday life.
Here, she could hide away without pretending to be anything other than what she really was:
A girl who found dead bodies.
Chapter 5
Violet stood outside the cafeteria, wishing Jay would hurry up. She needed him to anchor her, to make her feel safe.
She felt raw, exposed. Her skin ached and her teeth were on edge, making them hurt all the way down to her jaw.
She knew, of course, why this was, but knowing didn’t make it more bearable.
Violet heard her name again, and she glanced up. She recognized Lissie Adams and her friend, even though she couldn’t immediately dredge up the friend’s name—her brain was too fuzzy, her thoughts too muddled. But that didn’t stop her from trying to interpret the look on Lissie’s face. Disdain, maybe. Disgust. A mixture of both, most likely.
Apparently, Chelsea and Jules, who’d been waiting with Violet, saw it too.
“Go away, Lissie,” Chelsea said, standing in front of Violet. “Shouldn’t you be feeding with your own kind?”
“Stay out of it, Morrison. This has nothing to do with you. I was just tryin’ to talk to Violet.”
Chelsea took a step forward until she was practically nose to nose with Lissie. “Yeah, well, Violet’s not interested in listening to any of your crap. Besides, we all know you’re just pissed because Jay doesn’t like skanks like you.”
Lissie’s lips tightened, but her face paled. It was a low blow, Violet knew that much, even from behind the curtain that buffered her from the real world.
She couldn’t watch, but only because it was too difficult to concentrate. She turned away; her friends would handle it; they would take care of her until Jay arrived. Beside her, an unfamiliar girl stood quietly, waiting without saying a word. Violet had the distinct feeling that the girl was part of their group, that she should recognize her, but, again, the confusion that plagued her made her uncertain.
The girl smiled, a nice smile, but Violet just turned away, staring at the floor, trying to tune out everything around her. It was easier that way, not thinking, not noticing.
And then her heart fluttered—the first sign that it was still beating—as she heard Jay’s voice. She didn’t look up; she didn’t even acknowledge that he’d joined them except to herself. Except to feel fleetingly grateful that he was there. At last.
She listened to the chatter going on around her as Jay’s arm slipped over her shoulder and he steered her toward the lunchroom. She heard Chelsea and Jules. She heard Claire giggle. She heard the voice of the new boy—Mike, she remembered—deep like Jay’s. And she heard Jay.
She didn’t hear the girl, but she knew she was still there.
They were all just noise to Violet.
Background.
She felt Jay squeezing her hand with his. It was warm. It made her feel safe and attached to the world.
He reminded her that she was still alive.
Lust
She stood at her locker, only pretending to sift through its contents, when in reality she kept her focus on the students hustling through the busy hallway behind her, not wanting to miss him amid the after-school activity. She knew she couldn’t wait for too long, or she’d miss her ride. Not that she really cared. She’d walk home if it meant she could spend a few extra moments—even in passing—with him.