by Konen, Leah
“No,” Ella said. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it? Tell me.”
And Ella wanted to. She wanted to tell him the whole thing. But she was afraid that if she did, he’d say no. There was something about their family that made them feel compelled to hide things for each other. That made them bend the truth. That made them keep secrets at any cost. Sometimes she thought he was different, but then in a flash, she didn’t. She knew what side he’d take. There was no reason for him not to. It was all he knew.
“I can’t,” Ella said.
Jake rolled his eyes. “How do you expect me to help you if you won’t even tell me what’s going on?”
Ella looked down at her hands, and then back up into his eyes. “You haven’t always been honest with me,” she said. “I know you know things that you want to tell me. I know that you won’t.” Jake looked away from her but she kept going. “And I’m not asking you to tell me, okay? I promise I’m not. I’m just asking you to put the same trust in me that I have in you. I believe you have a good reason to not tell me whatever it is you’re not telling. Give me that same trust. Help me get in there, just one more time.”
Jake shook his head, rubbing his palms on his jeans. “But why?”
Ella’s voice raised. “I can’t tell you,” she said. “Just trust me. Please. I’ll go in and go out and Grace will never know the difference, but it will mean everything in the world to me. Everything.”
Jake just stared at her.
“I need this,” she said. “Please.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Jake said.
“Say yes. Say you’ll help me.”
Jake shook his head, letting out a sigh. “You know that I can’t say no to you.”
“So you’ll help me?”
He nodded, slowly, and their eyes stayed locked. And they were so close — ever so close — only a few inches, and she could lean in and finally know what it felt to have his lips on hers — she could feel, maybe, something other than pain.
But she broke their gaze before anything could happen.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you so so much.”
• • •
She’d arranged to come over the next morning. Neither of them were scheduled for the early shift, and he’d assured her that Grace would be out for a few hours. She always was.
Ella hadn’t told him that today was exactly one month from the day. She didn’t know how to say it, really; she only knew that the date was burned into her mind. It was something she couldn’t forget about. No matter how many months and years and lifetimes would pass. It was one that she would always remember.
The walk to Astrid’s wasn’t long. Ella walked in the street because there were barely any cars around at this time of day. There were barely any cars around here ever.
It was a day awfully similar to the day. The sun was shining, and the sky was Monet-blue. The mountains in the distance stared back at her through open air. But in the other direction, behind her, clouds loomed.
That day, one month ago, she’d ridden, not walked. Her mom had driven her over after the phone call. Grace, her voice high-pitched and worried over the phone: Had she seen Astrid? No, she hadn’t. But she said she was staying with you. But she didn’t. We went to the party and she wanted to stay. So you saw her head home? No. She hadn’t thought to check. She and Sydney had just bounced off to the party like nothing was the matter.
When they got to her house, Grace had asked her to take her there, to the last place she’d seen her daughter. To the cabin.
And she had.
The house came into sight, and she didn’t text Jake this time. She just went right up and knocked on the door. She was tired of walking on eggshells.
He answered it quickly, almost like he was waiting for her.
“She’s definitely out, right?” Ella asked, heading inside before he had time to ask her in.
“Yeah,” he said. “Don’t worry.”
“Thanks,” Ella said. She didn’t want to waste any time now. Not like before, when she’d casually waited for an invitation. “Can I see her room?” she asked, as her feet headed there anyway.
“Okay,” he said, but he grabbed her arm. Not roughly. Gently, but like he had something to say. “Please don’t mess anything up too much, Ella.”
“I know,” she said. “I won’t.” And she felt a pang of guilt as she answered, because deep down she knew that she was lying. She’d turn the place upside-down if she had to, to find those pages. She patted the journal, tucked inside her purse. She had to finish the story.
Jake followed her into the room, and she looked up, waiting for him to excuse himself like he had before. But he didn’t.
“You’re going to hang out in here?” she asked.
“I just want to make sure everything’s okay,” he said. But she looked in his eyes, and she knew that there was more to it than that. He was saying, Don’t mess anything up, be careful, but his eyes almost looked rebellious, hopeful, like he wanted her to win. Like he wanted her to find what she was looking for.
“Jake,” she said, standing close to him. “Please. Just let me do this.”
He stared at her. “What is it that you want to do?”
“I need to find something,” she said.
“What?” he asked.
Ella rolled her eyes. “I thought you said you would trust me.”
Jake stepped closer to her. She could almost feel his breath on her face. “I do trust you, but you have to let me in. You have to tell me what it is you’re looking for. You have to at least let me help.”
Ella sighed. “You promise not to judge me?”
Jake nodded, his worried eyes turning to a smile. “I haven’t yet.”
She looked straight at him. “And you promise not to throw me out?”
Jake shrugged. “You’re here. Why would I make you leave now?”
