You Can't Catch Me(70)

“She’s not your mom.”

“Jessica!”

My head snapped to the left. My mother stood there, wearing coveralls similar to Serene’s. Had they traded one uniform in for another? Why couldn’t these people be free of each other?

“Therese.”

She looked stern. “You don’t . . .” My mother’s hands fluttered at her side. She looked tired, and old.

“Don’t what?”

“You can call me Mom. Or Charlotte. I don’t go by Therese anymore.”

“Can I?”

I could feel Serene’s eyes on us. I didn’t want to have this conversation in front of this girl who looked too much like me, too much like memories. I didn’t want to be having this conversation at all.

“Of course you can, honey, I—”

“Is Tanya here?”

“She’s in the kitchen. Why?”

“Because she’s the person I came to see.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have a phone,” I said. Serene’s swing squeaked. I turned to look at her. She was pumping her legs methodically, pushing the tire higher into the air. Was she going to jump? Should someone tell her to stop and consider the consequences? Todd didn’t believe in that. Let the children fall where they may, he used to say. They’ll find a way to get back up again if they’re meant to.

“What?” my mother said.

“You don’t have a phone,” I said again, turning back to her. “That’s why I had to come.”

“You didn’t come to see me and your father?”

“No.”

“Why are you here, then?”

My mother shrank into herself as she asked that question. And if I’m being honest, I took some pleasure in that. It made me feel bigger, powerful somehow, to know I could injure her without even lifting a hand. And I hadn’t even said the worst part yet.

Because the worst part was why I was there.

The worst part was, “Kiki’s dead.”





Chapter 32

The Consequence

My ankle protests at the renewed run through the woods, but JJ doesn’t seem to feel any strain. She yells after Jessie, “There’s nowhere for you to go!”

But she’s wrong about that. Jessie’s running back to the water, where there are paddleboards and potentially other people if she makes it out into the lake, and we have to stop her before she gets away.

“Don’t let her get to the water,” I yell to JJ, and she kicks herself into another gear as she dodges and weaves through the thick stand of trees.

My lungs are screaming at me to stop, but I can’t. I count out the seconds in my head. How long did we run last time? How long till she makes it to the shore? We haven’t seen anyone all day, but there’s no guarantee of that continuing.

I dig as deep as I’ve ever had to in my entire life, knowing how important it is to get to Jessie before she reaches the beach. At some point, Jessie’s flung off her life jacket, and I can see her shoulders flagging, her steps a bit more cautious. She seems to be limping slightly; maybe she hurt herself in the tussle with JJ. I lengthen my stride, getting closer with every step, and finally she’s right in front of me. I can see water up ahead through the trees, but we’re still two hundred yards from the beach. Jessie trips on a root, her arms flailing in front of her as she loses speed trying to keep her balance.

Now. I have to strike now.

I reach into my pocket and take out the rock I stashed there earlier, then take a few running steps like I’m doing the long jump and catch her around the middle, knocking her down.

We tumble together to the ground. She screams, and then there’s a loud crack, a horrible wet sound. Jessie goes limp beneath me and I skid past her, ending up back on the forest floor with knees that feel like the skin’s been ripped off them. I drop the rock still tight in my hand, bring myself to a standing position, then turn around and look down. She’s lying perfectly still, silent and gray. Her head is at a weird angle, like her neck’s been snapped, and there’s blood oozing from her forehead and mouth.

I heave once, but hold it in, bringing my hand to my mouth.

JJ slaps through the trees and stops next to me. I can smell the sweat coming off her; we’re both a mix of blood and exertion.

JJ looks down at Jessie, then rears back her leg and kicks Jessie in the shin.

“Get up!”

I drop my hand. “JJ!”

“What?”

“She’s not . . .”

I point to Jessie, motionless on the ground. The blood is more obvious now, a wet streak on her chin, and there’s a sharp rock with a terrible stain on it inches away from her head.

JJ understands in the same moment that it sinks in.

Jessie’s dead.

I’ve killed her.

I’m struggling for breath, and all I can think is, Don’t throw up, don’t throw up, don’t throw up.

I’ve killed someone.

Don’t throw up.

“Stupid bitch,” JJ says. “She got what she deserved.”

“We need to clean up,” I say a few minutes later after my heartbeat has returned to a more normal rhythm and the dry heaves have passed.