by Mary Strand
But Lauren had taken off, which wasn’t good. Despite her reputation, though, I was pretty sure her biggest crime tonight had been having the bad judgment to catch a ride to the party with me.
Officer Lewis turned to Dad. “Sir? With your permission, we’ll administer a drug test to your daughter. Unfortunately, all we can do here is a PBT, a preliminary breath test that detects alcohol but not drugs. We’ll need to do the drug test at the hospital.”
Dad looked like someone had gut-punched him. Like, say, me.
“Dad, it’s okay.” Liz left my side to walk over and slug him on the arm—her unique way of comforting someone—even though no one tried to reassure me. “But you screwed up in Milwaukee. Don’t let it happen twice.”
When Dad’s lips pressed together, I remembered exactly how he looked in Milwaukee after Justin and I were arrested . . . and wished I didn’t. Phil Donnelly, a criminal-defense lawyer in Mom’s law firm, had done most of the talking, but Dad had told the judge to send me away.
Like, say, to Montana.
Then and now, the so-called evidence was against me.
Then and now, Dad never bothered to ask me if I was guilty.
As Dad brushed past Liz and walked over to me, I stared at the ground. Glass had flown everywhere. Some little kid was going to run around barefoot and rip up his or her feet.
“Lydia.”
I didn’t look up.
“Lydia, I let you down in Milwaukee. I never will again.” Dad’s voice broke, but I’d seen the look in his eyes when the cops mentioned drugs. No matter what he said right now, he’d believed them. “I’ll call Phil.”
Finally meeting his gaze, I held up a hand. “I don’t need Phil. I’m innocent. Just let them give me the tests.”
Officer Pole Up His Ass shook his head. “The tests will show only whether you have drugs or alcohol in your system. They won’t change the fact that you were in possession.”
“Frank.” Officer Lewis cut him off, which seemed like a great idea. “Let’s get a fingerprint analysis on the drugs. And, actually, we didn’t find Lydia in possession of anything. The drugs are in the vehicle. She isn’t.”
“Trin, we have to follow procedure.”
“I am.” She turned to me. “If you and your father will accompany me to the hospital, your sister can follow in your other car. Wait.” She walked over to the nearest police car, rummaged in the trunk, and returned with a handheld breathalyzer and a small flashlight.
A minute later, I’d blown a zero on the breathalyzer, and she’d tested my eyes with the flashlight. Liz stood next to Dad, both of them watching it all.
I wished Dad liked me the way he liked Liz.
I wished he trusted me.
But wishing had never gotten me anywhere except a stint in Shangri-La.
“Lydia? You okay?”
My head whipped up at the sound of Zach’s voice. Kids were streaming out of Kirk’s house, some of them climbing out of windows to avoid getting busted. A lot of them were huddled across the street now, watching me just like Tess had earlier, but Zach was the only one who actually crossed the street for a close-up look at my latest humiliation.
I met his gaze, head high, fiercely. And wiped the back of my hand across my face, refusing to cry.
It was too late to refuse to be embarrassed.
“Lauren texted me.” Perfect. He was digging my hole deeper, but he wouldn’t know that. “She tried to come back to Kirk’s house, but Amber wouldn’t let her in.”
Officer Lewis, who’d been paying way too much attention to Zach, frowned. “Lauren? Amber?”
Zach stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “Yeah. Lauren’s my friend. Amber isn’t.”
As Officer Lewis jotted something in her notebook, I looked at Zach. “Where did Lauren go?”
He shrugged. “She called my mom for a ride. Boy, will I hear about that when I get home.”
I told myself that Zach and Lauren were tight, and they were neighbors, and they’d known each other forever. So of course she was tight with his mom, too.
I still wanted to hit something.
Zach slanted me an oddly embarrassed grin. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He glanced at the broken window on the Jeep. “Lauren mentioned the window. Man, that blows.”
I just nodded. Thank God Lauren hadn’t mentioned the drugs. Had she seen them? Was that why she took off?
