by Cat Patrick
“But she was already at the police station!”
Tess nodded. I wished I hadn’t told her because her reaction was too calm. And then she just changed the subject. “We need to figure out what other dares Colette might have been doing—dares that all three of us did.”
“No, we don’t,” I said through gulps of soda. “This is stupid. I can’t remember the dares—and with the rest of the videos missing from Viewer, we’re never going to remember. All we’re doing is putting ourselves in scary situations. We’re not going to find her! The police will have to!”
“Don’t give up, Frankie,” Tess said. “I still think you’re right.”
“So what?” I asked. “What does being right matter?”
“It matters if it helps find Colette,” she said. “And it matters because . . .”
She stopped talking while the waitress set down our Tater Tots. I started eating like I’d never eaten before: I wasn’t just hungry, I was starving. I held the Tater Tots with both hands like a squirrel.
“Because what?” I asked with food in my mouth.
“Because you deserve to be right sometimes,” Tess said.
I scrunched up my eyebrows at her. I didn’t know exactly what she meant, but I felt a lump in my throat that I was pretty sure wasn’t a Tater Tot.
“Will you please tell me what happened?” Tess asked quietly. “Between you and Colette?”
The high schoolers erupted with shouts and laughter; one of them had spilled something. I didn’t get why it was funny. They were smashed into three booths, but some were kneeling on the bench and turned backward so they could talk to two tables at once. They were leaning on everything, on the back of the booths, the windowsill, the tables. Leaning and laughing, looking so much older than us.
“I’m afraid to go to high school,” I whispered, watching them.
“I think it’s mostly the same as middle school,” Tess whispered. I glanced at her and she was watching them, too, until two of the teenagers started kissing. Tess and I both looked away quickly, me making a grossed-out face and Tess blushing.
“Do you think that Colette has kissed Bryce?” I asked her.
“I know she has,” Tess said. “She kissed him at the movies. And again, after school one time.”
“Did she say she liked it?” I asked.
“I didn’t ask her,” Tess said. “But if she did it twice, she must have liked it the first time.”
I looked back over at the kissing couple. They seemed like they were trying to eat each other’s faces off, and the boy’s hand was around the girl’s body, resting on the lower part of her back. Like, way low. Like the top of her butt.
“Stop staring at them,” Tess whispered.
“I’m not staring,” I said, refocusing on my sister. “Would you let a boy try to eat your face off like that? In public?”
“No!” Tess said, making me feel relieved until she added, “Not in public. But if a boy I liked wanted to kiss me, I’d let him.” Her cheeks were bright pink, dotted with tiny freckles—not out-of-control freckles like Colette’s, just faint dots the size of marks from a really sharp pencil under Tess’s eyes and over the top of her nose.
“Do you like a boy?” I asked, concentrating on making sure my voice was low so I wouldn’t embarrass her by letting anyone else hear.
“Sort of,” she admitted. Now her mood-ring eyes looked closer to gold.
“Who?” I pressed in a whisper, leaning closer to her.
“Colin,” she said, which made her cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink. She meant Bryce’s best friend.
“Why do you like him?” I asked.
Tess frowned at me. “Why do you like Kai?” It was a whisper, so I knew she wasn’t trying to embarrass me, but I still felt embarrassed.
How do you know that? I thought but didn’t say, looking around the diner to make sure that no one was paying attention to us.
Tess must have realized I wasn’t going to answer. She went back to her original question. “Will you please tell me what happened between you and Colette?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, angry that she was acting like she didn’t remember. I noticed my heartbeat pounding, and the table felt so sticky I wanted to rush to the bathroom to wash my hands. Instead, I wiped them on my clothes.
“You promised you’d tell me,” Tess said, tucking her hair behind her ear and looking at me with big eyes. The way she looked, like she had no clue in the world what I could be talking about, really irritated me.
“How can you pretend to be so innocent when you didn’t stand up for your own sister?” I asked in a voice louder than I’d meant. Tess’s cheeks turned pink again. She dipped her chin.
Instead of telling me to be quiet, though, she asked, “What are you talking about?”
“You just let them laugh at me. I heard you.” I tried to keep my voice level because we were inside and there were people around. It was like holding on to Pirate’s leash when she really, really wants to go in a certain direction.
Tess screwed up her face in confusion. I leaned in and hissed, “Stop acting like you don’t know what I’m talking about! You were all in your room, studying for a test. It was you, Colette, Mia, and two other girls.”
“Hold on,” Tess said calmly, shifting in the booth. “Two other girls? Who?”
“How should I know?”
“We never study with anyone else!” Tess started biting her thumbnail, looking off in the distance like she was thinking really hard. Then she looked back at me quickly. “Do you mean Naomi?”
“Colette’s weird neighbor?”
Tess nodded, smiling at me for calling Naomi weird. She really is. She’s a close talker, which makes me uncomfortable, and she’s always coming up with strange clubs like the “Blue Socks on Tuesdays” club. So yeah, Naomi’s weird.
But I guess everyone is, in their own way.
