the girl sitting across from nolan looked so much like ava that he double checked her moles to be certain it was his girlfriend. slouching spine, glassy eyes; she was hugging her own chest and probably didn't realize it.

"it's that time of year," the waitress said, nodding to the rain and oblivious to the tension between her only two patrons. "tornado warnings twice a week 'til june. can i get y'all anything else?"

"we're good," nolan said. "thanks."

the urge to crawl across the table and hold mia was tremendous. he didn't care anymore if she was real or fake or somewhere between. he loved her... and he wanted to say it.

instead, he listened to her story about black paint and creepy diaries and hand prints that didn't belong, scrambling to answer her questions in whatever way seemed to put her at ease.

"the handprint," she said. "nobody's been to the house since ava painted her room."

"there are a million explanations."

"like what?"

"maybe she made a stencil of a hand and painted it herself. or maybe she IS seeing someone and wants to keep it a secret. for all we know, he could be good for her!"

a man pushed through the glass doors in storm-soaked hoodie and jeans. he left a trail of mud from the doors to the table just behind mia.

she didn't seem to notice the man, but tightened her arms across her chest and kept her gaze on her untouched toast.

"i don't want to be a jerk," nolan continued, "but isn't it possible you saw it wrong? you said you were scared. it was dark—"

"i thought it would validate my fear if i found out she had a boyfriend... i thought it would prove i'm not batshit crazy like she is..."

"ava's an artist, mi. she was already special, delicate, and vulnerable... and all those mixed-up traits were probably multiplied a thousand times over by her brush with death. honestly, she probably needs someone to watch over her... someone to inspire her while also keeping her grounded."

the waitress pranced from the kitchen with a toothy smile to take the man's order. "well howdy, mister!" she said, more giggle than words.

"i can't go back to that house..." mia said.

"that's why we're here," nolan replied, still watching the waitress over mia's shoulder. the woman's smile was replaced with burning cheeks and lips sealed like a zip-lock bag. she turned from the man—arms stiff and fingers splayed—and plodded to the kitchen with her head down.

"what do i do?" mia asked, recapturing nolan's attention.

"i think she needs to talk with someone."

"she's been seeing a therapist since the accident."

"then maybe something... more extreme."

mia shook her head. "she's not going to a loony bin."

"you can always call for an in-home consultation."

mia loosened the grip on her torso and pressed her thumbs into her eyes. "i did this to her."

"gary's death did this."

she moved her thumbs to her temples. "no..."

"the car accident, then."

she scrunched her eyes and dug her nails into her face. "yeah... and i caused it."

"how? you told me you were throwing up at the dance."

"i faked it."

"being sick?"

"i faked sick and i called her and she came."

nolan reached across the plates, pried mia's nails from her cheeks, and clasped her hands. "why'd you pretend?"

she jerked away and knotted her knuckles through her hair. "i told a fucking lie and it killed my fucking sister."

"that's bologna and you know it."

"is it?"

"she's alive, mi. she's—"

"she's broken!"

"she's confused."

"if she ever found out i was faking—"

"she's not gonna find out!"

"how the hell do you—"

"i love you, mia."

time froze. the rain quit. the waitress was nowhere in sight. the only other person in the gas station diner was the man in the hoodie, and he hadn't moved an inch since he sat down. mia was frozen too, her swollen eyes locked onto nolan, her arms resting on buttered toast, her palms open and out as if she had just sacrificed her only child.

"i'm sorry," he said. "i have the worst timing—"

"even like this?"

he blinked.

"you said you love me... even like this?"

he nodded.

"i always thought it was tacky when couples beat around the bush with that phrase. just SAY it, ya know? but now..."

"have you ever said it before?"

she shrugged. "dozens of times."

"oh."

"i just... i need to get my head straight... i need to know it's ME saying the words."

"i wouldn't want to hear them from anyone else."

mia stood, slid in the seat beside nolan, nuzzled his neck, and closed her eyes. "you really think a mental institution is the best way to go?"

"i think your sister needs real help," he said. "but don't tell her i suggested it."

