Page 119 of Faultlines
“No!” The word cracks through the hallway like a whip. I point at Brooke. “You.”
She starts to cry, but I don’t care. Not even a little.
“Ellie, please—”
“You—and my dad?” I scream.
Conversation in the auditorium falters, then dies. I hear a collective intake of breath. But I don’t stop. “Answer me!”
Her face crumbles. Good. I want her hurting. I want someone beside me to hurt.
“Ellie,” she pleads.
“Don’t.”
“Ellie, I’m so sorry.”
Her apology makes me furious. “Sorry?” The word comes out as a scream tearing out of me.
Quick, urgent footsteps sound behind me. I step back, bumping into Mom. Her radiant smile from earlier gone, replaced by a mask of confusion. Dad is right behind her, his brow furrowed.
“Ellie?” Mom asks.
Brooke keeps her head down and avoids looking at anyone. I turn to my dad, my body trembling. He looks frozen in a state of shock.
“Please tell me she’s lying.”
His mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
“Tell me she’s lying!” I repeat louder, the words cracking.
Mom turns toward him, each movement arriving a half-second late, like her body is waiting for instructions that keep getting lost.
I look at my dad, then back at Brooke.
“I hate all of you.”
My eyes sting. I can’t stay here. I drop the flowers that are still in my hand and run. The door slams behind me with a resounding bang.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
GROUND DEFORMATION
Claire
I spot Ethan before he sees me.
He’s standing outside the eighth-grade hallway, a folded conference schedule clutched in one hand. His attention is fixed on the map of the eighth-grade wing, his finger tracing a route with an architect’s precision, as though he’s trying to solve a problem instead of attend a parent-teacher conference.
A month has passed since the play. Six weeks since Ellie and I moved into the apartment at the ranch. I’ve been dreading tonight.
As if he feels my gaze, he looks up, and our eyes meet across the crowded hallway.
“You’re early,” I say.
“So are you.”
“I was worried about back-to-school night traffic.”
