Complicit (7 page)

“Come,” my sister whispered. “I'm going to teach you something secret. Something I've been practicing.”

I followed Cate from the barn to the riding arena. The whole place seemed awfully empty, although an older boy I recognized walked by with a wheelbarrow and said hello to Cate. He had dark skin and even darker eyes.

“Who's that?” I asked.

Cate had a sly smile on her lips. “Danny Ramirez.”

“Hector's brother?”

“Yup.”

“Hector doesn't like me.”

“A lot of people don't like you, Jamie.”

“Shut up. That's mean. And it's not true.”

“It is true. I'm being honest. People don't like you because you're scared of so many things. You do what's safe. Always. You're, like, afraid of doing anything else.”

“Oh, yeah? Besides your big dumb horse, name one thing I'm scared of.”

Cate turned around. I expected her to be laughing at me, teasing. Instead my sister's face was very serious. Solemn, even.

“You're afraid of yourself,” she said. “Don't you know that?”

Inside the arena, Cate put Cricket on something she called a longe line, and it was like an extra-long dog leash this time. She used it to make the horse walk in a big circle. Then Cate stood in the middle of the circle and I stood next to her. I felt sour.

“I'm
not
scared of myself,” I said. “That's a stupid idea if I ever heard one.”

“The thing is, you don't even know who you are. But I do,” Cate said. She used her tongue to make a clicking sound and Cricket walked faster. It was like they spoke the same language. “I remember how you used to be. When you were a little kid. You were different.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, who am I, then? Tell me.”

“Isn't it obvious? You're Graham Henry now. Perfect son. Perfect student. Pianist. Genius. Dead boy.”

“That's
awful,
” I breathed. “Don't say that.”

“Get on the horse.”

“Huh?”

Cate said “Whoa” and brought Cricket to a halt. “Get on her. I told you I'd show you something, right?”

“Um…”

“Don't be scared.”

“I'm not scared,” I said, even though I was.

Cate walked me over and wove her fingers together to boost me up. I wanted to show her how brave I could be, so I let her lift me into the air, sliding my leg and belly onto the sloped bare back of Cricket. Cate made the clucking sound again and the horse moved! Right beneath me. It felt like an avalanche. So much swaying and slipping. I gasped and grabbed for something, anything, but all I got were a few strands of mane, tacky with dust.

“Stop her!” I shouted. “Please!”

“Shh,” said Cate.

“Cate,
don't.
I can't—I can't
breathe.
”

Then I was on the ground, on my back, looking up at the ceiling of the arena. A nest of barn swallows cooed and fluttered in the air.

“Ohhh,” I said.

“Are you okay?” Cate kneeled beside me. The horse stood behind her, tail twitching.

“What happened?” I asked. My head hurt. Bad.

“You had one of your spells. The breath-holding ones.”

“I did?”

She bit her lip and nodded. “You were panicking and then you stopped breathing and slid off. Good thing Cricket wasn't going very fast. She was extra careful not to step on you.”

She was? “Maybe you should call Mom.”

Cate frowned. “Maybe you should get back on the horse and try again. Unless, of course, you're still scared.”

“What?”

“I promised you I'd show you something, didn't I?”

So I let her put me up on the horse again. But I trembled and wanted to get off almost immediately.

“Cate!”

“She's not moving, Jamie. I promise. I'll tell you before she moves. I want you to close your eyes and relax.”

Relax? That was unlikely. My heart was trying to jackhammer its way out of my chest. Plus I already felt shaky and weak from blacking out, like the kids I'd seen who played the fainting game at school. They did their hyperventilating and choking in secret, but I always knew what they were up to. They were the ones that showed up after recess, all whey-faced and wobbly, unable to walk straight.

Cate placed a hand on my back.

“Breathe. Nice, slow breathing. And every time you let your breath out, concentrate on letting all your muscles go loose like you're melting, like you're sinking deep, deep, deep into the horse's back. You and the horse are like one. That's right. You're doing it. Just like that. Keep doing it. Keep breathing. Keep melting and sinking. I'm going to take you somewhere inside of yourself where's there's no fear. None. You're doing great. Keep breathing, keep sinking, keep going deeper and deeper and deeper…”

I did what she said.

