Good Girl Bad (38)

And Rebecca says her name in frustration, and gives her hand a little tug.

She only wanted to halt her backward motion, she didn’t mean anything else by it, she wasn’t trying to pull her in, she wouldn’t force her. But she gives her sister’s hand a little tug, and she steps back as she does so to balance herself, but the ground drops away beneath her and she falls backward, holding on to her sister’s hand, yanking her forward, and they both fall into the river, where it is very dark and very cold.





33





One Day Earlier

In Tabby’s room, Genevieve moves methodically.

She doesn’t know what she’s searching for, but she knows she will find it. Tabby is too creative, too emotional to have not left some trace of her affair inside this room.

She’s careful not to disturb anything, and is fast and silent. It doesn’t take her long to find the sketchbook. She flips through it fast, occasionally glancing at the locked door.

For a moment, she’s distracted by what she sees. Tabby’s talent exceeds all her expectations. Charlie grins out at her, his tongue lolling.

There’s one of Rebecca, in that space between normal and enraged. Her face looks vulnerable, child-like. It passes so quickly it would barely register for most people. If you weren’t paying attention.

If you didn’t need to pay attention, if you didn’t need to be hypervigilant for what came after.

Tabby has caught it perfectly.

Something catches in Genevieve’s throat.

It’s just painful enough for them to never quite be able to hate her. Even at fourteen, Genevieve can see that her fury hides something darker and more painful in herself. Something that, once touched upon, she tries to bury under exerting a power so large it squashes them down and raises her up.

Gen might keep her friends away from her mother. She might have grown quiet and watchful. But children never stop straining toward their parents’ love.

Gen sees that sketch and yearns toward Rebecca. Wants to burrow into her and make her feel better. She knows that won’t make Rebecca feel better. But she wants to do it anyway.

She pushes her feelings aside, though, and flips through sketch after sketch until she finds what she’s looking for. Then she carefully puts everything back in its place and takes the sketchpad to her own room. She doesn’t yet know what she is going to do with it. She just instinctively wants to hide it somewhere safe.

Then she opens her phone, and sends Freddy a message.

She thinks Freddy will fix it.

And make it all go away.

She thinks of it like a problem to solve, where x plus y equals something predictable, something known.

She tells Freddy that Tabby is having an affair with Fred.

Freddy will want it to stop, too.

Tabby will listen to Freddy, where she didn’t listen to Genevieve.

For all her wisdom beyond her years, and all the thought she has put into this, though, her thinking is still the thinking of a child. All she can think about is the end point. Other outcomes, and collateral damage, do not even enter her mind.





34





Disappearance Day

You’ve got to help me.

Tabby’s hands are shaking as she types, she can barely tap the letters out. Her breath is coming in shuddering sobs. She checks the lock again, checks the window.

Please. You’ve got to get me tonight. I need you tonight.

Then she panics more, realizing she’s used the wrong phone, and deletes the messages, her hands shaking. She fumbles for her old maths textbook. She’s cut a hollow out inside it, tucked her secret phone inside. She mistypes the code twice before unlocking it.

Sorry, sorry, she types, hesitating, wondering if he’d be mad that she used the wrong phone. Anyone could link that number to her.

Please. You’ve got to help me. I’m scared. She killed him. She killed him.

Here Tabby doubles over in pain. She was so stupid. She had thought she was in control now, that her mother couldn’t hurt her. She can’t shake the image from her mind. The satisfaction in her eyes, the sly little smile. The casual way she’d reached out and grabbed the dog. Not taking her eyes off Tabby.

Tabby had always thought that Rebecca lost control, that that’s how she could be so vile, so awful. But tonight she saw something else entirely.

That look.

She was completely in control. She chose to do that. She wasn’t out of control. She knew absolutely, utterly, what she was doing.

Snap.

He hadn’t even made a sound.

Tabby circles in her room, beside herself. Did he feel it? Did it hurt?

She looks out her window. It’s not that high.

No answer.

I’m coming now, she types, bugger waiting, bugger timelines, bugger all of it. She killed my dog. You said you loved me. Well, I need you now. I can’t stay here. I’m scared. She’s crazy.

Tabby throws a few things in her backpack. She can’t think clearly. She can’t imagine what will happen. She just needs to get out of this house.

Genevieve.

She stops packing things abruptly.

She can’t leave Genevieve. Oh God.

She thinks of Charlie’s little body in the kitchen, and stifles a sob.

Was that a footstep outside her door?

Rebecca has never hurt her. Never laid a hand on her. She didn’t have to. She could bring Tabby to her knees with a glance, a look in her eye.