Masquerade of Lies (18 page)

Josh’s eyebrows shot up, and his mouth fell open. I began wiping the tears away from my eyes with my hands, so he whipped out a tissue from the Kleenex box that sat on the coffee table and handed it to me.

“Thanks,” I muttered as I wiped my eyes. “Anyway, my parents, along with my therapist, decided to have me admitted into Hessner Mental Institution.” I tucked some hair behind my ears. Our eyes met. “It took a lot of therapy for me to realize my relationship with Simon was all in my head. We were never together.” I lowered my head. “My psychiatrist, Dr. Shaw, diagnosed me with psychosis and delusions.” I looked at him again and relaxed my shoulders, then put my hand over his. “But I’m not that person anymore. That’s why we moved here…so I could start over,” I finished, then gave him a guarded smile.

His face was glazed with shock. “Wow,” he said.

“I’ve never said these words out loud before,” I confessed. “You’re the first person I’ve told this to.
Mark
doesn’t even know yet.” He looked at me but didn’t say anything. “I’ll understand if you wanna get up and run out of here.” 

He gently picked up my arm and slowly brought it to his pink lips, then began kissing my scars. My heart fluttered in my chest. He caressed my face, moved closer to me and cupped my chin with his soft hands, then brought his lips to mine and kissed me ever so lightly.

“Wait, what about Claire?” I whispered.

“Ssh.”

He kissed me again, but this time more intensely, his tongue playing against mine. I started thinking about Mark. I knew I should stop because Josh was still with Claire, but I really didn’t want to. Deep down, it felt like retribution for what she did to me.

His breath smelt like peppermint. As he kissed my neck, his hair smelt like Dove. I could hear him breathing heavily in my ear. When he started unbuttoning my shirt, my eyes shot open. I grabbed his hand and pushed it away.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’ve never…I’m a…”

“You’re a virgin?” he said. I nodded my head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I was embarrassed.”

He smiled and gently kissed me on the lips. “Come here,” he whispered.

He carefully pulled me into the nook of his elbow and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. As I lay my head on his chest, I could hear the beating of his heart; it was so soothing. My eyelids started to get heavy.

Suddenly, I felt something buzz against my stomach. Josh released his arm from my shoulder, pulled his iPhone out of his pocket, and began reading a text message.

“Who is that?”

“Oh, it’s just a buddy of mine reminding me we have football practice this afternoon.”

He quickly typed something with his thumb. “Crap, third period is almost over. I gotta jet.” He entwined his hand with mine, and I walked him to the door, where he slipped on his shoes and gave me a hug. “Text me before you go to the bleachers tonight.” 

“Okay,” I said, then pulled opened the door.

The blaze of the sun hit me in the face, and I squinted my eyes. He looked at me over his shoulder and waved as he walked away. I smiled bashfully. Just before I closed the door, something from across the street caught my eye: it was the blue sedan; the very same sedan I kept seeing.

I was startled by the phone, so I closed the door, hurried into the kitchen, and picked it up.

“Hello?”

It was an automated message from Willowdale High, confirming my absence that day.

Click.

I slammed the phone down and sprinted to our bay window. I peeked through the blinds, but the street was empty...the blue sedan was gone.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN—SOME FRIENDS ARE BETTER KEPT AT ARM’S LENGTH

I checked the time on my Motorola: it was 8:54 pm. I was sitting in my mother’s car alone, in the dark, waiting for Josh. He’d texted me a few minutes ago to let me know he was on his way. I called Mark but it rang a few times and went straight to voicemail. I looked across at the bleachers and got the feeling of déjà vu. I fiddled with the radio, then glanced at the time again: it was 8:57 pm. I knew Josh would be there soon, so I decided to go without him. I didn’t want whoever I was meeting to get tired of waiting and leave.

I shut the car off and got out, then zipped up my Old Navy black hoodie with the keys still in my hand. I stuffed my hands and my Motorola in my pocket and proceeded to walk towards the bleachers. I did a double take as I spotted a silver Honda Civic sedan that looked a lot like Stephanie’s. I crept up to the car and peeked inside. I remembered that Stephanie had one of those strawberry car fresheners dangling from the rearview mirror, and sure enough, there it was.

Why would she be at school this late?
I thought.

I stood up and looked around, then proceeded to walk towards the bleachers. My grey and blue Skechers crunched against the gravel with each step I took. I gazed at the full moon and bit my lip. As I walked past a barren oak tree, I suddenly heard a noise. I turned around, but there was nobody there. I flinched as a brown and white owl hooted upon landing on the thick tree branch. I took a deep breath and blew air out through my mouth. It took me a second to get my bearings, then I turned around and continued to walk.

