"How could you not know that one of your ancestors helped to put innocent people to death? And what are you implying? What's wrong with spending time in the library?" I couldn’t believe him. Had he been lying to me all this time?
"Sadie, you have to believe me‒I had no clue. In the three years that I've been at this school, I've never even glanced at this case. You know me, you know I'd never lie to you. How could you not believe me?"
"Easily," I shouted, noticing the librarian glancing up from her desk.
"Look, I had no idea, and if you don’t want to believe me, then that's fine. I am done with this." He rushed through the library doors and into the hall, slamming the door with his fist on the way out. I shuddered at his violent outburst and wiped the tears away from my face as I left the library, mortified and sickened. I'd trusted Noah, believed him, even shared myself with him. Had it all been a lie?
I was too upset to finish the day, so I went to the front office and pretended to be sick. I had to fake my way through a cough and an upset stomach when I spoke to the school nurse. She noticed I was flustered and wrote me a permission slip to leave school.
When I got home, I sat quietly on my living room couch and sobbed for hours, fearing that the feelings I had for Noah had all been a huge mistake.
Later, I went to my bedroom, fell into bed, and covered my head with my blankets. I hated myself for trusting Noah. I should've listened to my instincts and held my secrets and my emotions inside. Crying, I closed my eyes and willed the memories to fade. I must've drifted off because I startled when I heard the doorbell ring. Too weak to get up and answer it myself, I shouted for whomever it was to enter.
A moment later, Lucy came into my room, shouting my name over the music. She saw me lying in bed, covered in cookie crumbs, listening to Taylor Swift, winced, and asked, "Sadie, how are you?" At first, I was afraid she might wonder if she hadn't walked into the wrong house and she was talking to the wrong Sadie. But then she started in on her rampage. "I spoke with Noah‒what's going on?’ She came over to the bed and sat on the edge.
"He's related to one of the men who was involved in the witch trials," I told her. "He never told me. He lied. All this time we've spent researching and discussing the journal and how unfair and unjust the trials were, and he knew his family had been a part of them." I sobbed as I spoke, the words coming out broken and unclear. It wasn’t what he'd lied about‒that I could understand‒but it was the idea that he'd lied that crumbled my heart. If he could lie to me about this, what else was he hiding from me? What else was he capable of lying to me about?
"Oh, Sadie, I talked to Noah and he swears he had no idea, that his parents never even mentioned it to him." Her voice was soothing and comforting, almost motherly. I sat up, tears blurring my vision. I wiped them away with the sleeve of my shirt.
"Do you believe him?" I asked through sobs. Lucy hesitated before answering. "Yes. Yes, yes
I do. Look, Sadie, you're my best friend, but I've known Noah‒well, forever‒and he may be a lot of things, but he's not a liar. Maybe he really didn’t know. You need to talk to him."
I pondered her words. It's possible, I thought, but that only served to make me even more upset. I'd accused him without giving him a fair chance to speak and tell his side of the story.
"Lucy, it’s too late. I think he ended it with me, and I don’t blame him. I unfairly accused him of something. I'm a horrible person." I began to cry again, holding my head in my hands.
Lucy wrapped her arms around my shoulders and rocked me in her arms. "Sadie, it is not too late. Just talk to him."
I couldn’t talk to him. I was too embarrassed to ever look at him again.
"No, Lucy, it’s over. I knew this would happen. I've only ever had one boyfriend in my entire life, and I even managed to screw that up. Noah's a wonderful guy and I don’t deserve him. He deserves a beautiful girl who he can be proud of, not some hippy freak who doesn’t know when to shut up."
Lucy stared at me in bewilderment. I was her best friend, but we'd only known each other for a few weeks. Noah was her lifelong friend, and she had stronger ties to him. She probably wouldn't be unable to stay friends with both of us. She'd have to choose where her loyalties were, and I'd never expect or ask her to choose me.
"Lucy, maybe you should go. Noah's been your friend longer than I have, and I understand if you take his side."