“Lauren thought—” Zach broke off, maybe because both cops, my dad, and Liz were all hanging on his words. He nodded at Liz, then looked back at me. “She thought Amber and Chelsea might’ve done it.” He glanced at Officer Lewis. “I mean, I have no idea. I’m not accusing anyone.”
“Good to see you again, Zach.” Liz grinned at him. “Did you pass the breath test or climb out a window?”
Officer Pole Up His Ass frowned. “Miss, this is no time to joke. We’re looking at—”
“Frank? Talk to you a moment?”
Officer Lewis pulled her partner several yards down the sidewalk away from us.
Liz immediately came over to me. “If you ask me, this would be an excellent time to cut and run.”
“Liz.” Dad frowned at her. That had to be a first.
Zach just laughed, then took another look at the broken window before turning to me. “Seriously. Are you okay? You don’t look like yourself.”
What was I supposed to look like? A hardened felon?
I shrugged. “The cops found drugs in my Jeep, and someone told them they belonged to Lauren and me.”
“Lauren doesn’t use drugs.”
But I did?
Wait. Lauren didn’t use drugs?
“She parties, sure.” He glanced over at my dad, who looked numb, then back at me. “But, like, just the occasional beer. You know?”
I knew she’d had a beer tonight, which might explain why she took off when she saw the cops. But she’d tried to give me drugs in class that day. Or were they drugs? Had I jumped to conclusions just like everyone always did with me?
Seeing my frown, Zach shook his head. “She told me she tried to sneak some chocolate to you in class one time, even though you can’t bring food to class.” Seeing and totally misinterpreting the stunned look on my face, he laughed. “She hates to get in trouble with teachers. Even though she does all the time.”
Officer Lewis rejoined us. “Lydia, you can go home now. We have no probable cause to believe you’re under the influence of drugs or alcohol, but we’ll need to gather evidence from the Jeep before releasing it to you.” She glanced at my dad. “Is that okay, Mr. Bennet?”
He looked like a deer in the headlights, but he nodded.
She turned back to me. “I need to get the names of the friends you mentioned. Amber and Chelsea? Tess?”
“They’re not my friends.”
She smiled. Slightly, but still. “It doesn’t sound like it, but it would help if I could contact them. We’ll likely have more questions for you later, too.”
I wasn’t going to jail.
At least, not right this moment.
I didn’t know anything about Chelsea except her name, but I pulled Amber’s contact info from my phone and gave it to Officer Lewis along with my own contact info. After a moment’s hesitation, I gave her Tess’s info, too. But I told Officer Lewis I really had no idea about Tess, only that she was friends with Amber and Chelsea and that she’d been standing behind a tree across the street, watching me.
Officer Lewis frowned. “When? Just now?”
I shook my head. “Earlier. When I first came out and saw the Jeep.”
Nodding, she scribbled something in her notebook, then flipped it shut. “Thanks. I’ll be in touch.”
I watched both cops walk away, toward Kirk’s house, which still had kids streaming out of it. Kirk was on the lawn now, looking like he was arguing with Amber while Chelsea looked on. I didn’t see Drew or, for that matter, Tess.
“Officer?”
Both cops turned back to me.<
br />
I pointed out Amber and Chelsea to Officer Lewis, totally ignoring her partner. They both started across the street.
Zach tilted his head, studying me with a serious look on his face, but he didn’t know Amber and Chelsea the way I did. He also didn’t have Amber’s claw marks in his arm.
When he started to say something, Liz shook her head. “If they’re innocent, they’ll be fine. But I have a feeling those girls aren’t often compared to Mother Teresa.”
I punched her arm, partly because she’d expect it, but my knees were still shaking. Someone hated me enough to set me up with something this serious. To lock me up. What had I ever done to them?
What had Cat done to Tess last spring, though?
“Do you need a ride home?” Zach kept studying me, but I couldn’t read him. Was he disgusted? Like everyone at school on Monday, would he believe I did this? “Or do you need to go with your dad and sister?”
Dad waved his keys in the air. “We’ll take Lydia home.”
Where he’d probably lock me in the basement. Forever.
