Malia cleared her throat. “We’ve got to get AJ out of here. Can you help us?”
“Yeah. I have to talk to the sheriff, anyway. He’s probably here to question you about Noah again. I’m going to tell him the truth, AJ. He knows we’ve been covering for each other and he’s just trying to get one of us to admit it.”
“What will happen to you?” I asked.
“It doesn’t matter. I didn’t kill Noah. I just hit him in the face a couple of times, and when I left he was still standing. I know I should’ve told them I hit Noah before now, but I was scared. And then when you covered for me, I didn’t know what to do.”
I hugged Ryan and whispered, “It’s my turn to apologize. I’m so sorry for everything.”
He smiled, but his eyes were sad. “I would do anything for you,” he said.
“Okay, great. Can we move on from this tragic love story to the now? How do we get AJ out of here?” Malia said.
“The old-fashioned way,” Ryan answered. “My window.”
Ryan’s room was across the hall from mine. One of his windows opened to a flat section of roofing that led right to a large, sturdy tree branch. Which was attached to a giant tree trunk with little pieces of wood nailed to it like a ladder.
“I had started building us a new tree house but never quite finished,” Ryan said.
It was the perfect escape route.
“Dammit. I should’ve changed shoes!” I said as I slid onto the limb and my pretty little sandal flopped onto the ground.
“No time to worry about that now,” Malia said. “Just keep shimmying.”
I managed to make it to the ground with no splinters, no broken bones…and no plan.
“You walked here, so we don’t have your car. And my keys are in my bag, which is in my room. Now what?” I asked, slipping back into my shoes.
“Here!” Ryan whisper-yelled from the window. “Take my Jeep. I parked it in the alley behind the house.” He tossed me his keys.
“Um, I don’t drive a stick,” I said.
“I do. Let’s go,” Malia grabbed the keys from me and we took off for the alley.
“I don’t even know why we’re running,” I said as Malia started the Jeep and ground it into gear.
“Because you need to get some answers before you face the police. Or your mother. We’re going to see Mr. Charles.”
“Is that smart? I mean, there are pictures of us on the internet. Fake pictures, but still. We need to figure out who the hell posted those,” I said. Could this week get any worse?
My phone rang again. It was Mom.
“Where are you?” she yelled.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I have some questions for you, Ariel, that’s why. The sheriff just took Ryan down to the station because he admitted to beating Noah up. Then Octavia called in a panic saying I had to find you because something didn’t feel right—that you’ve been keeping secrets. So I ran home and Doreen said you were upstairs, but the only thing I found in your room was your laptop. And imagine my surprise when I saw those pictures. Octavia was right again—you’ve been keeping secrets.”
“Mom. Those pictures are fake. I don’t know who did it, but I’m going to find out. I’ve been set up. I swear.”
“Honey, that’s all you’ve been saying lately—and frankly, I’m starting to think I can’t trust a word that comes out of your mouth. It’s been nothing but secrets and lies—I think it’s time you start taking a little responsibility for your actions,” she said. “And if Mr. Charles took advantage of you, we have to know. You can’t keep covering for the people you care about.”
“When have I ever lied to you?”
“You lied to protect Ryan. You’re lying now! Honestly, it seems you’ve lost all contact with the truth, Ariel.”
“Mom. That’s not fair. I wanted to protect Ryan because I know he didn’t kill Noah. And that was wrong. But I haven’t lied to you about anything else. Not the test or Mr. Charles. You know I’m telling you the truth.” Okay, technically, withholding the truth about Noah being a vampire wasn’t a lie, it was an omission.
“I don’t know any such thing, but if you’ll come home, I promise I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt,” she said.
I wished I could believe her. “I’ll be home in a little while,” I said.
I ended the call and realized I had received about a dozen text messages, most from other girls congratulating me for doing Mr. Charles. Seriously? People were so stupid.
