43. April

43

APRIL

JANUARY 3, 1:00 A.M.

When it's all over, the outside of the Den looks almost like the aftermath of a parade. Police lights wash the side of the warehouse in red and blue, and the parking lot is littered with some of what the fire department was able to salvage after they put out the blaze: bags of beads and other throws, old costumes and Deus records from their ancient paper filing system. Even now, they're afraid to let it burn completely. I guess it makes sense. Marty wasn't wrong when he said we set centuries of history on fire. It's not so easy to let that go.

A small crowd has formed, too, like the paradegoers who linger on the streets long after the floats have finished rolling. Police, firefighters, and, until a few minutes ago, the EMTs who wheeled Coach and Marty into the ambulance before speeding away, sirens blaring. They're both alive, at least for now—though I heard the word "critical" as they rolled Coach by in his gurney.

The police are talking to Lily first. She's standing across the parking lot with two officers and both her parents, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders like something out of a TV show: missing girl in shock, reunited with her family, who can't keep their eyes or their arms off of her, like they're terrified she'll vanish again.

It's still burned into the film of my memory, the way Mrs. LeBlanc looked when she got here. She pulled Piper, Vivian, and me into a hug much fiercer than I'd expect from someone so dignified, and when she let go, there was a fire in her eyes as real as the one we'd left behind. Thank you, she'd said, and then again, like maybe we hadn't understood. Thank you.

It should be heartwarming, but I'm still stuck on the way Lily talked to Marty and Coach. Their good little captive. In the end, I know she was the one to light the flame, but I wonder if she still would have done it if they hadn't tied her up with the rest of us. If they'd offered her another way out.

"That was pretty badass with the zip ties," Vivian tells Piper, bringing me back to here, our little cluster in the parking lot.

Piper shrugs, but she can't hide the proud look on her face. "My mom sends me a lot of ‘what to do if you get kidnapped' videos. I guess they came in handy."

Vivian laughs. "Point one for Mrs. Johnson."

Piper smiles, but it fades quickly. I get it. Mrs. Johnson knew about the cover-up of Margot's murder, and the thought of seeing her makes me almost sick with dread. I can only imagine what it must be like for Piper, knowing her entire family was a part of this.

"You okay?" Vivian asks me, reading the worry on my face.

"You've been quiet," Piper adds.

"I'm always quiet."

"Yeah, but the part where we almost died tonight is new, smart-ass," Piper says with a tenderness that warms me from the inside.

I shrug. "Nothing decades of therapy can't fix."

"I mean, we were kind of already headed in that direction," Vivian says. "Comes with the whole debutante thing."

For a beat, we're quiet. And then, with a sudden ferocity, Piper pulls us both into a hug. It shocks me, at first, but then I relax into it, squeezing back.

"Hey," she says, sounding uncharacteristically self-conscious. "When we get to school again, are we still friends?"

"Wait, are we friends ?" Vivian jokes.

"Yeah, I don't do friends," I add.

"Y'all are rude," Piper says, but there's a huge grin on her face.

A car turns into the parking lot, and for half a second, I'm petrified. Even now, knowing Marty and Coach have been caught, I can't shake the fear that more Pierrot men could appear from the shadows, their eyes familiar and threatening behind the masks.

But then Piper straightens, clearly recognizing the car just as Aiden Ortiz climbs out of the driver's seat.

He runs right to her, crushing her into a hug as tight as the one she just gave us.

"You almost gave me a heart attack," he says.

"Hello to you, too." Her voice is muffled by his shirt.

Vivian looks at me with a lifted eyebrow. I return a devious smile.

"Are y'all okay?" Aiden asks, his gaze lifting from Piper to us.

"Yeah," I say. "I think so."

"Did Piper call you?" Vivian asks Aiden, with a look of mischievous delight.

"No, I—" Piper stops, eyes widening. "Oh my god. You location-stalked me."

"You never texted," Aiden says. "And then I called a bunch, and you didn't answer, so…" He gestures at the police. "I may have gone overboard. But in my defense, it was clearly worth it."

Piper stares at him, stunned. Then she grabs his face with both hands and kisses him.

Vivian and I gape at each other.

"Holy shit," she says.

"Holy shit," I echo.

Piper pulls back, one arm still around Aiden as she turns to give us both a death stare. "Don't look so proud of yourselves."

Someone clears their throat, and we all turn to find Lily standing beside us, the blanket still around her shoulders. Despite everything, she still manages to look like her usual queenly self. Leave it to Lily LeBlanc to have good posture even after being rescued from a kidnapping.

"Hi." She looks to Aiden. "Mind if we…?"

"Yeah, sure." He gives Piper's hand a squeeze. "I'll wait by my car."

We all turn to Lily, waiting as her hands tighten around the blanket's edge.

"I just wanted to say thanks. And… I'm sorry. I—" Her eyes fall. "I know what it looked like back there, but I was there for days, and they got into my head. They said if I cooperated, they'd let me go. I was just trying to survive, and I—" She chokes up, blinking fast like she's trying not to cry. "Y'all saved me. And I'm not sure if I deserve it."

For a breath, no one moves. And then Vivian pulls Lily into the kind of hug that seems like only Vivian can give: fierce, protective, like all is forgiven, and maybe it is, at least for her. There are intricate threads to their friendship that I don't understand, ones that maybe even this can't break. Maybe that's all it takes.

