by Amanda Adair
I can barely hear what they’re talking about.
“Aspen,” Mom shouts. “It’s okay.”
“Mrs. Varela,” Sage says.
I can’t understand the next sentences. Are they going to hurt my mother? I hear footsteps, a door that closes and more footsteps.
“Stop,” Sage says.
She’s trying to keep my mom from entering the basement, but then I hear footsteps on the stairs. I can see her beige coat, her black slacks and heels. She’s coming for me. I’m not going to die.
“Aspen,” she says as she appears on the stairs and comes closer.
I should be ashamed that she’s saving me again. Isn’t it for the same reason as five years ago? I haven’t killed another one of Seneca’s teenage girls but I’ve been on the run ever since I did. It’s because of my actions that I’m locked up in a basement. It’s my own fault that I’m in this situation. It was a matter of time.
“Mom,” I say and cry. “I’m sorry.” I don’t know why I feel the need to apologize. Maybe because years later my crime doesn’t only get me into trouble but my whole family. My mom who doesn’t deserve any of this. She deserves a better daughter than me. I’m a burden.
“It’s okay,” she says again, then she turns towards the Holland sisters who followed her downstairs. “Unlock the handcuffs.”
“No,” Georgina says and folds her arms.
“Your daughter killed my sister,” Sage says.
If I didn’t know Mom helped me cover up the crime, I would think she’s really surprised. She looks at Sage like what she’s just said is simply impossible. Moms face says it can’t be. I bet she’s the kind of lawyer who makes criminals believe they’re not guilty at all.
“Sage,” she begins and puts her hands onto Sage’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry for your loss, darling. I’ve always been sorry but because of your desperate search for culprits you can’t just imprison and threaten my daughter.” She sighs sympathetically. It’s fake but only I can tell. “Girls, I am not going to press charges. It doesn’t look good for you two. Kidnapping isn’t a harmless crime. Now unlock the handcuffs. You don’t want to get yourself into trouble.”
“No, listen,” Georgina says, “you may think your little girl is innocent but she’s not.”
“Really?,” Mom says and puts on one of her lawyer faces. That’s what she looks like whenever the opposing party is about to lose. Whenever she’s clearly ahead of things and in control, which makes me relax my muscles and breathe normally again. “Do you have evidence? Show me and I’ll call the police.”
“There is none,” Georgina admits. “As for now.”
“Then you two have no reason to keep us here,” Mom says and nods towards me.
Sage reaches into her back pocket and comes closer to me.
“Are you serious?,” Georgina asks.
Sage unlocks the handcuffs behind me. They open up with a loud click. When I move my arms in front of my body all I feel is pain. It feels like a sore muscles. I didn’t know it hurts so much to be chained up. There are marks on my wrists. As I get up I feel more pain. I should’ve stretched my legs. It feels like I haven’t walked in weeks.
“Ouch!” I stop before I’m fully standing. It hurts too much.
“Let’s go, Aspen,” Mom says.
Georgina turns towards her half-sister and says, “this is not right.”
Meanwhile we walk upstairs. I don’t say anything, neither does she. I’m sure she’ll give me a speech on how to behave properly when trying to hide a crime as soon as we’re at home.
Sage and Georgina are right behind me as one of them increases the pace of her steps. At first I think it’s just her hand that reaches out for me but I can see something silver and metallic out of the corner of my eye. The blade doesn’t drill into my skin, it only brushes my shoulder because I dodge her attack.
“Stop it,” I say. While I turn around I wave around with my arms and push the two girls away. Both of them, because I don’t know who is attacking me and who is holding the knife.
One of the sisters falls downstairs. The sound it makes tells me that the girl is dead.
chapter 45
When the ambulance arrived it was already too late.
She’s dead.
Two policemen had to keep the remaining one of the Holland sisters away from me. Once again a girl died because of me. I pushed her downstairs, but only because she attacked me with a knife. I’ve caused so much pain, so much trouble, and I can’t stop causing more pain and much more trouble.
