Frankie #2
Mom and Paula keep talking, but I push through to the couches, where everyone is sprawled out.
I once calculated that I have spent at least four months of my life sitting on the Silver family living room couch, sunk into the corner of its L shape, feet tucked under Alex’s butt to keep warm.
So much of my life has existed in this room—so much of my sisters’ lives.
I know which throw pillows are frayed at the corners and which blankets still smell like their old cockapoo, Oona, who passed away last year.
I know that while sitting on the couch, I can throw my hand up over my shoulder without looking and reach directly into a bowl that holds chocolate Kisses, the wrapper colors changing with the seasons.
Today’s are red, white, and blue, in honor of the upcoming Fourth of July parade.
Ethan’s hands are steepled in front of his face, so I can only see his eyes. Trevor clutches a pillow in front of his stomach, leaning so far forward his back is hunched. Only Alex gets up to greet us.
“You guys want anything to drink?”
We all shake our heads no and I watch Lucy plop down on the couch next to Ethan, his arm snaking around her shoulder.
“I can’t believe it,” Ethan says. “Justin’s supposed to go to Trinity in the fall.”
“Not if he killed Billy.” I reach behind me and grab a handful of Kisses.
“Have some tact, Frankie.” Lucy flicks my shoulder. “Besides. He wasn’t arrested for murder.”
“What was it, drugs?”
All around me, I can feel eyes boring into me like I said something wrong, like I shouldn’t have mentioned anything about that. Mom and Paula’s conversation stills.
“Drugs?” Mom asks. “What about drugs? Deirdre’s son deals drugs?”
Thankfully, Ethan pipes up. “We don’t know anything yet. Just stay calm.”
Lucy nudges me with her foot. “I’m pretty sure they arrested him for assaulting an officer,” she says. “Yesterday, he bit Hampton at the station. That’s all they have.”
“For now,” I say, which earns me a glare from her.
Behind me, Paula and Mom duck their heads together and whisper to each other, their words barely audible. Leaning back, I strain to catch Mom asking, “Did you hear about Reid?”
“What?” Paula says.
“He’s been at the station nearly every day talking to those detectives,” Mom says. “Maybe he knew something about Justin.”
I stand up slowly and act like I’m walking to the bathroom behind Mom, hoping to butt in a little. “What did you say about Billy’s dad?” I ask.
Mom shakes her head. “Nothing, Frankie. You must have misheard.”
“But you said…”
“Frankie.” Mom says my name like it’s full of sharp edges. Then she sighs, and says, “Sweetie, you have chocolate on your face. Why don’t you take care of that?”
I wipe my arm across my mouth, my heart sinking, and flop back on the couch, folding into myself.
“Oh!” Mom calls, and we all spin our heads around.
“What?” Millie asks.
“It’s Deirdre. She texted our group chat.”
“You have a group chat?” I ask.
“Yes, Frankie. I’m not a hundred.”
Alex bumps my shoulder, trying to conceal a laugh, and we both break into giggles.
“What did she say?” Lucy leans over the back of the couch toward Mom.
“She says…” Mom starts. “ ‘I know there are a lot of rumors floating around, but I want to clear something up.’ Wow. Bold!”
“Keep reading!” I say a little too enthusiastically.
“ ‘I want to clear something up,’ ” Mom continues.
“ ‘My son, Justin, was arrested this evening. But it was for a misunderstanding to do with a police office. He is still being questioned, and I can assure you he had NOTHING to do with Billy’s death.’ All caps, yeesh.
Then she wrote, ‘Thank you for your support during this difficult time.’ ”
“Difficult time?!” Paula says. “Support?! I’m not supporting her or her drug-dealing, police-biting son right now.”
Mom and Paula lower their voices and continue gossiping, so I turn back to the couches.
“You were right, Luce.” She looks a little too chipper at that, but I ask, “What happens now?”
Ethan stands, wiping his hands on his shorts. “They’re probably gathering evidence. Trying to match his DNA with whatever was on the boat. Seeing if they’ll bring any other charges.”
I cross my arms over my chest. Alex turns to me and raises his eyebrows. “Crazy, huh?”
“You kids still can’t go anywhere alone, okay?” Paula says as she unloads cartons of Chinese food from paper bags, setting them out on the dining table behind us. “There’s too much chaos going on, and we want you safe.” She pauses. “And well fed. Come on. Eat.”
Everyone darts into the dining room and starts helping themselves to plates of food.
Mom and Paula settle in at the kitchen island, their backs to us.
Millie and Lucy take two seats at the far end of the table, twirling lo mein noodles around their chopsticks.
All three boys hover over the cartons, their banter light and similar as they edge one another out to get to the egg rolls first.
From where I stand, Ethan and Trevor look identical.
Heads bobbing with the same shape of nose and shoulders, same height and swoops of hair.
Alex nudges his way in, grabbing a dumpling off Ethan’s plate, and for a moment, the three of them seem to meld into one silhouette, one Silver boy.
A moment later, they divide back into three.
For my entire life, I’ve wondered what the three of them do when they’re alone. If they talk about us like we talk about them, if they tell each other the secrets they’ve scavenged from us—if Alex reveals what I’ve told him about my crushes, my wishes, my embarrassments.
But then I focus on Trevor, who’s barely said a word during this whole ordeal, who’s now sitting at the far end of the table, hunched over his plate.
Millie and I never did get to talk about if it was him in the photo—about what it might mean.
But looking at him now, the curve of his jaw, the profile so exacting, I know without a doubt that it’s him.
I just don’t know why he doesn’t want anyone to know that he was there, too.