"You." She shivers, totally weaponless, grasping. "You . . . I'll . . ."

She doesn't love me enough to do it. That's fine. If she did, I realize now, my last hope would be lost. I'd be in the cage forever.

I'm the one who needs to do it.

"I'll . . . I'll . . ." he mimics. "Believe whatever you want to make you feel like you had an interesting day. You and your sister, you're both crazy b.i.t.c.hes. Clearly getting laid did not help like I thought it would."

My fury expands and then contracts, slamming together into a hard ball of cold iron. It fits inside me. It fits right in my chest. I forget about Ca.s.sius, about my sister, about everything. This is the moment. Before and after.

I was always capable of this.

But before I can do anything, there's a movement by the quarry. Joy lurches forward. She slaps at him uselessly. She shoves him a little. I freeze, but she's not trying. She's just drunk.

He stumbles back, his foot sc.r.a.ping the edge, but he's laughing. Neither of them seem aware that they're on the edge of oblivion.

I'm quivering, stuck. I can't push him when she's so close. She could fall.

"What are you trying to accomplish?" he snorts. "You know you're the only reason I hooked up with your sister, right? You practically threw her at me. Mainly I f.u.c.ked her because you seemed to want me to do it so bad."

No. Don't say that to her. Don't say that.

Joy makes a strangled noise and shoves him again. It's a frail motion. It barely affects him. He's still smirking. All it does is make him take a tiny step back.

Except there isn't anything left to step back onto.

I can just barely see his face, in the bit of light bleeding into the sky. His expression contorts with a stupid bewilderment. His arms swing forward, groping for my sister, but she jolts back. She doesn't grab him like she grabbed me.

And then he drops out of sight.

The sounds of the crack and Ca.s.sius screaming thinly mixes with the rattle of the trees in the sudden wind, canceling each other out until my ears ring with silence.

The quiet, hungry growl of the quarry vanishes from the back of my head.

I leave the trees, walk up to the edge, and look down.

He's motionless, spread-eagled on the flat rock. His face is turned sideways, in shadow. A black stain pools beneath his head. It spreads slowly, the darkness eating up the stone.

"Jesus, oh Jesus . . ." Ca.s.sius is stammering from the edge of the woods.

The stain keeps moving.

But Adam doesn't.

"Grace?" I hear Joy mumble. I turn just as she sits down hard in the dust. Her eyes are unfocused, her mouth hangs open. The sharp smell of alcohol slaps me.

Something horrible settles inside me, along with a strange calm.

I look back into the quarry, but he's not there anymore, even if his body is. He's gone somewhere else. He's the new weight inside me.

She stole my only chance.

"Please don't tell, Grace." Tears leak down her face.

Because of her, I'll be like this forever.

"Grace . . ." She's barely conscious.

You practically threw her at me.

I wasn't afraid when I was running through the woods, I wasn't afraid when I saw them at the edge-but I'm afraid now.

What if I hate her forever?

"The police." Ca.s.sius finally looked over the edge. He's gasping. "We have to call . . ." He fumbles with his phone, drops it. I pick it up.

"It was an accident," I say robotically.

"What?"

"He was drunk and he fell in. Everyone's always saying how somebody was going to fall in."

"You . . ."

"She didn't mean for him to fall. You saw it. She wasn't thinking." I don't know why I'm protecting her. Because of her . . . "If you don't tell anyone, I'll forgive you for that night."

His mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

"It's not that hard, not saying something." Come on, Ca.s.sius.

"I'm . . ."

"For me," I say.

"I . . ." He won't look at Joy. "I . . . okay."

"Do you promise?"

He's sobbing. "Y-yes."

I move to give him back his phone. Then I notice a tiny green light above the screen, next to the camera.

"Is that recording?" I hear myself say.

"Adam wanted me . . . to film his birthday party." He digs his fingers unfeelingly into the front of his own shirt.

Joy mumbles something incoherent.

Before I delete the video, I hesitate. I highlight the last few minutes and email the file to myself.

Just in case.

