by Lexa Hillyer
Lilly swallowed the guilt that had lodged in her throat. Nothing had happened, at least not technically, she reasoned. But Patrick’s jacket still burned in the back of her mind.
After her friends left, there was a busy period for about half an hour, and one customer ripped a tank top while trying it on. Then there was a lull, so Lilly dragged out her geometry book and tried to study equilateral triangles. It made her think of how Rohan said she danced like a parallelogram.
Margaret locked up around six p.m., and Lilly put Patrick’s coat back on while she waited for her ride.
But Kit didn’t come to pick her up.
And by a quarter after, she still hadn’t shown. Lilly dialed her number, but it went straight to voicemail. Kit was probably still in a tutoring session. She usually kept her phone off for those.
The breeze picked up. Lilly wrapped Patrick’s coat tighter around her and texted Tessa to see if for some reason Kit had picked her up first. I got done at four and got a ride home with Bridget, Tessa wrote back. And Mom went to dinner at the Nestors’. Then a third text: just walk back if you don’t feel like waiting.
Lilly groaned. She wouldn’t have worn boots with such high heels if she’d known she was going to have to walk a mile and a half! The sun had begun to set and it was getting dark. She should get a move on, but first she decided to grab a warm drink at Blue Beard’s before they closed, for the walk home, hoping maybe Kit would show up while she was inside ordering.
She emerged a few minutes later and stopped in her tracks.
Directly across the street, Patrick was standing next to his motorcycle, helmet off, trying to stuff a shopping bag from Bread Basket into the carrying compartment underneath the seat. He lifted his hand, like he was going to wave, or like he was in a classroom and had the answer to a question.
She waved back, feeling awkward. Especially since she was wearing his coat. Had he noticed?
He got on the bike and circled around so he was on her side of the street.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I came to get my jacket back.”
“Oh.” She blushed.
“I’m kidding. I mean, I do need it back. But I was just . . .” He pointed at the grocery store with his thumb.
She stared at his freckles, trying to think of a response. “Wait, aren’t you guys on Kit’s delivery route?”
Patrick shrugged. “She didn’t come today.”
That was weird.
“Not a big deal,” he added. “I’m around these days, so I may as well be of use. And I just needed to grab some more, um.” He paused for a minute. “Bread.”
Another pause.
He raked his hand through his hair. “So what about you?”
“What about me?”
“What are you doing here?”
“Oh. I work here. Well, there,” she said, gesturing at the now-closed Lupine.
He eyed the display windows.
“I did those,” she said.
He stared at the mannequin in the bra and boy shorts like he was thinking, hard. “So how much is that set?” He asked it like he was asking the price on a carton of milk.
She blushed. “A hundred and forty dollars. We just got it in.”
He turned to look at her. “Kidding again. I haven’t worn a bra in ages.”
She snorted, surprised.
He smiled, and she was even more startled. It was the first time she’d seen him smile—at least a real, full one like this.
She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I was just about to walk home. Do you mind if I just give this back to you at school?”
He crinkled his forehead. “Why don’t I give you a ride?” A little buzz raced through her. “Then you can give it back to me when I drop you off.”
She swallowed. “Okay . . . sure.”
She took a big gulp of her hot tea, then tossed the rest into a nearby trash can, trying to pretend like she didn’t just buy it five seconds ago for a whopping $3.75.
He propped up the bike and held it while she swung her leg over it. Then he got on in front of her and revved the engine, calling for her to hold on to him. She wanted to laugh, and as he made a sharp turn and sped down the next block, wind blowing her hair straight into her face, she did laugh. She laughed loud and free, wondering if he could hear, and whether she cared.
After directing him to her house, she got off the motorcycle and stood on her front lawn shivering, staring at him. “Um, so.”
“So,” he repeated.
“I mean, thank you. For the ride. And for this.” She handed him his jacket and practically skipped inside. Only, she told herself, because of how cold it was without the jacket on.
It was only much later, after Kit had come home full of profuse apologies and flustered explanations about tutoring, that Lilly realized she had forgotten to notice whether Boyd was watching when she and Patrick pulled up. Forgotten to make him jealous. Forgotten about him entirely.
And then it wasn’t until she’d laid out her outfit for school Monday and tucked herself into bed later that night, that she finally thought about Kit’s flushed face when she came home forty-five minutes late . . . remembered that Patrick had said she’d skipped her volunteer route . . . and wondered what her sister was hiding.
Chapter Thirteen
Now
FEBRUARY 8
COLD LIGHT STREAMED THROUGH THE school library windows, mottled and layered in dust. Tessa wondered when the glass had last been cleaned. Everything in Devil’s Lake was like this—thick with the neglect that comes with not being noticed.
Around her, other students clacked away on the row of desktop computers, stood in line to check out books, ran the cranky old copying machine over printed homework assignments, or huddled over open textbooks like her. A few had their bulky backpacks on the tables in front of them, slumped onto the bags with eyes closed, using them like pillows.
These were the familiar castaways who hated lunch period as much as Tessa did, ranging from studious to antisocial. They were the shy ones, or the pariahs, or the kids whose parents simply couldn’t afford the internet at home, so they had to wait for a clunky old school computer to become available in order to check their email.