Mom is standing next to me, talking to an officer. She tells them I was held captive at their grandfather’s house. It’s outside of Seneca, about half an hour away from where Georgina – or Linda – had approached me. She tells them she used the location services of my phone to track me down. She got worried when Sofia told her I never showed up at the lacrosse team’s BBQ night.
The police takes us to the station. All of us. Me, Sage, Mom, Mr. and Mrs. Holland. I can’t stand listening to them. Mrs. Holland apologizes to my Mom and me. It tears my heart apart.
“I’m so sorry,” she whines and cries. Her husband comforts her.
I want to say she should stop. Stop, just stop. It’s not your fault.
When the officer asks me who held the knife and threatened me I say, “Georgina.”
“How about her sister Sage?,” Detective Mitchell asks. We’ve relocated the interrogation to one of their rooms, and she is now sitting in front of me, right next to the officer.
I blame Georgina because I can’t ruin Sage’s life. I’ve already killed her two sisters. This whole time Sage knew what was going on. My best friend. I don’t blame her. I can’t because I’ve taken her sister away from her and her family. But she didn’t just put me in danger. She should have tried to safe Finna – and Remi if she really loved him. She isn’t innocent after all.
But unlike Georgina Sage is still alive. And she’s hurting more than ever. Her parents are hurting. I can tell by their expressions when they arrive at the crime scene. This time I can’t hide the corpse, I can’t disappear, but I can let Mom handle it again. She’ll get me out of this. She’ll make sure I’m fine. And I’ll make sure Sage is fine. I owe her that. I’ve ruined her life and that of her parents.
They interrogate each one of us for hours. I have to repeat my answers several times. They ask me how Georgina approached me. If I knew her or recognized her. What they’ve done to me in the basement. I tell them it was all Georgina’s idea and that she forced her sister to play along. And, of course, they ask me about the day Spencer disappeared. Sage must’ve told them about her accusations. She shouldn’t have. Sure, they can start looking for evidence but I’m sure there’s no corpse to be found. Thanks, Mom, I think. I owe you. I know I can never repay her.
After five hours I’m free to go home and so is Sage. I acted in self-defense and exonerated Sage with my testimony. We’re free for now. It’s treated like an accident. Apparently Sage went along with my lies about her being the victim of Georgina.
“You’re gonna pay for this,” Sage says as Mom and I get into the car.
“Sage,” Mrs. Holland warns her, “come on, we’re leaving.” She’s still in tears. She’s lost one of her daughters. Again. How often can you lose a child before it breaks you? Kills you? Makes you ultimately lose your zest for life.
Her parents really believe she’s making things up. Truth is, she isn’t, and I would love to tell them. To confess to them. But I can never do that. The only thing I can do is keep Sage out of trouble. I can lie to the police, so she won’t be punished for kidnapping me, threatening me and cutting me with a knife. It was her who attacked me. Not Georgina. But it’s fine. I’m fine with it. I’ve lost the right to be angry at her long time ago.
“You could’ve died,” Mom says as we both watch Sage and her parents drive away. Only when they’re out of sight Mom starts the engine.
“You told me you’re taking care of Tansy,” I say, but I
immediately realize this is the wrong type of answer.
“You didn’t tell me that your best friend and the sister of the girl you’ve killed knows as well,” she argues. “And that her half-sister is in town.”
When Mom got to know that I befriended Sage she was against it. She told me to reconsider. Maybe she was right. But I didn’t care. Cris liked her as well, and due to her glow up it was a matter of time until she joined our group. We’ve always been the most popular ones.
“I didn’t know about any of this,” I say.
“How does Sage know then?,” Mom asks.
As if I could tell her. As if I could explain to her what is happening. I want to say it’s complicated.
