It took me a moment to realize her question wasnt rhetorical. She was actually asking my opinion about something, and there was no sarcasm involved.
I dont know. I glanced in the rearview mirror as I turned onto our street, and wasnt surprised to see Aunt Vals car on the road behind us. Maybe. But that was an outright lie. Meredith Cole was the third teenage girl to drop dead with no warning in the past three days, and while I wasnt about to voice my suspicions out loudat least not yetI could no longer tell myself the deaths werent connected.
Nashs coincidence theory had hit an iceberg and was sinking fast.
I parked in the driveway, and Aunt Val drove past us into her spot in the garage. Sophie was out of the car before Id even turned the engine off, and the minute she saw her mother, she burst into tears again, as if her inner floodgates couldnt withstand the assault of sympathetic eyes and a shoulder to cry on.
Aunt Val ushered her sobbing daughter through the garage and into the kitchen, then guided her gently to a stool at the bar. I came behind them both, carrying Sophies purse, and punched the button to close the garage bay door. Inside, I dropped my cousins handbag on the counter while Sophie sniffed, and blubbered, and hiccupped, spitting out half-coherent details as she wiped first her cheeks, then her already reddened nose with a tissue from the box on the counter.
But Aunt Val didnt seem very interested in the specifics, which shed probably already heard from the dance-team sponsor. While I sat at the table with a can of Coke and a wish for silence, she bustled around the kitchen making hot tea and wiping down countertops, and only once shed run out of things to do did she settle onto the stool next to her daughter. Aunt Val made Sophie drink her tea slowly, until the sobs slowed and the hiccupping stopped. But even then Sophie wouldnt stop talking.
Merediths death was the first spear of tragedy to pierce my cousins fairy tale of a world, and she had no idea how to deal with it. When she was still sobbing and dripping snot into her lukewarm tea twenty minutes later, Aunt Val disappeared into the bathroom. She came back carrying a small brown pill bottle I recognized immediately: leftover zombie pills from my last visit with Dr. Nelson, from the mental-health unit.
I twisted in my chair and arched my brows at my aunt, but she only smiled half regretfully, then shrugged. It will calm her down and help her sleep. She needs to rest.
Yes, but she needed a natural sleep, not the virtual coma induced by those stupid sedatives. Not that either of them would have listened to me, even if Id offered my opinion on the subject of chemical oblivion.
For a moment, I envied my cousin her innocence, even as I watched it die. Id learned about death early in life, and as inconsolable as Sophie was at the moment, shed had fifteen years to prance around in her plastic-wrapped, padded, gaily colored, armor-plated existence, where darkness dared not tread. No matter what happened next, no one could take away her happy childhood.
Aunt Val watched Sophie swallow a single, tiny white pill, then walked her daughter down the hall into her room, where the bedsprings soon creaked beneath her slight weight. Ten minutes later, she was snoring obnoxiously enough to leave no doubt in my mind that my cousin had inherited just as much from her father as from her mother.
While my aunt put Sophie to bed, I grabbed a second Coke from Uncle Brendons shelf in the fridgethe one realm Aunt Vals sugar-free, nonfat, tasteless regime had yet to conquerand took it into the living room, where I checked the local TV station. But there was no news on at two-thirty in the afternoon. Id have to wait for the five oclock broadcast.
I turned off the TV, and my thoughts wandered to the Coles, whom Id only met once, at a dance-team competition the year before. My eyes watered as I imagined Merediths mother trying to explain to her young son that his big sister wouldnt be coming home from school. Ever.
Glass clinked in the kitchen, momentarily pulling me from the mire of guilt and grief I was sinking into, and I twisted on the couch to see my aunt pouring hot tea into a huge latte mug. My brows furrowed in confusion for a momentmaybe Aunt Val needed a sedative too? until she stood on her toes to open the top cabinet. Where she and Uncle Brendon kept the alcohol.
My aunt pulled down a bottle of brandy and unscrewed the lid. Then she dumped a generous shot into her mug. And left the bottle on the countertop, clearly planning on a second helping.
She took a sip of her tea, then turned toward the living room, remote control in hand. The moment her gaze met mine, she froze, and her cheeks flushed.
It hasnt hit the news yet, I said, and couldnt help noticing how tired and heavy her steps looked as she crossed the tiles into the living room. Aunt Val and Mrs. Cole had been gym buddies for years. Maybe Merediths death had hit her harder than Id realized. Or maybe she was unnerved by how upset Sophie was. Or maybe shed connected Merediths death to Heidi Andersonsto my knowledge, she hadnt yet heard about Alyson Bakerand had started to suspect something was wrong. As I had.
