My chest threatened to implode when I got to my bedroom and stood perfectly still as I saw the metal bed frame, which now represented everything I’d been afraid of, everything I’d convinced myself I wasn’t. I walked over and put a finger on the bottom left bed knob. How easy would it be to convince myself I was wrong? How difficult would it be to walk away, out of the house, out of Newdale, and disappear? I’d done it before. I could do it again. Except...I needed to know. I had to be sure.
I turned the knob, heard it squeak beneath my fingers as it loosened. Two turns, three, four and five. The knob ended up in my hand, revealing a small space in the leg of the bed frame. I peered inside...and there it was. Celine’s butterfly pendant. The one I’d given her one summer’s day. The necklace she never took off.
I let out a moan as my legs gave way and I sank to the floor, the realization of what I’d done pulling me down like a drowning man. Because I knew. Everything I’d feared, everything I’d tried to run from, but couldn’t escape. I knew.
I was a murderer.
33
MAYA
I knew Lily would come snooping. I’d banked on it. It’s why I’d sent Ash to the garage as early as possible so she’d think we’d already gone, and the reason I’d hidden in the tree line behind the house, a little off to the side so I could see the driveway. I’d even left the spare key for her, and I’d been right to, because not half an hour after Ash had driven off, the nosy little bitch sneaked through the woods and into my house.
I’ll admit it was hard to sit there and wait. I knew what she was doing, prying, going through all our things, but unlike most people, I’d managed to develop an astounding amount of patience over the years. Waiting for the man you love to recognize what’s in front of him will do that to a person. I could’ve laid in the grass for hours, watching, waiting.
It took Lily a while to give up and come outside, exactly as I knew she would because there was nothing for her to find, and my heart didn’t begin to race until she entered the garage, which I’d left open for her, too. I had to time this part exactly, make sure I gave her enough leeway to spot the misplaced rug—another little breadcrumb—and climb down the ladder, but I couldn’t give her enough time to come back up until I was ready.
Everything had worked out according to plan. Well, almost everything. I’d hoped the fall off the ladder would be fatal. I’d read somewhere killing someone almost accidentally felt different from doing so with absolute intent, say with a gun or a knife. Either way, I’d smiled when I’d heard her cry out as I’d slammed the trapdoor shut.
Back at the house I’d called Ash, packed a bag and made sandwiches for the trip, and then I’d contacted Patrick. He hadn’t been too happy about extending my time off, but I’d begged him to give me four days, not two, so I could “surprise Ash with more of a road trip.” Four days would turn into five or six once I’d taken a knife to the tires on my car, blaming it on the local Brookmount youth, and making sure we were delayed coming home. Of course, that was without the cops asking Ash to stick around. He’d remained adamant he wanted to speak to them, and I’d somehow have to convince him otherwise. I couldn’t risk him having to stay there and me returning home alone. Whatever the outcome, without water, Lily—whose phone I’d use to text Patrick in a little while, informing him she was leaving town and quitting her job, another indication of her guilt—wouldn’t last until we got back, and then all I needed to do was give Ash a few benzos one night to make sure I wouldn’t be disturbed while I got rid of her, her phone, which I’d already switched off, and her car, before anyone realized she was missing. Other than her landlord, would anybody even care?
I wasn’t concerned about people hearing her if they stopped by the house while we were away, either. Nobody ever did, but I’d put the rug over the trapdoor and added some boxes of supplies to muffle any of her nonsense. All she could do was scream and shout, and she’d soon tire. Give up when she realized nobody would come.
Standing on the porch now, I couldn’t resist going back for another look to see if Lily had woken up, tell her she had to keep quiet if she wanted me to let her out, but I needn’t have bothered. All was still. Maybe she was dead after all. It would make things easier for her if she was. I went into the new storage room Ash had built for me, stared at the driftwood pieces I’d carefully laid out on the shelves, thinking that once we got back from Brookmount, it would just be the two of us again. Without all these distractions I’d finish the website Lily had so kindly started to put together for me. I’d work on my art. I’d help Ash find a job locally and do whatever it took to make him see our life was perfect, that we belonged together. We could at last be that happy family we so deserved.
