Free Skylight (Arcadium, #2) by Sarah Gray Page B

Liss’ is in
there too. I don’t look for it.
    I upend my pack
and stuff comes out in clumps. Sealed bottle of water. Can opener.
Torch and batteries. Mini first aid kit with bandages and Detol
wipes and paracetamol. I close my eyes for a second; push away the
thoughts that say, if only you’d had this before. If only you
hadn’t gotten complacent. I give the bag a shake and more stuff
comes out. Soap. Thick walking socks. A pair of underwear. Kitchen
knife wrapped in a tea towel. Three nut bars. A spare t-shirt.
    I ditch the
soap, pack the rest and glance around to see if there’s anything
else I want. The gold beam of light cuts across the dark walls, and
I know in that moment that I’m never coming back.
    My door creaks
and I look up. Trouble’s head leans in.
    I’m sitting
there, quiet in the dark, fully dressed with walking shoes, packing
a bag. It doesn’t take a translator to explain what’s going on.
    Trouble blinks
back his surprise. He wavers on the edge of my doorway, deciding
whether to enter or leave. He gives me a long hard stare, then
disappears.
    If I wasn’t
already so broken I’d describe it as having my heart ripped out, or
maybe like total oblivion. Trouble, at the end of all things, is my
best friend. And to have him leave without a word is crushing.
Tears well in the corners of my eyes but I fight them back with
gritted teeth. I punch the contents of my pack, force the zip
closed, and just sit there. I clear my eyes with my thumb knuckles
and wonder how I’ll break it to Kean. And then to Henry. And what
they’ll say and what they’ll do. And what Trouble will do now that
we’re fracturing so completely.
    A sigh shudders
out of me. What will become of Liss?
    My door creaks.
I keep my torch pointing at the floor and look up.
    Trouble stands
there with a bag on his shoulder and an armful of bedding.
    His expression
doesn’t move, doesn’t change. It just says I am here. Always.
    He dumps his
bag by the door, drops his pillow and blanket at the foot of my bed
and lights the candle on the dressing table. He moves to the
window, distracted, thinking. He crosses his arms, leans against
the wall, and stares out into the night. Trouble turns back. His
mouth opens, but nothing comes out. He shakes his head in
frustration. Trouble points to the door, towards where the others
are sleeping, his eyebrows raised.
    I shake my head
softly and he looks away again.
    That night,
Trouble sleeps at the foot of my bed, with nothing more than a
blanket and pillow for comfort on the hard floor. I lie on the bed
I haven’t slept in since Liss died; my arms and ankles crossed,
trying to keep strictly to my side because I know the pillow next
to me smells like her. And I lie there, going through all my
goodbyes and last-times and try to concoct the right words for
Kean.
    I lie there for
hours, but find nothing to give him.
     
    The morning is
grainy and warm. I sit up and find Trouble sitting at the dressing
table, lacing his boots. He shoulders his bag and nods before
heading downstairs. Kean wanders through my door, his head turned
to where Trouble had just been.
    “Where’s
Trouble going? He’s wearing a back pack.” Kean stops short when he
sees me.
    I stand up. I’m
still wearing shoes. I slept in them. He glances sideways at my
bag, still sitting by the wall. His eyes lift to meet mine, and
they melt into realisation.
    “I’m leaving,”
I say. There’s a long pause between us.
    “You can come
if you want,” I offer.
    Kean takes a
deep breath, like he’s making room for all the panic that’s
flooding in, hoping it won’t spill over the sides. “You know I
can’t do that. I won’t put Henry through that.”
    There’s another
long silence, which Kean ends up breaking.
    “So this is
it?” he asks. His eyebrows pinch. “This is goodbye?”
    I nod.
    He looks at the
ceiling, at the wall, at his feet. “I never thought it would end this way.”
    “I’m
sorry.”
    He turns my
apology away