Lucy looked up at me, and anger was painted across her face. Her pale skin had turned a soft pink. Frustration rose to her face until she could no longer contain herself. "Sadie, what are you talking about? You're my best friend and so's Noah. I'm not going to choose sides. We'll get this worked out, believe me. I won't let something like this, something that neither of you could've either predicted or controlled, ruin the relationship you've built." Her voice was stern and controlled. She hugged me tightly before leaving, and my heart sank as she embraced me.
I had a friend for the first time, and she was a true friend. I felt exhilarated at the thought of having a friend like Lucy. I smiled for a brief moment until I realized the situation. I continued to cry until I cried myself to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I skipped school the next day to avoid the awkward conversation I'd have to have with Noah about why I was such an idiot. Lucy recognized my absence, calling me every hour on the hour to make sure I hadn't decided I was too big of a loser to keep on living. I'd spent the entire night crying, and when I woke the next morning, my eyes were swollen and surrounded by tiny burst blood vessels around my eyes and my nose was plugged, perfect for the ruse to convince my mom I was too ill to go to school. Even though I felt she believed I wasn't feeling well, she could tell there was something much deeper bothering me, but she didn’t ask what was going on.
Amber and I texted back and forth the entire day. I told her about my breakup with Noah but left out the whole witch's diary thing. Too many people had already been involved, and I wasn’t about to discuss that drama, too.
I stayed in my room, staring at the bleak, blank walls around me. My mom brought me chicken noodle soup and saltine crackers to ease my stomach. I tried to eat it, but my stomach refused to comply.
Later in the afternoon, Mom brought me her back copies of People magazine for me to look through. I flipped through the mind-numbing stories of celebrity gossip and the newest fashion trends. Even in my lowest of lows, with misery seeping from every pore of my body, Mom wasn't above pushing her vapid ideals on me. I participated in the conversation, nevertheless, commenting on the extravagant outfits worn by the beautiful models, and she seemed pleased that I was taking any interest in fashion at all, forced though it may be.
For the rest of the afternoon, I remained a prisoner of my own free will. I worked on my Language Arts project using my laptop to type the thesis statement and introductory paragraph. My anger proved to be a great writing tool, adding a depth of passion that surprised me.
Like the predictable teenager I was shaping up to be, I also listened to my break up music‒the piteous soundtrack of my life of late. It didn’t make the pain go away, but I did feel as if I wasn’t alone in my self-loathing, which I enjoyed.
That evening, Lucy stopped by to check on me again. When I heard the doorbell ring, I escaped from the confines of my bed to go to the bedroom door, and I heard whispering at the foot of the stairs. "What's wrong with Sadie?" My mom kept her voice low, and she sounded concerned. "I don’t believe she's sick in the true sense of the word. I mean, I've heard that depressing music all day‒I didn’t even know she owned music like that‒and I'm
really worried about her."
"They had a fight," Lucy said. "I think Noah broke up with her. She was really upset. She told me cried all night." I was angered at how easily she could give up my personal issues, even if it was to my mom.
"What was the fight about?" Mom sounded eagerly curious. "Sadie never tells me anything," she continued.
"Oh…I think it was over something stupid. Some
boy looked at her and Noah got mad, or something, and she said he was being too possessive, but don’t worry‒I'm going to fix this." Lucy was confident in her lie, and I was impressed, even through my anger.
Their conversation ended. I heard Lucy walking up the stairs, and dashed back into my bed, pretending to be asleep. When Lucy came into my room, she whispered my name. "Sadie, are you awake?" She walked over and sat on the edge of my bed.
I pretended to be groggy, as if I'd just woken from a deep sleep. "Hey, Lucy," I grumbled, pretending to rub the sleep out of my eyes.
She tugged at my arm. "Sadie, I need to talk to you. Wake up." Her voice sounded strained.
I opened my eyes and sat up, propping myself against the pillows and my headboard, and sat quietly, waiting for her to begin speaking.
"Hey, so how are you?" She rubbed my back as she spoke, soothing me like a mom might soothe a crying infant. "I missed you at school today."