“Actually, the back seat of Dad’s car is totally full of crap. Right, Dad?” As he shook his head, Liz nodded. “So if you could give Lydia a ride home, Zach, that would be cool. She’s too big to sit on my lap.”
Catching sight of the bright-orange Beetle right in front of Kirk’s house, where all hell was still breaking loose, I started to think a ride with Dad—even in the trunk—might be a better idea.
Dad cleared his throat. “Lydia, we should go home.”
“Zach will give her a ride. He’s a good guy.”
Liz gave Zach a thumbs up, but he didn’t exactly look thrilled at the thought of going anywhere with me. Despite his offer.
Besides, Dad looked a little apoplectic. I turned to Zach. “Hey, I appreciate it, but my house is in the opposite direction from yours, and you probably want to get home.”
“I said I’d give you a ride.”
“But—” But you don’t want to.
He shook his head. “My gear is in the front and back seat, but it sounds like my car has more room than your dad’s. You don’t even have to sit on my lap.”
Zach. Making a joke. Wow.
That was a joke, right?
“Fine. Go with your friend.” Dad didn’t look pleased, but being jabbed in the side by Liz couldn’t be pleasant. “But be home by nine.”
It was already eight forty-five.
Liz’s eyebrows danced. “Eleven.”
This time, Dad jabbed her back. “Ten.”
“Thirty.”
I rolled my eyes. It would take ten minutes, max, for Zach to drive me home and then take off with a roar two seconds after I opened the passenger door and climbed out.
Before I could explain Liz’s pathetic sense of humor to him, though, he started walking toward his car without waiting to see if I followed.
Should I?
When he offered me a ride, he was just being polite. He obviously had something going on with Lauren, who was practically part of his family. He didn’t even try to pretend he thought I was a nice girl. Unlike, say, Lauren.
“Lydia?” Ten feet from me, Zach stopped and turned around, looking impatient. “Your dad already left. Unless you’d rather walk home, I’ll give you a ride.”
Great. He looked totally disgusted. Maybe even pissed. Just like everyone I knew.
“Do we have to listen to classical music?”
He stared at me a long moment before his lips twitched. A miracle. “You’ve had a shitty day. Maybe just this once I’ll break down and play Green Day.”
My eyebrows went up. “You will? Seriously?”
“Hey, you never know.”
With Zach, definitely true. I never knew.
Chapter 18
Lydia led voluntarily to subjects which her sisters would not have alluded to for the world.
— Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Volume III, Chapter Nine
After shoving his bass and amp in the tiny back seat of the Beetle, Zach waved a hand at the front passenger seat.
It was piled high with CDs.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” He scooped them up, or most of them, and deposited them on the floor of the back seat.
Reaching down, I grabbed the few he’d left behind. The Killers. Beethoven. Benny Goodman. Lady Gaga.
Lady Gaga?
After Zach sat down in the driver’s seat and saw her CD in my hand, he shrugged. “I play anyone who has talent.”
I climbed into the Beetle, too, and buckled up. I had my doubts about Beethoven, but I had to admit Zach had eclectic taste. “The Killers?”
“They’re sick.” He slid their CD from my grasp, pulled it out of the case, and inserted it in his CD player. So much for Green Day, but at least it wasn’t Beethoven or Mozart or anyone else who lived before the earth’s crust cooled, which probably included Benny Goodman. “Okay if I play it?”
I nodded, not really caring. I’d be home in ten minutes. It might take Zach longer than that to find Green Day in the massive pile of CDs in his car. Hadn’t the guy ever heard of an aux cord?
As I leaned back in my seat, he started the engine. Eardrum-shattering music—the Killers, apparently—erupted from the radio.
I blinked. Okay, this was pretty good.
Before I could settle in to the first song, though, he started punching buttons. “Let me play my favorite song of theirs. ‘Read My Mind.’ It reminds me of you.”
And it was his favorite?
What about Lauren?
Shaking off that thought, I listened as Zach pulled away from the curb and headed down the street. Sure, he was going in the opposite direction of my house, but he probably didn’t want to try a U-turn in front of all these cops.
