Nothing More to Tell by Karen M. McManus

Author:Karen M. McManus [McManus, Karen M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2022-08-30T00:00:00+00:00

I have screwed up on all possible fronts.

With my parents, who are livid that I didn’t tell them about being punched or having a gun pulled on me. All of that came out while I was talking to the police, so I needed to come clean with them too. With Uncle Nick, who’s suffering their wrath for keeping my secret. With Carly, who told me very specifically not to return to Mr. Solomon’s and is catching hell from Ramon d’Arturo for, as he put it, “letting a kid lead you into a potential PR nightmare.” With Nadia and Mason, who are hurt that I didn’t tell them about the Motive internship.

And with Tripp, I’m guessing. But I don’t know, since he hasn’t returned any of my calls or texts. I tried stopping by Brightside Bakery this morning after church, but only Regina was there, and she shook her head when I approached the cash register. “Tripp’s not here, hon,” she said. Al thumped his tail but didn’t get up, like even he’s disappointed in me.

“Is he okay?” I asked.

“Physically, he’s fine.”

“What about everything else?”

“I’ll let him tell you that himself,” Regina said. Kindly, but firmly.

The only person who doesn’t hate me is Ellie, so that’s who I’m hanging out with in my room while my parents are on the phone with Carly, discussing whether and how I should be allowed to keep working with Motive. Ellie brought in her old magic kit, like she’s ten years old, and she’s poking through its contents while I lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling.

“On the plus side,” she says, “this makes the dick pics look like nothing.”

“Too soon,” I grumble, turning onto my side so I can stare out my window instead.

I expect another flip remark from Ellie, because that’s her go-to when she’s trying to cheer someone up, but instead she exhales a soft sigh. “I know,” she says. “It’s okay to just feel crappy for a while. I do. Poor Mr. Solomon.”

The lump in my throat gets bigger, and tears sting my eyes. “He had a hole in his sock,” I say, and that does it. The tears spill over. I don’t know why that small detail in particular makes me feel so sad, but every time I think of it, my chest aches. Ellie’s arms steal around me as I curl into the fetal position, sobbing so hard that the rest of me hurts too.

“At least he had a long life, you know?” Ellie sniffs, stroking my hair. “And a good one. I think he was happy. Maybe it was even a kindness, before he got more confused and couldn’t live on his own. I don’t think he ever would have wanted to leave that house.”

“What if he was scared?” I choke out. “At the end? And he was all alone, and…” I trail off, crying harder. It’s been twenty-four hours since we found Mr. Solomon, and I can’t seem to stop crying for more than a couple of hours at a time.

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