"Not even Upton?" he asked, his voice tight.
"He says he does, but ..." I looked out at the water. "I think he doesn't want to believe that someone he knows could do that."
"That sucks," Sawyer said. He stopped, turned toward the ocean, and pulled his arm back. With a flick of his wrist he sent the shell flying. It made the tiniest splash out on the water. Then he stood there and stared after it for a long moment, his expression brooding. "After everything you've been through the past couple of years ... it must just suck when people don't have your back."
My skin prickled and I looked down at my bare toes. I hadn't told Sawyer anything about my . . . history. "I guess people are talking about me, huh?"
Sawyer sighed. "You've been a major topic the last couple of days." He glanced at me quickly as he stooped for another shell to throw. "Sorry."
"No. It's okay," I said, even as my heart squeezed. I hooked my thumbs into the back pockets of my shorts and drew a wide arc in the sand with my toe. It instantly disappeared, sucked away by the salty water. "Bad things just kind of.. . happen to me," I said. "Sometimes
31
I think there's this big gray cloud following me around. I want it to go away already."
Sawyer nodded. He threw the shell, then drew a long line with his own toe
. It disappeared, too. "I feel like that sometimes." He looked up, across the water at the horizon, and tucked his hands under his arms. "I guess you've heard that my sister died a few months ago."
"I did. I'm so sorry," I said, my heart going out to him. Noelle had told me about the Hathaways' loss earlier in the week. "What happened?" As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I heard the presumptuousness of them and wanted to take them back. "I mean, unless you don't want to talk about it. I completely understand if--"
"No. It's fine. I brought it up," Sawyer said flatly. "She killed herself, actually."
My hand covered my heart as I gasped. "What? Why?"
Sawyer looked at me for the first time. "That's the thing. I have no idea," he said, adjusting his arms over his chest, gripping himself even tighter. "She didn't even leave a note."
My hand was over my mouth now. "Omigod, Sawyer. I'm so sorry. That's gotta be so .. ."
"Yeah. It is," he said, nodding again and looking at the ground. "It's the worst part.. . the not knowing."
"God, I know how that feels," I breathed.
Sawyer looked at me. I could feel him wanting to ask what I meant, but unlike me, he knew how to hold his tongue.
"My boyfriend Thomas . . . I'm sure you heard ... He was killed last year," I said.
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"Ariana," Sawyer said.
I froze at the unexpected uttering of her name. For a moment I'd spaced on the fact that she was part of the St. Barths crew. That Sawyer had actually known her.
"Yeah. But before we knew that he was dead, he just went missing. And those few days when I had no idea where he was or why he'd gone or if he was hurt or dead or just avoiding me . . . those were the worst few days ever. Not knowing something that huge is unbearable."
"But you beared it . . . bore it . . . whatever," Sawyer said with a quick laugh.
There was a pang of sorrow in my chest. I had never thought about it that way before. At the time I'd thought there was no way I would ever get through those days. But I had. And I had come out the other side.
"Yeah. I guess I did," I replied with a slight smile.
"My dad always says, 'What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger,'" Sawyer said confidently. Suddenly his whole demeanor changed. He rolled his shoulders back and his chest lifted, as if just saying those words pumped him up from the inside.
"I like that," I said. "If it's true, I should be about as strong as the Hulk by now."
Sawyer laughed and I grinned. I had made the brooding boy laugh. Gome.
"Listen, there's something I want to tell you. Graham said not to, but I think you should know," Sawyer said.