Either way, her skin was pale and her hands were shaking. She looked so fragile I hesitated to add to her troubles. But the premonitions had gone too far. I needed help, or advice, orsomething.
What I really needed was for someone to tell me what good premonitions of death were if they didnt help me warn people. What was the point of knowing someone was going to die, if I couldnt stop it from happening?
Aunt Val wouldnt know any of that, but neither would anyone else. And in the absence of my own parents, I had no one else to talk to.
My fingers tangled around one another in my lap as she sank wearily onto the other end of the couch, her knees together, ankles crossed primly. The frown lines around her mouth and the tremor in her hand said she was not as composed as she clearly wanted to appear.
That, and the not-tea scent wafting from her mug.
The last time Id tried to tell her I knew someone was going to die, she and Uncle Brendon had driven me straight to the hospital and left me there. Of course, at the time, Id been screaming hysterically in the middle of the mall and lashing out at anyone who tried to touch me.
Presumably, theyd had no choice.
Surely it would go better this time, because I was calm and rational, and not currently in the grip of an irrepressible screaming fit. And because she was already one shot into a bottle of brandy.
My nerves pinged out of control, and I reached absently for the scent diffuser on the end table to my left, stirring the vanilla-scented oil with a thin wooden reed. Aunt Val?
She jumped, sloshing tea onto her lap. Sorry, hon. She set her mug on a coaster on the end table, then rushed into the kitchen to blot at her pants with a clean, wet rag. This thing with Meredith has me on edge.
I knew exactly how she felt.
I exhaled smoothly, then took a deep breath as my aunt returned to the living room, the wet spot on her slacks now covering half of one slim thigh. Yeah, it was prettyscary.
Oh? She stopped several feet from her chair, eyes narrowed at me in concern laced withsuspicion? Were you there? Had she already guessed what I was going to say?
Maybe Nash was right. Maybe I should keep my secret a little longer.
I shook my head slowly, and my gaze flicked back to the sticks protruding from the tiny oil bottle. No, I didnt actually see it she exhaled in relief, and I almost hated to ruin it with the rest of what I had to say butYou know the girl who died at Taboo the other day?
Of course. How sad! She returned to her chair and took a slow sip from her tea, eyes closed, as if she were thinking. Or maybe praying. Then she took a much longer drink and lowered her mug, eyes wide and wary. Kaylee, that girl had nothing to do with what happened today. According to the news, she was drunk, and may have been on something stronger than alcohol.
I hadnt heard that last tidbit, but I got no chance to question it because she was talking again. Like mother, like daughter.
My aunt gestured with her mug as she spoke, but nothing sloshed out this time. It was already empty. Sophie said Meredith collapsed while she was dancing. That poor child ate almost nothing and lived on caffeine. It was really only a matter of time before her body cried enough.
I know, and Sophie may be right. I let go of the scent sticks and bent the tab on my Coke can back and forth, carefully working it free from its anchor to avoid seeing the pity and skepticism surely lurking behind her cautious sympathy. The way they died may have nothing to do with anything. Though I certainly had my doubts. But, Aunt Val, I think Im the connection between them.
What?
I made myself look up just in time to see my aunts eyes narrow in confusion. But then her forehead actually relaxed, tension lines smoothing as if shed just figured out what I was talking about, and it came as a relief.
If the return of my delusions put her at ease, what on earth had she expected me to say?
Her expression softened, and the familiar, patronizing mask of sympathy stung my pride. Kaylee, is this about your panic attacks? She leaned forward and whispered that last part, as if she were afraid someone would overhear.
Anger zinged through me like tiny bolts of lightning, and I made myself set down my half-empty drink can before I crushed it. Its not a joke, Aunt Val. And Im not crazy. I knew Meredith was going to die before it happened.
For an instantless than a single breathmy aunt looked terrified. Like shed just seen her own ghost. Then she shook her headliterally shaking off her fear of my relapseand donned a stoic, determined mask. Id been right all along. She wasnt going to listen. Ever.
Kaylee, dont do this again, she begged, a frown etching deep lines around her mouth as she stood and carried her empty mug into the kitchen. I followed her, watching in mounting irritation as she lifted the teakettle from the stove.
I know youre upset about Meredith, but this wont bring her back. This isnt the way to deal with your grief.
This has nothing to do with grief, I insisted through gritted teeth, dropping my half-full can into the recycling bin.