Wish You Were Gone(15)

Mrs. Tisch’s face fell. She placed the sign-up list on a clipboard. “I remember.”

Kelsey felt stalled by the unenthusiastic reaction. “Well, could you?”

“Kelsey, I don’t know,” Mrs. Tisch said. “Mr. Fletcher and I were talking about this a bit last week and… I thought you’d decided not to apply.”

“No. I mean, yes. But I—”

“It just seems like maybe this isn’t the best time to make a big change,” Mrs. Tisch said.

Kelsey was now on the verge of tears. She lifted her fingertips to her lips, saw the blood, then tucked them behind her. Her neck felt hot under the stupid turtleneck. Unbelievable. Her father was going to ruin this for her anyway and he wasn’t even here. “Oh… okay.”

“Oh, honey. I’m sorry. Let me talk to Mr. Fletcher. Maybe we can all sit down for a chat with your mom and figure out what’s best.”

Why did she keep mentioning her guidance counselor? Why was Mr. Fletcher suddenly in charge of Kelsey’s life? She didn’t have her dad telling her what to do, so, of course, some other male person who had no business ordering her around had decided to step in. This was bullshit. It was her life. Hers. Why didn’t anyone want her to be happy? Kelsey’s throat closed over. She had to get out of there before she burst.

“You can’t stop me from applying,” she said shakily.

Mrs. Tisch looked Kelsey in the eye. “I know that. I would never try to do that.”

“Good,” she said. “Because I’m not staying at this school one second longer than I have to.”

The way Mrs. Tisch was looking at her made Kelsey want to flee, so that’s what she did. She turned around and walked right into Willow.

“Oh my God. You scared the crap out of me.” Heat radiated from Kelsey’s pores. What had Willow overheard? The older girl raised her hands in response.

“Sorry. I was just going to sign up for stage crew.” She put her arms down again and eyed Kelsey. “Hey… are you okay?”

“I wish everyone would stop asking me that,” Kelsey muttered.

“Sorry. I just figured maybe you’d want to talk, like, without Hunter.”

Kelsey’s throat was tight. “No. I’m good.”

There was the world’s most awkward pause. Down the hall, someone screeched and someone else laughed. Lockers slammed. “You still coming over after school?” Willow said.

Kelsey didn’t want to. What she wanted to do was back out. She wanted the whole thing with Willow to stop. But she didn’t have it in her to say it right now. So instead, she said, “Sure.”

Willow actually smiled. “Cool. See you later.”

“Yeah.” Kelsey burned with internal humiliation. She wished, just once, she could stand up for herself. “See ya.”





EMMA


Her two best friends had never agreed on anything for as long as Emma had known them, but as she sat across the table from them at On a Lark, Lizzie’s upscale gift shop and interior design studio, she was pretty sure they agreed that she was crazy. Normally one of her favorite places, On a Lark was all huge windows and whitewashed walls with light oak accents, shelves bursting with colorful ceramics, huge photographic books, and fragrant displays of handmade candles. Some of Emma’s own architecture photography, set in raw wood frames, was displayed on the back wall, which made her feel proud every time she walked through the doors. Now Emma wondered if she’d henceforth think of this shop as the place her friends decided to have her committed.

“You found his tie,” Gray stated, her green eyes narrowing. Subtext: And I’m missing a client meeting for this?

“I think she said the landscaper found his tie,” Lizzie corrected. Subtext: I’m a better listener.

“Insignificant detail.”

“I thought there were no insignificant details,” Lizzie countered. “What’s that story you’re always telling about the million-dollar settlement you won because of a misplaced comma?”

“It was ten million.”

Gray sniffed and took a sip of water from the glass bottle she’d produced out of her bag. Lizzie grabbed a coaster and quickly slid it beneath the bottle before Gray could place it on the reclaimed oak table. The tension in the unopened shop was palpable. Emma chose to ignore it. This was how it was whenever the three of them were alone together, and it was not about her friends right now.

“Yes, but that’s not the only thing,” she said. “Once I started thinking about the tie, and trying to figure out under what scenario he ever would have taken it off and thrown it in the bushes, I started to realize some other things were… off that night.”

“Like what?” Lizzie, always one for a good story, leaned in.

“Like he had the top down, and he never drove with the top down unless the weather was perfect. And never at night,” Emma said. “Also, when Hunter and I found him, the car door was open. His foot was… sticking out.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes closed and shuddered slightly.

“I know,” Emma said. “Sorry. But why would the door have been open? If it happened like the police said, and he got to the driveway, passed out, and hit the gas unconscious… when did he open the door?”