I felt myself slip, slip, slipping.

And then I heard her voice again. Sharp and bright. Like a ringing bell.

“Jamie. Jamie!”

I blinked. I turned my head. I looked at Cate. Then I looked down. I was still on Cricket but she was trotting briskly and there I was riding her with both my arms outstretched.

My heart stuttered.

“Cate!” I cried. “What's going on?”

“You're doing great. That's what's going on. No, no, don't tense up now!”

“I want to get off!”

She had the biggest grin on her face. “Yeah, fine. You were doing awesome. Whoa now, Crick. Whoa.”

The second the animal stopped moving, I slid off her and leaped to the ground, where I stood gasping for breath.

“I don't want to do that again. Ever.” I clutched my chest.

“What's wrong? You did good.”

“Cate, I don't know
what
I did. I think there's something wrong with my brain. From the blacking out. Or something.”

“Mmm. There's nothing wrong with your brain. You did perfect, okay? This was my secret. I told you I'd show you something and I did.”

 

 

I was so unsettled after the horse incident, I immediately told Dr. Waverly what had happened. About the whole time down at the barn with Cate. Every detail.

“You actually passed out?” she asked.

“Yeah, I guess. Cate said I held my breath again, but I don't remember doing that.”

“This happened twice?”

“No, I didn't pass out twice. The second time—it was like the opposite. I was scared to be on the horse, but then all of a sudden I was okay. Only I can't remember doing anything to make myself feel better.”

“I see,” she said.

“Do you think … does this mean that I'm, like, crazy?”

“What does crazy mean?”

“You know, hearing voices. Seeing things.”

“Do you hear voices or see things?”

“No.”

“Then you must not be crazy.”

“Well, why can't I remember what happened?”

Dr. Waverly clapped her hands together and sat up in her leather chair.

“You conquered a fear, Jamie,” she said. “That's a wonderful thing. Taking a chance like that. Embrace your success.”

“But I didn't
mean
to conquer it. I don't even know how I did it.”

“Does it matter?”

I stared at her. “Doesn't it?”

“You tell me.”

“I thought I just did!” God, this was getting so stupid. I got to my feet and walked over to the wooden dollhouse that she kept. A mouse family sat at the dining room table. I picked one up. Sat it on the roof of the house then tried jamming it down the chimney. It wouldn't fit. I found a yellow Tonka truck and stuck one of the mouse dolls into the driver's seat. Then I placed the vehicle on the peaked roof of the dollhouse and gave the back bumper a little nudge. The truck and the doll went spilling onto the floor.

I smiled.

“Which doll is that?” Dr. Waverly asked.

I turned around. “Huh?”

“What doll are you playing with?”

“Dunno.” I leaned over and picked it up. “It's the mom.”

So that got us talking about Angie and it got us to stop talking about Cate and the horse. I didn't stop thinking about it, though. My sister, I decided, could generate her own magic, something more powerful than mine. Something even someone like Dr. Waverly couldn't understand. That's the type of force Cate was.

For all I know, it might be the type of force Cate still is.

SIXTEEN

Later that day, it turns out Hector's wrong. I don't have to do any stalking to find my sister.

Cate finds me.

I'm driving in the Jeep with the radio on when I hear my phone—that soft, syncopated rhythm of Monk's famous “Evidence.”

I glance down at the screen.

Unknown caller.

My pulse picks up. I answer.

But I already know.

“Hey, bro,” she says like it's nothing, like she can just do this. “Miss me?”

“Where are you?” I ask.

“Where are
you
?”

My fingers curl tightly around the leather steering wheel. It's not her deflection that gets to me. It's her voice. Cate's voice is the same. Still husky from not enough sleep, not enough food, too many cigarettes, too many—

I take a deep breath. “Driving up Oak Canyon.”

“Don't crash.”

