Read Dead Girls Don't Lie Online
Authors: Jennifer Shaw Wolf
“I believe you. I’ll go with you,” I say into his neck. I swallow hard, knowing if I don’t play along with him now, I’ll
never make it out of this house alive. “I love you, Skyler. Just let me go home and get some things, write a note to—”
“No!” He grips my wrist, hard. I grimace and try to pull away, but he holds it tight. “It has to be right now.” He runs his finger over my lips. “We can’t tell anyone that we’re leaving or where we’re going. We have to destroy this place and everything in it. We can’t leave behind any evidence.”
He lets go of me and walks over to the window. His movements are quick and shaky now, like he’s some kind of electronic toy, or like he’s high on something, or maybe he’s just lost too much blood. I glance at the door, waiting for the right moment to run. Skyler pushes the curtains aside. Underneath them is a can of gas.
I edge toward the door. He opens the can and starts pouring it over the box of pictures. “We’ll drive to San Diego. I moved my money to an account there. Then we’ll go to Mexico. That would be ironic, wouldn’t it? Running away to Mexico?” He laughs loudly, like that’s the funniest thing in the world.
“I guess so.” I freeze as he looks at me again.
He keeps his eyes on me and pulls a lighter out of his pocket, flicks it open, and stares at the flame. “I should have done this a long time ago. But if I had, maybe I wouldn’t have realized how much better you are for me than she was.”
He drops the lighter, but before it lands, the fumes explode. The glass that’s left in the upper pane of the window bursts apart and Skyler flies backward onto the floor.
I dash across the room and pull open the door, ready to run. Skyler screams.
I turn around. There are flames everywhere. “Jaycee!” His shirt is covered in flames. I hesitate only half a second before I run back to him, rip down the curtains, and throw my body over his to smother the fire. I’m pounding out the flames and burning my hands, but I don’t feel it. I put out the fire on his body and crawl away. He lies there, stunned, as the flames spread around him. They roar up the curtain that’s left, follow the trail of gas across the floor, and start consuming the pictures.
“We have to go!” I yell. The roaring of the fire gets louder.
I reach for his hand and try to stand, but he grabs me, wraps his arms around me, and then he rolls over so I’m trapped under his body. “No, Jaycee. It’s over. I can’t live like this anymore. We have to get rid of
all
the evidence.”
I scream. But it doesn’t feel like the sound is coming from inside me. This is a dream, a nightmare. He’s going to kill both of us. I struggle against his grip, but he’s smashing me into the floor. I can barely breathe, and when I do I choke on the smoke and heat that’s filling the room. The flames are everywhere. “Please, Skyler,” I beg. “Don’t do this. Let’s just get out of here.”
He kisses my forehead, slow and gentle, like he did in the field of flowers. “I’m sorry, Jaycee, but like I said before, it’s too late. At least this way we can be together.”
I struggle harder, pushing against him, beating my hands on his chest, but it’s hopeless. He’s too strong for me.
He kisses me. “Close your eyes. Pretend you’re having a good dream. That you’re dreaming of me.”
I try to scream, to beg him to let me go again, but the smoke clogs up my throat. I dig my heels into the floor and push myself backward. Something stabs into my shoulder—a piece of the broken mirror. I drag my hand across the floor until I
feel sharp edges. I close my fingers around it and grip the piece of glass so hard that it digs into my palm.
I raise it up and drive it into his shoulder with all the strength I have left. He yells, so shocked that I can push him off me. I crawl away, trying to find the door or the window, but in the dark and the smoke I’m disoriented.
Glass digs into my knees as I crawl across the floor, searching for a way out. The fire is so loud now that I can’t hear anything else. My fingers brush the edge of something—the door. I reach up for the doorknob; it’s hot and burns my hand, but I twist it, pull back, and crawl for the gap of fresh air.
Skyler grabs my foot. He’s dragging me back into the flames. I choke on a mouthful of smoke, and my head swims, black and gray. I reach forward one more time, and my fingers close around something soft and hard at the same time. It’s a hand.
“Jaycee!” The hand grips mine. “Don’t let go.”
I don’t know if anything is real or not. Maybe I’m dying, but I cling to the hand because it’s the only thing through the smoke that feels solid. Eduardo’s face swims in front of me. He grabs my shoulder and pulls back hard; I feel like I’m being torn in two between Eduardo and Skyler.
