Take the Fall(89)

“Hey.” He takes my hand. “What’s the matter?”

“You know what it was like to be Gretchen’s boyfriend, I know what it was like being her best friend. What do you think it was like to be her sister?”

“It’s still murder.”

I stare at the ground. “What are we going to do?”

“Go to the sheriff. Now.”

“I don’t think I can turn her in. . . .”

He grips my arms gently and I just wish I could sink the rest of the way into him. “Sonia, you have to.”

“Maybe we should wait. There isn’t any real evidence. It’s our word against hers.”

“She’s planning something with these pictures and postcards. I don’t want to wait to find out what it is.”

“But if we call and she’s arrested . . .” My stomach clenches.

“If you don’t want to be the one to do it, I will.” He reaches into his pocket.

“No—I’ll do it.”

I pull my phone out of my purse and unlock it to dial, but I’m distracted by the number of missed calls and texts on the screen. My breath hitches. All of them are from Dina and my mother. My vision clouds as I scroll through the messages. I didn’t think the world could fall apart any faster.

I look up at Marcus. “I have to get home.”





FORTY-ONE


MY MOTHER IS CRYING WHEN I walk in the door. One look at her face and I have to fight not to lose it too. Dina runs a mop over the floor behind the register, something we never do until after we close. There are a handful of customers scattered among the tables, most of them looking on with quiet, wide-eyed stares as if they’ve just seen something they’d prefer to forget.

My mom practically collapses in my arms, not speaking, just breathing. My eyes burn.

Dina drops the mop and hugs us both, squeezing me hard and fast. When she pulls away, she’s composed, but her eyes are red-rimmed.

“What happened?” I whisper.

“He just collapsed. I was by the door about to seat some customers when there was this loud bang.” Her face blanches. “He hit his head going down. Amir did CPR until the ambulance arrived. If he hadn’t been here . . .” Her voice trails to a whisper. She looks down at the floor and I feel sick when I notice the mop is tinged red.

“Where’s Felicia?”

“Upstairs.” My mother whimpers into my hair. “I didn’t want to cry in front of her, but I have to go back up—” Her voice breaks off in a sob. “The doctors aren’t sure he’s going to make it.”

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” My voice shakes. “What can I do to help?”

“Elena said he’s going to be in surgery for several hours. We suggested closing the diner, but she insisted Noah would want it to stay open.” Dina frowns. “She’s probably right.”

“Then we’ll keep it open.” I steel myself, reaching for an apron under the counter.

My mom touches my arm, looking at me with huge eyes. “Felicia was asking for you. She said you made her feel better last time.”

I set down the apron.

“Sonia?” She stops me before I can head for the kitchen stairs. “I’m sorry your prom was ruined.”

I flinch, looking down at my dress, and think of Kirsten. “Don’t be, Mom. It wasn’t anything you did.”

By the time I get Felicia to sleep in my mother’s bed, the diner is mostly empty. I texted Aisha when I left prom to let her know where I went. My mom, Dina, and I don’t talk much except to the customers. We haven’t had any more word from Aunt Elena and I guess we’re each preparing for the worst in our own ways.

I keep an eye on my phone, but it stays silent. Marcus and I parted in such a hurry, I’m afraid he’ll move forward without me. And as the hours tick forward, I don’t feel any better about what to do. I actually catch myself wishing I could ask Gretchen for help. Every time I think of Kirsten, it’s like the earth falls away beneath my feet.

Dina reluctantly drives herself home around ten thirty, only because my mom’s already asleep on the couch and my bed’s a twin. I check on Felicia before dragging down the hall to my room, but when I turn on the light, there’s something on my bedspread.

It’s a small padded envelope with my name blazing up at me in red Sharpie. There’s no return address. My skin flares hot at the familiar writing. Kip swore he hadn’t done anything else for Kirsten, but he doesn’t exactly top my list of people to trust. I rip open the end of the envelope, and a silver object on a leather strap slides out with a small, folded piece of paper.

I pick up the bracelet, just like the one on my wrist, only the clasp is broken.

My mouth goes dry.

My hand trembles as I reach for the note.

Meet me on the playground, 11pm

My knees are ready to buckle, but I look at the clock on my phone and quickly change into my Penn hoodie, jeans, and big black boots. Maybe I can reason with Kirsten—work with her. Something. I want to run down the hall, take the stairs two at a time, but I force myself to creep over the floorboards on tiptoe. I can’t afford for my cousin or my mom to wake up and find me leaving.

I text Marcus as I slip out the security door into the alley.