Lovely Girls(26)

“Thank you,” I said. “She can be a little shy, especially around new people.”

“It’s always the shy ones you have to watch out for.”

I knew Joe was joking, but I felt a shock of panic at these words. She’s fine, I wanted to say. But didn’t. Because it wasn’t true. Alex wasn’t fine. And I did have to watch out for her.

Ever since the day Ed died, Alex had been in danger. I just didn’t know what form that danger would take.

“Are you sure you don’t want dessert? I don’t mean to brag, but our key lime pie is the best in town. Actually, I totally mean to brag.”

I was glad he hadn’t picked up on my emotional wobble. It gave me the time I needed to compose myself, to ignore the way my pulse had ticked steadily upward, to force myself to smile and meet his warm gaze.

“Thank you, but no.” I checked my watch. “I should probably get home. But this was fun. I had a really good time.”

Joe reached out and rested his hand on mine again. His touch was both comforting and exciting.

“Are you free for dinner Thursday?”

“Yes,” I said. “I am.”





CHAPTER FIFTEEN




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VIDEO DIARY OF ALEX TURNER



* * *





SEPTEMBER 19

Alex sat in the passenger side of a car, the sun slanting down onto her face.

I only have a few minutes. My mom just picked me up from tennis practice, but she’s talking to her new besties.

Alex turned her phone to show Kate standing in a loose circle with Genevieve Hudson, Ingrid Nord, and Emma Thacker. The four women were talking animatedly, gesturing with their hands and laughing.

Alex switched the camera back to face herself and rolled her eyes.

My mom looks like she’s going to be a few minutes. I hope so. I have to get this out before I scream.

I walked into AP History today, and there was a paper on my desk. At first, I assumed it was left behind by whoever sat there in the last class. But then I looked at it. It was a printout of an article from the Buffalo News. About . . .

Alex took a deep breath, as if to steady herself.

About the accident. About my dad.

I stared down at it, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. It’s not like I haven’t read the article before. Of course I have. But here’s the thing . . . my name isn’t anywhere in the article. I’m a minor, so . . . whatever. And my mom’s name isn’t in it either. It just talks about my dad and . . . well, what happened. So why was it sitting on my desk? Who found it? And how?

Even if you knew my dad’s name, it would be hard to find anything out about him. Edward Turner is a really common name. There’s a bestselling author named Edward Turner, and a professor of biology at the University of Chicago. Same thing with my mom’s name, and with mine. There are, like, multiple Alex Turners who post pictures of themselves in bikinis on Instagram. For someone to find that article, they’d have had to know what they were looking for. They would have had to search for Edward Turner and Buffalo and car accident just to find it.

I knew who was behind it. It was obvious. Daphne started cackling as soon as she saw me staring down at the article, and of course Shae joined right in, laughing just as loudly. I didn’t hear Callie, but when I glanced back, I could see her watching me the way a python would look at a rabbit it’s about to eat. I crumpled the paper up and threw it in the garbage, which just made them laugh louder. But then the teacher came in and class started, and I thought that would be the end of it.

I should have known better.

I was the first one out of the classroom after the bell rang. I wasn’t running away from them, but I knew if I stuck around, they’d just start up again. I didn’t want to deal with it. But now I wish I had said something. That I had confronted them. Because when I got to my locker and opened it up, a huge pile of papers fell out of it. Hundreds of pages spilling out everywhere. On me, on the backpack of the girl standing at the locker next to mine, all over the floor. Kids were stepping on them as they walked by, leaving dirty shoe prints on the paper. I grabbed one of the pages to see what it was, but I already knew. It was the same article about the accident. Hundreds and hundreds of pages of the same article. The news story of my dad’s death was spread out across the hallway for everyone to see.

Almost angrily, Alex wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, as if their presence offended her.

I am not going to cry. I’m not going to give them the satisfaction of . . . oh, shit, here comes my mother.

Alex lowered the phone. She held it on her lap at an angle, aimed toward the driver’s side of the car. The door opened, and Kate got into the car. She was still smiling, and her cheeks were rosy. But her smile faded when she looked over at her daughter.

“Alex, are you okay?” Kate asked. “You look like you’re about to cry.”

“Just go,” Alex said. “Please.”

“Honey, did something happen in practice?” Kate rolled down her window and waved goodbye to someone off camera. “Shae’s mom is really nice. She invited me to walk that big bridge that spans the river tomorrow. I guess that’s a thing they do here.”

“Is she the one you told about Dad? About how he died?”