Lessons from a Dead Girl(36)

“So, does your friend know you pee in his yard?” she asks.

Was she spying on me? I hug myself tighter. “What are you doing here?” I start to stand up to leave.

“Relax, Lainey. I only came out to say hi.”

Yeah. Right.

“How long have you been here?” I ask, feeling my stomach tighten. “I didn’t see you inside.”

“My boyfriend’s been doing some business in the driveway. It was boring, so I thought I’d take a walk. That’s when I saw you come out the back door and water the rosebush. You didn’t get stabbed by any thorns, did you, Laine?”

I shake my pounding head.

“Look, Laine,” she says, softening her voice. “I’m sorry about how I was the last time I saw you, OK? I’ve been pretty f*cked up lately. You know. Just dealing with shit.”

I automatically look at her wrists. “Are you OK?”

She shrugs. “You’re still coming to the parties, huh?”

“Yup.”

“So where are your friends this time?”

So much for sincerity.

“Inside,” I say. “I just needed some fresh air.”

“Uh-huh.” She smirks like she knows I’m lying.

“I better go back inside,” I say. “They’re probably wondering where I am.”

“Oh, Laine. Come on. You don’t have to be afraid of me anymore.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” I lie. “I just think I should get back.”

And I don’t want to play your games.

“I think you’re afraid.”

“Why do you always do this?” I ask. I don’t know why I bother. I should just step off the gazebo and disappear.

“Do what?” she asks innocently.

“Act this way. Like you’re playing some game. Like you’re out to get me.” I pause as the familiar fear courses through me. My heart pounds so hard in my chest it hurts. But instead of running away, I take a deep breath. “Why do you hate me so much, Leah?”

“Me?” She pretends to look surprised. “I could ask you the same thing. It’s written all over your face, Lainey. Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you,” I say. When I look her in the eye, I realize I mean it. I really don’t hate her. “I just don’t understand you.”

“Heh. Mr. Mitchell.” She moves a little on the bench, as if she’s suddenly uncomfortable. “He was wrong, you know. You can understand something and still hate it.”

“Like what?”

She turns and looks out into the dark behind us. “Like Sam,” she says quietly. “I understand him now. And I hate him more than ever.”

Sam. It seems to always come back to him.

Don’t leave me alone with Sam.

“Why do you hate him?” I ask. My words sit between us. I can almost see them. We lock eyes. Any other time I would have looked away. But not now. Maybe it’s the beer that’s given me confidence. I don’t know. I don’t care.

“You really have to ask?”

“Maybe you should tell me,” I say. “Maybe you should say it out loud.”

“What, you’re my therapist now?” This time she’s the one who looks away. “That’s cute.”

“You always told me if the truth was out, I would feel better. Why should it be different for you?”

She bites her bottom lip.

“Just say it.”

She turns back to face me. “He did to me what I did to you, OK? Only worse.”

The fear drains out of me and leaves a feeling in its place that I don’t recognize. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but no words come to me. What could I possibly say?

“Yeah. Ya know what? I don’t feel better,” she says. “You make a shitty shrink, Lainey.”

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. But the words feel meaningless.

“What are you sorry for?”

“I don’t know.” It’s the truth. I really don’t know. But I am.

“Now it’s your turn,” she says, moving closer to me.

“What do you mean?”

“Now you tell me the truth.”

“The truth about what?”

“About us, Lainey. Just say it.” Her words echo mine, and I realize how awful they must have sounded. “I want you to say it out loud, Lainey. Admit you liked what we did.”

“No.” I feel my fear sweep back through me again. I pull my legs up onto the bench and hug my knees to my chest.

“You know what the crazy thing is?” She stands up and comes closer to me. Her arms are crossed as she looks down at me, disgusted.

I squeeze my knees closer to my chest.

“I did that shit to you to get rid of it.” I can almost feel her hate on my face as she spits the words. “I hated it. But you liked it! You wanted it! That’s sick.” Her eyes are filled with tears, but she doesn’t cry.

“You’re wrong,” I say quietly. “I didn’t know what you were doing.”

“Bullshit.”

“You said we were practicing!” I wipe my own tears away from my eyes before they can run down my cheeks. “You lied! Oh, my God. You —”