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She shakes her head She’s looking at the floor "No you won’t," she says "You’re keeping hiet in your way"

I don’t knohich hurts more--that she thinks this of me, or that I realize there may be some truth to that

"Pen …"

"Don’t" She stands and is already cli to bed"

I start after her, and e reach the door to her landing, she turns to face me Her eyes are dull I hate to think I’m the cause

"Wait," I say

"Why?" she says, shouldering her way through the s in the doorway "You wouldn’t wait for me"

14

Last year, rass hed I told him that of course I would We were promised to each other, weren’t we? He said, "Pretend we aren’t Will you ible Gods," Daphne Leander, Year Ten

I THINK ABOUT DAPHNE’S SLASHED WRISTS and Judas in the trees and Pen’s words We’ve argued before, but I can’t remember the last time she looked so wounded I can’t remember the last ti out behind her back to hosts

The floorboards creak above me as my brother moves about his office Insoet out of bed and climb the staircase to my brother’s and Alice’s apartment I usedoesn’t wake Alice She’s a light sleeper, always on high alert in case Lex breaks so or hurts himself or has an episode My father has bitterly said that Lex is the child she’ll never have He hasn’t forgiven Lex, and, likeat him But he finds excuses to come upstairs because he adores Alice, wants to make sure she’s okay Even Alice’s parents don’t visit anymore; they’re too embarrassed to be associated with a jumper

The apartment is dark, but the sparse furniture ate to my brother’s office Softly I knock on his door

As he paces about the room, the transcriber’s wheels follow the sound of his voice, spitting out a reel of paper with his words printed onto it The clattering sound of the transcriber cos

"Lex?" I whisper

He opens the door, and it’s a devastating shame that he cannot see the paper lantern ht; it does seeht out and touch it

"Morgan? What’s the matter?"

"I couldn’t sleep," I say "Sorry to interrupt your writing"

"I needed to stop anyway," he says "None of the pieces are fitting right Soreeable again"

He sits in his favorite corner, turning the broken clock around and around in his long fingers

I sit across from him and close my eyes I pretend his darkness is the sanore the presence of the moon that eavesdrops at the

"What is the story about?" I say

"Terrible things," he says

"Ghosts?" I say

"Ghosts aren’t terrible," he says "They aren’t real They’re a fantasy we’ve concocted to tell ourselves this life isn’t the only one we get Even at their worst, ghosts are doing us soination, ic

I draw my knees to my chest, and in the darkness of e to ask what I’d like to know I pretend thatthe train in an oval with no set destination, chasing the thoughts we never shared even with each other

What co it, I realize it’s because I’ve known this for a while "You and Dad have seen things the rest of us aren’t supposed to That’s why you’re so obsessed with terrible things"

Lex says nothing

"You’ve seen others like the irrational woman who used to live downstairs, and the infants that aren’t strong enough, and the people who have reached dispatch age" I pause "And Alice"

After a long moment, he says, "Especially Alice"

I think I’veto shut o back to bed, and then toh none of this ever happened

What he says is, "So?"

"So," I say, feeling a little bolder now, "is that why you went to the edge?"

When he doesn’t answer right away, I open ht We have the sa Now he’s so much older, like a man who somehow exceeded his dispatch date I understand whyat him; it’s impossible not to search for traces of that youth

"You’re full of questions tonight," he says, pulling at a loose thread co at his shirts, winding threads around his fingers I’ve heard Alice co she’s left to do

"I don’t mean to be," I say "I mean to stay out of everyone’s way, but so I never sees I want to know"

"It’s your way," he says "When you were little, you were like a question mark with eyes"