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throat as I watched him lay there, his mouth open and the
reflection of the florescent lights pooled into the creases of
his lips. My brain grabbed at an image that I d just seen,
one that looked something like this. When had I seen this?
I pressed my hands over my eyes.
Grant s picture skidded across the desk at station, his
eyes closed and his head surrounded in a halo of blood-
speckled snow. His mouth was open then too, and the Big
Dipper on his nose was soaked in congealed blood.
I watched him. He could have been dead, if it weren t
for beeping machines telling us both he wasn t. I got up
and sat at the edge of his bed.
Can I see? I asked, even though I wasn t sure he
wouldn t answer me. Or if it would matter if he did. I
touched the edge of the bandage on his nose.
Grant s eyes snapped open, but he didn t say anything.
He just watched me, and as much as I wanted him to see
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me like he had just a day ago, there was nothing. But he
didn t stop me either.
Gently, I pulled at the edge of the bandage until it slid
off. A line of angry stitches zig-zagged through Grant s
star-freckles and sliced off the handle of the Big Dipper. I
felt the tears climb up my throat before I felt them on my
cheeks. Something in Grant s eyes flickered but he still just
watched.
I touched the tip of his nose. Did you know I used to
think your freckles looked like the Big Dipper? My fin-
ger trailed down to the bandage at his throat that was held
in place by a spot of blood. And that the handle pointed
to your eyebrows? That s one of my favorite things about
you. A smile crept onto my face as I thought about how
much I wanted to touch the tip of that handle on Grant s
nose two years ago, when he gave me my birthday cupcake
in the cornfield. How I d finally gotten to that night in
Alpena.
Grant s eyebrows knitted together as he watched me.
He swallowed and said: You have one too.
My heart thumped so hard in my chest that I almost
didn t hear his words. I dropped my fingers from his ban-
dages and forced his voice back into my head. I didn t
want to lose his words; I couldn t lose them. What do you
mean? I asked.
He propped himself up in bed and flinched as the IV
tube wiggled in his hand. He slowly, carefully, reached for
my wrist and flipped it over, like I was the one cut up and
fragile. His finger traced over a rectangle of tiny freckles
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that spilled onto my palm from my wrist. Here s the dip-
per part of the Big Dipper, he said as he touched each
freckle. Then he slid his finger across the pink scar left
behind from mine and Rae s blood oath. And this is the
handle.
I touched the scar. A long time ago, Rae made me
promise her that I would never tell anyone where she was
going. We made a blood oath. I watched him carefully as
I said it. I still don t know why she did it with a knife and
not a needle or something less & violent.
Rae always did have a flare for the dramatic. Grant
sighed as he touched the scar again. He glanced up at me.
Did you keep your promise?
I thought about the days after, the way Dad used to
scare me just by looking at me. How he probably knew I
could have told him where Rae was, but I wouldn t. How
I finally told that Ryan guy when I was being interro-
gated for what happened to Ella in the cornfield because I
couldn t stand it anymore.
No, I said. Only for a few days. All of a sudden,
I felt the weight of the time bomb ticking on my chest.
The second hand was ticking louder, echoing in the space
between us, warning me. I had to go if I wanted a future
outside of Havenwood, outside of Amble. With Grant
But did Grant want a future with me?
I sucked in a breath. Grant, I have to go. And I don t
think I m coming back. I forced the next part out of my
mouth: I don t know if we ll see each other again.
Something behind Grant s eyes flickered, a tiny spark
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of recognition. Or maybe it was fear. Whatever it was, it
quickly dimmed by the pain medication dripping through
his IV. He blinked for so long that I wasn t sure if he d
fallen asleep.
Grant? I touched the tips of his fingers.
He started back to life and shook his head. And then
he wove his fingers through mine. Can you keep a prom-
ise to me?
I bit my lip as I watched the way his fingers bent
around mine. It seemed like it would be such a weird mix:
my toothpick fingers all tied up in his long, rough ones.
But somehow they looked okay together, like his hands
were meant to be big enough to swallow mine up and
cover them from the cold. And I thought about the one
other promise I d ever made, the most important one: to
keep Ella safe.
I hadn t kept that one either.
Can you at least try, Claire? Grant asked as he
squeezed my fingers. Sometimes promises don t work out
the way you want them to. But the most important thing
is that you at least gave it your best shot.
The fact that Grant was even talking to me right now,
even though his words were kind of slurred from whatever
was dripping through his IV, was a miracle to me. The fact
that he even wanted to talk to me was another miracle.
I can try, I told him.
Grant swallowed and tipped his head toward the ceil-
ing.
He took a deep breath. How did I even get here?
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Grant s torn-up face in the photographs flashed
through my brain again. I closed my eyes. I found you in
the cornfield, I whispered. It was the truth, as much of it
as I could keep from slipping between my fingers anyway.
I d found Grant in the cornfield, injured before I got there.
And then the wolf.
And then the knife.
His voice cut through the images in my head. Can
you promise me that if I leave with you right now, we ll
make it out of Amble before anything & happens to us?
I looked at him all of him for the first time since
I d stepped in this room. Dozens of stitches screamed at
me from under his bandages, every last one of them pos-
sibly my fault.
I don t know. I pulled myself from the edge of his
bed. I don t remember how everything happened. I just
found you in the field and your head was bleeding and I
don t even know
Claire, are you capable of hurting me right now?
I looked at him and what used to be left of his Big Dip-
per nose, and everything in me melted. No, I whispered.
He nodded once. And then he tugged the IV needle
out of his hand without flinching.
I tried to breath. Are you sure you want to leave
with me? What about your job, your mom, your friends.
Future?
Grant shook his head as if he were trying to shake out
the remnants of the pain medication from his brain. I
don t have a future here anymore. You know how Amble
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