Little Lies(16)

Just as I think this, the door opens and the light flicks on, sending shadows up the walls. Maverick’s footfalls are barely audible, but my heightened senses mean I can hear every tiny creak. I hold my breath, and a bead of perspiration trickles down my spine; anticipation makes my heart race. I need to take a deep breath to calm myself, but there’s a chance Mav will hear me if I do.

I want to win, but anxiety slithers down my spine, making my skin itch. I always feel like I want to burst out of it when it gets bad—like I want to be outside of my body. I wish my brain would shut off every once in a while.

I don’t think I can handle being stuck here with my thoughts if he moves on to another room without finding me. I missed a goal last night at hockey, and we lost. I can’t stop thinking about what I should have done differently. I feel bad about it, and it’s making me edgy.

I want to be still and silent inside, like Lavender is on the outside. Just thinking about her usually makes the spinning thoughts calm, but right now, it sends another uncomfortable jolt through me. I’m done, I decide. I move three inches to the right, causing the floorboard to squeak. Silence follows for a few agonizing seconds, and finally the curtain shifts to the side, light pouring in. I shield my eyes with my hand.

“Found him!” Maverick yells.

“It’s about time. That took for-freaking-ever,” BJ grumbles from the doorway.

I swipe my arm across my forehead. “You suck at this game, Mav.”

“Whatever. This is boring and I’m hungry. Let’s get a snack.”

I follow Mav down to the kitchen with Lacey and Lovey, the Butterson twins, tagging along, their matching pigtails swinging. Their family and BJ’s are visiting because it’s a holiday. That’s how it’s always been; all of our families get together and celebrate.

Mav peeks around the corner, checking to see if anyone’s looking, before he sneaks into the pantry and grabs a box of cookies and a bag of chips without asking the nanny. He tosses each of us a can of soda.

All of our parents are out for dinner, and that means the nannies get together and watch movies with the little kids while we get the run of the rest of the house. My mom would be mad if she knew I was eating chips and cookies after nine, but she’s not here right now. I’ll probably tell her later, though, because I don’t like the way guilt feels. It gnaws inside my head and makes me restless.

We sneak back upstairs, creeping past Robbie’s room. The door is closed, but we can hear the TV from the hall, and it smells like the inside of a gym bag or a science experiment.

Once we’re safely back in Maverick’s room, Lovey and Lacey cram themselves into the single beanbag chair and BJ sprawls on the couch. Maverick stretches out on his bed, and I take the gaming chair on the floor.

We pass around the cookies first, cracking sodas and munching on sugary treats. We polish them off in less than two minutes. Well, the twins are still nibbling theirs, but the rest are gone.

“Where are Lavender and River?” I ask, passing BJ the bag of chips.

“Probably watching a movie with the littles,” Mav says, swiping through pictures on his phone.

“So you found them?” I press. That prickling feeling under my skin spreads, blanketing me.

“Yeah. I found River where he always hides.”

In his room, under his covers. He only plays because we force him to and because Lavender likes hide-and-seek, even though she always picks the most obvious places to hide.

“And Lavender was with him?”

“Huh?” Maverick looks up from the screen.

“Lavender was with River?” I repeat. “You found her too?”

“No, but she always hides under the bed, so there was no point in checking.” He rolls his eyes, annoyed with his siblings’ predictability.

“Right.” I can’t swallow. My throat is suddenly all locked up. My palms sweat, and my hands ache. I push out of the chair and head for the door.

“Where you goin’?” Mav asks.

“Just to check.” I pad down the hall to River’s room, but he’s not in there. I check under the bed, in case Lav fell asleep while she was hiding. It’s happened before.

I move on to the next room and knock on the door before I peek inside. Lavender’s room is peaceful chaos. Her artwork is tacked all over the walls, and her sewing machine sits in the corner, a pile of fabric on the table beside it.

Lavender is beyond talented. Everything she feels she puts on canvas and paper or binds together with a needle and thread.

But she’s not here, and that horrible itch under my skin grows until I want to claw myself out of my own body. I run down the hall, taking the stairs too fast and sliding down the last few on my butt. I sprint to the media room, grip the doorjamb, and scan the seats and mats laid out on the floor where all the littles are. My baby sister, Aspen, is curled up facing the movie screen, but her eyes are closed. My younger brother, Dakota, is right beside her.

River is sitting in the front row, but there’s no Lavender. I spin around and head for one of the other places I might find her—the art room. I take a deep breath to prepare myself for the overwhelming visual stimuli before I flick on the light. Every surface is covered in her ideas. Her thoughts are laid out in vibrant colors, pretty paintings, and designs that swirl and blend together. She told me once it’s what she feels like inside most of the time, but usually darker.