Page 134 - My FlipBook

L IS A J. L A W R E N C E

shapes, slowly making sense of them again: a boxy sofa, the
thin line of a floor lamp, the lump of a discarded blanket.
Cold and musty—an abandoned space. She didn’t even
bother lighting the oven, wrapping herself in a blanket on
the sofa instead.
She could never make sense of those shards still rattling
loose inside her. They dug in, but no matter how long she
looked at them, they never formed a whole picture. A grotesque

kaleidoscope. When she tried to sort through it, all the colors
mixed together until it turned into a swamp brown.

W

The second night at the cabin was supposed to fix every -
thing. Just her, Rachel, Matt and Dylan. No Priya in a little ADVANCE READING COPY

black dress. No Angus trying to move in when Dylan turned
his back.
“We have dibs on the good bed tonight,” Matt had said
from the front seat of Rachel’s car, looking over his shoulder
at Dylan.
“We’ll see about that,” Dylan said, nudging Greta.
She laughed, a tinny sound that grated in her ears. It
would take some drinks. Maybe not the toxic punch that
nearly killed her. But something.

Greta knew the turns in the road now, the signs they were
close. The old boulder of nausea wobbled in her gut. She
ignored it, unbuckling her seat belt the moment they pulled
into the driveway. Matt collected some loose beer cans rolling

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