“The moon is hanging above the skylight, blurred by the rain, and the faux bedside candles are flickering. “What’s the matter?” I ask. “Nothing,” Oscar says. “Just need to wake you up every few hours to be sure you don’t have a concussion.” “I’m awake, so I guess I don’t.” “How’s your head?” “I think it’s okay.” “Do you want some more aspirin?” “No thanks.” We lie on our backs, looking up at the mirrors over our heads. “You can go back to sleep,” Oscar says. I try to close my eyes, but I’m wide-...awake now and every time I look up, I see the outline of Oscar’s powerful body under the sheet. Then I see him looking back at me. “The rain is really coming down,” I say. “Have you been awake long?” “I haven’t gone to sleep,” he says. “I wanted to keep an eye on you. I went through all my phone messages though.” “Sophia?” “Mostly,” he says. “But my father called too. He said that the news reported that there is going to be an autopsy done on Tatum.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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