She stared at the giant textbook open before her, but the words, like the day itself, had become a blur. She was supposed to be studying bio, but that only reminded her of Boyd. They always studied bio together. It was her favorite subject, and really one of the only ones Boyd had ever been any good at.
But the last time they’d studied together . . . Images of him filtered through her mind: his slightly crooked smile. His slightly too-floppy hair.
The kiss.
She couldn’t keep obsessing. She could either choose to believe he was a monster and a liar, or she could choose to take his side and figure out who had really killed Kit—and why.
Tessa took a breath and grabbed a piece of scrap paper. On the back, she made a list of all the clues she had so far.
A sapphire ring, lost in the snow.
That strange new bra, the one with the charm on it, from the photos.
Pills, in a baggie but not in her bloodstream.
New tattoo—of a wolf?
Boyd was definitely there that night—it was his truck, and he was even wearing his signature hunting hat. Which means Boyd is at least lying about that part.
Then again, who sent the mysterious text: “don’t make the same mistake”?
And where is Patrick Donovan?
All of it terrified her, and none of it added up. None of it seemed like Kit. But all of it made her think she didn’t know her sister as well as she’d thought.
She shivered. Even though the old vents rattled out dry heat, she couldn’t get warm. Hadn’t been able to since that night.
She couldn’t focus, either. Instead of doing research for her bio paper—the biggest part of their grade for this semester—she’d been looking up what happened to people when they froze to de
ath. She hadn’t known that sometimes people pull off their own clothes in the advanced stages of hypothermia—their body temperature goes so far down that they actually feel hot.
Could that be what had happened to Kit?
She shivered again and zipped her puffy coat up to her chin. She knew this paper was important—it was going to make up a huge part of her grade, which in turn would be a huge part of her GPA, which would be one of the biggest determining factors in the colleges she could get into. And that college was her ticket out of Devil’s Lake.
But she couldn’t bring herself to write a word of it.
Up until last weekend, and the muddy days that had followed, Tessa had been really excited by the idea of college. She’d already had in mind the schools she was going to apply to—the ones with the best programs in marine science. There were a few top geneticists she’d already looked up as well, making lists of the schools where they taught. But now all the components of biology that had once interested her—cell regeneration, early life-forms, and the implications for modern technology—just seemed like bad riddles, and the punch line was always the same: in the end we die, so what does it matter?
She closed the book. Folded the scrap paper with her clues and shoved it into her bag. The bell hadn’t rung yet, but she needed to get out of this stuffy library.
She pulled mittens over her hands, careful not to snag the shiny ring she’d found in the woods. She’d been wearing it since she found it.
Now she pushed through the heavy doors.
She needed air. Needed to think.
Needed to pull a Chizhevsky.
Another thing that reminded her of Boyd.
Chizhevsky was this Russian scientific theorist known for linking things like the patterns of solar energy with historic wars and revolutions. Examining cosmic phenomena and drawing conclusions about human behavior. Sometimes, since they were both huge dorks, Tessa and Boyd would accuse each other of “pulling a Chizhevsky” when the other tried to win a debate with a totally left-field argument. They also used it to mean drawing unexpected connections.
But instead of space to think, what she got when she stepped out into the snowy courtyard in front of the school’s main entrance was instantly accosted—by Melissa Knox, one of Lilly’s two best friends.
“Tessa?” Mel looked like she’d seen a ghost. She was shouldering a leather hobo bag bursting with scarves, papers, and books, and held a brown paper bag lunch in her other hand; she dropped it onto the stone steps when she saw Tessa. An apple rolled out, along with a half-eaten sandwich.
She bent down to pick it up and Tessa tried to help.
“Are you okay?” Tessa asked. Which felt backward. Mel wasn’t the one whose sister had just been murdered. And yet . . . she looked so shaken. “Where’s Lilly? Aren’t you two always glued together?”
Mel looked like she was going to cry. “Yeah. Yeah, usually we are. But.” She stopped talking and just gaped at her until Tessa began to fear she had, like, a giant booger or someone had entered her into the PEN15 club in her sleep.
“Mel, what? What is it?”
Mel just shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
Tessa sighed. “Lilly came to school today, so I felt like I had to be here too.”
Mel still seemed shaken by something.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need to talk or anything?” Tessa didn’t know why she was offering. She’d always found Mel a tiny bit annoying—maybe that was just the way you were supposed to feel about your little sister’s friends. But she’d hung around their house so often, Tessa couldn’t fault her for being upset about everything that had happened.
And somehow, this made it easier—it helped to focus on other people’s grief. It kept her from touching her own, though she knew it was there, like a sleeping giant, beneath her feet. If she treaded too fast or too loudly, she’d wake it up. It would come after her, wouldn’t rest until she’d been crushed.
Mel looked around, as if to make sure no one was listening. But of course, it was freezing out and no one else was hanging around outside except for a couple stoners coming back from the senior parking lot.
“Not here,” Mel said anyway, and gestured for Tessa to follow her.
She’d always had a flare for drama.
