Lies You Never Told Me(25)

“The redwoods are amazing,” Caleb says. “But Texas is okay. You should check out Hamilton Pool—it’s just outside town. Big limestone grotto. Snapping turtles, jackrabbits, catfish.”

“That sounds beautiful,” she says.

And just like that, she’s chatting with my friends. I’m not sure if I’m grateful or jealous. How is it that they’ve gotten this girl out of her shell more in five minutes than I have in a week? But soon I’m laughing with everyone else while Irene and Caleb retell our best stories: the time the three of us stole a golf cart from the country club and drove it up and down the halls at school, dressed in argyle sweater vests and plaid pants; the time Caleb got arrested because he was staring at some fireflies so intently the cops thought he was on drugs. The time we climbed out on the train trestle over Town Lake to help Irene paint giant octopus tentacles coming up from the water and I almost fell. By the time the bell rings we’re laughing our asses off.

Caleb glances at Irene, then back at Catherine. “Hey, what’re you doing after school? Weather’s still good. Why don’t we all head out to Hamilton Pool?”

“Yeah!” I sit up straight. “We totally should. It’s awesome. And we can go to Rosie’s on the way back. It’s this dope TexMex dive. I saw Willie Nelson there once.”

Catherine looks a little startled. She picks up her books and hugs them to her chest, almost unconsciously.

“That sounds . . . amazing. I really wish I could. But I have to get home.”

Irene shakes her head. “What’s so great about home? Your new best friends aren’t there. They’re going to Hamilton Pool and possibly getting high with an aging country music star. Just think about what you could miss out on.”

“Trust me. I’m already regretting it.” She chews the corner of her lip, then shakes her head and gets up to go. “Maybe another time. This has been really fun.”

“You know where to find us.” Irene gives her a little wave.

I scramble to my feet. “Can I walk you a little ways?”

She’s quiet for a long moment, and my stomach lurches.

“Okay,” she finally says.

I don’t even hear Caleb and Irene saying goodbye. There’s nothing but Catherine, casting her long shadow next to mine. We make our way toward the street. Greasy-looking clouds obscure the sun overhead. A thin breeze shifts the branches of the box shrubs lining the walkway.

“Your friends seem nice,” she says shyly.

“Really? Because based on this afternoon, they seem more like career criminals,” I joke.

She doesn’t smile. “No—I can tell. They care about each other. You all care about each other.”

There’s a note of such sadness in her voice when she says this that I come up short for a moment. It strikes me that I’ve never met anyone who seemed as lonely as her.

And then I’m moving before I can think twice about it. My arms slide around her. I pull her close. For a moment she’s bony against my chest, hard and unyielding. But then, just as I’m about to let go, she softens. I close my eyes. In the dark behind my lids there’s just the smell of her shampoo, like sun-ripened fruit, and the warmth of her body against mine.

She steps away, and I stagger a little.

“I’ve got to get home. I’ll see you.”

“Yeah.” I watch her make her way up the street, her gait a little faster than usual. She turns a corner and disappears out of view.

I stand there, my brain shorted out, my body alive with the memory of hers. My phone vibrates, and I reach for it in a fog.

But when I see what it is, my focus comes rushing back, razor sharp. It’s another Snap from an unknown number. A still frame this time—a picture of me and Catherine at the bus stop. A picture from mere seconds ago. In it, Catherine’s moving out of my arms. But whoever sent the message has modified the image.

There’s a skull, superimposed over Catherine’s face.





TWELVE


    Elyse




On Friday afternoon Mr. Hunter announces to the cast that he’s managed to score free tickets to a matinee production of No Exit, and we should all come if we can. “Sorry it’s last-minute,” he says. “I didn’t know if I could get the whole group in or not.”

So I spend Saturday morning trying to figure out what to wear. Last year I bought a short, curve-hugging LBD on markdown at Nordstrom, and I’ve never yet had the guts to wear it in public. I put it on and take it off three times before I finally steel myself and rip off the tags. I manage to curl my hair without burning myself for once, so it falls in soft waves around my shoulders, and I swipe red lipstick across my mouth. My dark-blue eyes pop from thick, dark lashes.

I barely recognize myself in the mirror. For a half-beat of my heart, I think, God, I don’t just look pretty; I look glamorous. But the very thought makes me blush. It’s too much. Too drastic a change. It’s ridiculous. I’m heading to my closet to change into something else when I hear Brynn’s quick double honk from the parking lot.

No time. I have to go.

Outside my bedroom the smell of unwashed clothes and cigarette smoke stings my nostrils. My mother lies sprawled across the sofa, wearing the same dirty T-shirt and athletic shorts she’s had on for almost a week. She snores softly. The TV’s tuned to what looks like a police procedural, music low and ominous.