Page 111 of Five Survive
Red couldn’t move. What did Maddy mean,it was her? She watched her best friend and she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, in case that made it true or not true, and Red didn’t know which was worse.
“And I remember, Mom said she hadn’t eaten, but I remember, I remember, I said to her, ‘But you’ve got sauce there, on your shirt.’ ” Maddy choked on the words. “It was tiny, but she went and got changed as soon as I said it. I never saw that shirt again, she must have thrown it away.” She stopped, spluttering over the tears that just kept coming as she told her story, five years’ worth of un-cried tears. “And then the next day, I found out what happened to your mom, Red. That she’d been killed. Shot. I’m so, so sorry. And then…” Her voice cracked. “It was all so confusing. Because Mom was saying that she was home at seven that night, that she made dinner for both of us. She didn’t, it’s not what happened, but she kept saying it, to me, to Dad. But that’s not what happened. I called her. The unanswered call was right there in my call log. Why would I have called her around seven if she was at home with me?” Maddy shuddered, wiping the other side of her face. “But I checked again a few days later and the call had been deleted from my log. It wasn’t there. And Mom just kept saying the same thing over and over. She got home at seven, right around the time I got in from violin. She made dinner for us both and we watched TV. It was a normal evening. And I couldn’t understand why she was lying. But then I started to think that maybe I was wrong, maybe I was confused about which day it was, becauseshe seemed so sure, and why would she lie? And the call wasn’t there on my phone anymore. She confused me, Red.” Maddy blinked, trying to look at her through swollen, red eyes. “I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure, but I’ve had this bad, bad feeling all along that something happened that evening. But maybe I was wrong, confused. Half of me wanted to believe her. I’m so sorry, Red. I’m so, so sorry.”
The last word broke apart as Maddy bawled, an awful end-of-the-world sound, her face folding in half, eyes pressed shut against the tears.
Red watched her. She didn’t move, held in place by the too-hot air, thickening around her in this metal can.
It was Catherine Lavoy. Catherine Lavoy murdered her mom. Made her get on her knees. Shot her twice in the back of the head with her own service weapon. It was Catherine. Mom’s best friend.
Red felt fingers on her shoulder, squeezing hard, but there was no one there, because it was Catherine, dressed in black, gripping onto her as the rifles boomed around them at the funeral, splitting the sky in half.
Catherine.
And Maddy…Maddy knew. This whole time. Since the day it had happened, the day the world ended around her, February6, 2017. Maddy knew and she never said anything, in five long years.
It all made sense now, all of it. The way Maddy flinched whenever the wordmomwas said in front of Red. Because she knew what had happened to her. She might have had doubts, but she knew, deep down, she knew who had taken Red’s mom away. Maddy always took care of Red, paid for her lunch when Red couldn’t, found her lost things, so many lost things over the years, mothered her, all because she knew. Her job, her responsibility.
That was the strange look in Maddy’s eyes from before, the one Red couldn’t recognize. And this was her secret, the one she thought someone might kill for.
Maddy knew.
“I’m so sorry,” Maddy sobbed, repeating the words over and over, until Reyna had to hold her down. “I’m so sorry.”
The rifle must have gone off, because there was a hole there in Red’s chest, blood pooling through her dark red shirt. But there wasn’t. She looked down. There wasn’t. But her body didn’t believe her, caving in around the wound, rib by rib. Red bent double, agony as her bones cracked in half, cutting through her skin, every piece of the puzzle coming undone. Maddy was howling again, but no, it was closer than that. It was her. A red, guttural sound in her throat, pushing out her eyes.
“No!” Red cried, and it was happening all over again, Mom dying a thousand times in every half second, the world blowing apart and stitching up wrong. “No!”
Red screamed, her hands balling into fists, the hard ridge of her knuckles pressing into her face, marking her skin. Five years of not knowing, not knowing who killed her mom so it could only have been Red, murdering her with those last words. But now she knew. She had the answer. And she was coming undone with it.
Red staggered sideways, one leg buckling beneath her. Someone caught her.
Arthur.
His hands under her elbows, keeping her on her feet. He looked her in the eyes, blinking slowly, twin tears chasing down his face.
“Red,” he said, low, soft, almost too soft to cut through the air in this RV. “Look at me.”
She was looking at him.
“It’s not your fault,” he said.
“What?” Red sniffed.
“It’s not your fault your mom died.”
Red paused, held her breath.
“I know,” she said flatly. It wasn’t her, it was Catherine Lavoy. They’d all just learned that together.
“Red,” Arthur said, fingers gentle against all her broken bones and skin. “It’s not your fault.”
Red blinked. “I know,” she said slowly, the words shaking because she tried too hard. What could Arthur see? What could he read in her eyes?
“Red,” he said gently, not looking away.
So Red did, she looked away, anywhere but at him. At the pattern in the curtains over there, please, could she finally work out what it was.Think.Or at someone else, but not Maddy, or Oliver, or Simon or Reyna. A distraction, anything, so she didn’t think about all that guilt and all that shame, so she didn’t bring them out, right here in front of everyone.
“Red,” he said again, bringing her eyes back to his.
