Take the Fall(66)

“How much did you see?”

“Enough.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“She knew Tyrone was doping.” Aisha frowns. “She made sure I saw video of that, even before he got caught.”

“What would be the point of that? Did she want you to stop him?”

“I begged him to stop. I’m sure she knew how that would go.” She shakes her head, focused down the street. “You know, we were in the dollar store before I took that stupid ring. I was about to slip a tube of toothpaste in my pocket, but she stopped me. I thought she was going to try and talk me out of it like Haley.” Her eyes flash. “Instead, she dared me to go for something bigger.”

A familiar heaviness creeps into my stomach.

“After everything went down—the cops, my parents, Mr. Meyer calling in favors to get the charges dropped—I got this weird feeling. Like she somehow set it all up. Like she knew what would happen and was just sitting back to watch.”

I look into the empty window of the post office, afraid to admit she might be right. “Aisha, that sounds a little—”

“I tried to distance myself from her, thinking that would help, but I felt the same way after what happened with Tyrone.”

I hesitate, wondering if it was Aisha who pulled away back then, or Gretchen who isolated me. I turn back and her face is so serious. I can’t bring myself to confess I know how she feels, so I shut my mouth and just nod.

“Look, I don’t think Gretchen had any particular beef with me and my brother. I know we weren’t the only ones she messed with.” She looks hard at me. “All I’m saying is, there were a lot of people she could’ve pissed off. Maybe she finally did it to the wrong person.”





THIRTY


AFTER AISHA DRIVES AWAY, I text Marcus. I have so many unanswered questions, and a lot of them still center on him, but a strange charge works its way through my limbs, down into my fingers and toes. It’s a while before I recognize it as hope.

Meet me later. Need to talk.

As soon as I hit Send, my phone starts ringing with a call from my mother. I frown. When I phoned to tell her I was spending the evening with Aisha, she couldn’t have sounded more thrilled. I’m not sure why she’d be calling now. I walk over and open the restaurant door.

My mom looks up from behind the counter, confused. “I thought you were having pizza at Aisha’s.”

“I was, but . . .” My voice trails off. I take in her knotted fingers, the purse over her arm. “Is something wrong?”

Her forehead creases. “Do you think you could stay with Felicia while Aunt Elena takes Noah to the hospital?”

“What?” My eyes widen. I look around for my uncle, but don’t see him anywhere. “Where is he? Of course I will. Is he okay?”

She picks up the phone behind the register again. Dina hurries out of the kitchen balancing two trays, too busy to notice my anxious gaze. Most of the tables are full, typical for a Saturday night. Uncle Noah would normally be here making sure everything runs smoothly. My phone vibrates in my pocket.

“Sonia just walked in.” My mom pauses, setting her purse on the counter. “He is? Okay, don’t worry about Felicia, she’ll be right over.”

She hands me a set of keys as soon as she hangs up.

“I could run there faster.”

“Just take Dina’s car, okay?”

“What’s going on?”

She frowns. “He’s been feeling dizzy, having pain in his chest. He keeps telling Elena it’s nothing, but you know . . .”

I nod, clutching the keys and heading for the door. Noah isn’t exactly in tip-top shape, and my grandfather died young of a massive heart attack. She isn’t saying it, but I know it’s weighing on her mind.

“Sonia,” she calls after me. “Text when you get there—and when you’re on your way back.”

I don’t pause to argue. “I will.”

It’s after six by the time Elena gets Noah into the car and drives away. When I got to the house he looked pale and afraid, not at all like my strong, burly uncle, barking orders from behind the diner counter. Felicia and I play checkers until she’s ready for bed. I offer to read her a story, but she asks me to just sit with her until she falls asleep.

“Do you think Gretchen’s still around, like, watching things?” she asks.

“Like a ghost?” I think of Mrs. Meyer’s anxiety about Gretchen’s spirit being trapped here and a chill moves through me. I dig my hands into my pockets. “I don’t know . . . I guess she could be.”

“My dad said if anything happens to him or Mom, they’ll still watch over us.”

I pull the covers up closer around her. “Your dad’s at the hospital. He’s not going anywhere else tonight.”

“But do you think it’s possible?”

“What do you mean?”

“If someone dies, could they keep hanging around to see what happens?”

I don’t feel equipped to have this conversation, especially right now. “I guess a lot of people might want to . . .”

She turns her head, studying my face. “Would Gretchen have wanted to?”

I think a long time before answering. “Yes. Absolutely.”