“Let her go!” This time the voice is Evan’s. He’s running down the hall toward us. I’m not sure if he’s talking to Eduardo or Skyler.
“No!” Skyler screams and tightens his grip on my leg. “Stay away from my girlfriend!”
With all the strength I have left I kick hard, shaking his grip on my foot.
Eduardo is carrying me down the stairs. “You came?” My
voice sounds like I’m underwater, like we’re back at the lake. “I thought you said you wouldn’t …” but I’m choking too much to finish that sentence.
“I’m sorry, so sorry I left you.” His mouth and nose are covered with his shirt. I can only see his eyes. I focus on them, forcing myself to stay awake. We make it outside. The fresh air burns my lungs, but I gasp it in as he sets me on the ground.
He kneels beside me, brushing my hair out of my face. “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.”
But I’m not okay. I focus on his eyes and choke out one word, “Skyler!” But no one is listening. Flames and sirens and yelling people swirl through the blackness in my brain. I roll over on my stomach and gag out smoke. When my vision clears, Eduardo is standing above me; something in his hand glints in the light of the flames.
He still has the gun.
The curls of smoke are taking over my consciousness, but I can’t black out. Eduardo is yelling something in a mix of Spanish and English at Evan. Evan is standing over Skyler, curled up in a ball at his feet. My heart lurches with fear and relief at the same time. We all made it out, we’re alive, but now Eduardo is going to kill Skyler. I can’t let that happen. I reach for his leg. “No.” But my voice comes only as a hoarse whisper. I pull on his jeans. “No.”
Eduardo’s eyes are huge and wild. “He tried to kill you! He deserves to die!”
“No!” I yell it with everything I have left.
The flashing lights get closer, sirens are wailing. Eduardo points the gun at Skyler. “This is justice.”
“Vengeance isn’t the same as justice.” It’s her voice, Rachel. She’s standing beside Eduardo, her hand on his arm. “Put the gun down. There’s been too much killing already.”
Eduardo looks horrified. I know he sees her too. The gun falls and he drops to his knees.
Rachel morphs into Araceli as she kneels beside me and gathers me in her arms. “Mija, mija, mija.”
Eduardo is sobbing. Skyler isn’t moving. Evan looks at me. “Are you okay, Jaycee?”
There’s no way to answer that question. I bury my face in Araceli’s chest as the sirens and flashing lights engulf us all.
My bedroom is full of flowers when I come home from the hospital. “People from the church,” Dad explains. I nod and sit down on the bed. “Everyone has been praying for you.”
“What about Skyler?” They’re the only words I can get out. The only thing that’s been on my mind since that night.
Dad and Mom exchange a glance. She was at the hospital when I woke up. I guess her daughter almost getting murdered trumped whatever she had going on at work. She sits on the edge of my bed. “You won’t ever have to see him again. The judge has decided he’s too mentally unstable to stand trial. As soon as he recovers from his injuries he’ll go to some kind of state mental facility for children.”
“I’m sorry.” Dad is choking on the words. “This is my fault. I knew Skyler had problems. I knew, but I didn’t think they were that … I’m sorry … I should have done more to keep you safe.”
Suddenly I understand. “That’s why you didn’t want me to be alone with him.” He nods. “And I didn’t listen.” I bury my face in his chest. “I’m sorry, Dad. I should have told you about Skyler and the phone and …”
Dad wraps his arms around me, dissolving into tears. “I should have listened more. I should have—”
Mom wraps her arms around both of us. “You can’t blame yourself. No one knew how sick he really was.”
I look up at her through my tears. “Is anyone praying for him?”
Mom looks at Dad again, her face full of doubt. “One of the hardest things I’ve learned working as a lawyer is that some people just can’t be saved. Sometimes they’re just too far gone.”
Dad leans over and kisses my forehead. “Yes, baby, we’re praying for Skyler.”
I nod. “I’m glad.”
Mom takes a breath and sits back. “I think”—she glances at Dad—“
we
think maybe it would be best if, after you’re feeling better, you came home with me to get away from everything here. You could stay as long as you want to.”
“I can’t,” I start.
