Take the Fall(3)

I nod, trying to pull myself together as I approach a woman in a coral suit and heels standing by the door with a guy lugging a TV camera. Hidden Falls is a small town and doesn’t see a lot of reporters, but they’re easy enough to spot when they come in. Their colorful outfits stand out against the diner’s dark wood paneling and faded turquoise booths. “Hi. Just the two of you?”

The woman smiles and nods, though her blond made-for-TV hair doesn’t move.

I spot an open table in the far corner and lead them past a booth of sophomore girls whose voices dip to whispers as I walk by.

“. . . so scary . . . can’t believe they’re not canceling school tomorrow . . .”

I clear a couple of mugs, wipe down the tabletop, and grab two new place settings.

“Sorry, it’s been a zoo here today. What can I get you to drink?”

“Two coffees with cream, please,” the woman says, sitting. I imagine her name is Elizabeth or maybe Tina. “You must go to Hurlburt High. Were you friends with Gretchen Meyer?”

I drop a fork on the floor, caught off guard by the question, and it’s a long moment before that “were” sinks into my heart—that Gretchen’s past tense now. I understand that’s the whole reason the reporters are here. The beautiful daughter of a local tech mogul died mysteriously, and the press is having a field day speculating about whodunit. I can ignore the TV repeating the same five tired facts over and over. But I can’t take this woman asking me if I knew her when I can’t even process the fact that she’s gone.

“Everyone knew Gretchen,” I say quickly.

Tina/Elizabeth ignores the change in my tone and leans closer. “I understand Gretchen had a close friend who works in this diner.”

She tries to give me a sympathetic smile, but she shows too many teeth, reminding me of a shark. My hair sticks to my neck. I dig through my pockets looking for a pencil even though I know there’s one tucked behind my left ear. “Look, I’ve got other tables—”

“Sonia Feldman? That’s your name, isn’t it?”

I don’t answer.

“I’m sorry for your tragic loss.” Her eyes trace the red scratches peeking out of my sleeves. I pull my arms behind my back. “It’s my understanding that you were attacked in the woods not far from where Gretchen died. I was wondering if you’d be willing to sit down and talk with us about what happened? You’re very brave. . . .”

My eyes burn. I open my mouth, but my throat catches. I want to tell her exactly what happened. I want to tell her bravery is shit and I should be dead. I want to tell her to get the hell out and never come back, but the air in my lungs is so thick.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to upset you.” She frowns and looks at her notes. “Never mind that, do you happen to know a boy named Marcus Perez?”

I pull away from the table. Because if there was one button left to push after Gretchen, Marcus was it. My mom and Dina are each so busy with their orders they don’t see me lurch through the crowded dining room toward the kitchen. And then I’m out the back door, gulping spring air.

The scent of recent rain and exposed earth invades my senses and I gag, my vision flashing with darkness and branches and fear. I force my eyes open, drinking in the sunlight with all five senses, waiting for the world to stop spinning. But as long as Gretchen’s gone, I’m afraid it never will.

I brace myself against the brick, stumbling down the alley and around the side of the building. I raise my head and find myself staring across the street into Hidden Falls Park.

My vision blurs. I press my hands to my chest, but the ache never subsides.

Gretchen’s house is on the far side, on Park Drive. You can’t see it from here even when all the trees don’t have their leaves, but there are several trails through the park, and a little bridge over the creek. I knew every step of the route by heart until Friday night, when I thought I’d never find my way out—when I thought I was going to die. I close my eyes. If I cross the road right now and peer down the slope, I’d probably see the lines of yellow police tape spider-webbing through the trees. I look down at my hands, scratched and raw from branches that used to feel like a shelter. I never want to step into the park again.

I wish you were dead.

“Sonia!” My aunt Dina yanks me around the corner, back through the door into the kitchen. She pulls the security door shut and locks it while I sink to the floor, heart racing.

“What were you doing out there alone? Are you crazy?”

I look from Dina to the door and break a cold sweat. What was I doing?

“I—I just needed some air,” I say, fighting back nausea.

“You’re white as a sheet.”

I let out a long breath. “There was this reporter asking questions . . .”

“What did they say? I’ll throw them out.” Her eyes are fierce, but when she looks at me her voice softens. “You know we all just want you safe. Did you remember any more about the person who chased you? Do you think it could’ve been the Perez kid?”

Out of my face, Gretchen—God, I wish you were dead.

The words are clear in my memory. I just can’t believe Marcus actually said them.

I study my scraped hands until I realize they’re shaking again. I don’t understand much of what happened the other night. Sometimes the only thing that’s clear is that Gretchen ended up dead and I didn’t.