Lies You Never Told Me(57)

“You’ll give me your phone, or I’ll go to the cops,” she said. Her voice was hoarse with emotion, her hands crossed over her chest. “I’ll tell them all about your teacher.”

I drew in my breath. “You can’t.”

“I will,” she said. “God knows I should do that anyway. But I don’t want to put you through that kind of humiliation. So we’re just going to put it behind us. But that means you can’t talk to him. You can’t text him, can’t e-mail him . . .”

“But I’m in the play. We’ve got one more weekend,” I protested.

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to quit,” she said. Her eyes were heavy and sad, dark shadows beneath them. “I know how much you love it, but . . .”

“If you go to the cops I’ll tell them you’ve been neglecting me.” It was pathetic and desperate, but it was all I could think of. She shrugged.

“I’ll take that chance if it means keeping you safe.” She held out her hand.

I didn’t have a choice. I gave her my phone.

Now, Brynn lingers next to my open locker door. “I’m really sorry,” she says.

I laugh. “A little late for that, don’t you think? Especially after you got what you wanted all along. I’m out of the play. You’ll probably get to do Juliet next week, since you know all the lines by heart. Congratulations.”

She looks at me like I’m crazy. “I’m not going back to that theater. I’m done. I e-mailed Hunter last night that I quit.”

I do a double take in spite of myself. “What?”

“You really think I’d do something like this to, what, steal your role?” For a second she looks hurt. Then she looks pissed. “I wasn’t trying to get you in trouble. I was freaking out. I didn’t know what to do.”

“So you went to my mom?” I snort.

“I wasn’t going to. But she caught me in your lie.” She points at my chest. “I didn’t know you were going to tell her you were with me. That’s on you. And I can’t believe you’d think I would do this to try to sabotage you. I thought you knew me better than that.”

I grit my teeth. It stings that she’s partly right—that it’s my own fault that I got caught, using her as a cover when we’d been fighting. “All I know is that you’ve been jealous of me since I got this role. You can’t stand it that someone thinks I’m better than you.”

She gives me a pitying look and shakes her head.

“He doesn’t think you’re better,” she says. “Just easier. You stupid, stupid girl.”

I let out my breath with a sharp puff. Then I slam the locker door, twist on my heel, and walk away without looking back.



* * *



? ? ?

It’s surreal to be at school. Especially because suddenly, everyone knows who I am. Half of them saw me on stage this weekend. People I’ve never talked to say hi as they pass me in the hallway. In English Ms. Cowan recites my lines back at me, dreamy-eyed. “Beautiful work, Elyse,” she tells me.

It all makes me even angrier. I should be enjoying this—basking in the attention for the first time in my life. But Brynn and my mother have managed to ruin it for me. When word gets out that I’m quitting, what will that do to my reputation? Will people think I’m a prima donna, that I’m throwing some kind of hissy fit? The thought makes me so anxious I can’t breathe.

I make sure not to walk past the theater department. I can’t risk Brynn seeing me anywhere near Aiden. She may say she wasn’t trying to get me in trouble—but I don’t trust her not to go running straight to my mom. Or worse: the cops.

At lunch I use one of the school computers to log into my private e-mail. I message him at the account he set up just for me.

We need to talk tonight. Forest Park, Witch’s Castle. Ten pm.

I hit Send just as the bell rings.



* * *



? ? ?

Cold little needles of rain prick me all over when I get off the bus near the trailhead. In the dark, the trees loom in a shapeless shadowy mass. It took over an hour to get here on the bus, across the river and up into the hills on the west side of town, but I want to make absolutely sure no one sees us.

It’s a short hike to the mossy pile of stones known as the Witch’s Castle, a burned-out structure that used to be a ranger station. People meet there to party in the summer. There are always broken bottles and cigarette butts all over the floor.

Now, though, at the end of November, at almost ten P.M., the park is eerily quiet.

I make my way down the trail with a flashlight. The ground is slick and muddy, and the rain rustles the leaves all around me. I pause where the trail crosses the creek. I keep thinking I hear footsteps behind me. The first time I thought it was Aiden—but when I paused to let him catch up, they went silent. It’s got to be my imagination. The sound of my pulse against my bones, maybe, or an echo. The dark is so absolute here—there aren’t any streetlamps to light the way. The clouds above reflect the city lights, a nauseous shade of purple, but beyond that there’s nothing to see by but the wavering little light of my flashlight.

The quiet and the chill send shivers across my skin. And even though I’ve come down here plenty of times, there’s a moment of panic when I’m suddenly sure I’ve turned off on the wrong trail, that I’m lost.