Page 2 of The Design of Goodbye
After Jules pocketed two gold necklaces with crystals, we left. I didn’t expect the alarm. Its pulsing wail shot through me like an electric current, freezing me in place.
Jules ran.
I was pretty sure I was developing second-degree burns.
A security guard guided me into a back room, where I waited for my dad. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t think about anything but the letter.
This is what’s best for me.
No, make it third degree.
* * *
My dad didn’t turn on the lights.
In the living room shadows, I focused on the sand in my sandals, the stickiness of my skin from the humidity, and the sound of my choppy breathing.
The silence between us was overwhelming. I was going to combust if one of us didn’t speak. “Dad—”
“I can’t believe you, Madison.” He let out an audible breath. “Stealing? I know your mom—about the letter—but this isn’tyou.”
How could I tell him something as a simple as a piece of paper—with its five lines and twenty-six words—changed everything about who I’d thought I was?
“I know. But Dad—”
“I’m so disappointed, Madison.” He stepped into a beam of moonlight, and the look on his face made me stumble back like I’d been slapped. “So disappointed.”
Remember what I always told you.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. My hands shook. Then my entire body. “I’m so sorry.”
All I wanted him to say wasI forgive you. Those three words would be a blanket of security.
“I—” He shook his head. “I can’t do this right now.”
He walked away.
I went up in flames.
I turned to ashes.
Goodbye, Madison.
August
September
October
chapter two
I just hit a boywith my car.
My dad always told me I was a terrible driver. True, I’d failed my driver’s test twice, but that hadn’t been my fault. The first instructor had failed me for running a red light. It’d been yellow, okay? That meantkeep going. The second time, I hit a curb, which was totally not fair. Drivers run over them all the time. It’s like a rite of passage.
According to my dad, I was distracted, rolled through too many stop signs, and took turns too fast. Well, today he’d be pleased to know he was right on all accounts because I’d been doing all three of those when I’d hit the boy on the bike.
I was turning right into East Reed High School’s parking lot when I’d glanced through my rearview mirror and thought I saw her. Over the past three months, I’d come to realize having the same long dark blond hair, hazel eyes, and nose as my mother wasnota good thing. Not only did it remind me of her, but it had apparently distracted me so much I’d hit a boy on a bike.