Satisfied everything would finally work out the way I wanted it to, I walked over to the door, ready to lock up, was three feet away when it crashed open and Ash rushed in, his face gray. I peered past him at my car parked askew, realized with the double insulation in the room I hadn’t heard him arrive.
“What’s wrong?” I moved closer, ready to grab him in case he passed out, but he backed off, standing in the open doorway without uttering another word. He held out his hand, turned it around and opened his fingers one by one. My breath stalled as I saw what he was holding. A butterfly necklace.
“It’s Celine’s,” he said, his voice so low and strained, I barely heard him.
“I’ve never seen—”
“Don’t lie to me,” he said, eyes narrowing, jaw clenched. “I bought it for her. Fiona showed me a picture. Celine never took it off. Never.” He thrust the necklace closer to my face. “You knew I hurt her, didn’t you?” When I couldn’t answer he grabbed my shoulders. “Didn’t you?”
“Let’s go to the house.”
“Tell me what I did to her.” His voice bounced around the room as he grabbed me harder and gave me a shake, his eyes wild. He looked dangerous and powerful, the way I’d felt when I hit Lily with the driftwood, and right then I didn’t think I could ever love him more. He was ready for the truth. If I told him now, he’d understand everything about us, and he’d realize why we had to be together. And so I opened my mouth, and began to speak.
34
MAYA
The day Celine went missing was a perfect storm of circumstance. Over the past months she and Ash had spent every day together. They sat on the bus on the way to and from school, her head always resting on his shoulder, his hand on her thigh, their fingers entwined. After dinner, and every weekend, he’d leave the house. Neither Mom, Brad nor I bothered asking where he was going anymore, we all knew, and consequently I spent my days and evenings alone.
Since my notebook had fallen out of my backpack on the bus, and been passed around, the whispers and taunts had intensified. Rude notes with gross drawings had made their way into my locker. Pictures of a naked boy having sex with a naked, dark-haired girl, images of what were supposed to be me, with a penis in my mouth or my butt, the word BROTHERFUCKER scrawled underneath. I ignored them at first and threw them in the trash, but they kept appearing.
I didn’t tell Ash then, was too embarrassed to show him what people thought I wanted to do with him. They were wrong. I loved Ash and longed to be close to him, yes, but not in that way. Not until we were older and had a place of our own. I imagined a house and two children, a dog and a cat, maybe some fish. He’d have his own business, I’d be a famous artist and we’d be deliriously happy, exactly like Brad and Mom were. They’d come over with gifts for the kids at Christmas, Thanksgiving and for birthdays. We’d take trips together in the summer. We’d be a perfect family.
If I showed Ash the disgusting drawings, he’d never give me the future I wanted, and so I said nothing, and sulked whenever he wasn’t at home. When I’d tried talking to Mom about how often he was out, she’d brushed me off.
“Whether you like it or not, you have to get used to him having a girlfriend, Bee,” she’d said. “I’
m sorry, honey, but the truth is he doesn’t want to hang out with his kid stepsister all the time. It’s normal, I’m afraid.” As if all she’d said hadn’t hurt enough, she added, “He’s a handsome boy. And Celine’s lovely. She deserves to be with someone like Ash.”
With a small smile she’d muttered something about having another headache and needing to lie down, but I’d stopped paying attention. The words kid stepsister made me want to run for the bathroom and throw up as my world, and the future I’d imagined us having, imploded and collapsed around me. Mom was right, Ash saw me as a child, and worse, his sister. In the past months I’d tried everything to change his perception. I’d taken down all my babyish posters and replaced them with grown-up ones we’d chosen together. Brad had helped me repaint my room, covering the sickly pastel pink with an eggshell white, and making an emerald green feature wall behind my bed. I’d sewn new curtains, put the remaining few stuffed animals I’d kept in a box in my closet and stacked my shelves with books I knew Ash liked. But I’d kept my silver star lights and watched them twinkle when I lay there in the darkness, thinking about Ash. Although he’d commented on how grown-up my room appeared, he couldn’t yet see me as his equal, and so I’d persevered.
