I sit cross-legged at the kitchen table, mechanically eating a bowl of cereal while watching the tiny TV perched on the countertop. It’s practically on mute, because for some reason that I suspect involves alcohol, Aunt Penny’s asleep on our couch.
In the time I’ve spent not sleeping—obsessively flicking between local news stations, hoping to learn more about the death I witnessed—I’ve come to a couple of conclusions: one, the guy committed suicide, like Paige guessed, probably by jumping out a window; two, the note with Mom’s shop’s address was purely coincidental, and three, I’m a complete idiot for thinking otherwise.
Seriously, what does it matter if he visited the shop in the past or planned to visit in the future?
It doesn’t. I’m an idiot. I’m talking Lloyd-and-Harry kind of dumb. But it’s not surprising that I’d jump to radical conclusions, having been raised to believe aliens, witches, and vampires exist.
Still, I watch the news, hoping to find out more. You know. For closure.
“Hey, hon.”
Mom strides into the kitchen wearing a threadbare bathrobe and slippers, with a virtual bird’s nest of hair piled on top of her head. It’s the closest to looking like a normal mom she’ll get all day.
“Turn that down a bit,” she says. “Aunt Penny’s sleeping.”
She pulls a pack of Virginia Slims from the carton she keeps in the freezer so they stay fresh—because aren’t fresh cancer sticks what we all want?—then sinks into a chair across from me, lighting the cigarette pressed between her lips. Her eyes narrow on the TV as she exhales. “What, no MTV?”
I waft the smoke clouding around the kitchen table away from my face. “I thought you were quitting, Mom.”
“I am. Next week. Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong or just keep trying to distract me? Because no daughter of mine watches the news.”
“Distract you from what?” Aunt Penny stumbles into the kitchen. And such a hot mess I have not yet seen. Her hair, which last night was probably a beautiful updo of blond curls, slumps in a weird, frizzy bun next to her left ear, like even it has a hangover. Black makeup is smudged under her eyes, and her bandage dress rides so high up her thighs I can see panties.
“Whoa,” I say. “What happened to you?”
“Bikini martinis,” she says, falling into the seat next to me. “Let me give you a piece of advice: never have more than one—maybe two—sugary drinks a night, unless you want to puke your face off the next day.”
“That’s excellent advice for my teenage daughter,” Mom says, cutting her a warning look.
Penny rolls her eyes, but when Mom’s not looking, gives me a conspiratorial wink. Most people would assume that Mom and Penny don’t get along well. They’d be wrong. Mom likes to pretend she’s annoyed by Aunt Penny’s carefree lifestyle, but everyone knows she loves being the responsible sister. Meanwhile, Aunt Penny likes to pretend she’s annoyed by Mom’s nagging, but everyone knows she loves having at least one person who cares about where she wakes up in the morning. It’s the perfect relationship.
“So what’s going on with you?” Penny asks, turning to me. “Boyfriend troubles?”
God, and for a minute there I thought I loved her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I stir Cocoa Puffs around my bowl.
“Please,” she says. “Did he cheat on you? I know an ex-UFC fighter who can kick his ass. Just say the word.”
“Penny!” Mom cries.
“What? He’d deserve it if he cheated.”
“No, it’s not Devon,” I interrupt.
“Bianca, then?” she asks. “She’s been super bitchy lately. What’s up with her?”
“I don’t appreciate swearing in my household,” Mom says, then addresses me. “I know you’re not going to like this, but if Bianca’s treating you badly again, I think I’m going to have to speak to her mother. Now, I know that’s not cool and you have an image to uphold, but if she’s going to keep giving you a hard time like this—”
“It’s not Bianca,” I say.
“Well, what is it, then?” Mom asks.
“Yeah, what is it?” Penny adds.
I look at the two of them, eagerly waiting for me to continue, and take a deep breath.
“It’s, well … I saw something yesterday. When I was driving to the shop from school I saw … I saw someone die. He fell from, well, I don’t know where, a rooftop or a window ledge, I guess. There was so much blood and his legs were definitely broken, and I didn’t do anything, nothing at all, I just froze. This one lady, she checked for a pulse and then this paramedic did CPR, but it was useless—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mom interrupts. “Take a breath. What are you talking about, Indigo?”
“You saw this?” Penny asks, through the hand clapped over her mouth.