by Lexa Hillyer
County Jail: [silence] What did you find?
Tessa Malloy’s iPhone: A ring, Boyd. A really nice, fancy one. It looks like an engagement ring. Who would lose something like that?
County Jail: I have no idea. Someone rich?
Tessa Malloy’s iPhone: And then—there’s this other detail we haven’t talked about. There were pills found near the truck. Did you know about that?
County Jail: Pills? No, what kind?
Tessa Malloy’s iPhone: Prescription sedatives.
County Jail: Are we talking, like, roofies?
Tessa Malloy’s iPhone: No. I mean, I’m not sure, but I don’t think so. There wasn’t anything in her bloodstream.
County Jail: [pause, breathing] Still, this is majorly fucked up. [scuffling sound] Tessa, I think—do you remember the homecoming dance? I swear, she was seeing someone in secret. We kind of had a fight about it, but I never found out who it was. Shit, I have to go, but let’s try and think back to last semester, what Kit was doing, who she was hanging out with, where she would have gotten those pills. This is all—keep track, okay? This is all evidence, and—I gotta go, but, I just wanted to say one more thing.
Tessa Malloy’s iPhone: Yeah?
County Jail: [clearing throat] Thank you. I did love her, you know. All of you. I—
Tessa Malloy’s iPhone: Boyd? Boyd?
[dial tone]
Chapter Twelve
Before
10/9
Dear Diary,
I don’t know why, okay? I don’t know why I didn’t just tell Dar about the whole locker incident last night. I guess she’s been a little distant lately and I didn’t want to stir things up, especially at homecoming, which we’d all been looking forward to since the start of school. Also, those lockers aren’t that easy to break into. Patrick would have had to have her combo, and he wouldn’t have any reason to know that. So maybe I just saw wrong. Maybe it was a different locker—I wasn’t actually close enough to definitely verify that he was standing in front of locker 172.
And by the time I’d returned to the dance, Dar looked like she was having the time of her life, dancing with Toma. Kit and Boyd were back from wherever they’d gone, and Tessa was saying she was ready to leave. I looked around for Mel and finally spotted her—yup, you guessed it, making out with Dusty.
No one even noticed I was wearing Patrick’s jacket. No one asked. I guess there are perks to being fucking invisible 90 percent of the time.
I did notice that Kit’s eyes seemed a little red, though it could’ve just been the funky lighting in the gym. I know if she was sneaking off with Boyd, she’s not going to tell me about it. Or maybe she was sneaking off with someone else, and Boyd went to find her. I’ll see what I can get out of her, Diary—wish me luck. This is the same Kit who almost lost her hearing in first grade because she didn’t tell anyone when she had an ear infection, admitting later that she “didn’t want to bother everyone.”
If she wants to keep something hidden, she will.
Anyway, I don’t know what to do with Patrick’s jacket, but I might keep wearing it. Is that bad? It has nothing to do with him, I swear. I just like the jacket. It looks kind of dope on me, actually. And it has this boy smell. . . .
I mean, I’m not going to wear it right now—I’m still in my pajamas and it’s Sunday so I don’t have to be at Lupine until one p.m. I should probably go back to sleep but all of a sudden I’m starving. I’m gonna go see if Kit’s up.
Love ya, Diary. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.
Mmm, this jacket does smell good, though.
Okay, bye for now.
Lilly padded down the carpeted hall in her slippers and knocked on Kit’s bedroom door. No response. She nudged it open.
“Morning,” Kit said, putting her pen down on the nightstand and closing her notebook on her lap. She was sitting in bed with her knees up and her golden hair disheveled.
“Waffles?” Lilly asked/told.
Kit nodded, all business. “I’ll be down in a sec. Go get everything out and put the oven to two hundred, okay?”
“Okay. Hey, Kit?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you leave the dance last night for a bit? I looked around and couldn’t find you. Is everything all right?”
Kit looked flushed, and Lilly felt her chest flutter, because maybe that meant she was on to something.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I just went outside because it was so stuffy in there, and then Boyd found me and we came back in. I was only gone, like, five minutes.”