Ella pulled out the journal and pushed it into his hands. Their fingers met for an instant, and she wished they were meeting for a different reason, not this. She pulled her hand away, leaving the journal in his.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Just open it.”
He did, and his eyes widened. “Wait, is this — ”
Ella nodded. “Yeah.”
“But where did you — ”
“I took it. Last time I came here.”
Jake’s jaw dropped, but she interrupted him before he could say anything.
“You told me to trust you,” she said. “This is me. Trusting you.”
“I know, but — ”
“And you said that you weren’t going to judge me.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, “that I didn’t tell you. But I felt like I had to, and if you just give me a second to show you, I think you’ll understand.”
Jake nodded slowly, but he still looked angry — hurt — he tried to put the journal back in her hands.
“No,” she said. “Turn to the last page.”
“Ella, I don’t want to read it.”
“You don’t have to read anything. Just look.”
“Why?” he snapped.
“Just look,” she said. “Please. We’re in this together, now.”
Slowly, he flipped open the back cover.
She grabbed his hand in hers — it was warm, far more calloused than hers — or Ben’s, for that matter — and she ran his finger down the page. “Ow,” he said. “That’s sharp.”
Ella nodded. “The pages have been cut out,” she said.
Jake’s eyebrows knitted together, and even he looked shocked. “What? What do you mean?”
“She cut them out, Jake. Astrid wanted to say something, and Grace silenced her.”
He just stared straight ahead. He didn’t say anything more.
“Jake?” she asked. He was starting to look lost.
“Yeah,” he said, looking back to her.
“Are you okay?”
“I know,” she said. “That’s why I want to find out what it says.”
He handed the journal back to her, and she tucked it safely back into her purse.
“So you’ll help me?” she asked. Jake nodded.
“Yes,” he said. “I’ll do anything you want.”
• • •
They worked as fast as they could without turning the place into a total wreck. At this point, Ella didn’t even care that much, but she understood why Jake did.
It was a perfect little world in here that Grace was preserving. An eerie, creepy tomb. It still looked like Astrid could walk right in any moment.
Hey lady. What’s up?
Ella took the closet, while Jake checked under the bed. She pulled out shoebox after shoebox, flipping through old photos and looking for lightly lined pages. Nothing.
When she was done with the closet, she checked the nightstand. She pulled out each of the three drawers. She opened every book to make sure the pages hadn’t been tucked in, while Jake fished around under the bed, uncovering old art projects of Astrid’s and boxes to shoes and hairdryers — the kinds of things you keep under the bed.
“Hate to break it to you, but I’m not having any luck,” Jake said, pulling out a clear Tupperware container filled with markers that probably didn’t work anymore.
“I know,” Ella said. “I’m not finding anything either. How long will she be gone?”
“Probably a couple of hours.”
Ella looked at her watch. It had already been almost an hour. “Maybe we should check her room,” Ella said.
“Grace’s room?” Jake looked up from under the bed. “I don’t know.”
“Think about it,” she said. “If she wanted to hide something, why would she hide it in here?”
“I don’t know,” Jake said. “It doesn’t sound like a good idea.”
Ella couldn’t help it. She raised her voice. “Jake, we’re way past good ideas. We either do this or we don’t. Don’t you want to know what she said?”
Jake sighed. “Let’s just finish here first, okay?”
“We’re running out of time.”
“Just finish here. You still haven’t checked her dresser.”
Ella sighed, stomping towards the dresser — even though she knew there was nothing in there. She’d looked through it the last time she was here. But it couldn’t hurt to double check. She hadn’t been looking for loose pages then.
Her eyes scanned over the pots of nail polish and eye shadow. Even though Astrid didn’t wear a ton of makeup, every girl still had some. Then she opened the drawers slowly, basic bras in pastel colors, the horrible diamond-studded underwear they’d bought for her as a joke, lots of socks, none of them rolled up together, all just randomly thrown in. Astrid never had matched socks.
She opened the next drawer, and as she did, she heard something behind her. She flipped back as a breeze flitted through the window, tickling the curtains. Why hadn’t she noticed the open window before? She ran across the room quickly, slamming the window shut. She didn’t need any distractions.
“You okay?” Jake asked.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, surveying the room around her. Ella took a deep breath. There was something here, she knew, something that she needed to see. Something that Astrid was trying to tell her. Wasn’t there? Or had it all been her imagination, some weird technical glitch, every cracked branch and missed call and flash of red? Had she really lost it? Was she just as lost as her friend?
Please, she thought, looking around the room.
Please, Astrid, if you’re here, show me something.
Be honest with me. I’m your friend.
The floor creaked beneath her as she walked back to the dresser, and she jumped. She felt like she was on the brink of something. She felt like something was about to happen. She wanted something to happen and she didn’t, all at the same time. She was both scared and eager.
Ella whipped the next drawer open. But she shook her head as her hands rifled through the clothes. Nothing. She slammed the drawer shut. “This is never going to work like this.”