* * *

mia paced the end of her driveway, shoes slapping mud with every step.

the sky threatened rain, but she'd been outside for twenty minutes and it only drizzled for a few seconds.

she checked the street for the hundredth time, right then left. no cars. no houses in either direction. if she saw a bear, the rape horn was only five steps away by the green pole that marked their address.

it had been three full days since mia discovered the handprint; three days since she last saw her sister face to face.

a car appeared in the distance, then slowed as it approached. mia half-heartedly flagged it down then stepped aside as it turned into the drive.

the window slid down. a hand shot out. mia shook it.

the woman spoke with her whole mouth, every syllable creating an elaborate pantomime of lips and tongue. "good afternoon! i'm tiffany bennett from crossroads psychiatric. you must be mia lane!"

mia nodded. "my sister's at the house." she nodded backwards. "if she doesn't answer, just head inside."

"is she expecting me?"

"nope."

"and you'd prefer to wait outside while we talk?"

"yup."

"that's all i need to know! i'm sure your sister and i will have a friendly conversation!"

mia tried to smile.

the woman closed the window and continued toward the house.

mia watched the trees devour the car, then resumed pacing.

ave's gonna kill me, she thought. she's gonna summon another bear and make it eat me too.

she wondered what tiffany bennett would think of ava's room.

she wondered what ava thought about the primer.

she wondered if she should cut her losses and move back to little rock.

the rain just started falling in fatty drops when the shrink returned.

"she didn't bite off your head?" mia asked through the passenger window.

"it's wet out there!" tiffany patted the seat beside her. "hop in. i won't kidnap ya!"

mia plopped inside the car and closed the door.

"no," said the shrink, "your sister didn't bite off my head. it was a friendly conversation, just like i expected."

"is she gonna bite off MY head?"

"in my professional opinion? no."

"did she agree to commit herself? or will i need to get our parents involved?"

"after spending an hour with your sister, miss lane, i am fairly certain she's in her right mind."

the panic returned with a blow to mia's chest. "what? how? i—"

"ava was lively, talkative, and congenial. she offered me a drink, answered my questions willingly, and i don't see—"

"did you ask about the diary? th-that phrase she scribbled on every goddamn page?"

"i did. she explained that this particular phrase has been a theme of her poetry recently, and writing it down helps her meditate. i actually implement a similar technique during cognitive behavior therapy."

"w-what about the handprint? it's by the closet. it's way too big to be hers—"

"i'm happy to say we weren't able to find a handprint anywhere in her room."

"it's just outside the closet on the top right—"

"we looked. and when we couldn't find it, we talked about it. ava assured me she would have been equally creeped out if she saw it."

"what about the paint? what about the lies? she scared the hell out of two college boys! one of them skipped town and the other got mauled right outside her window!"

tiffany's voice fell somber but her lips moved as if she was screaming. "a violent incident can be a traumatic experience, especially when it occurs so close to home. is the death of your friend something you find yourself dwelling on?"

"sure," mia said, "but i'm not obsessed or anything. it's only been a month since it happened."

"you mentioned you're a freshman at U of A. has class been going well?"

mia's toes clenched as she realized what was happening. "you..." she began. "you think it's me... you think i'm the crazy one..."

"i don't think anyone is crazy, miss lane. you and your sister have been through a lot in the last couple months. new city, new school, the death of a friend, an obsessive ex—"

"that was HER ex—"

"i understand there was an incident at school."

my god, mia thought. gari told ava about her meltdown and ava told the fucking shrink.

"miss lane?"

mia listened to the rain pattering the windshield. she could have continued to resent her sister... she could have kicked her heels into the dash of this nice lady's car and thrown a tantrum like a toddler. instead, she hung her head. "i threw away my textbooks and haven't been back to school since." she looked at the woman. "please. tell me what to do."

"i'm afraid that's not how therapy works—"

"i'm not going to wait for an appointment or check myself into a loony bin. i need to know how to fix things now."

tiffany opened her mouth, then closed it... then opened it again. "your sister told me this friday will be the first anniversary of the night she was hit by a car."

holy shit, mia thought.

"do you think the approaching date might be playing a role in the recent escalation of emotions?"

of course! she thought. "yeah, maybe," she said.

tiffany touched mia's hand and squeezed. "my advice would be to stop avoiding your sister. talk with her. spend some time together. and if the anniversary is important, get her out of the house, show her a good time, and get her mind off the past."

* * *

that night, mia ended her vow of silence with four words whispered beneath her bed. "hey... ave... you there?"

it took ten full seconds, but ava finally whispered back, "i'm here."

"let's go out this friday. think of someplace you'd like to go—anywhere in a hundred miles—and we'll spend the day together. okay?"

another ten seconds. another two-word reply. "okay, mi."