“What do I know,” I say instead. “It’s messed up. But they can’t arrest me, right?” I remember what Sage and Georgina wanted to know from me. “Where’s Spencer’s body?”
Mom stares at the road in front of us. “They won’t find anything. Don’t worry.”
I want to trust her. I think I can trust her. She would never say something like that to calm anybody down. If she says so she means it. But it would be so much easier for me to trust her if I knew where Spencer’s body is.
I look at the time display. Afternoon. But is it Saturday? Sunday? What day is it?
“Let’s not think about it,” she says. “Not today. Go to your room and sleep. For now, you’re good. I’ll figure out what to do in case they’re initiate investigations.”
I do as she says but before I go to bed I get rid of my clothes and take a shower. My shirt smelled like blood and my body was still in pain. Even after I’ve showered and put on my favorite nightgown I can’t fall asleep. I close my eyes but they won’t stop showing me sequences of Sage and Georgina. I’m sure I will be disorientated tomorrow. I will forget what happened and only after a few minutes after waking up will I remember that I have killed another human being. I’m good at repressing trauma and bad memories but one trigger and everything comes back. This is it. It came back. I’ve tried to live a normal life and keep my secrets hidden but I can’t any longer.
Detective Mitchell gave me my phone back but I haven’t yet unlocked it or read any of those notifications that show up when the screen lights up. Most messages are from Sofia. The first messages is where are you, the last is have a good night, see you tomorrow, I’m sorry this happened. Mom told her to stay in her room, probably so I can’t tell her things I shouldn’t. Officially it’s so I can rest.
News spread fast across Seneca. There are other messages from Finna and Cris, asking me if I’m alright. They’ve heard about Sage’s accusations. They think the rumor of my involvement in a homicide case is “somewhat crazy”. They’re asking me if it’s true. As if I’m going to tell them that I’m a murderer, straight forward and without a filter. As if I’m going to text them back it’s true, I’m guilty.
I don’t reply to any of those messages. I can survive those messages but what about Horace Blake? I don’t even want to know what I’ll be facing back in school where Sage is going to be, too.
Rumors have it that my best friend confirms I’m her sister’s killer.
At three in the morning I hear a noise. When I open my eyes someone is sneaking into my room and silently closing the door. I’m still dizzy and too tired to function. It could be anyone – Sofia, Mom, Sage, maybe Georgina’s ghost.
“Aspen,” she says.
“Sofia,” I say and sit up. “Sneaking into the room of the girl who’s been kidnapped doesn’t seem like a good idea.” My voice sounds like I caught a cold.
My cousin comes closer and sits down on my bed. It’s dark but her white t-shirt shines in the moonlight.
“I’m glad you’re alright,” she says. “I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like being kidnapped and tortured.”
I wonder what Mom told her. Tortured might be the wrong expression.
“It was nothing, really,” I say. “It was scary but only because Georgina’s crazy.”
“Georgina is Gigi?,” she asks.
I nod, then I realize she probably can’t see that in the dark. “Yes.”
“I’m so sorry,” she says.
Don’t be, I think. I deserve it.
“Georgina is dead,” I say and wonder why Tansy didn’t know they’re related. They must’ve exchanged last names at camp.
“I know,” Sofia replies. “Your mom told me everything.”
I doubt it. She didn’t tell you I’m a murderer. She didn’t tell you that she’s helped me cover up my crimes. She didn’t tell you that my actions are unpredictable. She didn’t tell you anything that matters.
chapter 46
Often in life things turn out differently than expected. I’m not going to return to Horace Blake. It wasn’t my decision but that of my parents. I won’t return to my school and I won’t ever get my life back. I’m lucky I’m alive and unharmed, at least physically.
I look out of the window and watch Sofia get into my car and drive away. She is going to stay here, I’m not. But why do I care? Nothing will ever be the same. My friends are gone and Sage would only turn my life into a living hell.
