The Last Time I Lied(53)

Theo spent six months in rehab. Probably at the same time I was being treated for my own problems. Our first years after Camp Nightingale were almost identical. The only difference was the demons we faced.

Mine looked like Vivian.

Theo’s looked like me.

Again, I know I can’t repair the damage I’ve caused him. That opportunity passed fifteen years ago. But I can prevent further damage if I find out more about what happened to Vivian, Natalie, and Allison. He’ll no longer have suspicion trailing after him like a shadow.

He’ll be free.

And if it happens to him, it could also happen to me.

When the five minutes have elapsed, I remove Vivian’s diary from under my pillow, flip to where I had left off, and dive in once more.

June 29,

It turns out I was right. Lottie told F, who pulled me aside after lunch and basically went apeshit on me. She threatened to call The Senator, as if he’d fucking care. She also said I needed to respect personal boundaries. I felt like telling her to shove those personal boundaries up her dusty twat. I didn’t because I need to keep my head down. I can’t rock that damn boat until it must be capsized.

So, to recap:

Bad news: She definitely suspects something.

Good news: I’m close to finding out her dirty little secret.

July 1,

I’m thinking about telling Emma.

Someone needs to know in case something happens to me.

July 2,

Well, that sucked.

I decided not to tell Em the whole truth about what I’m doing. It’s safer for her that way. Instead, I opted to hint at it by taking her to my secret stash in the woods. You guessed it, THE BOX. The thing that started this whole investigation when I found it last summer.

I thought showing it to Emma would spark her interest, just in case the Magic 8 Ball lied and all signs actually point to getting my sorry ass booted from camp. That way she can continue what I started, if she’s so inclined. And I was right. It DID spark her interest. I saw it in her eyes as soon as she opened that box.

But then the bad stuff had to take place. Yep, I showed her that I could swim. I thought she should know, for several reasons. One: If, God forbid, my body washes up on the beach one morning, she’ll be able to tell police that I’m an expert swimmer. Two: She needs to learn not to trust everything everyone tells her. Two Truths and a Lie isn’t just a game. For most people, it’s a lifestyle. Three: I’ll need to break her heart eventually. Might as well put a crack in it now.

So now she’s pissed at me. Rightly so. She spent the rest of the day ignoring me. And it hurt like a motherfucker. There’s so much I want to tell her. That life is hard. That you need to punch it before it punches you.

I know she’s hurt. I know she thinks she’s the only one whose parents ignore her. But she should try being left behind in New York while The Senator and Mrs. Senator go off to DC two months after her sister dies! Now that’s abandonment.

As for the fake drowning, I had to do it. Hopefully Em will only pout a day. I’ll give her flowers tomorrow and she’ll love me again.

July 3,

Fun fact: In the 1800s, women could be sent to asylums for these reasons: Hysteria

Immoral life

Jealousy

Masturbation

Kicked in the head by a horse

Egotism

Nymphomania

Bad company

Novel reading (!)

Other than the horse kicking, every single woman I’ve ever met could have been declared insane back then. Which is exactly how men wanted it. It’s how they managed to keep women down. Don’t like something they’ve said? Call them crazy and ship them off to the loony bin. Don’t fuck their husbands enough? Commit them. Want to fuck them too much? Commit them. It’s sick.

And don’t you dare think things have changed much, diary. They haven’t. The Senator was ready to have me locked up after Kath died. Like it was wrong of me to mourn her. Like grief was a mental illness.

Anyway, that’s the lesson I learned today. Every woman is crazy. The ones who can’t hide it well enough are shit out of luck.

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Update: And now I’m fucked. I forgot I left you out, dear diary. Came back from the campfire to find Natalie and Allison reading you. Which doesn’t surprise me. They’ve been trying to get a peek at you all week. And now they have. I’m sure it was an eyeful. Thank God I didn’t write that Natalie’s gotten so thick in the thighs she looks like a lady wrestler or that Allison’s so pasty she might as well be an albino. That would be AWFUL if they read that about themselves, right?

And while I’m tempted to leave you open to this page so they can do exactly that, I’ve decided it’s best to hide you. You’re no longer safe here, baby.

The less they know, the better.

Update #2: Welcome to your new home, little book. Hope you don’t rot here. Drawing a map so I don’t forget where you are.

July 4,

Can’t write much. Rowing here already took half the morning. Rowing back will take even longer. F has probably noticed I’m gone. She’s got spies everywhere. I’m certain she told Casey to double-check on me each night.

But that might not matter for much longer.

Because. I. Found. It.

That clichéd missing piece that ties everything together. Everything makes sense now. I know the truth. All I need to do is expose it.