Free The Cost of All Things by Maggie Lehrman Page A

and the ocean, things I could see right in front of me. Every time she shifted in the sand my heart drilled again, but I never had to choose which person to be. I was not responsible for anything or anyone. I just was.

13
ARI
    The bonfire roared in the middle of the crowd. It was a warm night, and the closer I came to the fire the hotter it got. Diana had put me in my jean jacket and I was sweating, but I didn’t take it off; I wrapped it tighter around my shoulders for protection. I may not have a memory of the day my parents died, but I still avoid fire.
    Most people steered away from me. I tried to exude tortured brooding. I don’t know what I would’ve done if a big group had surrounded me, offering their reminiscences and sympathy, like they had at the funeral. I couldn’t take more lying. I wasn’t capable of it, and if I kept trying, someone was bound to find out the truth.
    She might’ve thought of this. Old Ari, that is. She knew there would be a bonfire. Yet another thing she didn’t bother taking into consideration.
    I hated her.
    I dug the toe of my sneaker into the sand and watched Dianamake her way to the keg. I’d come to the party for her sake, but it didn’t look like she needed me at all. Maybe it would’ve been better if I’d stayed home and practiced dancing after all.
    “Ari?” said a voice by my shoulder. I saw dark hair and a blinding smile and for a second I thought it was Markos, and my shoulders tensed, ready to start lying.
    But it was Markos’s next-oldest brother, Cal, in front of me. “Hi, Cal,” I said, and tried to tell my shoulders to relax. They wouldn’t.
    “It’s been forever,” he said. He had an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth and was playing with a metal Zippo lighter with one hand, flipping it open and closed, lighting it with a flick of his wrist. The other hand held a beer. “How are you?”
    “I’m . . . fine.”
    “Come on. Spill.”
    I attempted to smile up at him. Cal was the nicest Waters brother. Brian was a know-it-all cop, Dev turned the family charm into sleaze, and Markos—well, he’s Markos. Cal was good-looking like the others, sure, but he was too uncoordinated to do well in sports, and his agreeable nature probably meant he’d have been bad at them anyway. He’d gone through a wild couple of years after his dad died, but that seemed to have gotten the rebellion out of his system.
    But just because he was the least of four evils didn’t mean he was someone I wanted to get confessional with. “Dead boyfriend exemption. I’m allowed to submit half-truths to invasive questions.”
    He laughed, and the cigarette fell out of his mouth. “That’s funny. I forgot you were funny.”
    “Well . . . thanks.”
    “And if you ever need anyone, let me know.”
    I swallowed down a lump in my throat despite myself. “Thanks.”
    He reached out the hand holding the closed lighter, hesitated, and then rested it on my own, which was clenched around the opposite elbow. My bad wrist throbbed, but I couldn’t move to stretch it out. I didn’t know what to do.
    I was not a hugger. But since having my memory ripped from me, I’d been hugged, kissed, squeezed, petted, pinched, smothered, and any number of other space invasions.
    This was what people did when they wanted to express comfort. They touched. I couldn’t twist away. I couldn’t snap and tell them to leave me alone. Their gestures were supposed to make me—the sufferer—feel better. But since I wasn’t suffering—or, at least, not suffering the way they thought I was—I endured their pokes and prods because it made them feel better.
    I held my breath, tried to ignore the pain in my wrist, and waited for Cal to remove his hand. His skin was warm but the lighter was cold metal. I was on three-Mississippi when a girl stood next to him and stared at him until he dropped his hand. I didn’t recognize her.
    “Bye,” she said to him, shooing him away.
    Cal looked like he might say