They haven’t yet figured out where to send me. Mom talked to a few private schools, boarding schools to be precise. She will send me away. And she told me she’ll make sure I won’t ever hurt anyone again. I guess that means I won’t attend a regular boarding school. I can only speculate until they tell me what the plan is. As soon as I’m of age they can’t patronize me anymore. I’ll be free. I can take care of myself and my rage. I’ve never hurt anyone on purpose. And I never will.
I distract myself with stalking Sage and Sofia on their social media accounts. There’s not much to see. At lunchtime Sofia posts a picture of the salad in front of her. She’s with some of our – no, her – classmates but I can’t see who. I can only see they’re eating fish and chips as well as more salads. Looking at these pictures makes me hungry, so I decide to go to the kitchen. Halfway downstairs I reconsider because I see Mom standing at the counter in front of her oven. What’s inside looks like a gratin, maybe a potato gratin.
“Mom,” I say as I decide not to shy away from confrontation.
“Aspen,” she says but doesn’t turn around. “Sit down and have lunch with me.”
Dad’s at work. Before I killed Spencer he’s worked from home almost every day. In his case it’s a choice. He doesn’t have to drive to the office. I know it’s because of me that he doesn’t want to be here with us. He leaves Mom alone with me most of the time, even though she probably doesn’t want to be here. She had never worked from home before I killed Spencer. Then she suddenly set up a home office. Maybe she thinks she hasn’t given her daughter enough attention and that is the reason I psyched out.
“What are you cooking?,” I ask and sit down at the dining table.
“A vegetable gratin,” she answers and opens the oven. Steam escapes and obscures everything around us.
Minutes later there is some gratin piles up on my plate, and Mom sits in front of me.
When I can’t endure the silence any longer I say, “do you now know where you’ll deport me to?”
Mom sighs and puts down her fork. “It’s not about deporting you. Don’t you understand that your secret, our secret, is about to be revealed?”
“I do get it but …”
“You don’t get it, Aspen,” she says, “you’ll be happier at another school.”
“But there you can’t protect me,” I argue. If my parents think there’s a risk of repetition why would they pass me on to someone else, a stranger?
“You will have to learn to take care of yourself,” she counters. “You’re in your final year of high school. It’s time to become an adult. You deserve a second chance but you need to be careful and stop playing around. You shouldn’t have become Sage’s friend.”
“I just want to know where you’re sending me,” I say and eat the last bit of my gratin.
“As you probably know,” she
begins, “most private boarding schools are in Connecticut or Massachusetts but I found one for you in California. It’s just for a year, then you can decide where to study.”
California doesn’t sound too bad. “Okay.”
“Do you still want to go to Brown after school?,” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Law?”
“Yes,” I confirm and nod. “What about Sofia?”
“She’ll stay here with us,” she says.
Is it because she thinks it’s not safe for her to be with me? Is it because of her parents? I guess we’re not going to visit them then.
“I’ll miss you,” I say. “All of you.”
“Things don’t always turn out the way we want them to,” she says and continues eating.
I wonder if she’s talking about me. The way her daughter turned out to be. Things don’t always turn out the way we want them to. It’s true. I never wanted any of this. No deaths, no games and no Gigi or Tansy. I haven’t heard of Tansy and I haven’t texted her. It still isn’t over for me. Since I haven’t been stabbed yet maybe I’ll end up like Remi.
I could collapse and die any minute. Maybe this is the punishment I deserve for what I did.
epilog
Jasmine says something I don’t understand while I’m watching two guys emptying the baking trays with chocolate cookies. My French is still rather mediocre than fluent, which is strange considering that half of my lectures and seminars are held in French. I’m still struggling with the language but Jasmine makes progress quickly. We arrived here two months ago and we will leave Paris in eight months. Her home university isn’t Brown but the University of Tennessee. She didn’t grow up there and I have no clue why she would move to Tennessee. She doesn’t fit the image I have of girls from the southern states.