“Please, it would make me feel better if you were close.” Her voice is desperate and she looks so scared, vulnerable even. I’ve never seen her like this before; my mom is usually the tough city lawyer that no one can touch.
I look from her to Dad, thinking of all the times I wanted her attention, all the times I wanted her to acknowledge me,
to show me that she did love me. Maybe it was always there but I didn’t see it. Maybe I didn’t give her the chance. I look back at Dad and imagine him all alone. I don’t want to hurt either of them, but there’s really only one choice. “I’m sorry, Mom, I can’t. I belong here.”
She looks down, fingering my satiny bedspread. “I knew that’s what you would say, but the offer stands. You can come live with me anytime.”
I reach for her hand. “I know.”
Life moves on without me. Mom has to go back to DC and Dad has to go back to work, so Araceli comes to stay with me during the day. She and Dad talk a lot in the kitchen, when they think I’m asleep. Sometimes I catch them holding hands.
Somewhere outside the fields turn gold and get shredded by monstrous machines, the air gets thick with dust, and the moon turns fat and yellow. For me, time stands still. The person I was is buried in the ashes of the old house. I don’t think I have the strength to create someone new. Sometimes I think about going to live with Mom and just starting over, someplace where no one knows me, but that didn’t work for Manny.
I’m not sure if it’s been days or weeks or just hours when Araceli comes to my door. “You have a visitor.”
There have been lots of visitors, shuffling in and out, people from the church or from town, bringing food or just checking in. But she hasn’t ever brought them to me.
Sometimes I imagine that I died in the fire and that the
people who come are here to comfort my dad, to tell him how sorry they are for his loss and to find out what really happened. That I’m not here anymore, that I’m a ghost.
But it hurts too much for me to be dead.
My hands are still wrapped in white bandages to cover the burns and the cuts from the glass; my legs are burned and scarred.
My heart hurts the worst.
Every night I dream about fire, about burning, and about Skyler. When I wake up, I wonder if we’ll end up together after all. If the purple walls around me will close in and dissolve into flames, and if what’s left of my mind will collapse in on itself. If I’ll end up next to him in the “facility for mentally ill children.” Not quite the escape he planned, but maybe we’ll be together after all.
Araceli is still standing at the door, waiting for me to say something. I’m searching for the voice to tell her that I don’t want to see anyone, but Eduardo’s head appears above hers. She steps aside.
He’s holding a soccer ball.
He nods toward the ball. “I thought we could go outside, kick it around for a while.”
I stand up. It’s such a strange concept, so normal—going outside to play soccer—that I don’t say no. But I don’t want to kick the ball around. Soccer was Rachel’s thing, and it hurts too much to think about doing it without her. “Can we go for a run instead?”
Eduardo nods.
Araceli smiles, bends over to help me put my shoes on, and says to Eduardo, “Be careful of her hands. They aren’t healed yet.”
He comes back every day. We run without talking, just our feet pounding together and our breath moving in and out. At first I don’t even make a mile, my burned lungs and my sliced legs refusing to carry me as far as they used to. We build up our distance, little by little, as the last bit of summer fades away.
Finally it’s the last day of summer vacation. Our run is over, and Eduardo and I are passing a bottle of water back and forth. He clears his throat and then finally asks the question that’s written in everyone’s eyes, the question that even Dad won’t ask. “How are you?”
I shrug and turn away, but he touches my leg, just below the burn on my thigh and above the cuts on my knees. “Tell me what you’re feeling, boba.”
I take a deep breath as the thoughts swirl through my brain and refuse to come to order. In the beginning it’s only single words. “Betrayed.” Breathe. “Used.” Breathe. “Hurt.” Swallow. He nods. Then he waits. Something roils through my stomach and into my throat. I try to swallow it away, but it sticks and leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. “Jealous,” I finally say and kick at a little rock under my foot.
He watches my foot, giving me the chance to get control. “In a crazy way, I’m still jealous of her, jealous of Rachel.” I
look up, waiting for his reaction, for him to condemn me, but his face is down and masked by my shadow. “I’m jealous that everyone wanted her; jealous that Skyler wanted her, jealous that he loved her first.”
Eduardo shakes his head. “He didn’t love her, boba. Obsession isn’t love”—he puts his hand over a bandage on his back that’s in the same place where the tattoo was—“any more than vengeance is justice.”