“I have no idea,” I said. “I don’t know what her voice sounds like. It’s not like I have any classes with her or anything.”
“That has to be it,” Tess said. “She’s the only person who’s ever come to a study group in my room except Mia and Colette. You know how Mom is about people in our rooms.”
“Yeah,” I said, never having run into that problem since I don’t like people in my room, so I wouldn’t ask to invite anyone. Or have anyone to invite anyway.
“Those are the only people who were there. You thought you heard someone else?”
I rolled my eyes, really not wanting to have this conversation. But you know how, when you don’t want to talk about something, that’s all the person you’re with wants to talk about?
I grudgingly explained. “You were all studying and then someone asked about why I wasn’t studying, and you said because I don’t unless Mom makes me—which I do, by the way . . .”
Tess sighed and nodded.
“ . . . and the other girl came in and then Colette started talking about how I take tests in a special room and—”
“What?” Tess interrupted, her eyebrows raised.
“And then everyone laughed because I like tornadoes and Mia called me a tornado brain and—”
“WHAT?!” Tess said loudly, not caring who heard her. A few of the high schoolers looked at us for a few seconds before they got bored and went back to their chatter.
“And I snuck away because I didn’t want to hear you guys talk about me anymore.”
Tess’s hand flew to her mouth and her cheeks went red—but she looked mad instead of embarrassed this time. “That’s what you’ve been upset about for, what, like two whole months?”
I nodded. “Wouldn’t you be?”
“Of course!” she said. “I just wish you would have told me. That’s a long time to have hurt feelings!”
“Why did I need to tell you? You were
there!”
Tess inhaled and looked up at the ceiling of the diner, then exhaled loudly. “Frankie, do you honestly think that I wouldn’t have said anything if I’d been there?”
“But I heard you,” I said. “I heard you say that I only study when Mom makes me.”
“Yes!” she said. “I said that when I was leaving to go get everyone sodas.” She paused and took a big breath. “You thought someone else came in. But I went out.”
“No, that’s not what happened,” I said, unsure. Or was it just not what I’d thought happened?
“Think about it, Frankie,” Tess said. “Did you hear my voice after the thing about the studying? Did you hear me say anything else? Did you hear me laugh at you?” Her eyes welled up with tears. “You didn’t! Because I never would!”
“Colette did,” I said softly.
“Colette’s not your sister. I am.” She brushed away her tears as they fell. “I would never do that to you.”
“But you’re always mad at me,” I said. “And you never want to do anything with me.”
“You just stopped hanging out with us without any explanation and I thought . . .” She wiped her face again. “I thought you didn’t want to do anything with me.”
“Oh,” I said, thinking about that.
The waitress came over. “You two need anything else?”
Tess asked for the check and the waitress pulled it from her apron and dropped it on the edge of the table. She left, and Tess picked up the check, curling the edges of it. She used to rip up paper or napkins or movie tickets or whatever was in her hands. I wondered if she was going to rip up the check.
“I’m so sorry,” Tess said.
“It’s okay,” I said automatically, since that’s what you say.
“No, it’s not,” Tess said. She set down the check and touched my hand across the sticky table. Despite it normally feeling awful to be touched, it felt okay to be touched by her—at least for a second. She must have sensed that because she took her hand away. “They were so rude. And it’s one thing from Mia—you know, because you guys have never really been good friends—but from Colette it was . . .”
I nodded. The tears were there again without warning. I wiped my face with my sleeve.
“Let’s go home,” I said.
Tess didn’t argue with me this time. “Okay, Frankie, let’s go home.”
chapter 17
Opinion: Some people believe that when you dream about tornadoes, it’s because you’re feeling out of control.
“I’M MAKING TEA,” I told Tess when we arrived back at the inn. We were ten minutes late for our eleven o’clock curfew; we’d had to stop our bikes three times on the way home from the diner to answer texts from Mom.
“I’m going to tell Mom we’re home,” Tess said, parking her bike at the end of the line of loaners near the far wall of the lobby. She leaned in and whispered, “And make up something about the movie.” She looked uneasy: Tess is a rule-follower. “Do you want to come with me?”
I shook my head, shifting from one foot to the other. I didn’t want to go back outside where the April night had turned cold. Inside, the fire was on, making the lobby toasty warm. “I’m going to take my tea to my room.”
No matter what time it is, there’s coffee, tea, and flavored water waiting for guests. Mom likes them to stay hydrated, I guess. Mint tea is something that sometimes helps me calm down, and we’re never out of it.
“Okay, see you tomorrow,” Tess said sadly. She hesitated at the side door, looking back over her shoulder at me like she wanted to say something. She didn’t, though.
I filled a cup with steaming water and added a mint tea bag. I leaned against the wall, waiting for it to steep. I have to do the whole tea-making process down in the lobby because I don’t like used tea bags in my room. I don’t know why, it’s just a thing.