More like thirty, but okay.
As she turned to leave, Lilly saw Kit turn back to her notebook to jot down a couple more lines of whatever she was writing. That was Kit—always studious, even on a Sunday.
“Waffles,” Lilly said loudly, giving a quick bang to Tessa’s closed door as she passed it. She didn’t bother to stop—Tessa always slept until the last possible second before her shift at the Deviled Egg, the rundown diner on Main Street where she picked up a few hours on most weekends. And anyway, she always kept her door locked.
A short while later, the batter was whipped, and Lilly was busy picking through the carton of blueberries to stir in only the best ones, while Kit flipped the first waffle in the iron. After a few test waffles, she got the timing just right.
Tessa was miraculously up now, pouring maple syrup into a Pyrex measuring cup to microwave it. Lilly couldn’t help but notice she was wearing an outfit that should not have been meant for public viewing—jeans that were too shapeless to be considered boyfriend style and a white thermal top that she’d almost definitely slept in.
The three worked together in a calm silence, passing ingredients in murmured tones. Everyone knew to respect the unspoken rule of Sunday mornings: no loud sounds or sudden movements until the caffeine had been distributed.
Kit flipped the waffle iron one last time and removed the batch that had already been warming in the oven, then opened the iron and popped the final waffle out onto the stack.
Lilly set down plates, forks, and knives. Their mom, who’d run out to get more coffee, returned in a burst of brisk fall air, hair staticky from her scarf, and put on a pot.
Once they were all seated around the table, passing syrup and knifing into their food, their mom took a careful survey of all their faces. “So how was the dance last night?” she asked, trying to appear innocent.
Tessa shrugged.
Kit shrugged.
Lilly shrugged.
Their mom smiled. “In other words, eventful.” She took a huge bite of waffle.
“This girl Janey threw up,” Lilly offered.
“Lilly,” Kit said, dabbing a small pat of butter onto her plate.
Mom grimaced. “Delightful. Did any of you have a date?”
Tessa swallowed a big gulp of coffee and rolled her eyes. “Mom, people don’t bring dates to the dance. This isn’t the fifties.”
Lilly bristled. “Some people go with dates.”
“You didn’t,” Tessa pointed out calmly.
“Whatever.” They ate in silence for a minute. “So, Kit,” Lilly said, testing the water. “Tessa says Boyd’s been acting weird. I noticed it last night too.” Kit chewed and swallowed, staring at her plate. Lilly made her voice casual. “What do you think is his deal?”
Kit looked up. “I think he’s . . . I don’t know. Being overprotective. Of all of us,” she added quickly. “Maybe he’s feeling lonely or left out or something.”
“Left out?” Tessa repeated. “How could he possibly feel left out? We see him every single day. Left out of what?”
Kit raised her eyebrows and shrugged like she had no idea. It was obvious, of course, that she did. She knew something. Lilly sensed it, and Tessa must’ve, too.
Well, Lilly was not one to let the subject just up and die. “Maybe he has a crush on someone. What do you guys think?”
Tessa choked on her coffee and Kit looked away. Lilly smiled, pleased.
&nbs
p; Kit stood and started clearing their plates. “Who knows what men are thinking?” she replied—as if that was an answer.
“Since when is Boyd a man?” Lilly asked, but everyone was now busily moving away from the table, transitioning to clean-up mode.
“Do any of you need rides anywhere, or are you taking Boyd’s truck?” their mom asked from the kitchen.
Kit called back, “We really need to get our own car, Mom.”
“I like the truck,” said Tessa. “I don’t think I’d like driving around in some new car.”
Kit headed up the stairs but turned over her shoulder to reply. “Well, you wouldn’t have to. But I wouldn’t mind my own wheels.”
“Since when?” Lilly asked, finishing loading the dishwasher. But once again, no one responded.
Back in her room, Lilly threw on bright yellow jeans and a bulky cable-knit sweater that showed her midriff, then grabbed Patrick’s jacket from where she’d left it on her floor. It still smelled like him, mysterious and familiar at the same time.
