Chapter Four

Clara's POV

"Clara, what are you doing?"

My dad and Pierce came through the door, each carrying a moving box. A corner of the lavender bedding stuck out of the top of one.

My brother heard the commotion and came running down the stairs.

I didn't answer. I crouched down and gathered the two halves of the pendant into my hand.

The broken edge of the shell was sharp, and it sliced open my fingertip. Blood slowly seeped into the carving until half of the little profile was stained red.

The last week before Grandma died, I went to the hospice every day after class to sit with her.

One day she had me open the drawer by her bed. She took out the pendant and pressed it into my palm. Then she used every bit of strength she had left to close my fingers over it, one at a time.

"You'd give anybody anything, you know that?" she said, out of breath. "This one's yours. Don't let go of it, no matter who asks."

I laughed and told her nobody would dare push me around as long as she was there.

But I lost her anyway. After that, nobody in this family cared whether I got hurt or felt wronged.

My mom had loaned out the last thing she ever gave me like it was nothing. And then it broke into two pieces right in front of me.

"Clara, I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean to..." Brooke was leaning against the doorframe, holding her shoulder and shaking as she cried.

My mom pulled her into a hug right away, then turned around and yelled at me. "Why did you push her? Her shoulder's all black and blue!"

I'd been an arm's length away from Brooke. I hadn't even touched her sleeve.

My brother glanced at the pieces on the floor, clearly annoyed. "Just take it to a shop and get it glued. It's not like it's some antique."

Pierce set his box down and carefully pushed up Brooke's sleeve to check the bruise. Then he went to the freezer for an ice pack.

Blood dripped from between my fingers onto the tile.

The four of them were standing less than six feet from me, and every one of them was staring at a bruise on Brooke's shoulder that hadn't even shown up yet.

Whenever I got blamed for something I didn't do, I used to explain myself over and over. I thought if I just laid out every detail clearly enough, one of these times they'd finally take my side.

But right then, I didn't even feel like opening my mouth.

I put the broken pendant in my jacket pocket, turned around and walked out the door.

"If you walk out that door today, don't bother coming back!" My mom's voice followed me all the way out to the porch. "You're a grown woman and you're still this impossible. Who's ever going to put up with you?"

I didn't stop.

From the moment I hit accept, I'd had no plans to ever come back to this house anyway.

Back at the hostel, I stuffed my last few clothes into the suitcase covered in duct tape.

The lab wanted me to start next Monday. My flight was first thing the day after tomorrow.

At one in the morning, my phone lit up. It was a text from Pierce.

Brooke's got a huge bruise on her shoulder and she's still crying. Happy now?

I stared at that line and typed out a long message. I explained where I'd been standing in the entryway and whether I'd ever actually touched her. Then I deleted it, one letter at a time.

He wasn't going to read it. In four years together, he'd never once asked me why I was upset. He wasn't about to start asking why I was leaving.

A few minutes later, a message from my mom popped up too.

You've always been the mature one. Don't make this hard on everybody. Come home tomorrow and apologize to Brooke.

So that was how it worked in this family. Even tears had a price tag.

Brooke's tears were worth the whole family staying up all night with her. Mine couldn't even get me a bandage.

I opened my contacts and blocked my parents, my brother and Pierce, one after another.

Two days later, first thing in the morning, I dragged that suitcase to the airport.

At security, the crooked wheel caught on the edge of the conveyor belt. No matter how hard I pulled, I couldn't get it up there.

A gray-haired woman behind me bent down and helped me lift it.

"Honey, you're flying all that way by yourself? Nobody from your family came to see you off?"

I gave her a smile. "They had someone more important to be with today."

As the plane climbed, Boston shrank away outside the window.

I opened my hand. The two halves of the pendant sat in my palm, the broken edges still crusted with dried blood.

Surrounded by strangers in that cabin, I finally broke down and cried.

The tears weren't for them.

I was thinking about the little girl who used to lean against the window, waiting for someone to look back at her.

She'd believed that if she was just a little more well-behaved, if she gave up just a little more, someday somebody would turn around and give her a hug.

I switched my phone to airplane mode, leaned my head against the window and closed my eyes.

That girl who'd spent her whole life waiting for one word of praise could stay down there in that city.

This time, I wasn't going back for her.