Page 149 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

37

KATRINA

The only thing that’s ever made sense to me is music.

You see a note, you play it. You play it, it sounds the same every time. You play one note, then another, and another—and suddenly, you’re playing music. Sometimes it hits so hard it rattles all five senses. Even smell, somehow.

Music makes sense.

People don’t.

When one person makes sense, someone else comes along and flips the whole world upside down. Up is down. Left is right. A little stack of yellow sticky notes isn’t so mundane anymore.

But it’s not real. It’s never real.

My swing creaks beneath me, the chains stiff with rust, the seat worn smooth from decades of use. A faint autumn breeze drifts through, not even strong enough to push the empty swings on either side. My feet skim the brittle grass, yellowed and patchy, crunching softly with each idle sway.

Down the block, I hear the high-pitched laughter of kids in costumes, their buckets clacking as they dash about in search of candy and treats.

Happy Halloween.

This playground, though, is a ghost. Abandoned. Splintering wood, half-buried tires, monkey bars that groan if you look at them wrong.

For me, echoes of old joy still haunt the air. Knox and me running wild, climbing the fireman’s pole, daring each other to leap off the top of the slide. Swinging higher and higher until it felt like we were defying gravity.

Play.

Maybe my parents were right all along.

Little girls shouldn’t play. They’ll just get hurt.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I sigh, already knowing who it is, but curiosity wins.

Addison

Katrina, come home. We can’t do this without you.

The band’s group chat has been buzzing all morning. They’re out looking for me, I know that. But I’m not ready to be found. I can’t stand the idea of their faces. Their eyes. The obvious judgment behind them.Stupid little Katrina.Fell for the enemy. Let him lie to her. Let him manipulate her. Why did I fall for it? Why did I?—

Another buzz.

Addison

Without you, there is no Criminal Records.

Jordan

Agreed.

Jonah

Agreed.

Bronson

I want to believe them. But they were a band before me. They’ll still be one when I’m gone.

Gravel crunches behind me. I turn to look as Knox ambles up and drops into the swing beside mine. The old frame groans in protest but holds, keeping us suspended side-by-side.

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