This Is How It Ends

“I could have gone out there and interrupted before they got to that point. Or called the cops. I could have done lots of stuff, Riley,” she said, her voice dropping low. “You know the worst thing about what I saw in the binoculars?”

I shook my head, transfixed by the loathing on her face. “The way I felt,” she said hoarsely. “Yeah, I was scared and horrified. But there was another part of me that felt free. Like someone had taken this huge responsibility I could never escape, and poof! it was gone. I felt so relieved.” She drew in a ragged breath, her voice shaky. “That’s what I remembered when I stood there, listening. When I let my dad die and did nothing.”

It was silent in the town house. Nat’s face was wet with tears, and I thought about the way I felt about the money Mr. Jones had given me. Freedom at an unthinkable price.

“Why didn’t you tell?” I asked finally.

“Who?” she said. “The cops? And explain that I’d stood in my room and let it happen?”

“There was a gun out there, Nat. They’d have understood.”

She continued like I hadn’t spoken, “And fry Richie Milosevich? Ruin his life? Have his parents lose another kid because of my dad and the awful things he’d already done to them? To other people in town? To me?” She whispered the last part.

“But . . .” I hesitated, but I had to ask it. “Aren’t you worried, Nat? I mean, the cops might figure it out someday . . . ” I trailed off, seeing the look on her face. “What?”

“They’re not as stupid as you think, Ri,” she said. “Richie’s alibi was that he was out of town with his parents. So either they’re covering for him or the cops are covering for all of them.” Nat shrugged. “Even if the police don’t know, I imagine they’re not looking real hard for answers. That’s the thing about having a dad no one likes. I’m the only one that’ll miss him.” She wiped her eyes finally. “He was a mess. But he was still my dad.”

“What about justice?” I asked.

“This is Vermont justice,” Nat said. “Live and let live. Or whatever.”

If I hadn’t lived there my whole life, I might not have believed it.

“How did Sarah figure it out?” I asked. And when?

“She didn’t,” Nat said. “I told her. After Trip. She was so wrecked. I could tell she was blaming herself. She said she and Trip had a fight . . .” Nat looked at me searchingly, but I wasn’t going to talk about it. Not with her or anyone else. Ever. “I thought it would help her,” Natalie said. “She really seemed like she was losing it.” She shook her head. “If I’d known she was going to go blabbing it around, I wouldn’t have.”

“I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s what Sarah said too.”

“Really, Nat. I promise.”

She nodded dismissively. “Nothing I can do about it,” she said. “Once I leave this place next year, I’m never coming back.”

I nodded. It was what we were all feeling, all planning, I guessed.

Except for Tannis, who, if the binoculars were right, was never leaving.

CHAPTER 35

I GAVE THE LIGHTER BACK to Moose the next week. Just laid it on the counter where he was rolling silverware. He and I didn’t talk much anymore. Not that we’d ever been buddies.

He ignored me at first, barely flicking his eyes to what I’d put there. Then he realized what it was. Moose put down the utensils and turned to me, his eyes wary and defiant.

“You left it at the Miloseviches’, didn’t you?” I asked.

He didn’t say anything, but the answer was in his eyes. I pushed it toward him.

“Take it,” I said. “I’m not going to tell.”

He eyed me, unsure, like it might be a trick, then quickly took it. The lighter disappeared into his pocket. “I didn’t do it,” Moose said quietly.

“I know.”

“He . . . I didn’t even—”

I held up a hand. “Don’t tell me.” I didn’t want the details about whether Moose and Richie had plotted the whole thing, watching outside the trailer as Galen had gone in and come out, or whether Moose had stolen Mr. Cleary’s gun, maybe as a prank like the vase, or had just told Richie where to find it. I already knew more things than I should, and none of it seemed to be doing me any good.

“But—” I could see him dying to spill the whole story.

“Moose,” I warned. “Don’t.”

He shut his mouth, eyeing me suspiciously. “You’re not going to say anything?” he said. “To the cops? Or anyone?”

“No. Live and let live,” I told him. “Or whatever.”

***

It was weird being around him afterward. And around Nat. And Tannis. I knew all their secrets and more. I knew Tannis and Matt would wind up keeping the baby. And that she’d have two more and that even if there were moments of regret, there’d be happy ones too.

None of them knew my secrets, of course. The only person who did was gone.

A month has passed now, and Sarah still hasn’t come back. I thought she might write again or call. She hasn’t done either.

Rather than going to the cafeteria, where I’d have to avoid my friends and the table where the five of us used to sit, I started leaving school at lunch. They let us do that—open lunch. Sometimes I’d just walk and walk until I couldn’t really feel my toes anymore. Most days I’d go to the town library, do my homework long before I needed to or noodle around on the Internet, looking up theories about the brain and hypnosis and energy. Hoping for something that’d prove Sarah wrong, show that the things she’d told me were impossible. I didn’t find it.

One day, early on, I looked up Cambridge, too. Sarah had mentioned it in her letter, and I couldn’t put my finger on whether it was something we’d talked about or a joke I couldn’t remember.

A cityscape popped up on the computer—red brick buildings, a river spanned by arching bridges. And a building that was eerily familiar. I looked at it for a long, long time. Vast and oddly shaped, like it had been built with kids’ blocks, chunks left out by accident. And row after row of little square windows stacked on top of one another. I’d never seen anything like it.

Except in my vision that very first night at the cave. The building out the window of my dorm room, against the cloudless blue sky.