Chapter 78

78

Three days after the pleasant visit with Violet, Gemma called. I could tell by the pitch of her voice that she was upset.

She’d found Jet in the laundry room that morning playing with a sharp blade. He’d been just about to cut through the jeans he was wearing when she walked in.

“Is it yours?”

“What do you mean?” I had been walking home from the pool. I’d gone to see Sam’s tiles. I hadn’t yet processed what she’d said—I was still surprised to have seen her name on my phone.

“Did the blade come from your house?”

I thought of the one I’d taken from Fox’s tin four years ago, tucked at the back of my dresser drawer, wrapped in a scarf. I hadn’t touched it since. Violet. I wondered if that’s why she had gone into my room. If she’d somehow known it was there.

“I can’t think of where else it would have come from. Fox doesn’t keep them here. Violet said you still have his old modeling tools in the basement, lying around in the open. Near where her laundry was.”

“That’s absurd,” I said, starting to feel warm. I imagined her giving the blade to Jet while Gemma was downstairs and then walking away to wait for his scream. My face grew hotter.

“You should know better, Blythe. One of them could have been hurt.”

She huffed and hung up. She’d become mean. She used to just pity me. Now, she didn’t like me.

I swore under my breath and hustled home. I pulled off my boots and ran upstairs to my room and opened the drawer. The scarf was there but the blade was gone.