And then there was a 911 text from Bridget. The thought of hearing her tell me she didn’t believe me was too much, so I shut my phone off. I couldn’t handle any more drama.
Malia drove through the neighborhood and turned onto Mr. Charles’s street. His car wasn’t in the carport and the house was dark.
“Well, he’s not home,” I said.
“We could stop anyway and wait for him,” she suggested.
“Maybe I should just go home.”
“We need to find out who posted those photos. There’s one person I can think of who hates you this much—Lindsey. I say we confront her.”
Ugh. The very idea of talking to Lindsey Rockport was enough to give me the hives. But Malia was right. In a warped way, Lindsey was the only person who had anything to gain from this.
But I couldn’t believe for a second that Lindsey would stoop this low. She was a bitch, but was she a wack job? Would she really do this to Mr. Charles and me? Would she ruin the lives of two people just to get back at me? In my mind, she was already the clear winner. She had Ryan and she would probably be president. Was she so pissed off that she would risk everything just to see me humiliated?
We drove through the square to the other side of town. Lindsey’s house backed up to the city park. It was in a prime location, but the house itself was in need of some major TLC. The paint was peeling, one of the shutters was missing, the gutters were overflowing with pine needles, and the yard really needed a lawn boy.
We parked on the street next to the mailbox and walked to the front porch. I took a look inside the screen door to see Bridget and Lindsey huddled on the floor with a laptop positioned between them.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I yelled, opening the screen, making them jump. “Bridge, I knew you were mad at me, but really? How could you?”
She couldn’t have looked guiltier if she’d tried.
“AJ, it’s not what you think,” Bridget said.
“Isn’t it?” I asked. “We came over to find out if Lindsey was the one who hacked my Facebook account. It never occurred to me you would’ve been behind it. Are you that pissed off at me?”
Lindsey stood up and came to Bridget’s defense. “Hold on a minute. I’m certainly not your biggest fan, but Bridget is. She came over here and tore me a new one because, like you, she assumed I had something to do with this. I didn’t even know what she was talking about,” Lindsey said.
I looked at Bridget and she nodded. “I wanted to kill whoever had done this to you. I was convinced it was Lindsey. Now I’m wondering if maybe it was Ryan?”
“No, it wasn’t. I saw him a few minutes ago and he was as shocked as me.” I collapsed next to Bridget on the floor and put my head on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Bridge. This has been the worst week and I haven’t been thinking straight since Noah died. What am I gonna do now?”
Bridget wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “You mean, what are we gonna do now?”
God, it felt good to have my friend back.
Chapter 22
Malia was off making a phone call and Bridget was in the kitchen grabbing everyone a Coke. Lindsey and I were sitting alone in her living room staring at her laptop, with only my occasional sniffling to break the thick silence.
“I’m, uh, sorry I was such a bitch,” Lindsey said.
I smiled as best I could. “You weren’t the only one being a bitch. I’m sorry, too,” I said. There, that felt a little better.
“I was jealous of you and
Ryan. As much fun as we have together, he’s totally in love with you. But I guess I’m just hoping that after some time passes, I won’t only be his runner-up girl.”
“This whole situation sucks. And ironically, having major non-brotherly feelings toward my stepbrother isn’t the worst thing that’s happened to me this week.”
I glanced around the room noting the peeling paint, the cracks in the wall, and the layer of dust lining all the flat surfaces. “Where do your parents work?” I asked.
“It’s just me and my dad, and he works two jobs, so he’s not really home very much.”
“Oh.” I suddenly felt very ashamed. I had everything—a warm home filled with friends and family. Lindsey wasn’t lackluster, she was just lonely.
Bridget walked into the room carrying three cans of Coke and sat them on the coffee table. Her face was pale, and there was a worry line between her eyebrows.
“What?” I asked her.
“It’s nothing. I guess I’m probably just overreacting to something I thought I heard Malia say on the phone.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. I glanced through the kitchen to see Malia standing on the back deck, still talking into her cell.
