Space by Penny Reid, now you can read online.
Prologue: Linear Momentum and Collisions
*Mona*
Lisa was there . . . here.
At the house.
In her room.
And so was I.
We were sitting on her bed and she was talking about the arrest, explaining what happened, how Tyler had known she was calling things off for good, so he set her up to make it look like she’d been selling drugs to kids, but that—though she’d been arrested—the charges were dropped when the witnesses changed their stories. She used expletives and insults to describe Tyler, her voice growing quieter and quieter with rage.
Now she was thanking me, and her eyes were wide and open, and she looked like a different version of herself, one I actually knew rather than the stranger she’d become. She was saying that she forgave me for what happened when we were younger, and that she’d been stupid to hold on to the grudge for so long, and that she missed me when she’d been sent away after I’d tattled on her and Gabby to our nanny, and that seeing media images of Leo and me with our parents at events and movie premieres and award shows while she was at boarding school alone made her feel like she was trash, unwanted, forgotten.
But she realized now that I had nothing to do with that, she realized I was just as trapped as she had been. And she was so sorry. So sorry. She’d expected Leo and me to protect her, but she knew we’d been powerless, and she was working on accepting being abandoned and wanted to move on.
Now she was saying it was all in the past, and I’d protected her now. I’d protected her and she would never forget it. I’d protected her and it meant the world to her. I’d protected her and now she felt like she had another chance at life and I was responsible for changing her life.
Now she was next to me on the bed, hugging me, apologizing for hugging me because she knew I didn’t like it, but saying she couldn’t help it, and thanking me, and telling me how much she owed me and saying that, if there was ever anything she could ever do to help me, I should ask. I should always ask. She promised that all the bad choices were at an end and that she was going back to school, she was done being selfish, she was done being destructive.
Now she was staring at me like she was confused, or she was worried, and then glancing at Gabby. Gabby shrugged, shaking her head quickly, wearing an identical frown to Lisa’s, her eyes coming back to me.
Now they were both looking at me like they expected me to say something.
But I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do.
I didn’t know . . . I don’t know.
“Mona!”
My name sounded faraway, as though it had been spoken through a tunnel, or underwater. I felt a small shake. Someone was shaking me. I heard a sudden snap, like the crack of a whip. I blinked, abruptly surfacing to the present, the last half hour and all of Lisa’s words rushing over me, flooding my brain.
Lisa.
“Hey, snap out of it.” My sister was here, kneeling in front of me, snapping her fingers in front of my face, sounding frightened. She turned over her shoulder. “What is wrong with her? Did something happen? Oh my God, he didn’t—did he hurt her?” Lisa appealed to Gabby, who shook her head.
“No, no, of course not. Not all guys are like Tyler, Lisa.” Gabby was sitting on the desk, watching me with a worry-rimmed stare. “They got along really well. When I went downstairs, they were—”