Page 19 of Always Murder

It’s not like I was trying to spy on them; even though Millie is basically my younger sister, and Keme occupies a spot that shifts between feral wolf child and big brother who still gives wedgies.(And here’s the deal: it’s all fun and games, and everybody thinks wedgies are hilarious—right up until you actually get one, and he does it so hard that it gives you rug burn.) But Millie and Keme sounded like they were right there, in the next aisle over, and if I moved now, I knew they’d hear me—and, at this point, they’d assume Ihadbeen spying on them.The best thing to do, I decided, would be to stay here until they moved on, and then haul butt back to the barn.

“I don’t hate it,” Keme said again, and it even sounded slightly more believable.“I’m here, aren’t I?”My guess was that Millie found that as unconvincing as I did, and Keme must have picked up on it because he added, “I’m with you.I want to be with you.”

Sure, the delivery was awkward.And I don’t think anybody bought the idea that Keme was having a grand time.But Keme was eighteen and pretty much the definition ofkeeps to himself.For the boy to put anything into words, much less something that felt so revealing, was actually kind of heart-melting.(In a good, Grinch way.)

“At least we’re not with David and Elliott,” Millie said.

Keme laughed.He honest-to-God laughed.It was this husky little thing that was so adorable I wanted to squeeze him until his eyes popped out of his head.(That’s called cute aggression, and it’s a real thing.) “David asked me, quote, ‘What’s the dealio on buying drugs?’Like I couldn’t see he was recording me on his phone.”

“Oh my God,” Millie said.“I’m going to tell Kassandra.”

“Nah,” Keme said.

“What’d you say?”

“I told him I knew a guy from when I was in jail.I told him where to meet him tonight.”

“KEME!”

“It’s that abandoned fruit stand outside of town.I bet he’ll show up, get spooked, and drive back here as fast as he can.”

Millie burst into giggles, and more of Keme’s raspy laughter joined hers.

After, they were quiet for a few moments.Too quiet.And they weren’t walking anymore; I wasn’t sure why they’d come all the way out here and then just stopped to stand around.And then I had the horrifying (and horrifyinglyadult) realization that they might have snuck away to make out.For someone with the emotional maturity of an eighth-grader (AKA, me), that was high up the list of personal nightmares.

I was considering whether I might need to make a break for it—even if it did mean getting caught—when Keme said, “What about this one?”

“OH!THAT’S A GOOD ONE!You’re so GOOD at this!”

Keme’s silence had the quality of a shrug.I had no idea what he’d done—or in what way he’d been good at it—but it was hard not to enjoy his efforts not to be pleased with Millie’s praise.

“You’re good at everything,” Millie said.

“No, I’m not.”

“You are.You’re so smart.You learn things so quickly.You know so much about so many different things.”

I caught myself thinking, He does?I mean, I knew Keme was smart.And I knew he was tough and resilient and scarily strong—like, freakishly.Like maybe they were testing super soldier drugs in his Fruity Pebbles.But the fact that Keme knew stuff was…kind of a surprise.Maybe that was because he said so little and kept so much to himself.And my heart did that Grinch thing again when I realized he wasn’t doing that with Millie—he wasn’t holding himself back, wasn’t making himself less.She got to see all of him.And I thought about what that meant for both of them.

In a tone a little too casually off-hand, Millie said, “The application deadline is in a couple of weeks.”

The sound of a footstep crunching evergreen needles was the only answer.

“And I did some research,” Millie said.“There are lots of local scholarships.The Keel Haul even has one; I asked Dawn about it.”

Still nothing.

“And I bet Indira and Dash and Bobby would help—”

“I don’t know.”

“Come ON,” Millie said.“They’d LOVE TO HELP.”

The silence felt even longer this time.

“Even if you don’t want to ask them,” Millie said, “we can still make it work.It would be great.I think it would be REALLY GREAT.”

It was like words dropping down a dry well—a tumbling fall of sounds, and then nothing.

---