My appearance was next. I’d styled my hair to match Celine’s, had it cut a similar length, found the same lip gloss at the pharmacy and used my pocket money to buy it, but still, despite Brad passing a comment about how Celine and I could almost be sisters—yeah, only if I was the ugly one—Ash didn’t notice. Even when I stole one of the love letters she’d written Ash, and practiced until my writing looked exactly like hers, he still couldn’t see what was in front of him.
I needed him to understand I could be so much more than he thought, if only he’d let me. If only he’d give us a chance. I knew him, understood him. What he liked, what he hated, his favorite food, music and movies. There was nobody on this earth who could make him as happy as I could, but still, he only had eyes for Celine, and every time I saw them together, it stoked the colossal fire of envy burning inside me.
When Brad took Mom out for dinner and a movie one night, hoping it would cheer her up because she hadn’t been well again, Ash promised he’d spend the evening with me. Not twenty minutes after our parents had left, Celine called, and Ash suggested she stop by.
“Why is she coming?” I said when he hung up, hugging my knees as I sat on the sofa, pulling a cushion against my chest. “Why does she always have to intrude?”
“It’s not intruding if I invite her,” Ash said, with a hint of annoyance, and him thinking badly of me made my stomach turn. “You know she’s having a hard time.”
“I’m having a hard time,” I said, swiping at my eyes with the back of my hand.
He came over and plopped himself on the coffee table in front of me. “Hey,” he said gently. “What’s going on, Bee? What’s happened?”
“It doesn’t matter. You won’t care.” I jumped up, sending the cushion flying. I brushed past him, ran to the stairs and up to my room, where I slammed and locked the door, making the thin walls shake. It wasn’t long before I heard his footfalls, followed by a soft knock.
“Bee? What’s going on? Talk to me.”
As soon as I opened the door, he put his arms around me. “What’s wrong?”
I didn’t want to tell him everything, couldn’t face verbalizing my jealousy, but he asked me again, his voice gentle and calm. I wanted to keep him here, with me, in my room. I wanted us to spend the whole evening together. I wanted him to finally see me, look after me, love me.
“They call me names at school,” I whispered, fighting back more tears, relieved to finally let go of the secret that involved him. Maybe he wouldn’t be disgusted with me, but with them, and we could fight this together. “It’s been going on for weeks.”
“What kind of names?” Ash said. “Who’s bullying you?”
“I don’t know who started it,” I lied, not wanting him to know I’d been the one who’d stolen Sydney’s precious jacket and ripped it to shreds, which had done nothing to stop the taunting. “Someone found my notebook. It got passed around and now they call me a...they call me a...a brotherfucker.”
It was a mistake telling him because he looked as if I’d slapped him across the face, and I wanted to take the word back, erase it from his memory, but it was too late.
“Why would they call you that?” he said.
“Because I wrote ‘Maya and Ash forever’ over an entire page.” I swallowed. “Or two.”
“Maya and Ash...?” he said, shaking his head. “Bee, why would—”
“Because I love you.”
“I love you, too, but—”
I wrapped my arms around him, silencing his next words with my lips. It was a kiss I’d dreamed of for months and months—it was what I needed more than anything in the entire world, the one thing that held the power to make everything okay. Every gibe, every taunt, every horrible note, and all my jealousy faded away to nothing. Ash’s mouth tasted of breath mints, but when he tried to loosen my grip on him I held on, not ready to let the moment end. But then I heard a creak on the landing, and a high-pitched, disbelieving voice rang out.