While I waited, my brain played on high speed. I remembered the Sea Witch at the police station—maybe being questioned as a suspect! I thought of her telling me that kids running around without their parents could get in trouble; then, shivering, I thought about her face in the window at her house. I wanted to call Officer Rollins and tell him what she’d said to me. But what if she was really nice to the police and pretended not to know anything and they let her go? And what if she just went home to torture Colette? What if—
“Yo, did you or your sister use Lemonade?” Tyler, the overnight front desk attendant, interrupted my thoughts. He was pulling on his beard—ick—and tapping his pen on the counter in time to low music.
I looked at him blankly. “What are you talking about?”
“Lemonade is missing,” he said, tugging his beard again. I wished he’d stop that. “Have you seen it?”
I looked at him like he was speaking German. “Huh? What’s Lemonade?”
Tyler rolled his eyes at me and pointed over at the row of loaner bikes. “Haven’t you ever noticed that they’re all named after food? The ones you just brought back are Mint Chip and Black Licorice.”
“No, they’re not,” I said.
But I went over to check. On the back wheel cover of the black bike, in swirly, cursive font, it said Black Licorice. Noticing now, I read down the row: the red bike was Cherry Pie, the orange was Marmalade, and the white one was Marshmallow.
“I always thought that was just decoration,” I said.
Tyler sighed. “Now that you know it’s not,” he said, “have you seen Lemonade? The yellow one? No one signed it out.”
“I know,” I said. “I wanted to use it, but it’s gone.”
The steeping timer on my phone went off and startled me. Tyler shook his head and put on headphones, telling me that our conversation was over. I removed the tea bag, then added cream, which I like even though it looks kind of gross in the mint tea, and since my mom wasn’t watching, I added sugar, too. I got a new spoon to stir everything, then went up to my room.
It was all too much to deal with that night. I vowed to call the police in the morning and just let them decide what to do about the Sea Witch.
I took off my shoes and walked around piles of clothes and books to my bed. I took a sip of tea and set it on the nightstand, then flopped down, my head on the cool pillow. The window was still open; I listened to nature’s sound machine outside. I wanted to check the TwisterLvr feed; I wondered if any tornadoes had happened today. But only for a few seconds, I think, because then I was asleep, somewhere else, a memory inside a dream.
I ran across the huge lawn in front of the Sea Witch’s house, stomach muscles sore from laughing. I couldn’t see anyone but knew I wasn’t alone—I could hear a set of feet running behind me to the right and another to the left. The lawn gave way to longer beach grass: we pounded through, the tallest stalks tickling my palms, before reaching the path where three bikes were waiting for us.
“I’m doing the next dare!” I shouted, breathing heavily through a mischievous smile. “I’m going right now!”
“But it’s getting dark!” a voice protested.
“It’s dangerous,” another agreed.
In my dream, their voices were different and their faces were blurry, but I knew they belonged to Tess and Colette. I just didn’t know who was who. I hopped on the yellow bike: Lemonade.
“Wait! Frankie!”
“Don’t go tonight!”
“This one is worth all of the taffy!” I shouted over my shoulder, curving around the bend in the path and dipping down out of sight. I couldn’t see the ocean because of the bluff to my right, but I could hear it. The breeze blew my hair back and I was free to do anything. I could ride forever.
It wasn’t quite dark yet, but the clouds made it look like the sun had gone to bed. I could still see the paved path well as it wove through the beach grass and squat little trees poking up here and there. I went by the benches that were put there in
memory of someone. I went by the eagle-watching platform that Colette, Tess, and I used to use for a different dare.
“Jump off!” we’d challenge each other.
“Jump higher,” we’d scream, and laugh.
In my dream, I rode Lemonade on the bike path until I reached Thirtieth. After a left and a quick right, I rode down Willows Road until it connected with North Head Road, then took another right. I pedaled my hardest, only pausing for breath in the parking lot at Beard’s Hollow. I’d gone through Seaview and Ilwaco without noticing: the towns are so close together they’re practically on top of each other. I continued up North Head Road because that would be the fastest way to the North Head Lighthouse—the end point of this amazing dare. I knew I’d be to my destination in about fifteen minutes because I’d done it before.
The first few blocks were flat, but then I was careful to stay to the far right on the hilly two-lane road: there wasn’t a sidewalk and some parts plunged down to ditches or farther depths. Looking at the dense trees passing by as I pedaled my way up the hill, I swelled with pride. This was my dare. I would be the only one to do it!
In the way that dreams fast-forward, mine did, and next I was coasting downhill, where the roadside drops to a wooded ravine. With no cars in sight, I rode straight down the center line, taking my feet off the pedals and feeling like I was flying.
And then I was flying . . . on my bike, over the same route I’d ridden. And then I was back where I’d left my worrying sister and friend. But there was only one person waiting.
“You took Lemonade,” she cried. I didn’t know whether it was Tess or Colette. I couldn’t place her voice and her face wouldn’t hold still long enough to be in focus. “You took Lemonade.”
“But I’m back now,” I said. “Look, I’m back! I did the ultimate dare!”
She wasn’t facing me, and it upset me, because I wanted her to be happy for me. And I wanted the other one, Tess or Colette, to be there, too, telling me I had done a good job.
“You took Lemonade,” the girl said again.
