Chapter 10: Playback

The yard went quiet in pieces, starting near the speaker and spreading out to the grills.

Pete had stopped with the aux cord in his hand.

Maggie, who had been dancing with a plate of fries, stopped dancing.

Whitney reached for her phone. "Hazel, that's private. Give it to me."

I stepped back and held it out of her reach.

"Pete," I said. "Plug it in."

Pete looked at Whitney. Then he looked at me.

He plugged it into the speaker.

"Hazel, please." Whitney's voice cracked at the top. "It's just an old file. It's nothing."

"Then it won't hurt anybody to hear it."

I touched the third recording down.

For a second there was only hiss, loud across the whole yard.

Then a chime, two soft beeps, and a girl crying very close to the microphone.

"Miles, please. Please don't do this. Just give me one more chance."

Then Miles's voice, flat and so tired.

"God, you're so annoying. Can't you just stay away from me?"

The recording ended on a wet, ragged breath.

Nobody in Pete's backyard said a single word.

I could hear the paper lanterns knocking against the fence.

I could hear someone's drink fall over.

"Oh my God," somebody said at the back. "That's the thing from the quad."

I turned around slowly.

Then I looked at Whitney.

Her face was white under the lantern light, and her blue eyes went from me to Miles on the porch steps and back.

"I recorded that when we broke up," she said. Her voice was very small. "I only kept it because it hurt. I listen to it sometimes. That's all I did."

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