They walked past the front offices and around the corner, toward the football field. Mel led her straight to the bleachers, and Tessa was struck by a memory.
It was last year, and she and Boyd had been in the same gym class. While the rest of the class ran the mile—four laps around the track—they would run the first half of the first lap, then duck behind the bleachers to hang out and talk for a few minutes before running the second half of the lap just as everyone else was making their fourth round. Coach never paid enough attention to notice they’d only gone one lap.
Now, under the shadow of the bleachers, Mel’s eyes looked sinister.
“Okay, so what did you want to talk about?” Tessa asked softly.
Mel was breathing hard, her breath dancing and foggy in the cold air. She fidgeted with her bag. “I just . . . I wanted to say I’m sorry. About Kit . . . and everything that happened.”
Sorry. Sorry? Tessa was sick of sorries. Sick of pity and apologies and inedible casseroles and haunted dreams and all the not-knowing. She didn’t want sorry. She wanted answers.
“That’s it? That’s why we came all the way out here?” she asked.
“No, that’s not the only reason. I’m . . . I’m scared, Tessa.”
She did look scared. And suddenly Tessa was consumed by a wave of misgiving. What did Mel have to be scared of?
“Has someone threatened you?”
Mel looked away.
“Mel, do you know anything about what happened to Kit?” She thought of something. “Have you gotten any strange or creepy text messages? Any warnings or anything like that?”
“What?” Mel whipped her head back to face Tessa. “No. I—no. It’s just . . . I don’t believe Boyd did it. He’s not a killer. I’m worried it could be someone else.”
“Who, Mel?”
But she just shook her head.
“Do you know someone who wanted to hurt Kit?” Her heart felt like it was going to break out through the wall of her rib cage.
“No!” Mel said, looking more panicked than ever. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying?” Tessa was getting frustrated. It was hard to think. Hard to follow what Mel was talking about.
Mel began to tear up. “I just don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”
Tessa tried to calm her breathing. “I don’t either.”
“Just—just watch out for Lilly, okay, Tessa?”
“Lilly? Is she in danger too?” Tessa wanted to grab Mel and shake answers out of her, but the girl already looked miserable. And she was usually so bubbly and loud, it was disturbing to see her like this. Still, right now what mattered more was finding out what she knew. “Does this have to do with Patrick? I know you and Lilly were spending time with Patrick before he went missing.”
“No, no, no,” Mel said. “I don’t think so. I think Lilly’s okay. I don’t know anything about Patrick disappearing. I just—I just think she needs you. That’s all. It’s too much for her. It’s all just too much.”
“Okay,” Tessa said slowly. “I’ll watch out for Lilly.”
For some reason, this made Mel cry again, harder this time. “Thank you, Tessa,” she whispered. And then, “I am so, so sorry.” Then she hugged her.
Tessa felt Mel’s arms around her, and for a second just stood there. Finally she hugged Mel back. The more Mel cried, the more Tessa felt the impossibility of her own tears. It was like they were locked away somewhere, behind a dam. If the dam broke, she might drown. But for now, it held.
Suddenly Mel pulled away. “Someone’s coming,” she said. There were two figures in the distance, making their way toward them. “I—I gotta get to class.”
Mel took a deep breath and started to walk toward the edge of the bleachers. Then she turned around. “And Tessa?”
“What?”
“Um, nothing.”
“Bye, Mel,” Tessa said. She stood there for a while after Mel had gone. Confused. Disturbed. Frozen. From out here, you couldn’t hear the bell ring, so she was most likely missing her next class. But did it matter?
The snowy grass beneath the bleachers was damp and littered with old popcorn cartons and cigarette butts. She kicked at a Parliament carton half buried in snow. There was still an unsmoked cigarette inside it, rattling around, half soggy, forgotten. She bent down to pick it up; wondered whether it would still light, if you tried, or whether it was just a corpse now.
Maybe Kit was a secret smoker, she suddenly thought.
There were certainly plenty of other secrets surrounding her sister. She couldn’t remember when it had first begun—sometime this fall. Maybe at homecoming, when she’d gone missing from the dance for a while. Or maybe it was Halloween, when she’d decided to go to Jay Kolbry’s party. Or maybe, maybe, she had been changing for a long time, right in front of their eyes, and none of them had seen it happening.
Tessa crouched there long enough for the two people who had been approaching the bleachers to actually arrive, and she listened as they climbed up onto them, sitting somewhere over Tessa’s head.
She looked up through the slats and could make out the fashionably jeaned legs of Olivia Khan, next to the muddy boots of her boyfriend, Jay Kolbry. For a second, she thought they were going to make out, and she started to sneak away, but she realized they were arguing about some party, it sounded like. Jay’s parents were taking an anniversary trip for Valentine’s Day weekend, and he was having a bunch of people over Saturday. Olivia was pissed because she thought they were going to have a romantic night, but now there were just going to be a bunch of sweaty heathens all around the house and they’d have no privacy. Jay made a bunch of sloppy, gross assurances that they’d still get their private time, and disgusted, Tessa finally got movement back to her muscles and snuck away, hoping they hadn’t seen her eavesdropping.
