Free Mercy by Sarah L. Thomson

have known she was cutting class, but he didn’t say a word about the time.
    â€œYou brought your laptop?” he asked, eyeing her backpack. “You got some new photos to show me?”
    The tightness inside Haley’s chest eased a little. And she felt herself relaxing more when she took a second look at her cousin. Jake looked better. His voice was firmer. His eyes were alert.
    Haley grinned to herself as she flipped open her computer and turned it on. Maia meant well, but she wasn’t a doctor. She didn’t know everything. Setting the laptop on the table by Jake’s chair, she nudged aside the black ashtray. It had a half-smoked cigarette in it. Liam must have been by to visit, even though it wasn’t Saturday. Haley turned off the tall floor lamp so nothing would reflect off the screen.
    â€œSee, those are the ones for my history project. The gravestone and the cemetery . . .” She tilted the laptop so that Jake could see and tapped the touchpad to move through the images.
    â€œThat’s good. The one with the tree leaning toward the grave. And the black-and-white. Strong. Go back, I want to see that one of the stone wall again.”
    Most people—even Mel, even her dad and Elaine—flipped through photos like the goal was to get to the end as quickly as possible. Jake really looked.
    A stray thought flickered into her mind. Alan O’Neil, now. Would he really look?
    The thought of Alan brought her mind back to the lunch she’d walked out on, and the tomato sauce on her plate. Sticky and red, like half-dried blood.
    And that made her think of the stains on Mercy’s glove.
    She glanced quickly up at Jake’s face as he stared at the screen. Would he laugh if she told him how creeped out she’d been?
    No, of course not. Jake had never laughed at her.
    â€œListen,” she said.
    â€œWhat?” Jake dug into his shirt pocket for a book of matches, picked up the half-smoked cigarette from the ashtray, lit it, and put it to his lips. The tip glowed as he breathed in, a spot of vivid orange.
    Haley stared at him in shock. “What are you doing?”
    Jake blew white smoke gently at the computer screen. It swirled and drifted like eddies in a quiet stream. “Nice. I like how the line of the stone wall moves to that upper corner. What were you going to say?”
    â€œYou’re
smoking
!”
    â€œWell—yeah.” Jake looked down at the cigarette between his fingers. “I used to, a little, in college. It was hanging out with all those theater majors. Half of them smoke, I don’t know why. You’d think they’d want to take care of their voices. I guess it’s a weight thing—”
    â€œYou can’t
smoke
!” Haley was outraged.
    â€œWhy not?” Without moving his head, Jake lifted his eyes to her face.
    â€œ
Because
. Because it will—”
    Jake waited, quietly, for her to finish. She couldn’t.
    â€œIt’s gross. It’s disgusting,” she said at last, fighting the urge to snatch the cigarette out of Jake’s hand and grind it to ash beneath her shoe. “It’s—and what about secondhand smoke?” she demanded triumphantly. “You think I want to breathe that every time I come over?”
    â€œOkay,” Jake said mildly. He put the cigarette out in the ashtray. “I won’t smoke when you’re here. You could open the window, if it bothers you.”
    If it
bothered
her! Haley felt as if an electric shock had hit her right on top of her head. Its energy sizzled along her nerves. She wanted to jump up, yell, run, hit something as hard as she could. How could Jake just sit there calmly, like it was no big deal?
    â€œCome on, Haley. It’s not like it’s going to kill me.”
    After the heat of the electric shock, icy cold. “Don’t do that,” Haley said.
    â€œDo what?”
    â€œMake jokes.” Her voice still rasped, as