"I need you to help me get her home," I say.

Joy's head tips forward onto her chest and then back up again. "You sound so mad," she slurs. "Are you mad at me, Grace?"

Then she leans forward and vomits.

She won't remember any of this.

"You're dreaming," I tell her. "We're going home."

Ca.s.sius doesn't say anything. And he won't. I'll make sure.

It's not that hard, not saying something.

TWENTY-ONE.

October 30 Joy I LIE RIGID UNTIL THE SKY CHANGES COLORS. Sunset. Sunrise. The broken-off shadow of the severed tree branch moves over me and across the room. There's a new stain on my sheets. My wrist is bleeding. There's red on my fingernails.

Then Mom's in my doorway. Somehow it's the next morning. I haven't moved since I watched the video. I tell her I'm fine in an even voice. But she asks if I'm still sick.

"You don't sound-" She frowns. "Maybe you should get more sleep."

I can't.

I have to meet Levi.

I have to tell him what I did.

Levi's Tupperware of soup is still on my bedside table. I forgot to refrigerate it. I'll have to throw it away.

I shower, drown in steam, scrub, shave, pluck, blow-dry. Nails-wash off the red. New red, painted on. Band-Aid on my wrist. Makeup. Foundation, powder, kohl, until my eyes pop from pools of black. Hair straightened. Lipstick. Clothes.

If I look human, n.o.body will know. There's nothing inside me. I've emptied out. I don't want anything to do with the girl I was or what she did. I'm glad she's gone.

I set myself step-by-step plans: Go downstairs. Walk downtown. Tell Levi I killed his half brother.

Words don't have to mean anything if I don't let them.

Nothing has to mean anything if I don't let it.

"Joy," Dad yells. "Breakfast!"

My sister's door is closed. She's asleep. She always sleeps so late.

She knew.

Dad chokes on his orange juice when I walk into the kitchen.

"I have a date," I hear myself say. My chin quivers stupidly.

"You look beautiful." Mom glares at Dad. "You could just use a little blending. Can I help?"

"Yes," I whisper.

She brings me to the bathroom and pulls out tissue after tissue, dabs and rubs until my face looks real again. What would she do, if I punched the mirror and it shattered?

"I'm not used to you with straight hair. You look like your sister." She lifts the edges of my hair. "Who's the date with? That boy who's been tutoring you? I know. I know what it would take to get Joy Morris to spend an extra instant on American History."

I'm glad she knows me. I'm glad she has a version of me to hold on to. She deserves her.

She looks at our faces next to each other in the mirror. "The bad thing about you girls being twins is that n.o.body tells me you look like me. The only thing anybody says is how you look like each other. Sometimes it feels like you brought each other into the world and I was only marginally involved."

She laughs, then points at my reflection's forehead. "Oh, but see that little mole right by your temple? I have one by my ear. Family moles."

I don't know why she's talking so much, for once. Maybe she senses something.

"I was always looking for evidence of myself in my sister. I made her compare our big toes once, to see if we both had that wonky nail. I could never figure out if we had anything in common."

"Mmm," I say.

"You and your sister, you've never had to do that. You've always been the same."

No. My sister isn't capable of the same things I am.

But if the blackmailer isn't Ca.s.sius, and the email came right after she found out about Levi . . .

Shut down. Turn off. Don't look. Nothing's there.

I need to tell Levi the truth anyway. I need to scare him so badly he won't try to stay in contact with me once he moves. He'll stay in Indiana. Stay safe.

Mom's waiting. But I can't find anything to offer her.

"All right. I get it. 'Stop rambling, Mom.'" She sighs, disappointed. "I'll give you a ride wherever you need to go."

She drops me off at the fair.

They have it every year in the middle school field, the one where we got high. I've come here, almost every year, with my sister. Booths are arranged on the field, blazing white against the gra.s.s that's still green, despite the cold air. The air smells like onion rings. Everyone's dressed up. Monsters and mummies and ghosts. You can't see anyone's face.

I stand by the ticket booth until he finds me.