Page 79 of Secondhand Smoke
But paper was what killed her.
Paper was what sealed the deal on a Sunday afternoon at the end of September.
Fragile, worthless, sheets of paper, folded up and stuffed into the trash with the words:6-Month Anniversary of Gemsburg Girls’ Deaths.
Living.
How dare she?
Her father’s whiskey had her slumped on the couch, barely able to hold her head up at 3 p.m.. Everything else, she had ran out long ago.
The couch was not her first choice, but there was nowhere else to go. She couldn’t even escape on her bike far away enough, stuck within city lines.
She was vaguely aware of a door opening and the heavy footfall of church shoes. There was a pause and quickened pace, then she was lifted up like a child and rushed out of the living room into her bedroom.
She opened her eyes as a wave of grief and alcohol subsided long enough to catch a look.
Her father stood above her, still dressed in Sunday best, his brows furrowed, and he took in her half-conscious appearance. He closed her door and laid her down.
“Daddy?”
He flinched. “What have you done to yourself?”
She blinked slowly, trying to make out his expression, but all she got was a soft blur of blond and a frown. She couldn’t feel enough to worry about the punishments and reprimands.
In the background, another door opened, and the clack of kitten heels on tile signaled her mother. Her father stilled, then relaxed as it passed by her bedroom door, mumbling something about her mother not finding out.
It wouldn’t be strange for him to check on Nell since she’d already claimed to be sick earlier that day to avoid having to face all those faces in church.
She closed her eyes again, unable to bear the light coming in through the window.
A hand brushed over her forehead.
“I don’t know what to do,” she mumbled.
The hand disappeared, and she heard a deep sigh. She was wrapped in something soft and cool, tucking her into the final lull of the alcohol.
“None of us ever do, sweetheart. That’s the problem.”
32 - Barrett
“I want a different lesson today.”
Barrett stared down at Nell standing on the other side of his front door. He hadn’t been sure if she would show up for lessons today, seeing as a couple of days had passed since they returned from Bellevue without any word from her. But here she was, chest heaving, with her bike hastily dropped onto the dirt drive behind her.
He’d been waiting anyway, strumming out the chords of KC’s song—or the chords he knew of it. KC never did finish writing it, so as new inspiration struck, he’d put his own touch to the lines that she never got to complete.
He’d thought of bringing it up to Nell today, seeing if she wanted to hear it yet, but he clearly wouldn’t get the chance.
He ran a hand through his bangs. “Different lesson?”
“I want to go for a drive.”
“A drive?”
“In your van.” Her words were certain, determined. But her hands fiddled together, picking at her nails. “I want to learn how to be in a car again. I . . . I want to go to Bellevue.”
Barrett blinked.