"Shut up," Vivian says lovingly, squeezing Lily tighter. "Just don't ever disappear again. I need you to kick my ass at practice."

Lily laughs with a particularly unladylike snort. She pulls back, and her eyes meet mine.

"Here." She holds out something for me to take. Margot's lighter, I realize, as the cool metal brushes my palm. "You were always a better friend to her than I was. And I know I said some stuff to her about you, and I'm sorry. I think I was… I don't know. Afraid she loved you more. Because I think she did. All the way to the end."

I look down at the lighter, my throat tightening. All this time, Lily and I were afraid of the exact same thing. It doesn't make me forgive her, but at least I think I understand. I close my hand around the lighter, letting the ridges of the Pierrot logo press into my skin, tattooing them there.

Then I hand it back to Lily.

"Keep it," I say, reaching to grip my camera strap.

Maybe because I think she needs it more than me. Because I don't want to remember Margot only by that night, the fire we never lit. Or maybe because I know I carry enough of her with me already—the memory of her laugh, her boldness, the way she struck me like a flint, sparking something that hasn't died.

Lily brings the lighter close to her chest. "Thanks."

Piper shifts, and I notice that, for the first time maybe ever, she looks out of her element.

"I'm sorry," she says in a weirdly professional tone. "About the essay. I shouldn't have—"

"It's okay," Lily says. "Honestly, I never wanted to go there anyway. And I'm sure Dad can get it all sorted out with the ad missions people, so you don't lose your spot. We owe you, after you… you know. Saved my life."

For a moment, Piper looks unusually lost for words. Then she gives a distinctly Piper-like nod.

"Thank you," she says. "I'd appreciate it."

A white BMW pulls into the lot, and we all turn to squint at the headlights. Mrs. Johnson steps out of the driver's side as Wyatt gets out of the other. For a moment, I watch uncertainty flicker over Piper's face.

But then, in an instant, it melts away. Piper rushes toward her family as they run to her, meeting in the middle in a tangle of arms and tears. Watching Piper's mom, the way she holds her close, speaking gentle words into her hair, I think I can understand it, why her parents did what they did. They thought they were protecting their kids—just like Coach thought he was protecting Marty, like Marty protected him back. When you grow up in a place like this, so suffocated by secrets and ghosts and the threat of rising water, it's hard not to grab what you can and hold on for dear life when the flood starts to come.

I understand it, but that doesn't mean I forgive them.

That doesn't mean that I completely forgive myself.

Vivian shifts beside me, and I realize she's not looking at Piper anymore. She's looking at Coach's car, still parked in the lot.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" she asks.

Another flash of him stalking toward me, the needle raised. I close my eyes, try to reset my brain, remind myself he isn't here.

"I don't know," I tell her.

Vivian takes a breath, her eyes still locked on the car.

Lily shakes her head. "Don't do that."

"What?" Vivian asks.

"Blame yourself. If you didn't go all Kill Bill on Marty, we might not have made it out of there. And Coach…" She presses her lips together. "We shouldn't feel sorry for him."

Vivian doesn't look convinced.

"It's okay, though," I tell her. "To feel sorry, anyway. For the person you thought he was."

Vivian turns to me. "Can I say something corny, and we'll never speak of it again?"

"What?"

"I like it when you talk. You have some pretty good things to say."

Warmth spills through my chest, as embarrassingly genuine as the smile on my face, but before I can form some sort of insufficient response, another car pulls into the lot. When I recognize it, my breath catches.

"April!" Dad calls, climbing out.

I've only taken a few steps toward them before both my parents are wrapping me in a tight hug that smells like home, Dad's pine-scented car air freshener mixed with Mom's rose perfume. I don't even register what they're saying—only that they're here, and I'm safe.

A throat clears, and I turn to see one of the officers, who looks sorry for breaking up this reunion.

"Would you mind answering a few questions, April?" he asks.

My parents look at me, and I nod. Mom reaches down to squeeze my hand as Dad lays his on my shoulder, giving a protective pulse.

Across the parking lot, Vivian is mushed in a three-way hug with Lily and Sav, her parents nearby. They must have gotten here when I was lost with my own. Piper is with Aiden, Wyatt, and Mrs. Johnson, who eyes Aiden skeptically in the way all moms look at boys who've kissed their daughters in parking lots. Still, her pinched expression softens as she reaches to brush a speck of something from Piper's shoulder, gently smoothing out her sleeve.

There will be conversations, I know. Hard ones, with apologies and questions and answers that may not be enough. But for now, it's just this: all the people we love, here to collect us from the ashes.

And here, in this dingy mess of a parking lot, I think I see a glimmer of it: how Margot saw this city. The part that made it home. The part I need to hold on to, even though I know what this place did to her, and I understand with even sharper resolution, now, all that's broken here. The things I still want to leave behind.

How do you love a home that's sinking?

Somewhere, I think I hear her answer.

Isn't that kind of the point?

For a moment, I lean into my parents' touch, letting it hold me there, floating at the surface. I hold my camera close, too, the evidence still there and waiting for me to develop.

And then I step toward the officer.

"What do you want to know?" I ask.

This time, it will be the truth.