“No rest for the weary,” Tessa groaned as Lilly hopped into the truck’s cab next to her, with Kit behind the wheel. The running joke in their family was that each of their weekend jobs reflected their greatest values: Lilly’s—clothes, Tessa’s—coffee, and Kit’s—caring for others. Regardless, none of them were particularly passionate about working on Sundays, but it was one of those things they’d just gotten used to. Sometimes it bothered Lilly a little, though; how Kit got all this credit for being such a saint, when in fact her “job” was just volunteering. That and applying to colleges. She got all the attention, while Tessa and Lilly were actually helping to support the family. Mom’s single income, even as a midlevel administrator at an insurance firm two towns over, was hardly enough to keep them from worrying about bills. But if Lilly had ever admitted this, everyone would probably just say she was spoiled or something.
“Someday won’t you guys miss this, though?” Kit said wistfully, staring out the window.
Tessa smirked. “See, I knew you had a soft spot for the truck.”
“I don’t mean the truck,” Kit replied. “Just, this. Us three. Doing our ritual.”
Probably, she was talking about college. It seemed so far off still, so theoretical, even though Lilly knew Kit had a stack of printouts on her desk with instructions for the Common App. Instantly, Lilly felt bad for the bitchy thoughts she’d been having. “Thanks for the ride,” she said, blowing her sisters a kiss as she stepped out of the truck in front of Lupine.
She found she missed them as soon as they were gone.
Just like Kit had said.
“Good, you’re here on time,” announced Margaret, the store manager, right as Lilly walked in the door, as if that weren’t the case 95 percent of the time. Margaret sipped from her portable university mug. She never ordered from Blue Beard’s; she claimed it was overpriced, which was a tad unfair considering how overpriced Lupine was. “I want you to do the windows again,” Margaret added.
“Where do I start?” Lilly tried not to sound too excited. Tall and gaunt, with pinched lips and narrow eyes like a fish, Margaret was generally the least emotive person Lilly had ever met. Being assigned windows duty was as close to a compliment as she was going to get, and she’d take it.
“New stuff’s in the back.”
Lilly dropped her jacket—Patrick’s jacket, that is—on the cushioned bench in the employee “lounge,” which was really just a tiny room located at the end of the narrow hall in the back. She spent the next twenty minutes sorting through garment bags. One item in particular caught her eye—a lacy bra-and-boy-shorts set that came in three colors: lavender, bright mint, and heather gray. The bra had a tiny silver heart pendant in between the cups that disguised a front clasp. Lilly read once in a magazine that guys loved front-clasp bras.
Once she had finished unpacking, selecting, and pairing, she began to dress the mannequins, carrying along the special pins they used to hold the clothes in place. You had to take apart their torsos and limbs in order to get the outfits on them. They reminded her of life-size Barbie dolls. She had never liked playing Barbies—probably because, since Boyd refused to join in, and though there were plenty of female Barbies to go around, her older sisters always made Lilly be Ken.
In fact, it could be a game of Barbies that first made Lilly fall in love with Boyd. He showed up in their front yard one day when they were playing on the stoop. Lilly was Ken, as usual, and none too happy about it. She’d been around five then, so Boyd must’ve been six. Boyd came over and kicked the Barbie playhouse over. Tessa leaped up to kick Boyd back while Kit rushed to fix the house and rescue the plastic furniture that had fallen off the side of the front steps.
While their mom put a Band-Aid on Boyd’s shin, he’d whispered to Lilly that Ken was the best, because how could you know if he was really Ken or just a spy disguised as Ken?
Thinking back on this moment, Lilly realized it made no sense whatsoever. Boyd had probably just learned what a spy was. But still, it became their thing over the years. Like, if he asked what their mom was making for dinner, she’d say, “How do I know you’re not just a spy trying to get information about what we eat for dinner?” Or on Halloween, if Lilly dressed up as the Little Mermaid (second grade), he’d say, “How do I know you’re not a spy disguised as the Little Mermaid?” It was silly, but she liked it. Maybe she just liked that he was paying attention to her. Or maybe the idea of being a spy excited her, just a little—that Lilly could have some secret no one knew about.
