Page 150 of Everything Under the Sun

“No, it’s not normal for me,” I said. “I mean sometimes I go months without bleeding, but that’s perfectly normal, and I’m used to it. I don’t understand what you’re—”

“Thais—.”

I startled when he turned toward me sharply, forcing my hand from his shoulder; there was something dark, unforgiving in his eyes and it frightened me.

“I’m going to ask you a question,” he said, “and you’re going to answer me honestly. Do you understand?” It was a fierce demand, spoken in composed words I sensed were anything but.

I nodded with reluctance. I felt a growing sickness in my belly; my shot nerves sent waves of panic firing up my spine.

ATTICUS

I looked Thais in the eyes with such severity, but I hesitated, thinking carefully about my coming words, preparing myself to study every twitch in her face, every pause, every possible lie—just like I did with Mark Porter and Esra and June and Emily and David and Rachel and Shannon and Edgar. I’ll know it if you lie to me, Thais. The only difference was that I could never kill her for it.

“Do you know what a cherry is?” I asked.

THAIS

I drew back my chin; my pinched eyebrows tightened a little more; a bewildered smile crept onto my lips.

“Well, of course I do,” I said. “What kind of question is that?” I chuckled.

But Atticus did not laugh, nor was he smiling—the opposite crept over his features.

“What is it then?” he pressured.

I just looked at him. Is this a joke?

But he was not joking, and when that became apparent, my nervous smile dropped right off my face.

Finally, I answered, “It’s a dark red fruit with a long stem.” I thought it the strangest question I’d ever been asked, and the way he was acting about it, even stranger.

Atticus let out a deep breath.

He shot up into a stand, startling me.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He glared down at me, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “Why did you keep it from me?”

“Keep what from you? What are you talking about?” The panic rose up in my voice.

I shot up into a stand, too, and went toward him.

He stepped back, refusing me, held up his hands in front of me.

I looked at them, shocked, and then at Atticus, hurt. I felt my bottom lip quivering, so I bit it to keep it still.

“Atticus—”

“You were a virgin,” he said. “You were a virgin up until the other night, and you didn’t tell me.” He clenched his teeth, even bared them a little; the white peeking through the veil of his angry lips.

I lost my breath; I lost my voice; I couldn’t look at him anymore. I looked down at my feet pressed into the mattress instead. How did he know?

ATTICUS

Her silence, and finally her understanding of everything was all the proof I needed. My fisted hands shook uncontrollably; I could feel the blood rising into my head, rushing hotly through every vein.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Why didn’t you tell me?!”

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