Heaven's Crime (gxg) ✓

sixteen. a wonderful little visit home

                   I'm coming home, Cassie.

                  Hold on tight.

                  Two hours ago, I told Veah I wouldn't leave without saying goodbye to my sister first. Now, standing in front of the three-story, white-columned place I once called home, I can only hesitate. 

                  The sun is bright and flickering in the corner of my vision. The sky is endlessly blue, the kind of blue that makes me think of summer days in the backyard, when I would spray Cassie from head to toe in raspberry Kool-Aid.

                  My fingers tighten on the hem of my shirt.

                  Squinting up at the sun behind the mansion I once lived in, my thoughts drift. 

                  What if Cassie isn't home?

                  What if something goes wrong and Gavin comes outside?

                  What if . . . what if I see my mother again?

                  It will be the first time in two years, and I . . . I haven't forgiven her. How can I? She's my mom. She was supposed to choose me. She was supposed to pick me over him. 

                  Veah leans out of the car, gazing at from over the top of the car. "Kaya?"

                  "I'm going," I promise. "I just . . . needed a minute."

                  Quickly, I send a text to Cassie. TULIPS. TALK TO ME.

                  She'll know what it means—that summer, when I had no home, I would come by and visit her. Usually at around two in the morning, I'd sneak past the alarm systems and climb up to her room from the tulip vines. TALK TO ME was our code for Come outside. 

                  Cassie's text is swift.

                  NOT NOW. 

                  Not now? What the hell does that mean?

                  But I'm not giving in without a fight. I need to see her—I need to see if she's home. 

                  "I'll be right back," I promise Veah.

                  As I make my way over the pale, rose-coloured stone walkway, I step on a couple of peonies. Just for extra measure.

                  It occurs to me that maybe I shouldn't hide—maybe I should knock right on the door.

                  If I'm going to fake my death . . . 

                  If I'm going to fake my death, then this will be the last time my family sees me alive. Maybe they should live with this guilt, this last bitter taste.

                  And I would—I would, if it wasn't for Cassie.

                  I don't want to get her into trouble.

                  The job I have at the drag queen bar is definitely over now, thanks to my three-day absence. There's no money I can give my sister, not for a while. 

                  Distantly, the thought of Imai's contract comes to mind. His offer.

                  But as I duck beneath the hedges, creeping through the black fence with a passcode they still haven't changed, I think of that text. NOT NOW.