Tell Me Pretty Lies(25)
“Gross,” I say, wrinkling my nose. My mom’s job seems glamorous on the surface. She gets to spend all her time on private jets, visiting the world and receives tips in the form of expensive handbags and flashy jewelry. But she also has to deal with handsy men who think she’s offering other services, and the very real possibility of being replaced by someone younger or prettier or thinner at the drop of a hat. I don’t know how she does it.
She shrugs. “For what he’s paying, I’d dress up like a clown and let him call me Bozo.”
I laugh, splashing bubbles at her. I want to press for details about who she’s been with and why she’s been so secretive, but these moments—when smiles and light conversation and teasing come easy—are few and far between these days. “When do you leave?”
“Monday. At least I have more than a day’s notice this time.”
I nod and she pats her thighs before standing. “I’ll let you finish up.” She walks away, stopping in the doorway, one hand on the frame. “Remind me to ask you about college applications later.”
“Oh yeah, Coach is setting up college tours for the seniors.” Another thing I forgot to mention. Soon, college coaches will start scouting at games, but before that, Coach wants us to visit surrounding campuses to get on their radar and get a feel for the area. I don’t know if I’m interested in a volleyball scholarship anymore, but I figure it’s good to keep my options open.
“Well, okay.” Mom’s eyebrows lift, pleasantly surprised, I’m sure. We haven’t spoken about plans for college since before the accident. She’s been walking on eggshells with me, probably due to the fact that I was a basket case in the months following the accident, and not just because of Danny. Losing Thayer was almost just as hard, and that’s the fucked-up truth. “That’s great.”
I give her what I hope is a reassuring smile, and then she’s gone, leaving me in peace. The second the door closes, the smile falls from my face, my thoughts shifting back to Thayer in record time. He’s always been intimidating, but I’ve never been afraid of him before. And although I don’t think he’d ever hurt me, he scared me today. This wasn’t some stupid high school prank.
What was he looking for, anyway? Does he honestly think something nefarious happened to Danny? His death was ruled an accident, and I easily accepted that answer—we all did—but was it because it was simply too much to bear to consider the possibility that someone hurt him on purpose? Are we being willfully ignorant? The parents in this town are professionals at pulling the wool over their eyes. Their generation is all about keeping up appearances. Speaking honestly and openly about ugly things is considered airing your dirty laundry. Living in denial is par for the course.
I just never included myself in that category. I’ve always been a little too curious. Ever since I can remember, I’ve been interested in crime, conspiracies, and most of all, the psychology behind what makes people the way they are. Nature or nurture? Thayer once asked why I was so interested in these things, considering the vast majority of victims are women. He compared it to a fish enjoying Deadliest Catch. I told him it’s because knowledge is power. It makes me feel safer. More prepared.
But when something tragic happens to someone you know and love, it hits too close to home. Literally. You don’t ever think things like that, whatever that may be, will happen in your town or to your family. But tragedy doesn’t discriminate. Bad things happen everywhere. To everyone.
Or maybe, Danny’s death was just a freak accident. Maybe Thayer’s in denial and simply wants someone to blame. Far more likely.
I sigh, slipping beneath the bubbles, submerging myself completely, and squeeze my eyes shut, overwhelmed with the direction of my thoughts. One thing is clear. The Thayer I knew is long gone, and in his place is the ghost of the boy I used to know.
“Hey, little sister.”
“Jesus.” I jump, not expecting Holden to be there waiting when I got out of my car. “What do you want?” I don’t wait for his reply before I weave in between parked cars on my way to class.
Holden falls into step with me, hooking his arm around my neck. “Can’t a guy walk his sister slash friend to class?”
I stop abruptly, spinning to face him. “One, I’m not your sister, so stop calling me that,” I say in a whisper-yell. “Two, we haven’t been friends for a long time. You hate me now, remember?”
“Fuck, Shayne, you want a plunger to bring up some more old shit?”
Old shit?
“You literally threw me into a car and kidnapped me yesterday.”
“Again with the drama. And, technically, that was Thayer.”
I storm off, shaking my head. Unbelievable. Holden jogs up to me and catches me by my elbow, spinning me around.
“Listen,” he says, dropping the act. “I’ve been a dick.”
I arch an eyebrow. “That’s an understatement.”
“We had to know,” he continues as if I haven’t spoken, running a hand through his thick dark brown hair. “When you came back, it caught us off guard. It’s hard to know who to trust. It’s been a fucked-up year, okay?”
I sigh, looking up at the sky to avoid his puppy-dog eyes. Leave it to Holden to use the death of his brother to manipulate me into being his friend again. And even still, knowing exactly what he’s doing, I’m falling for it, hook, line, and sinker.