by S. Massery
I’ve been walking on eggshells in my own apartment.
The college sent out an email that two detectives would be questioning students about Natalie’s disappearance. If we wanted someone from the administration with us, or a lawyer, both were well within our rights. The notice reminded us that, with the exception of a few seventeen-year-old freshmen, all of us were legal adults.
In other words, calling our parents wouldn’t get us out of it.
Detective McAdams and her partner have pulled aside some students I know and others I don’t, seemingly at random.
I took the detective’s word and didn’t watch the press release from Natalie’s parents. I didn’t want to see them hopeful or already grieving—both options seem wrong in my eyes.
Whitney’s parents are sitting in the living room when I come out for coffee, and they both purse their lips simultaneously. They arrived to lend a helping hand to their struggling daughter. That’s what I’m assuming, anyway.
Whitney might’ve told them about my harsh words, but I think their irritation with me stems from a genuine place of dislike. I’ve only ever tried to be a friend to Whitney—well, this week is an exception—yet her parents see me as the bad guy. The one who dragged her to Howl and a bunch of other parties, then smeared my own name with mud.
They give me too much credit.
“Good morning,” I greet them. “I didn’t realize you were here.”
“We got in this morning,” Whitney’s mother says.
The bad part? I don’t remember either of their names.
“Ah.” Never mind the fact that it’s barely eight o’clock and Whitney sleeps until ten on a regular basis. “Did Whitney let you in?”
She lifts her chin. “We have a key.”
Oh, lovely.
“Well, great.” And the alarm didn’t go off, so that means Whitney shared the code with them, or it wasn’t set last night.
Someone knocks on the door, and I automatically glance at the two adults in the room.
They stare back at me.
“I’ll get it,” I inform them.
If they weren’t here, I’d probably be more cautious. However, since they are, I fling open the door.
Jake Morrison stands on the other side, with Taryn a step behind him.
Relief floods me. I launch forward and throw my arms around his shoulders, burying my face in his neck.
“That’s a warm welcome,” he chuckles, patting my back. “I missed you, too.”
I needed a hug. I didn’t realize it until now, but having someone solid to lean on for a second lifts a weight off my shoulders.
“Who is that, Skylar?” Whitney’s mother’s voice is nails on a chalkboard.
I carefully release Jake and step back, wincing. I whisper to him, “Sorry.”
He steps past me, striding into my apartment. He has his brother’s confidence, even though he’s never been here before.
“Hi, I’m Jake,” he says to them.
Taryn grins. “You’re popular.”
“Only on Thursdays,” I reply.
She snorts. “I was hoping to catch you here. Can I come in?”
I wave her in, and she says hello to Whitney’s parents. They both visibly brighten at Taryn, and I suppress a grimace. It isn’t her fault they don’t like me.
“It’s almost November,” she says to me. “We need to start planning our project.”
We had outlined it the day we became partners, but other than that, the class has been busy with other things. And truth be told, I had forgotten.
“Right,” I groan. “When is it due?”
“The class begins presentations the beginning of December, so we need to do the hands-on part probably this week. And then we can write the paper.”
“What kind of sadistic professor assigns three separate things all balled into one for a final grade?”
She follows me into my room, where I pull on a sweatshirt and slip my feet into boots. “Where are you going?”
I shrug. “Anywhere but here. Maybe a breakfast place. Want to come?”
“With you and Jake?”
His conversation with Whitney’s parents drifts into my room. He’s charming, but he’s the only friend that stuck with me through the transition to college. Sure, there’s Riley, but she’s in New York City with her best friend. I couldn’t help but feel temporary in that situation.
She helped me get through senior year, though. Her and Parker.
Parker is in London, living her best exchange-student life. I guess if you have cancer as a kid, it opens some scholarship doors.
“Taryn?” Whitney is in the doorway, her hand outstretched. “Thank you so much for coming over.”
I roll my eyes and turn away. “We can meet up this weekend.”
“Sure.” She goes to Whitney, and they disappear back into the bedroom. The door clicks shut.
“Ugh.” I tug on my jacket and find Jake. “Come on. Breakfast on me.”
He doesn’t miss a beat, nodding emphatically. “My favorite kind of breakfast.”
We walk in silence, but his nervous energy is radiating off him in waves. I consider him in my peripheral vision. He’s much less stoic than his brother. More open, but not necessarily easier to read. He tends to lie convincingly, unlike Liam.
So I consider what I know.
One missing girl, one dead. Boston isn’t yet on edge, but we’re all collectively heading toward it. The school, however, is taking this much more personally. The locked gates as an immediate response, a press release, the police presence.
Two girls isn’t a pattern.
It’s barely anything except coincidence and bad luck.
Yet it drew Liam out of the woodwork and sent him my way. The boy who, up until a few weeks ago, I was pretty sure didn’t give a fuck about me.
And now Jake is here.
She’s only been gone a few days.
The longer she stays missing, the tighter the noose around the city’s throat gets.