“It’s okay,” Jake said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Calm down. We can look in her room, okay? We can — ”
But Ella stopped listening. Her eyes locked on what stood in front of her. Astrid’s jewelry tree, filled with rings and bracelets and chains, but one thing was missing. One thing was terribly, hopefully, wonderfully missing.
“The key,” she said.
“What key?” Jake asked.
She whipped back around to face him.
“The necklace. She always wore it. It was here the last time. It was hanging right here. Grace must have taken it,” she said. “She must have used it.”
“So what does that mean?” Jake asked, but it was too hard to explain everything. She rushed out of the room and towards the living room. The desk was right there.
Shut. Tight.
Before Astrid left, it was never shut. That’s why she could wear the key around her neck. There was no use for it. And why would it be unless Grace was hiding something? What better place to put the pages than right here?
Ella pushed at the top. But she knew it was no use. It was locked. She briefly glanced around the desk to see if the key was lying somewhere. It wasn’t.
So she leaned down to inspect the lock — to see if maybe she could pick it without the key — and that’s when she saw it. Three letters, carved into the wood. RNA. RNA. It was someone’s name, obviously, but not Grace, not Astrid …
She turned to Jake. “What was Astrid’s dad’s name?”
“Why?” he asked.
“Just tell me. What was it?” She shook her head. “What is it?”
“Robert,” Jake said carefully. “Robert Allen.”
And that’s when it clicked. Why Astrid had been so obsessed with that key. Why she’d never taken it off. She had always figured that Astrid had just thought it was pretty, that it was cute, that she’d found it in the desk and decided it’d make the perfect necklace. But there had been so much more to it than that.
This desk had been her dad’s. It was maybe one of the only things she had to remind her of him. Ella had never seen a photo — had never heard Grace even speak his name. Hell, if she went around telling people he was dead, then she wasn’t going to keep mementos of him all over the place. The topic had always been off-limits. Astrid’s standard answer: “He died in a car accident when I was eight. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Ella stared at the desk. It had been important to Astrid. It had to be important to Grace, too. Cherished by her dead daughter, left behind by a man who’d hurt her so badly that she’d told the world he was dead. This was the place where Grace would hide something. She knew it, deep in her heart. This was it.
She just had to get inside.
“Do you have a bobby pin?” she turned back to Jake.
But she didn’t wait for him to answer. She rushed down the hall and into the bathroom. She opened the drawers quickly, rifling through. She grabbed the first brassy one she saw and then ran back to the desk.
Jake moved out of the way as she knelt down, pulling the prongs of the pin apart and carefully inserting one into the lock. She twisted and turned, listening, waiting.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Jake asked.
“Shhh,” she said. “I’ve almost got it.”
She felt the pin connect with something — a ridge. She turned it, just a little bit, almost there.
And Ella let out a sigh of relief as the desk opened with a satisfying click.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Sydney had a bad feeling.
She felt like it should be raining. But it wasn’t. Like the day was murkier than it actually was. Like the weather simply hadn’t gotten the memo. She told herself that it was just Astrid. Just the fact that it had been a whole m
onth. As if that weren’t enough anyway.
She carried her fiddle in her hand. She felt silly, almost, walking off to the cabin to what, serenade her dead friend?
It was like something Ella would do.
She laughed to herself at how silly she was, but it didn’t really work, so she walked faster down the sidewalk, trying to shake the feeling. But the bad feeling wouldn’t go away.
Audie said that the women in their family had that power. A certain sixth sense, if you will. Of course, Audie, as awesome as she was, was a little kooky. A lot kooky.
Sydney had tried her best to ignore her aunt. People weren’t psychic. The crazies who cancel their flights because they had a bad dream just ended up with some huge layover in Texas, feeling stupid when the plane that they should have been on doesn’t crash.
But she couldn’t ignore the fact that she got these feelings. That a tiny part of her believed them.
Sydney veered off the sidewalk, towards the empty lot that led to the woods. She didn’t know why Ella still used the shortcut by Astrid’s house. Sure it was faster, but it was creepy to walk right by Grace and company.
As she got closer to the woods, the feeling intensified. She could call Audie crazy, but there was no denying that this happened to her sometimes. Not often, just sometimes. It was this notion, this premonition — who knows — this sense in every bone of her body, from head to toe, that something was off.
And the sense only got stronger as she stepped inside, leaving suburbia behind, letting the woods envelop her.
Something was definitely wrong.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The first thing Ella noticed was the smell. Carnations.
Then she saw the petals, strewn across the desk. But she didn’t have time to process it. Her eyes widened as she saw it all — pieces of blue chiffon, jaggedly cut on the edges. Just like Astrid’s dress. Photos of Astrid, ones that they’d taken down, ones that had never been put back up. There’d been so many, Ella hadn’t even realized that some of them were missing. But here they were, scattered about. Ella’s heart raced brutally fast.