I loved the melody, the rhythm of the song, and couldn’t help tapping my fingertips on my thigh. It totally drew me in. When I listened more closely, though, I frowned. I slid a sideways glance at Zach, whose gaze was focused straight ahead.
He still wasn’t heading toward my house, but that didn’t matter as much as the words of the song.
Words like “a subtle kiss” and “a big trapeze.”
A big trapeze?
Thoughts of Justin, and the circus troupe I joined for about two minutes, and Justin again, flooded my brain. Wisconsin Dells followed by Milwaukee followed by the Montana outpost of Reform Schools R Us. One long nightmare.
This song reminded Zach of me.
“Read My Mind”? He definitely couldn’t.
I stared out the window, partly to avoid his face and partly to memorize my surroundings in case Zach’s actual plan was to dump my bludgeoned, lifeless body in a ditch somewhere.
Because he didn’t seem to be driving to my house.
A silent five-minute drive later, he swung into the parking lot at Dairy Queen, parked, and turned off the Killers. Thank God for small favors.
I frowned. “Hungry?”
“I think the food at Kirk’s party consisted of a single bag of lime-flavored tortilla chips. I hate lime.”
He climbed out of the Beetle, so I did, too. For lack of better things to do.
“He had plenty of beer.”
Zach waited for me, then walked across the lot to the door, which he held for me. “I don’t drink.”
My eyebrows rose.
He shrugged. “I don’t need alcohol to have a good time, and it’s illegal, and my mom—”
“—would be pissed.”
He shook his head. “Not pissed. Disappointed.”
My parents had spent their lives being disappointed in me. No, probably just Dad. Mom still had my back when it counted, which was often, even if she hadn’t been able to prevent or cut short my stint at Shangri-La.
We reached the counter, where a fresh-scrubbed worker batted her eyelashes at Zach and acted as if I didn’t exist. Smiling possessively, she held up a cherry Dilly. “The usual?”
Zach thanked her, then turned to me. “What would you like?”
I’d like it if my stomach stopped jumping, but the Jeep and the broken window and all those drugs kept flashing through my brain on a never-ending loop.
“A small Coke? But I can get it.”
“My treat.” He ordered a Coke for me, a Sprite for him, and a chocolate Dilly Bar. When he handed me the chocolate Dilly, the girl behind the counter looked like she’d just swallowed battery acid. “I hate to eat alone, so you’d be doing me a favor.”
Ha. Right.
But I seriously had no idea if my stomach would tolerate the Dilly or send it right back up, possibly in Zach’s face.
As I sipped my Coke, he led me to a cozy corner table. Okay, the ten million kids in soccer jerseys and cleats who surrounded us made it less than cozy. Not that it mattered. This wasn’t a date.
Understatement.
I had no idea what to say, which had never happened to me with any guy I’d known before Zach.
But I didn’t know him, and he didn’t know me. If he did, “Read My Mind” would not remind him of me. At least, not the part about the trapeze.
“Why did that song remind you of me?”
Damn. My mouth really needed a lock and key. Ever since Milwaukee and Shangri-La, though, I despised locks and keys.
Zach, who was busy nibbling the cherry shell off his Dilly Bar and leaving the ice cream virtually untouched, didn’t seem to have heard my question.
I looked at my chocolate Dilly, felt my stomach do a half-hearted somersault, and took a sip of my Coke.
“Thanks.” I nodded at the Coke and the Dilly, even though the odds of me eating the Dilly Bar were slim to none. “I mean, if you’re going to kidnap a girl, this is a decent place to bring her before dumping her dead body in a drainage ditch. You know, last meal and all. Very sporting of you.”
Zach nodded. “Problem is, I forgot to put a shovel in my car. The bass and amp took up too much room.”
He had a sense of humor. Oh, wait. Of course he did. He was out with me in public.
Not that he was really out with me.
“So. The song? Why did it remind you of me?”
He kept nibbling for several seconds as a dark-red flush crept up his neck. “Oh, you know.”