I felt stupid crying over the whole debacle. I'd been the one who was deceived, and I was the one in tears. For all I knew, Noah was enjoying his new-found freedom. In the end, the afternoon didn't go quite as well as Lucy or I intended. Instead of calming myself down, I'd only grown angrier. I wanted to scream up at the sky until I'd escaped from both my body and my mind.
"Lucy, I want to go to that party tonight." I practically knocked her over as I shot out of bed and grabbed jeans and shirts that lay on my bedroom floor.
"Wait, Sadie‒what party?" Though she hadn't moved from her position on my bed, she did seem worried at my sudden change in demeanor.
"I want to go to Melinda’s party." I held up a flyer that Melinda had passed around at school the week before: the paper was neon pink, with
Melinda’s name written in bold across the top, the details with the time and place of the event below. Apparently, this was a monthly ordeal to which Melinda subjected her peers, once a month, when her parents went to Europe or Vegas or some tropical destination.
"But Sadie, you two hate each other. Don’t you think it'd be a bad idea?" She looked at me as if I were insane.
"No, I want to go, and anyway, I could use a few more friends, right?" I felt the pain of my words as they stabbed Lucy, straight in the heart.
"Sure…but Melinda?"
"Look, Noah lied to me‒why should I be the one to sit at home and sulk? I should be living up my high school life, and I'm going to start tonight.
"Lucy, you're my best friend and I care about you, but I am going, whether you like it or not. Now, are you going with me?" I glared at her as I put my jeans and a silver top on. Though the top was way too revealing for me, given my mood, it would do just fine.
Without hesitation and zero enthusiasm Lucy followed me down the stairs and out the door.
"Sadie, let me drive," she pleaded, reaching into her purse for her car keys.
"Whatever," I replied, following her to her small, red car, parked behind mine. Mom stood next to the door, eyeing us as we backed out of the driveway. The worried expression on her face should have upset me, but it didn’t.
We drove through town in complete silence. Lucy never took her eyes off of the road, not even once. The tension was thick tension in the car and I dared not to speak. What I was doing was certifiably insane, but I'd always been so careful, I was entitled to a reckless moment. Besides, what's the worst that could happen?
The cars on Melinda’s street were parked, bumper to bumper, along the curb. Lucy parked behind a large black SUV and hesitated before opening her car door.
"Sadie, I'll only say this once and then I won't say anything else. I think you've lost it. You need to talk to Noah and get this mess straightened out. Coming to one of Melinda’s parties is crazy; I don’t even think she knows who I am. Anyway, you know where I stand, but just remember, I'm your friend and I only want what's best for you." She didn't look at me as she spoke, nor did she look at me before she got out of the car, nor as we walked down the block to the house.
A loud pulsating base greeted us as we walked up the brick pathway to the front door of Melinda's house. Melinda lived in the wealthy section of town, and her house proved to be exactly what I'd expected. It was nothing short of glorious and incredibly overstated. We walked through the open front door to loud rap music from a stereo system in the living room. Hordes of students roamed the house, holding beverages in unsteady hands. I didn’t recognize half the people I walked past as I tried to find an open pathway.
Lucy followed closely behind me, at times grabbing on to the back of my t-shirt so she wouldn't lose me, like a child who was afraid of being separated from her mom's hand during the Christmas rush at the mall. Melinda was in the corner of the living room, her hand on a very handsome boy's arm, as she flirted with him, tousling his hair and giggling. He looked older than us, as if he was no longer a high school student.
There were a group of girls dancing provocatively in the center of the living room to my right, laughing and trying to gain the attention of some much older guys. To my left, I saw three girls whom I recognized as cheerleaders at my school, dancing on a very expensive cherry oak dining room table. One girl, whom I only knew as Legs, bumped her head continuously on the crystals of the low- hanging chandelier. Her long, black hair swung back and forth, covering her dark chocolate-brown eyes. Her flawless almond skin was revealed on her shoulders, arms and legs beneath her black mini skirt and blue halter.
The scene enraged me for reasons I couldn’t explain, and I tried to avoid the show as I followed a group of students into the brightly lit kitchen. A boy I recognized from Biology waved at me to join him at the counter. Lucie shook her head and flashed me a disapproving grimace, as I walked toward the boy.