Correction: a secret that only he knew.
It took a lot of convincing to get Margaret on board, but finally she agreed, and Lilly was allowed to dress the final mannequin in the bra set. She chose the lavender, then ran back to the employee lounge, tossed Patrick’s coat out of the way, and grabbed the floral throw pillow that had been underneath it on the bench. She brought it back and positioned the little pillow under the mannequin’s arm.
Margaret raised an eyebrow. Her eyebrows were extremely pointy and sharp looking, like the rest of her.
“It’s slumber-party chic,” Lilly explained.
“I don’t know what slumber parties you’re having these days.”
Lilly rolled her eyes. “It’s not literal. It’s fashion.”
“Actually,” said Margaret, “it’s oversexualizing, infantilizing, and antifeminist. But, whatever. Sex sells. I get it.” She went back to reading the paper.
Lilly wondered for the millionth time why Margaret even had this job. Couldn’t she just go work for, say, the Justice Department, or something else serious like that? Also, did Margaret even have sex? This too was a question that often ran through Lilly’s mind. Not just about Margaret, but about all adults. It was overwhelming, and slightly disgusting, to look around on the streets at everyone older than you and think, He’s having sex; she’s having sex; they’re having sex. Even that person, with the hideous facial hair and sandals over socks, is probably having sex, or has at least had it at some point.
As if on cue, Mel entered the store, with Dar following close at her heels. Lilly waved them over before Margaret could make some sort of Margaret comment.
“I’m so hung over,” Dar said, in between taking tiny sips of a green juice from Blue Beard’s.
“I told you to get a bagel,” Mel said.
Dar shrugged. “Waste of calories.”
“Whoa, love these,” Mel interrupted, waving a hand toward the table where Lilly had put out a couple of necklaces, some cozy sweaters, and a few other items that all complemented the color palette. Mel fingered a price tag on one of the sweaters, then turned her attention back to Lilly. “So Dar and I were wondering where you went for so long last night.”
Lilly hesitated, not numb to the irony that she’d just been quizzing Kit about the very same thing earlier this morning. “I went to look for my sister.” Which was true.
“Mmm-hmmm,” Mel said, eyeing a necklace now.
“What?”
“Nothing, it’s just . . . Toma noticed BND was missing for a while, too.”
“Did you tell Toma I like him?” Lilly said, her voice getting a little higher.
“No, relax! She just randomly mentioned it, I think.”
“And anyway, Toma’s super trustworthy,” Dar added.
“Well, nothing happened,” Lilly said with a sigh.
“Well, I made out with Dusty, since you didn’t ask,” Mel said.
“I thought you were only planning to kiss him to make Patrick jealous.” Lilly blushed when she said his name.
Mel groaned. “Are you guys destined to remain virgins forever? It’s so pathetic.”
“You guys?” Dar asked, chewing on her straw.
Mel rolled her eyes. “I mean, all of us. Are we destined to sexless futures?” She tossed the necklace back onto the table, and Lilly reached over to adjust it so it was laid out pretty again.
Dar slurped loudly on her green juice. “We’re only fifteen. There’s still time before we, like, die.”
“But sophomore year is almost halfway over already!”
“Mel, it’s only October. Come on, let’s shop.” Lilly took them around to pick out a few things to try on.
While they were in the stalls, Dar’s phone beeped with a text. She grinned but deleted the text before Mel or Lilly could see it.
“What the fuck, Dar? Was that from a guy?” Mel demanded.
“Chill,” Dar said. “It was just Toma asking about the chem lab.”
“Then why did you delete it?”
“Because I delete everything, because my mom spies on my phone, just like some people I know.” Dar slammed her phone into her bag.
Mel ended up selecting two sweaters to buy. Dar got a bracelet that was on sale.
On their way out, Mel hugged Lilly. “Sorry I’m being such a bitch today. I just feel like I never sleep anymore, ya know?”
What? No, she didn’t know Mel wasn’t sleeping. This was something new.
Mel sighed. “I just want something to happen already, ya know? At least for one of us.”