“It was weird. She said ‘grandma’ a couple of times really loudly, but then she started to whisper. I dunno. It just struck me as odd.”
“Her grandmother has been calling a lot lately. She’s probably just getting tired of being micromanaged. I feel really bad that I haven’t even talked to her about why her grandmother has been calling so much. I’ve been so focused on me. And Malia has been a trooper. She’s been one of the few people I could depend on this week.”
Bridget’s face fell.
“I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t mean that as a slight against you. I’m just trying to point out that she has no motive to hurt me like this.”
“I know. But my gut is telling me something’s off.”
“What’s off?” Malia asked from the doorway.
“Oh. You’re off the phone. Was that your grandmother?” I asked.
“Yeah. She’s always checking in on me. Especially when she goes to the coast to see Aunt Myrtle.”
“You have the house to yourself for the weekend? That could be fun,” Lindsey said.
“It could be if I had someone to have fun with. Anyway, what were you saying wasn’t right?” she asked, turning to look at me.
“Bridget and I were just talking about Ryan being taken to the police station even though he obviously didn’t kill Noah. And how Mr. Charles will be in trouble, but only because we’re being framed,” I lied. “That’s it! I know what I need to do now.”
“What?” they all three asked together.
“Running was stupid. The longer I stay away, the guiltier I look. Maybe I should just go to the police station and straighten this whole mess out.”
“Why would you want to go there?” Malia asked. “It’s obvious they won’t believe anything you say, so you’ll be wasting your time. And hell, with your luck, they’ll probably just arrest you.”
“I’ll take my chances. Now, who’s gonna drive me?”
“I’ll go if you guys don’t care. I don’t have a car, though,” Lindsey said.
“Me too. But I don’t have a car either. I walked here,” Bridget said.
We all turned to look at Malia. She made a big production of rolling her eyes and sighing dramatically before saying, “Fine. I’m in, too. But I’m not stepping foot inside that station. Cops give me the heebies.”
“Cody Littleton didn’t give you the heebies when you were in eighth grade,” I reminded Malia as we walked out to the Jeep.
“Ew. I had forgotten about that. Don’t remind me.”
“What was it you called him?” Bridget asked. “Cow tongue?”
“No, it was camel tongue,” I said.
We loaded ourselves into the Jeep and Malia drove us the fifteen blocks or so to the police station. As we were pulling into the parking lot, Malia’s phone rang.
“Hello?” she said.
After a few seconds she turned to me and asked, “Do you have your phone on?”
“No. I turned it off. I was getting congratulations spam from all the idiot girls in town.”
“Mr. Charles is at home and he needs to talk to you,” Malia said.
Bridget kicked my chair from behind. “AJ, no. That is a bad idea,” she said.
“Shut up, Bridget. Have you forgotten that AJ isn’t the only victim here?” Malia asked.
“No. I haven’t. But wouldn’t it look bad if AJ and Mr. Charles are caught together?” Bridget countered.
“Wouldn’t it be smarter if they went to the police together? There’s strength in numbers,” Malia said, turning to face me. “It’s up to you, AJ. I’ll support whatever decision you make. Ultimately, your life is the only one that will be affected by this decision, anyway.”
A knot had formed in my belly that had to be the size of a grapefruit. I needed the 911 girl inside me to kick in and tell me what to do.
Let your quest for the truth help you choose your path. Whatever choice you make, tread carefully.
A sense of relief filled me. I took a deep breath and said, “I’m really not ready to face the sheriff yet. Take me to Mr. Charles. Malia’s right—it would be best if he and I show a united front and go to the police together.” All right. And when all this was over, that guiding light of mine was going to have to quiet down. I was starting to feel a little schizoid.
“Then I’m going with you,” Bridget said. “Something’s not right here, and you need a friend.”
“Actually, will you go to the station and find Ryan? I need to know he’s okay. Please?”
