Chapter 4
The rest of breakfast tasted like cardboard. I barely ate.
What should I do?'
What excuse could I use to keep Cecilia at home?
I kept stealing glances at Cecilia, trying to come up with a plan.
She finished first and started gathering her dishes. The second she stood up, I made my move. I "accidentally" flung my arm out and knocked over my bowl of steaming oatmeal.
"Ah!" Cecilia cried out.
Most of it splattered across the table. A big splash hit the back of Cecilia's hand.
She yelped and jerked back. Her skin turned red instantly.
"Olivia! Careful!" Mom rushed over, grabbed Cecilia's wrist, and stuck her hand under cold running water.
Guilt twisted in my gut, but relief won out. I babbled, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to!"
Dad came in from the yard when he heard the commotion, his brows knitted tight as he checked the red welt on Cecilia's arm.
"How bad is it? Is it serious?" he asked, his voice full of concern.
"It's fine, Dad," Cecilia said, brushing it off with a reassuring smile. "It looks worse than it feels. Barely hurts at all."
Mom, on the other hand, was beside herself. She rummaged through the medicine cabinet, pulled out the burn ointment, and applied it with the gentlest touch.
"You're not going into town this afternoon like this," Mom said firmly. "You can't get water on that hand. Just stay home and take it easy today."
A little thrill shot through me. Perfect. Plan A was working.
But Cecilia just shook her head. "I can't, Mom.
"I promised Mrs. Ellis I'd swing by and grab that dress pattern today. She needs it back first thing tomorrow."
My stomach dropped.
Why was this happening?
In my old life, she hadn't had anything urgent that afternoon.
Was my coming back already nudging things off track in small, unpredictable ways?
I couldn't count on a little burn to keep her home.
I needed a better plan.
In my previous life, the only reason Cecilia had sprinted to the beach that day was because Benedict's so-called best friend Vincent came tearing into our yard, out of breath, yelling that Benedict was about to throw himself into the ocean.
Cecilia had bolted the second she heard it.
Which meant that if I could keep Vincent from showing up with that news, she would never know.
I glanced at the clock on the wall. Nine thirty in the morning.
Vincent didn't come bursting in until around four.
I had time.
"Dad, Mom, Cecilia, I'm done eating. Think I'm gonna take a walk," I said.
I set my spoon down and stood up.
"Alright, honey," Mom said. "Just don't go too far."
I stuffed the few crumpled dollars I had into my pocket and headed out the door.
Vincent lived clear across town. I had to catch him before he decided to go play hero for Benedict.
I knew exactly where to find him. The rundown pool hall on Maple Street where he and his crew always hung out.
Sure enough, there he was—cigarette between his lips, leaning over the table, lining up a shot with a couple of his rough-around-the-edges buddies.
I took a deep breath and walked over.
"Hey, Vincent," I said, trying to sound casual.
He looked up, surprised for a second, then that sleazy grin spread across his face.
"Well, well, if it isn't Cecilia's kid sister. What's up? You looking for Benedict?" he teased.
I swallowed the bile in my throat, pulled the bills from my pocket, and slipped them into his hand.
"For you and the guys. Grab some sodas on me. I just wanted to ask you something real quick," I said, trying to sound friendly.
He weighed the money, and his grin turned a shade more genuine.
"Shoot. What's on your mind?" he asked.
"Benedict around today? He got any big plans?" I asked.
Vincent snorted. "Dude's been walking around like a zombie.
"Told everyone he's heading to the beach this afternoon to 'clear his head' and nobody better bug him."
Relief flooded through me.
The timeline still lined up.
I leaned in a little closer and lowered my voice. "Listen, my sister's not feeling great today. She's staying home to rest. I'd really appreciate it if you didn't drop by the house this afternoon.
"And maybe tell your friends to steer clear too. Just let her have some peace."
Vincent paused, then gave me a slow, knowing wink. "Oh, I get it. She's out of commission, huh?
"And you're trying to sneak some alone time with Benedict? Say no more, kid. I got your back."
I forced a tight smile and nodded. "Thanks, Vincent."
I turned and walked out before I threw up.
On the way home, the knot in my chest loosened just a fraction.
As long as Vincent kept his mouth shut and stayed away, Cecilia wouldn't hear a thing.
Benedict could go do whatever he needed to do.
I rounded a corner and almost ran straight into a woman in a white sundress.
Her face was ghostly pale, eyes vacant, the whole vibe fragile like she might shatter if you breathed on her too hard.
It was Beatrice.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
She was still alive.