“Why did the police captain stop the detective from questioning me?” I muse aloud.
He tenses. It’s subtle, a flush up the back of his neck, his muscles tensing. What has everyone scared shitless?
I don’t see it.
“And the detective talked to me again,” I add, betting that Jake and Liam are on the same page.
“She did?” he demands. “When?”
See? They’re talking behind my back. They know something.
I frown. “What’s going on? Why are you here?”
“Because…” He groans and tips his head back. “Damn it, Sky. I’m just here to visit. But you shouldn’t be talking to the police without a lawyer… maybe you should call Eli’s dad.”
“Or Riley’s. They’re both lawyers,” I point out.
“Riley’s father is a prosecutor for the district attorney,” he replies hotly. “Josh Black specializes in—”
“Do not say criminal law.” I glower. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
He takes my arm and turns me toward him. “You never know how the police will twist things around. One minute you’re answering little harmless questions. The next you’re in a jail cell.”
I snort. “Dramatics aren’t going to scare me.”
He presses his lips together and doesn’t reply. He doesn’t have to reply—he’s worried about me. As a girl from Ashburn College. As a semi-distant acquaintance of Natalie Eldridge. As someone who’s had something traumatic happen to her.
If Natalie comes back, the version of her we get won’t be the same one who left.
Once we’re seated at the cafe, orders for coffee and waffles placed, he finally relaxes.
“You could come visit me in Connecticut,” he offers. “Maybe you’d like it enough to transfer.”
“Aren’t you making friends?”
While Jake and I are friends, to say we haven’t had our moments of ugliness would be a lie. He barely spoke to me after the video went viral, and we only
just got our relationship back on track this summer.
“A few,” he says. “I don’t love the pressure, though. Everyone’s hyper-focused on getting the best grades they can, but that isn’t what life is about.”
I hide my smile behind my hand. “What is life about?”
He shrugs and glances away. “Discovery, maybe. Don’t make fun of me, Skylar.”
“I’m not.”
He seems genuinely disgruntled, so I lean forward and put both my hands on his forearm.
“I’m not making fun of you, Jacob.” I duck my head to the side, trying to get him to look at me. “You’re the best, and I’m the gray-haired emo freak. If anyone should be making fun, it’s you of me.”
That wins me the brief flash of a smile.
“So, you’ve been spending some time with my brother.” An artful topic change.
I retreat, physically and mentally.
The waitress returns with our coffees then, and I’m grateful for something to occupy my hands.
“I wouldn’t so much call it spending time as forced proximity,” I say. “He’s being weird. Almost weirder than you.”
He grunts. “He has a soft spot for you.”
“He broke into my apartment,” I say, setting down my mug. “Accosted me, warned me not to do anything stupid, and installed a freaking alarm system.”
Jake bursts into laughter. “Shut up.”
“I wish I was kidding you,” I mutter.
His mirth falls off his face. “Wait.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“He broke into your apartment and installed a security system? And…”
“He threatened me,” I mumble.
“She’s leaving out the part where she kissed me.” Liam drops into the chair beside me, throwing his arm over the back of mine. “Right, Sky?”
I hate, hate, hate that butterflies fill my chest.
But the fact that he’s outed me to his brother? I’d rather shove him off the chair than let him get away with it. I don’t think I’d be able to manage that at this angle.
“Ugh.” I try to scoot away, but he holds fast. “That was after you got me drunk.”
Jake’s gaze bounces back and forth between us. “Um… This is weird. What the fuck, dude?”
“Did you tell him about Norton?”
I narrow my eyes. “Do you tell Jake about every conquest of yours?”
“Most of them.” Jake crosses his arms. “Usually against my will, like this is. Can you leave?”
“No.” Liam lifts my mug and takes a gulp of my coffee. “Mom sent you up here, right? And you come sleep on my couch, then leave before I can ask you anything about it.”
Jake groans.
I’m… lost.
“Maybe you two should have this conversation without me,” I offer. “I’ll go sit in peace at another table. Eat my waffles, drink my coffee…”
“No,” Liam and Jake both snap.
I stand and take back my mug. I signal to the waitress that I’m moving and claim a stool at the breakfast bar. Seriously, fuck boys and their… machoness.
“Hey,” Liam barks, coming up behind me.
“Go away.”
His fingers knot in my hair at the base of my neck, and he wrenches my head back. I meet his flinty stare with one of my own, but the only warning I get is his gaze dropping to my lips. Then he leans down and kisses me.
I flinch, but his grip tightens. There’s nowhere for me to go.
His lips slide against mine. I shudder, gripping his shoulder.
This is nothing like what happened at the bar. This is infinitely more dangerous, because I feel like I’m going to get sucked into the idea of him. Some fairy-tale version of us that would be good together.
His tongue runs along the seam of my mouth. I part for him, forgetting where we are. Blood rushes in my ears. All I can do is hold on to his shoulder and try not to fall—literally. And mentally.
I soften, my muscles relaxing. I gradually stop fighting his hold. Our tongues war angrily, and I nip at his lower lip. This isn’t a battle anymore, it’s become a dance.
