A red ticket.
I bend down and grab it, curious.
Quid Quo Pro.
“This is Finn’s favorite band,” I tell Dare. “He was at their concert the night mom died.”
I turn around and stare at him, confusion rippling through me. Confusion, then realization.
“He was here, after all.”
Dare guides my elbow toward the steps.
“Well, he’s not here now.”
I can’t argue with that.
I stuff the ticket in my pocket and we make our way home.
33
TRIGENTA TRES
Finn
The rain pelting me by the ocean is cold, and the wind blows it into my eyes.
IgnoreItIgnoreIt.
I do. But I try and ignore the voices too. It’s the story of my life.
They woke me up from my nap and I know what I have to do.
It’sAlmostTimeAlmostTimeAlmostAlmostAlmost.
Yeah, I have to agree. It’s almost time.
I’ve hidden the secret for so long, it’s eating at me, clawing to get out and I almost can’t keep it inside anymore.
I grip the St. Michael’s medallion firmly in my hand and walk into the water, straight out without pause.
DoItDoItDOITDoItDo.
Do it.
I dive under the waves and swim straight down. It’s at least twenty feet down and the water grows murky before I see the faded red paint of the car. I swim to it, my oxygen already starting to run out, and stick my head through the open passenger door.
Reaching my hand in, I hang the necklace on the rearview mirror. It dangles in the water, twisting and turning in the murk.
St. Michael’s face seems to mock me.
Protect me? I think not.
My lungs feel hot and swollen, so I push off, away from the car toward the surface. I burst through with a cough, the sun on my face as though I’d never left.
Breathe.
I do. I take deep hacking breaths and then pull myself out of the water onto the damp sand of the beach. I look back out at the choppy surface.