"Hey, Sadie, isn’t it?" he asked, handing me a red plastic cup.
"Yeah. Sorry, I don’t remember your name," I said, raising my eyebrows at him.
"It’s Adam," he replied, and didn't try to hide it as his eyes wandered over my entire body.
"Oh, well, hey, Adam." I felt incredibly nervous trying to make small talk with the water polo player. His blonde hair and baby blue eyes perfectly accentuated his perfect complexion. He was so brawny that his polo shirt clung tightly‒and might I add, attractively‒to his bulging biceps.
"I haven’t seen you at any parties yet this year. What brings you out tonight?" He seemed to be uninterested, merely playing at being polite.
"Oh, well, I thought it was time I changed things up a bit," I replied, trying too hard to sound like I actually belonged there.
Lucy stood next to me the whole time, never speaking. She was like a statue that you were afraid to touch for fear it'd fall over and shatter into a million pieces. I smelled the drink he'd given me‒a strong, fruity aroma of strawberry and oranges, so acrid, it seemed to burn the inside of my nose. I handed it back to him; I'd never in my life even tried a sip of alcohol and I wasn’t about to try.
"No, thanks. I don’t drink," I said, holding the cup out.
"Oh, this isn’t anything strong. It’s just Adam’s fruit punch." He shoved the drink back at me, smiling a large, wide grin that revealed a set of porcelain white teeth.
I took a sip and my tongue practically did a back flip. It was the most delicious thing I'd ever tasted, a combination of pomegranate, cherry, strawberry, and peach.
Lucy poked me under my rib cage.
"Don’t worry Lucy‒you heard him, it’s not anything dangerous."
Little did I know that my definition of dangerous was much different than Adam’s. After two hours of deafening music and three cups of Adam’s fruit punch, my head began to swirl. Lucy had left me alone in the kitchen to go sit on the couch in Melinda’s dad's study. She'd locked herself in the quiet room and refused to join me until I told her I was ready to go home.
My stomach started to ache as the drink started to take hold, perspiration dripped from my forehead, and my body temperature rose. I tried to find Lucy, but my balance was unstable, as if the world around me had begun to spin a
nd everything was fuzzy. It was something I'd never experienced before. I felt out of control, like my body and my mind were at odds with each other and neither one was winning.
I reached out for a wall that looked much closer than it was. If I could just use it to balance myself, I could make it to Lucy. I'd apologize to her and beg her to take me home. My hand reached out and I felt secure that I was close enough to the wall, but when I leaned over, I tumbled forward, dropped the drink in my hand, and splashed punch on the floor and all over my jeans, and smacked my head on the floorboards.
I touched my forehead and my hand came away wet and sticky. Fearing blood, I brought my hand around to my eyes, but thankfully it was only the punch I'd spilled, in my hair and seeping into my shirt hair. My head began to throb, and I thought, Oh, no, as I lay there, willing for Lucy‒or anyone else, for that matter‒to come and find me. The pain in my head grew as I clued back into what was going on around me. I lay there, helpless, on the floor, my peers stepping over my body. I cried out for Lucy to come, wondering how fruit punch could make me feel so ill‒maybe I was coming down with the flu.
Just then, two guys were beside me, on their knees, crouching over me. I was only able to make out parts of their conversation, but what I heard made me feel more nauseated than the drink I'd consumed.
"I think she's totally out of it," a tall, thin boy leaned over me, touching my head, and forcing my eyelid open.
"Yeah, I think you're right. The bedrooms are upstairs; do you think we can carry her?" The second boy, who smelled of alcohol and cigarette smoke, breathed into my face as he talked. What little brain cells I had left operating told me I needed to get away.
I pulled my body up onto my elbows and crawled to the small study near the front door. The two boys walked slowly behind me, laughing and mocking my helpless and pathetic attempt at escape.
"She doesn’t look like she weighs much. If you grab her, I'll look for an empty room."
Wicked Cries (The Wicked Cries Series Book 1) Page 19
