You'll Be the Death of Me(62)

She drops her head. “Oh, it’s clear.”

There’s nothing else to say. I almost can’t remember why we’re headed to Carlton High anymore, but as soon as we get there, I’m out. Cal and Ivy can both go to hell.

And I hope she burns there.





CAL


I wish that invisibility shield had been real. And soundproof. You wouldn’t think I’d need it anymore, since Mateo and Ivy have been silent since their fight. But it’s the kind of silence that fills your ears with a dull roar that’s somehow worse than screaming. By the time I pull into the parking lot at school, my head is throbbing from the pressure.

The lot is nearly empty except for Ivy’s car and a few other stragglers. Before I can even shift into park, Mateo brusquely says, “Can you pop the trunk?” When I do, he gets out of the car, grabs his backpack, closes the trunk, and leans into the still-open rear-seat door. I’m half-afraid he’s about to go off on Ivy again, but all he says is “Later, Cal.” Then he slams the door and takes off across the parking lot toward the back fence.

“Well, shit,” I say, gazing after him. “I didn’t think he was going to leave.”

Ivy slumps in her seat. “He can’t stand the sight of me.”

    Fair point, but the day can’t end like this. There’s too much still hanging in the balance. “Stay here,” I say, sliding out from behind the wheel. “Let me talk to him.”

I have to practically run to catch him before he hops over the fence. “Mateo, wait. Stop,” I say breathlessly, grabbing hold of his arm. “Aren’t you gonna come in?”

He spins to face me. “For what?” he asks, pulling his arm away. “What are we here for, again? A fucking painting? Who cares. It’s just another one of Ivy’s stupid ideas, and you know what? I’ve had more than enough of those.”

I’m not going to try to defend her to him. I still can’t fully wrap my head around what she did, so I can only imagine how Mateo feels. “Look, I get it,” I say. “I don’t blame you for being pissed. But what are you going to do now?”

He shrugs. “Go home. Then go to work.”

“But you can’t go home!” I nearly yell. “You sent your cousin out of town because it’s not safe. What if someone’s waiting for you?”

“Don’t worry about me, Cal,” Mateo says. “I’m not your problem anymore. The Shittiest Day Ever is officially over.”

He turns, and I catch his arm again. He pulls away, and this time his expression is verging on thunderous, so I talk fast. “But we don’t even have our stories straight. What are you going to say if the police ask about Autumn? Or—”

“Nothing. Not a goddamn thing.” Mateo crosses his arms. “They can’t prove she did anything wrong. Boney’s dead. Charlie’s not talking. I’m washing my hands and walking away. I was home sick today, and that’s it. I’m done.” The steeliness in his voice recedes just a little as he adds, “Take care of yourself, okay, Cal?”

    This time I don’t try to stop him. He vaults easily over the fence, and with a sense of hopeless foreboding, I watch his back retreat into the woods. We’re way past the point of pretending that none of this happened. If Mateo was thinking straight, he’d remember that it’s not only up to him, or Charlie, whether the police find out about Autumn. And maybe he would’ve thought twice before ripping into Ivy.

“Cal?” Her voice snaps me back to reality. I turn to see Ivy walking slowly toward me, her gaze locked on the woods where Mateo disappeared. She’s taken her backpack from my trunk, and it dangles loosely from one hand. “What did he say?”

“He said he’s done. With everything.”

“Oh,” Ivy says quietly. It’s a testament to how much the argument in the car devastated her that she doesn’t point out the multiple flaws in that plan. Instead, she says, “My parents’ plane is supposed to land at five-thirty. They probably have a million messages waiting for them from the school, and their friends, and quite possibly the police, so…” She takes a deep breath, then exhales slowly. “We need to fix all of this before then.”

“Ivy,” I say as gently as I can. “I’m not sure we can fix this.” She doesn’t reply, and I add, “We’re in way over our heads. Like, this is our heads”—I press one palm toward the ground and stretch the other as far over my head as it will go—“and this is the situation we’re in. Times infinity. You get that, right?”

She’s silent for so long that I almost repeat the question. “Yeah, I get it,” she finally says. “But I’m still going to do what we came for. Are you?”

What we came for. What was that, again? Mateo’s words echo in my ears: A fucking painting? Who cares?

Ivy has already turned toward the building, pausing at her car to toss her backpack into the passenger seat. Then she keeps walking, picking up her pace, and I watch her progress with a sense of inevitability. A thousand years ago this morning, I was willing to believe anything Lara told me. But the connections between her and Boney just keep growing. She’s right in the middle of this disaster, and while I still don’t know exactly what she’s done, I do know this: there’s no way she’s acting alone.