And that’s when he stops.
He pulls back abruptly, staring down at me.
My expression is probably somewhere between amazed and perplexed.
He propels me back up. The hand in my hair doesn’t move, though. His thumb twitches on my skin, just behind my ear.
Goosebumps rush down my spine.
His eyes are dark, and the set of his jaw…
“Don’t tell me to go away, Sky. Don’t tell me to leave you alone, because we’re done with that. Got it?”
I release a shaky breath and mutely nod. I don’t think I could answer if I wanted to—my brain is scrambled.
Clapping jars us from the moment.
I glance around and find Jake standing by our table. He’s the clapper, loud and slow.
“What a show,” he calls.
Some onlookers laugh.
I wish the floor would open up and swallow me whole. I come here often—it’s why I brought Jake here. The workers are mostly Ashburn students, and their attention on me is too much.
Slowly, I push my hair behind my ear and stand. “Public indecency isn’t going to endear you to me. I’m going home.” I face Jake. “If you get an attitude adjustment, I’ll see you later.”
I hurry out and down the block before either of them can stop me.
Ugh.
Men.
16
Liam
Jake regards me, and I him.
We didn’t talk much last night after he arrived. He shuffled in, paused at the sheets already set out on the arm of the couch, and nodded to himself. I shut myself in my room and let him do whatever the hell he wanted.
Which wasn’t much, judging from the noises.
He was gone when I came out this morning, and I knew immediately that he went to Sky. That’s the reason he’s here, anyway: to warn her. Or maybe take her home.
Either way, it isn’t what she wants.
There’s a reason she doesn’t remember what happened to her: it was traumatic. It caused a number of issues—and that’s a direct quote from her mother, thank you very much.
In this way, Jake and I are of differing opinions.
He would rather tell her it’s too dangerous and whisk her out of harm’s way.
But me?
She should know the truth. All of it.
The way to get past your trauma is to get through it, and I think I might be the only person in the universe who can help her get through it.
“So,” my little brother says. “What are you going to do?”
I sigh. “Are you going to let me do it?”
“Depends on if it’s fucking stupid or not.” He crosses his arms.
The food they ordered is brought out, set in front of us. The waitress narrows her eyes between the two of us, silently berating us.
I glower back, and she finally leaves us alone.
I dig into the food Sky ordered. If we’re stuck with the bill, I may as well enjoy the meal.
“Liam…”
“Can it, shithead,” I grumble. “I’m not going to do anything drastic, but she should know why we’re all freaking out.”
“She’s going to break again,” he says, leaning forward. “You saw her afterward.”
“I saw her?” I set down the fork. “Fuck you, Jacob.”
His face blanches. “That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.”
“Mom put me in therapy,” I tell him. He already knows it, but apparently he needs to hear it again. “We had just fucking moved in when it happened, and they were worried about how traumatized I would be. And then I hung on to every memory surrounding those moments while she forgot them.”
He stares at me. “And you’re saying that hasn’t fucked with your head?”
“No more than forgetting has fucked with hers,” I counter. “It’s time, Jake. You’ve got to see it.”
He stands, to
ssing a twenty-dollar bill onto the table. “I’m not going to be part of this. I can’t watch you hurt her again.”
I stiffen, fisting my hands under the table. Any other person said that, and I’d deck them. I’m not even in denial about hurting her—I know I have. But those moments are sacred between the two of us. And she… well, she hurts me back. It makes us even.
Now alone at the table, I’m getting even more curious looks. It used to be that I couldn’t go anywhere, do anything, without being asked about Howl. It died down, but if RJ and Colt follow through with their plan, rumors about it will spread once more.
They always do.
And then, whether I fight or not, I’ll be back in the center of attention.
So. I just need to figure out my shit with Sky before that happens.
17
Sky
My Environmental Economics project with Taryn is on clean water. We’re contrasting Boston’s privilege—which comes with being an American citizen—against countries that don’t have access to clean water. The next step of our project will be to give those suffering countries options. We both leaned toward water recycling plants.
It sounded gross when we originally heard it, but the process of sanitizing the water for reuse is actually pretty sustainable. Because of that, we’re going to see a reservoir that Boston’s neighborhoods use for our water supply.
Cambridge Reservoir isn’t too bad of a trek from campus. We meet at the T station and hop on one of the outbound trains, and then take a cab from there. An hour later—what would’ve been half that in a car but double the expense—we arrive at the reservoir.
At first glance, it seems to be paradise in the middle of the city. Huge trees crowd in around the reservoir, most of them in the last phase of color before dropping their leaves. Surrounding the lake is a riot of oranges, reds, and golds. Dark evergreens punctuate the color, and the water reflects the sky.
“Wow.” I pause to take a picture.
“You haven’t been out here before?” Taryn asks. “Whitney, Natalie, and I would come here in the summer when they visited.”
She goes quiet.
I risk a glance over at her.
There are tears in her eyes.