The Valley Springs, Mississippi, police station was housed in a nondescript metal building just across the street from Rudy’s—the best burger joint in the tri-county region. Rudy also happened to be the only bail bondsman in the tri-county region. You could drive through, post your bond, and grab a burger to go.
Malia parked near the front entrance and Bridget and Lindsey got out.
“We’ll catch a ride home,” Bridget said.
“What if Mr. Charles has already been arrested?” I asked.
“He hasn’t been,” Malia said. “I mean, would he have asked us to meet him at his house if he were sitting in jail? Besides, they can’t arrest him until they’ve at least questioned you. Right? And do they even count seventeen as underage in Mississippi?” She laughed.
“Ha-ha. They do if it’s with a teacher,” I said. “Okay, Bridge, find Ryan for me.”
“Will do,” Bridget said. “Be careful. And don’t go in by yourself. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Malia took a left out of the parking lot and headed toward Mr. Charles’s house.
“I really resent that she thinks I’m being a bad friend,” Malia said.
“She doesn’t think that,” I said. “She’s just worried about me.”
“Whatever. She’s treated me like the redheaded stepchild since I returned. I think she wishes Katrina would’ve swallowed me up along with our house.”
“That’s not true. It’s been the two of us since ninth grade. And this week has been an anomaly. Once all this is over, we’ll find our groove again.”
Malia parked on the street in front of Mr. Charles’s house and we walked to the door together. His car still wasn’t in the carport.
“He’s not here,” I said.
“He told me he’d meet us here. He said the door was unlocked and to go on in.”
My self-preservation alarm kicked in and I hesitated as Malia opened the door. “Um, I’ve changed my mind.”
“What?” Malia asked.
“I dunno. Doesn’t this feel weird to you?”
“This whole damn week has been weird, AJ. Noah’s dead, you’ve been suspended, and there are pictures of you and Mr. Charles on Facebook. This is the least weird thing that’s happened all week.”
Fair enough.
; “Maybe we should wait outside for him,” I suggested.
“Yeah, that wouldn’t be weird at all. What if someone drove by and saw you sitting on his front porch waiting? You know what they would assume, right? Just go on in. Mr. Charles said he wouldn’t be long.”
She had a point. I couldn’t sit outside and wait for him. And honestly, what was I worried about? Mr. Charles was a victim just like me. We needed a game plan. We needed to figure out who had done this to us, and then we needed to go to the police…together.
Malia’s phone began to ring as I stepped into the house. “Jesus, Grandma. What now?” Malia said, looking at the caller ID. “Hello? Yeah. What? Oh my God! I’m leaving now.” Malia clicked her phone shut, her face stricken. “Grandma fell down the stairs and broke her hip. She’s in the hospital in Ocean Springs. I’ve got to go.”
“Oh, Malia! I’m so sorry. Of course you have to go—I’ll be fine here,” I said, pulling her into a hug. “Be careful, though. Don’t get yourself into an accident rushing to her side.”
“Aren’t you coming with? I have to take Ryan’s Jeep back anyway,” she asked, quickly pulling out of the hug.
“No, I’ll stay. Everything’s cool. You go.”
Malia squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry.” Then she ran back to the Jeep and drove off like a bat out of hell.
I entered the house, closing the door behind me. It was dark and quiet.
“Mr. Charles?” I called, just in case he was home. There was no answer, but there was a noise in the back of the house.
I walked through the small living room into the hallway and flipped on the light. “Mr. Charles? Are you here?”
The silence was broken by the sound of a thwack coming from one of the bedrooms.
Slowly I walked down the hall. Okay, I know this was a sci-fi horror flick moment and I was being the girl who walked down into the dark basement all alone. But hell, I’m a vampire. They should fear me, right?
“Hello?”
I reached the first bedroom on the right, flipped the light switch, and a giant calico cat nearly knocked me over as it ran out of the room.
I shrieked. “You scared me, cat!”
Bite Me! Page 15
