I bent down and retrieved the phone, resisting the urge to ask once again if she was all right. The truth was, she wasn’t, and she wouldn’t be. And there was nothing she and I could do about it now, except all that we were already doing.
I silently held the phone out to her, but instead of reaching for it, she turned to stare out the window and rattled off Misty’s number. It sent a chill through me, seeing her remove herself from the action, like she’d already given up in some way.
I had to have her repeat the number so I could punch it in, and as the phone started to ring on the other end, I put it on speakerphone.
“Hello?” Misty answered, in the suspicious voice of one who doesn’t recognize the number on her caller ID.
“Hi, Misty, it’s, uh, Will Killian. From before?” I shifted in my seat and looked at Alona for reassurance.
She waved me on, impatient, but a weak imitation of what it would have been under other circumstances.
“Yeah?” Misty sounded wary.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for my friend, the one who was at your house today?” I wasn’t sure whether to call her Lily or Ally.
Misty huffed loudly. “Why are you asking me? She left here with you.”
“I know, but—”
“And her mom has been calling over here, all freaked out about her being gone.”
Crap. I’d forgotten about that.
“What did you tell her?” I asked. If she’d so much as hinted to Mrs. Turner that Lily was going to this party . . .
“Same thing I’m going to tell you. She left with you, and I haven’t seen her since.” Misty’s voice rose on a defensive note at the end.
I gave Alona an I-told-you-so look.
Alona shook her head. “She knows, though. She alwaysknows. Leanne can’t do anything without an audience.”
A rustling came through from Misty’s side, followed by a loud clatter and a stream of swearwords. “Look, I have to go. I’m trying to get ready and—”
I took a deep breath, banking on Alona knowing these people as well as she claimed to. “Leanne invited her to Ben’s party tonight, didn’t she?”
Misty sucked in a breath. “How did you know that? How do you even know there’s a party?” She made it sound like I’d somehow managed to crack the complicated code surrounding their supersecret elite activities. Like I’d been blind, deaf, and dumb through four years of high school.
I ignored her words and the insult behind them. “Did Lily say she was going?”
She was quiet for a long moment, and I thought we might have lost our connection, but just as I tipped the phone up to check, Misty sighed.
“Look,” she said wearily. “I don’t want any part in this. This last year has been hard enough—”
Alona gave me a satisfied nod. “Told you.”
“Just tell me what happened,” I said to Misty.
“Leanne invited her over to pregame and to go to Ben’s party together. But I don’t know if the girl’s actually going. I mean, everyone’s going to be there, including Ben. And they’re going to make fun of her. She has to know that.” Misty hesitated. “She’d have to be stupid…or crazy.”
Neither of which we could rule out in this situation.
“Thanks, Misty.” I moved to hang up.
“Wait,” she said quickly. “You’re not actually going to goto the party, are you?”
I didn’t say anything; better not to give anyone forewarning. Maybe I’d be able to get in and get Erin/Lily out without notice.
“Listen, I appreciate everything you did,” she said in a rush. “It helps me to know Alona is at peace.”
Next to me, the girl in question rolled her eyes.
“But you have to know that going to Ben’s tonight…that’s a bad idea.” She sounded almost worried. “Like, a reallybad idea.”
I grimaced. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, and disconnected.
Unfortunately, bad ideas, really bad ideas, were the only ones we had.
Once we were back in Groundsboro, I gave Will directions to Ben’s place, though he didn’t seem to need them. It made sense, I suppose. Small town, relatively small school, and Ben’s parties were the stuff of such fervent gossip that you didn’t need to have actually attended one to know how to find their official sponsored location.
Not to mention the fact that about a mile from Ben’s actual house we had to pass THE tree, the one Will would recognize all too well, the very same one that had gotten us into this mess. Well, that may be a slight exaggeration. This particular situation was, I suppose, more my fault for taking Lily’s body than the tree’s for simply existing for Lily to crash into. But still.
I stared at the tree as we drove by. It seemed like it should bear some mark of its significance—if not some otherworldly celestial glow or a giant flashing arrow over the top of it, maybe massive damage left from the crash—a sign that something tragic and important had occurred there.
But there was no glow or arrow, and if there was damage, I couldn’t see it in the dark. It was just a big old tree. A flash of bark bleached white in the sweep of our headlights, and then it was gone, lost to the shadows as we made the curve Lily had missed.
“You okay?” Will asked. “You’re quiet. It’s kind of freaking me out.”
I stuck my tongue out at him, even though he probably couldn’t see that in the dim light from the dashboard. I was too tired to make more of an effort. It felt like it was taking everything I had to keep myself together…literally. “Just thinking.”
“Why start now?”
I punched his shoulder lightly.
“It’s going to be fine.” He held his hand out to me.
Sure, as long our two definitions of that word were not wildly different, which I wasn’t so certain of at this moment.
But I took his hand anyway, lacing my fingers between his and enjoying the sensation of security and warmth while it lasted, however long that would be.
The closer we got to Ben’s house, the number of cars parked on both sides of the street, in shitty attempts at parallel parking, increased, and I could hear the distant thump of music even over the sound of the engine.
Despite everything, and I do mean everything, some part of me reacted to the familiar stimuli, and my heartbeat kicked up a notch in anxiety and anticipation. Like this was somehow permanently encoded as part of my identity. And maybe that wasn’t far from the truth. Ben’s parties had been as much of my school life as cheerleading or classes. I’d been going since seventh grade, though those early parties were more “seven minutes in heaven” and spiked Sprite than sexual misconduct and full-on keggers.
I’d looked forward to them with equal parts eagerness and dread. I mean, hey, who doesn’t love a party? Except it was another couple of hours to be on my guard, another chance for my carefully constructed sham of a life to tumble down around me if I said or did the wrong thing, showed weakness, spoke to someone I should have ignored, or drank too much or too little.
Point of fact, I didn’t drink at all. Which only added another layer of complication, actually, seeing as that was not the norm. It was another thing that had to be, if not covered up, at least not openly acknowledged so as to avoid questions. It occurred to me now, thinking about all of this, how very little of my life had been real.
It had, however, been exhausting.
And yet I remembered laughing with Misty in the kitchen at finding a chip shaped like a more-than-generous representation of the male anatomy—a silly, stupid moment, but fun—and the brief feeling of safety that came from being surrounded by my friends and followers, people I thought cared about me.
Well, I’d learned better since then, but that hadn’t made the memories go away—just tainted them with a longing and nostalgia for a time that hadn’t really existed.