Lies I Told(11)

I smiled. Girls’ movie nights were my favorite. “That’d be nice.”

I said good-bye and went upstairs to take a shower and get dressed. Luckily, the style in Playa Hermosa wasn’t that different from Phoenix. The girls were slightly less tan, and they wore less makeup, but with some minor additions most of my old clothes would work. I wondered if Selena would be up for a shopping trip to pick up a few things and then remembered that it wasn’t Selena I needed as a friend.

It was Rachel Mercer.

I chose something simple to wear, slipped the Chandler ID into my pocket, and twisted my hair into waves before meeting Parker downstairs. He was quiet as we made our way outside, but at least he’d ditched the angry edge from last night. I relaxed a little. When he brooded and sulked, I was alone all over again. Then I remembered why we had to stick together. Why I accepted the risks and sacrifices and self-loathing that came with what we did. Because the only people I had in the whole world did it, and I couldn’t be part of their lives if I didn’t do it, too.

We pulled up next to the BMW in the school parking lot. This time when I got out of the car, I flashed Rachel a smile, forcing an expression of serenity on my face as I walked past the group. I saw Logan in my peripheral vision, felt his eyes on me. It took effort to avoid looking at him, but I kept walking, letting Parker get ahead of me with his long-legged stride.

I was crossing the quad at the center of campus when a voice called out behind me.

“Grace! Wait up!”

I turned to see Selena and Nina standing near a bank of lockers in the outdoor hallway. Selena said something to the long-haired blonde and then hurried toward me, curls escaping from the loose bun at the back of her head.

I smiled, genuinely happy to see her. “Hey!”

“Hey! How was your day yesterday?”

She fell into step, and we headed for the buildings at the back of the quad.

“It was good. Everyone seems really nice,” I said. “What do you have first period?”

“Government. How about you?”

I made a face. “Precalc.”

“Ugh. I barely passed Integrated Algebra. Math isn’t my thing.”

I stopped in front of the building where my class was held.

“This is me,” I said. “But I’m glad we ran into each other.”

“Me too. I was thinking; would you want to hang out at my house sometime? We could swim if it’s not too cold, watch movies . . . whatever.”

I smiled. “I’d love to. And actually, I might need a shopping partner. Someone to help me pick out a few things so I’m not hopelessly out of fashion in Playa Hermosa.” I batted my eyelashes dramatically.

She laughed. “I think you’re doing pretty well, but I won’t turn down an excuse to go shopping.”

“Great! I’ll text you.”

I slipped into class as the first bell rang, my mom’s voice echoing in my head: Maybe you can use her. I felt a flush of shame. But that wasn’t what I was doing. I liked Selena. Liked her a lot. I would just keep everything separate, that’s all. Keep Logan and Rachel apart from my friendship with Selena. It would be easy. They didn’t even run in the same crowd.

By fourth period I almost believed it was possible, and I slid into my seat in AP Euro, feeling more in control.

“Hey.”

I looked up at the sound of Rachel’s voice. It was confident, with a sharp edge that made it easy to imagine what she sounded like when she was annoyed or pissed off.

“Hey.”

“Think I could look at your notes from yesterday?” Rachel asked, smoothing her already pin-straight red hair. “I think I missed some stuff while I was looking for a pen.”

“Sure.” I pulled the notes out of my binder and handed them to her. “I don’t know how good they are, but you’re welcome to them.”

She bent her head and started writing. “So . . . you’re new here, right?”

“Yesterday was my first day.”

“Where are you from?”

“San Francisco.”

Rachel looked up. “What brings you to Playa Hermosa?”

“My dad’s work.”

She wrote silently, like I wasn’t there. Finally, she handed my notes back with a chilly smile. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”


Mr. Stein walked into the room, and I turned uneasily to the front of the class, wondering why Rachel’s questions felt less like small talk and more like an interrogation—and if it might be easier to move on to Logan after all.





Ten


I brooded over Rachel the rest of the morning. She was the queen of her little kingdom. It was a given that she would be selective about granting admittance. Still, forging bonds with people was more art than science, and I’d learned to listen to my instincts. Friendships could be built on a shared interest in rescue cats or French fashion, eighties punk rock or video games, bad horror movies or Japanese candy.

At the same time, a mark could seem one way on paper and be completely different in person. I’d been assigned to get close to people who were a slam dunk in the subject files, only to discover that in person we were missing the mysterious brand of chemistry required for fast friendship.

But I’d always been able to overcome it. Failure to connect wasn’t in my professional vocabulary, yet that was the only way I could describe the weird vibe between Rachel Mercer and me. Something about the inquisitive shine in her eyes, the appraising tip of her head, told me she would not be an easy mark. I could keep trying, but my gut told me it would be a waste of time.