Lies I Told(16)

“I’m sorry.” The words felt stupid and empty, but I didn’t have anything else.

“It’s okay. I wanted to tell you before, but it just seemed weird and depressing.”

I shook my head. “It’s real. And we’re friends, right?”

She nodded, the light moving back into her eyes. “Yeah, I think we are.”

I smiled, wondering why the words made me feel not just happy, but more than a little scared, too.

After lunch, I dropped Selena off and headed home to get ready for the bonfire. I’d invited her to come along, but she’d opted to stay in and make dinner for her dad. It was probably a good thing. Selena would be a distraction, a violation of my new keep-real-friends-separate-from-fake-ones rule. Inviting her had been reckless.

And reckless was a good way to get us all sent to jail.

I was halfway down Camino Jardin, already planning the night’s outfit in my head, when something in the middle of the road caught my eye. It was a peacock, and I slowed down, rolling to a stop in front of it. It regarded me calmly, surveying me with watchful eyes, its tail feathers folded back into a silky train, its large body oddly graceful on slender bird legs. I wondered if it was the same one that had been in the road the day Logan drove me home after school.

On impulse, I put the car in park and stepped slowly onto the pavement, half expecting the bird to flee. But it just stood there, watching my approach. I stopped moving toward it when I was a few feet away.

“Hello,” I said softly. “Are you lost?”

It cocked its head to one side, like it was considering the question. Its eyes were strangely human, brown and knowing.

A car swerved around us, breaking the spell. The bird still didn’t move, but I suddenly felt foolish. I was standing in the middle of the road talking to a wild—no, a naturalized—peacock like I expected it to answer me back.

Retreating, I got back in the car and drove around it, careful not to get too close. I pulled into the driveway and got out of the car, looking back at the street. The bird was gone.

I shook my head, putting it out of my mind as I hurried to change. I ripped the tags off my new jeans and chose a drapey shirt printed with large flowers. I was turning in front of the mirror, trying to get a good view from every angle, when I heard a low hum coming from the window.

I crossed the room on bare feet and peered through the glass. Someone was singing.

And it was coming from next door.

Scanning the neighbor’s backyard, I spotted a figure, his face obscured by a wide-brim sun hat, moving across the grass in plaid shirt and shorts. I could only assume it was the man from the Jacuzzi. He held something in his hands as he sang.



Southern trees bear a strange fruit,

Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,



I watched with fascination as he set down a step stool near one of the trees. He climbed up, lifting a bag to a metal cylinder hanging from one of the branches. Then I understood: he was filling the bird feeders in his backyard, singing as he made his way from one to the next.

A chill ran up my spine as he continued singing. The crooning was eerie, almost creepy. And what was the song about? Dead bodies? It reminded me of my conversation with Selena, and the image of a car, abandoned at the Cove, suddenly appeared in my mind.

I stood there for a few seconds before moving away from the window, trying to shake the uneasy feeling that had fallen over me with the sound of the man’s voice, the disturbing lyrics to the song he’d been singing.

This place was getting to me.

I slipped into my new sandals, fortifying my resolve. I would go to the bonfire. I would get close to Logan and everyone else in their group. I would do my job and I would do it quickly.

Before things got even weirder.





Thirteen


“How was surfing?”

We were on our way to the Cove, Parker driving the Saab while I sat in the passenger seat. A cool breeze blew through the window, and I was glad I’d passed on straightening my hair in favor of the beachy waves I’d been working all week. With any luck, the wind would only make it look better.

“Fine,” Parker said. “I mean, I suck, but that was to be expected.”

“Did you have fun?”

He seemed to think about it. “Yeah. Logan’s cool, and his friends are pretty chill, too.”

“That’s good.”

“It makes it easier,” he said. “Liking them.”

Turning my head to the window, I thought about Selena. “And harder.”

He glanced over at me. “Yeah.”

Pulling into a gravel turnout, he continued down a winding road to a lot that sat halfway up the cliff. He parked next to a blue Lexus and rolled up the windows before cutting the engine. Then he turned to look at me.

“You don’t have to do this, Grace. Neither of us does.”

I met his eyes. “Parker . . .”

He shook his head. “I have money saved. I’d hoped to have a little more, but I think it’s enough. We could leave. Start over somewhere. I’d look after you. You’re the only family I have.”

I looked around. This was definitely a violation of protocol. The windows might be rolled up, but it still wasn’t the War Room.

“What about Mom and Dad?” I asked softly.

His hand tightened into fists, the leather bracelets constricting around his forearm. “Cormac and Renee aren’t my parents. And they’re not yours either.”