The Murmurings Read Online Free PDF Page B

my stomach. She’s cooking for us. Mom and I haven’t made an actual home-cooked meal since Nell died.
    Aunt Becca turns toward me and jumps backward, splattering soup on Mom’s apron.
    “Jeez, Sophie, you scared me! I didn’t hear you come in. What’d’ya have there?”
    I’d forgotten about the box. “It’s not important. Aunt Becca, you didn’t have to do all this.”
    “It’s nothing. Your mom’s asleep.” The look on her face is worried, and I can tell she wants to ask me about my mom’s drinking, my mom’s job (or lack thereof), my mom’s depression. But I keep quiet and wash the cutting board instead.
    “It smells good,” I say, not bothering to keep my voice down. I’m not concerned with waking up Mom.
    “Lentil soup, garlic bread, fruit.” She lists the menu like it’s a roll call, sounding pleased with herself. She’s not the greatest cook, but I’m dying for something besides pizza or Chinese.
    “I could try to get Mom,” I offer, even though I don’t mean it.
    Aunt Becca looks like she might venture down the hallway. Her body leans in that direction. But at the last second, she changes her mind. “No, let her sleep.”
    When we sit down at the breakfast bar, just the two of us, Aunt Becca chews quietly while I stare down at my bowl and slurp my soup. That’s the thing about my aunt. I feel like I can be myself around her, like I don’t need to try to be anything special. At least I used to feel that way, before Mom started going downhill. Now it’s like Aunt Becca expects me to be the parent.
    The day rushes over me. The murmuring in my ear at school. The random phone call from Evan. Dr. Keller’s awful smile. My reflection in the sliding doors. It feels impossible that this could be what my life has become.
    Aunt Becca tugs my earlobe. She’s done it for as long as I can remember. It’s what she does instead of saying “I love you.” If I didn’t think it would make her worry even more, I’d lean against her right now and cry. But I just twirl my spoon in my bowl instead.
    •  •  •
    After Aunt Becca leaves, I grab Nell’s box and head back to my room. I pass Mom’s room on the way and am surprised to see her door open. I almost don’t stop, but I’m startled to find her awake and sitting on the edge of her bed, staringat something off in the distance, her eyes glazed like she’s daydreaming. The towel that was wrapped around her head is in her lap now, and her hair is lank around her jaw. I can smell her shampoo from where I’m standing—something sweet like apricots. That scent used to comfort me. Now I just associate it with her showering far too late in the day.
    Mom looks up and meets my gaze. “Are those her things?”
    She hasn’t said Nell’s name in a very long time. I nod in response, my voice lost somewhere in my throat.
    She nods back. Her eyes linger on the box for a moment, then come back to me. For some reason, I can’t seem to catch my breath.
    “It doesn’t look very heavy.”
    I shake my head; no, it’s not heavy.
    “You should get to bed,” she says, sounding defeated. “It’s late.” Whatever strength propped her into a sitting position is beginning to fail. I don’t tell her that she couldn’t possibly know what time it is. She hasn’t bothered to reset the blinking alarm clock since our power was shut off two months ago. It took a rushed payment to the electric company and some sweet talking from Aunt Becca to get it turned back on.
    I hang in the doorway, then start to leave without a word. I wouldn’t be able to find one anyway, at least not one thatwould come out sounding nice, and I can’t stand to see her cry anymore.
    “I’m trying, honey. I swear to God I am.”
    And then that mean word almost surfaces from the pit of my gut, and I almost can’t suppress it this time. I walk away before I say something I know I’ll regret. I walk right past my room and straight into Nell’s, closing the door behind me.
    I