“I'll try. Are you with Danny?”

“Not anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Things between us weren't meant to be. He's probably in a frat these days, don't you think? He probably has douchey friends who wear leather flip-flops and Polo cologne.”

“I thought I saw you with him yesterday. On College Avenue. But that would've been too much of a coincidence, wouldn't it?”

“College Avenue, huh? That's interesting,” Cate says. “I guess nothing's a coincidence. Not for you. But things got kind of heated up there last night, didn't they?”

“What do you mean?”

“‘What do you mean?'”
She mocks me with one of her crueler tones. “God, you're dense. Well, for starters last night was the night I told Danny about what I might've done with one of his douchey flip-flop-wearing frat brothers. That kind of got the shit flying. You know how it is.”

“Wait,
what
? You did that to Danny? Why?”

“Why not?”

“I don't know. I guess, it's just kind of, sort of—you know.”

“Kind of, sort of what, Jamie?”

I swallow. “Nothing.”

“Slutty?”

“I didn't say that.”

“It's okay. I
am
slutty. You think I don't know that? I let people use me, and when they're done with their using, there's less of me and more of them.”

“Stop,” I say. This kind of rambling is classic Cate.

“Hey, you still got that problem with your hands?” she asks.

My head is starting to hurt. A tight throbbing pain. How does she know this? How does she know
anything
? “Yeah, I do.”

“What sets it off again? Tell me.”

I sigh. “Getting startled. Extreme emotional states.”

“Any emotional state?”

“Pretty much.”

“Mmm, what about sex, then? That's extreme, right? It'd be funny, too. Like if you were jerking it and almost there, like so close, and your hands went and died on you. Unless, of course, you've graduated to finding someone who can do that for you.”

I groan. Why is it that everyone around me is obsessed with my nonexistent sex life? Isn't that my job? “I'm
not
talking about this with you.”

Cate laughs, long and hard. “Right. Like there's any chance you aren't as cringingly virginal as the last time we saw each other.”

My grip tightens on the phone and that's when I do pull over and turn the engine off. I unbuckle myself and get out. My ears are filled with the screech of the Steller's jays.

“Your message said you were coming back to Danville,” I whisper.

“Oh, I might,” she says in her fight-flighty way.

“Why?”

“What? You don't want to see your own
sister
?” Cate's voice begins spiraling up, taking on that edge I know too well. “I'm the only goddamn family you've got, James. Me! Just me! That's it!”

“I
know.
”

“THEN WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME FEEL LIKE SHIT?”

“No, no, I'm not trying—you said—”

“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!” In the background I hear a loud crash and what sounds like glass breaking.

“What was that?” I ask. “Are you okay? Is there someone with you?”

There's more crashing. I think she's dropped the phone on the ground. Maybe she's outside somewhere, because I hear a bus go by and voices, too. They sound close. Then comes a bunch of muffled breathing and a frantic, gasping, “Jamie?”

“Yes?”

“You're still there, right?”

“I'm still here.”

“Good. There are things we need to talk about. You and me. Things you need to know.”

I push my hair back. I'm sweating. What the hell is going on? What does she want from
me
? I'm the one who knows
her
secrets. She wouldn't want that to come out any more than I do. I kick at the front tire of the Jeep. Then I kick it again. “Have you, you know, called Angie and Malcolm yet? I bet they'd want to see you.”

“Fuck you!” she screams, one last time. “You're an asshole!”

Then she hangs up.

SEVENTEEN

The thing is, it
hurts
to watch someone you love go crazy.

Crazy isn't feeling misunderstood or laughing at the wrong times or finding meaning in music that other people don't like. Crazy isn't studying hard, chasing good grades, and earning them but still ending up in the bathroom with stomach cramps before school. And crazy isn't wondering why you should even bother getting out of bed every morning in the first place when all you're going to do is crawl back into it at the end of the day and wish feverishly that everything that happened in between could be swept away and forgotten like the drab fleeting sands of time. No,
real
crazy is about taking something good and spoiling it.