“What the... Ash?”
We spun around, both of us startled by Celine, who now stood in my bedroom doorway, the goddamn sparkling butterfly necklace Ash had given her hanging between her perfect breasts. She stared at us, eyes wide, mouth open, before turning and thundering down the hallway.
“Celine,” Ash yelled, shoving me to one side. “Wait. It’s not what you think.”
I wanted to ask him what he was talking about. Our kiss had to have meant as much to him as it had to me. He loved me. He’d said so before I kissed him. It was why I’d kissed him. I followed him out onto the landing. He’d stopped Celine at the top of the stairs and stood a few feet away from her, holding up his hands, backing away.
“Don’t touch me,” she shouted, tears streaming down her face. “How could you?”
“It’s not what you think,” he said. “I’d never do that to you. Not with her, not with anyone. She’s just a kid, she’s my stepsister. I love you, Celine, please. Maya was confused.”
I opened my mouth to shout at him, tell him he was wrong, that I wasn’t a child, that I loved him, but no words came out.
Celine looked past Ash, her face full of loathing. “You weren’t confused at all, were you, Maya? You knew exactly what you were doing. You brotherfucker.”
“Don’t call her that,” Ash shouted, grabbing her arm.
“Get off me.” Celine shook him off hard, her momentum forcing her backward, and as she put a foot behind her, it slid on the bunched-up stair runner, making her slip off the top step.
I saw her arms flail, watched as she tried to save herself by attempting to regain her balance. Her hands reached for the banister but grasped only air. Ash lunged forward but he was too late. Celine let out a piercing shriek before toppling backward, bumping down the steep stairs, two, three at a time, a mass of chocolate locks and tumbling limbs. Her head reached the tiled floor at the bottom first, where it made a loud crack, but instead of getting up as I expected her to, she lay there, legs bent, arms outstretched, immobile and still.
“Celine,” Ash shouted, stumbling down the stairs, repeating her name over and over, his sobs becoming louder and thicker, the desperation in his voice mounting. It was all for nothing. There was no blood, no open wound, but from my vantage point at the top of the stairs I knew she was gone. Her eyes were open and glazed, her neck bent at a strange angle. She’d broken it, simple as that. One second, she was insulting me, and the next, she was dead.
“Call an ambulance,” Ash yelled, and still I didn’t move. “Maya. Call someone, please.”
I looked at his face, filled with remorse and guilt, and realized I felt none of that. Yes, I was afraid, but afraid of us getting caught, of him being t
aken away from me. My brain knew I should have felt terrible about what had happened, but I held no sorrow for Celine’s death, or how it had occurred. Secretly I was glad, and while that knowledge should have terrified me even more, it didn’t.
I walked to him slowly, put my hand on his back. “It’s too late.”
He let out a loud moan as he put his head to her chest, tried to find her pulse on her neck with his fingers. “I think she’s...oh, Christ...she’s... We have to call the police.”
He was the child now. I had to be the adult and take control. Figure out what was best for both of us, for our family. Brad and Mom wouldn’t be home for hours yet. We had plenty of time. “If we call the police, they’ll send you to prison.”
“They won’t—”
“They will,” I wailed, forcing tears because I couldn’t cry proper ones, not for her. I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling on it like I’d seen people do on TV when they were acting distraught. “We’ll both be locked up.”
“N-no. I won’t let that happen. It was an accident.”
“Do you think they’ll believe that?” I said. “You’ve seen the crime shows. What if there’s a bruise on her arm from where you grabbed her? What if your DNA is under her fingernails? We have to hide her.”
He looked up at me. “We can’t,” he cried. “We can’t!”
“We have to. If we say it’s an accident and they don’t believe us, it’ll be so much worse. And if we tell, it’ll tear us apart. What about Mom? What about Brad? What will they think? We have to hide her, and I’ll cover for you. I promise I’ll do it until the day I die.”
You Will Remember Me Page 29
