You'll Be the Death of Me(73)

“Hey, Gabe,” I say, closing the last few feet of space between me and my cousin’s loser boyfriend. “Or should I say, ‘Hey, Weasel’?”

    Startled alarm flickers in Gabe’s eyes. “Dígame,” I add, echoing the voicemail greeting I heard over Boney’s phone while staring at Autumn’s bulletin board.

And then I take a swing at him.





CAL


I’ve only been here once before—last week, when I gave Lara a ride home from school while her car was in the shop. “You want to come in and see my new charcoal pencils?” she asked with a flirty smile when I pulled into her driveway. I thought that was a euphemism, maybe, for taking the next step in our relationship, but I was wrong. All we did was sketch until she had to leave for a date with Coach Kendall.

After weeks of anticipation, I’m glad now that she never did anything except string me along. It makes all of this easier to deal with.

There’s no sign of her car in the driveway, but she has a garage, so that doesn’t mean she isn’t home. I go to the front door and ring the bell, first lightly, and then I press hard on the buzzer. “Hello?” I yell. “Lara?” I’m not worried about the neighbors; Lara doesn’t have much in the way of those. “I need to talk to you.” There’s no response, so I grab the doorknob and twist. First left, then right, but no luck.

    I stand on the front step, considering. The last time I was here, Lara complained about a back door lock that didn’t work properly. “I should get it fixed, but why bother?” she said. “I’m going to move soon anyway.” I didn’t want to talk about that; about the house she kept saying she was going to buy with Coach Kendall. I couldn’t believe she’d actually go through with marrying him. She was avoiding a lot of stuff the whole time we were hanging out, and I hope that still includes home repairs.

I jog to the back of the house, which is ringed by trees that form the edge of dense woods. It’s getting darker now, and cooler, and crickets are out in full force. Their chirping is all I can hear as I follow an overgrown stone path to Lara’s back door. I grab the scratched brass handle and tug—first lightly, then harder as I can feel the flimsiness of the lock. I jiggle the handle every which way, tugging with ever-increasing force until the door finally pops open.

I slip inside and shut the door behind me. I’ve never been back here—it’s like an indoor porch, with a bright green rug and wicker furniture everywhere—but Lara’s house isn’t big. I follow the only exit—a narrow hallway—until I see the familiar yellow paint of Lara’s living room. And then I see…

Lara’s scream is so deafening that I let out a yell, too, and back into the wall with my hands up. “I’m sorry!” I call as she continues to shriek. “I didn’t mean…I just…the door was open. I’m sorry!”

“Oh my God,” Lara says as recognition finally sparks in her eyes. Her face is flushed, one hand over her heart. “Oh my God, Cal. You scared the life out of me. I thought for sure that you were…” She inhales a deep breath. “Oh my God. Okay.”

    I drop my hands as my heart rate starts to slow, and then I notice the oversized suitcase beside her. “Are you…where are you going?”

Lara looks down at the suitcase like she forgot it was there, then back at me. “Leaving town,” she says.

It shouldn’t surprise me, I guess, but it still does. I reach under my shirt and pull out the bag of Oxy. “Because of this?”

“What is…” Lara peers at the bag, her expression hardening. “Where did you get that?”

“Your desk drawer, at school. The one you keep locked. This was one of, like, twenty plastic bags stuffed in there.”

I’m not sure what kind of reaction I was expecting, but a bitter laugh wasn’t it. “Of course,” Lara says. “Of course it was.”

“Of course?” Anger starts to prick at my already-overstimulated nerves. “Sure. Right. Just like you of course put Boney’s name on your kill list, and now he’s dead.”

“I did what?” Her brow creases with what looks like genuine confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“The Carlton High class roster, with Boney’s name circled? Ivy found it in your day planner. Which she took, by the way. While we were in Second Street Café.”

“Ivy took…” Lara’s red bag is on the couch, and she grabs it by the strap and hauls it toward her. She roots through it for a few seconds, her expression darkening at what she doesn’t find. “Ugh, that sneaky little bitch! I’m glad I sent those Carlton Speaks videos to the media. She deserves every bit of shit she’s getting.”

“You sent…so you…” I trail off, frowning. Something isn’t adding up. “Why were you trying to get Ivy in trouble if you didn’t know she’d taken this? What do you have against her?”

    “Nothing. I just needed a distraction.” Lara hoists the bag on her shoulder. “I needed time to get a few things together so I can make, shall we say, a fresh start. Because once I leave here, I’m never coming back.”

I should be scared of her, probably, since I’m standing between her and whatever escape plan she’s hatched. But for some reason, I’m not. All I can think about is how badly I need answers, and how easy it would be for her to slip away before she gives them.