Pretend She's Here(53)

“Yes. In the house.”

“That’s a sick question.” A huge gust of white breath came from her mouth and she looked wounded, as if I’d slapped her.

“Last night I felt as if she was here,” I said.

“Was that before you upset Mom or after?” she asked.

“Both,” I said, remembering Mrs. Porter’s furious force, grabbing the letter. “I think it’s why your mother got so mad. Because Lizzie came to me, not her.”

“Way to be losing your mind, Em,” Chloe said. “You’re hallucinating.”

“Who wouldn’t, being forced to sleep in her dead friend’s bed?”

Chloe’s lips thinned.

“I really did feel her there,” I said steadily.

“Good for you.”

I wondered why she wasn’t more curious, but maybe she was too busy being hurt/angry. “How would Lizzie know about Sarah Royston?” I asked.

“School Sarah?”

“Yeah. And Town Sarah. Considering you moved here after …”

“Did you ever stop to think about why we moved here?” Chloe snapped. “Why of all the places in the world my parents could have chosen to bring Lizzie back to life—through you, and you’re doing a rotten job of it, by the way—they picked here?”

Actually, I hadn’t. I’d just figured Royston was so far and so different from Black Hall, all rocky angles and spiky trees, compared to home’s soft marshes and gentle estuary light, that it would take them away from the sharpest, daily-est memories of Lizzie. Or maybe they had just thought it was the perfect middle-of-nowhere location to hide a kidnapped girl.

“Why did they come here?” I asked.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“Who put her letter …” I started to say.

Usually it was just Chloe and me at the bus stop, but I heard feet crunching through the snow’s crust. I looked out the snow fort’s window, and there was Casey coming down his driveway.

“Whoa,” Chloe said in a low voice. “He never takes the bus. His dad doesn’t like him walking along the road, it’s too narrow and traffic goes too fast. So he always drives him or gets someone else to.”

“Why is he taking it today?” I asked.

“No idea,” Chloe said.

“Hi, Chloe, Lizzie,” Casey said when he reached us.

“Hi,” I said.

“Cool fort,” he said. “Did you guys build it?”

“Carole and I did,” I said.

“It’s not that great,” Chloe said. “It was super easy to spy on them and attack them with snowballs.”

I stared at her and remembered how she’d hid behind the holly bushes. So she’d heard me and Carole talking about Casey and his mother, and Sarah Royston. And then the letter had appeared. I gave Chloe my best I know you did it squint. She held my stare for a few seconds, then turned her back on me.

The bus was a few minutes late. I stood close to Casey, and when it arrived, we got on and sat together. He faced me, and I knew he was seeing only my shadow, the Emily part of me, and it made me feel settled, the way I had at his house, but also awkward, because being around him had started churning me up inside.

“I was thinking, I should get a guitar, so I can practice,” I said to fill the silence.

“You can use mine,” he said. “Come over anytime.”

“That would be great,” I said, now trying to sound casual.

“After school I’m heading over to Mark’s, to the Christmas tree farm,” Casey said. “We’re going tobogganing. You should come.”

He was asking me to do something. My heart smashed into my ribs like a car wreck. There was no way Mrs. Porter would let me. Even if she wanted me to act as much like a normal kid as possible, there was last night and the letters, and her frozen-river eyes this morning. Visiting Casey’s house was different—he lived right next door, and she could keep an eye on me. But somewhere else? Forget it.

“Sounds good, I’ll try,” I said.

“You have to come,” he said. “I mean, you really have to.”

I glanced at Chloe, sitting across the aisle. I knew she’d been listening, and I saw her shake her head hard, just once, letting me know the answer would be no. As if I didn’t know already.

I watched the snowy woods go by, feeling Casey’s arm jostle mine every time the bus went over a bump. I had a brief, glimmering fantasy of high-velocity flying down snow-covered hills with him on a toboggan, his arms around me from behind, the north wind in our faces.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you take the bus,” I heard myself say.

“Yeah,” he said.

Why? I felt like asking, as I’d asked Chloe. But by the way Casey was leaning into me, the way his breath was shallow and my heart was pounding, the truth was, I knew. He’d wanted to see me.

“You are coming to Mark’s,” he said.

“Yeah, I am,” I said, hating the lie.

When we got off the bus, we stood there, on the sidewalk outside the school, for a whole minute. Icy snow fell on my face, tiny pricks of cold, as Casey leaned so close to me—even closer than in the room filled with shelves of honey—I could feel his breath on my forehead. Then the bell rang to signal the start of classes, and I walked away fast, because all I wanted was for him to kiss me right there, that exact moment. I couldn’t believe how crazy it felt to have these feelings for a boy in the midst of everything that was happening to me.