Suddenly, I felt a hard blow to the back of my head. As I collapsed to the ground, my Motorola and keys tumbled out of my pockets. My arms were stretched out in front of me. My vision was blurry, my ears were ringing, and it felt like my head was being squeezed in a vise. I dug my nails into the ground and tried to drag my body, but it was no use. I started getting weaker, and I could feel myself drifting into unconsciousness. Then, everything faded to black.

***

I opened my eyes and gazed at one of the pot lights on the ceiling. As Josh’s face swam into view, I found myself lying on a smoky brown leather couch. Needles prickled the back of my head. A clock ticked. I could hear the buzzing of a television.

I shot up and scanned the room. A large plaque that hung on the wall caught my attention. It said:
Rich people plan for three generations. Poor people plan for Saturday night.
My Motorola and keys sat on a dark leather coffee table.

“Hanna…are you okay?” I quickly turned my head to look at Josh, who was sitting across from me on the couch.

“Yeah…I think so. Where am I?” 

“You’re at my house…and you’re safe now.”

“How did I get here?”

“Well, I went to meet you at the bleachers. When I got there, I found you lying there unconscious. So I gathered your stuff and brought you here.”

“Oh.”

“Do you remember what happened?” 

He got up and marched into the kitchen. I heard the humming of the refrigerator and the clatter of ice. As I pressed the palm of my hand against the back of my head, I grimaced and gritted my teeth.

“I was walking to the bleachers, and somebody hit me from behind,” I said. “You were right. It was a trap.”

Josh returned with a sandwich bag full of ice and handed it to me. “Here, put this on your head. Why didn’t you just wait for me?” I shrugged my left shoulder. “Well, did you see anybody that looked suspicious?”

I shook my head no, but then I remembered seeing Stephanie’s car in the parking lot. My mind then flashed back to the night of the homecoming game, when I was almost run over by that blue sedan. Stephanie told my mom she’d found me unconscious in the parking lot. Maybe she didn’t just find me there; maybe she put me there. Could
she
be the one writing the notes? Could
she
be Brooke’s murderer?

My phone rang and knocked me out of my thoughts. I reached for my Motorola and looked at the screen; it was my mom.
Shit.
I knew my mother was gonna ream me out. Besides, I couldn’t tell her what happened. She’d never let me borrow the car at night again.

I hit
ignore
, then I noticed I had
13
missed calls, all of them from my mother. Before I left, I’d told her I was going to a friend’s place to study. She was on the phone with her boyfriend, Hank, so she didn’t ask any questions. She just told me to be home by ten. The time on my Motorola said
11:38pm
.

“Who was that?” asked Josh.

“My mother. She called me, like, 13 times.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m surprised she didn’t call the police.”

“She still might,” I said wryly. “I gotta go.” As I scooped up my keys and stood up, my head pulsed. “Where’s my car?”

“It’s at the school.”

“Can you take me to it? If I don’t get home, my mother is gonna kill me.”

“Sure.” He dug his keys out of his jeans pocket and walked up to me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“My head is throbbing, but I’m okay.”

He put his hands on my shoulders. A smile danced across his face. “Good,” he said as he gently ran his hand along the side of my face.

“We should go.” 

“Yeah…right. Let’s bounce.” 

Josh veered into the school entrance. It was dark and quiet. I spotted my car in the parking lot. I searched for Stephanie’s car, but it was gone. As we pulled up next to my mother’s maroon Corolla, I ran my hand through my hair and felt a huge bump on the back of my head.

“So…what now?” Josh asked.

“Well, I guess the only thing left to do is break into Brooke’s house, as planned. Hopefully, we’ll find something useful.”

“O-okay,” he stammered.

I bit my lip. “Thanks for the ride,” I said.

“Sure.” 

I pulled open the door and stepped out of the car, then pushed the door shut. I gave Josh one last wave goodbye and turned around to get into my car. Once I was inside, he backed out of the parking spot and drove off. I started my car and was about to put on my seatbelt when I noticed a piece of paper under one of the windshield wipers. I saw Josh’s car lights in the rearview mirror as I got out of the car and pulled it out. When I read it, my breath became raw in my throat. It said:
next time I will kill you
. It was on the same blue stationery as the last one. A chill ran up my spine as I clenched the piece of paper and jumped in my car.

A short time later, I pulled into my dark driveway and noticed the living room lights were on; I knew that meant my mother was waiting up for me.

What am I gonna tell her?
I thought.

I couldn’t tell her the truth. She’d probably call the police, and then who knows what would happen to me? The note said,
No cops.

I turned off the engine and stepped out of the car. As I approached the front door, I heard a twig snap. Crack. I whirled around, but there was nobody there. I turned back to the door, slowly put my key in the lock, and twisted. When I opened the door, I flinched. My mother was standing there. She wore her satin pink and black La Senza pajamas, and her hair was tied back. She gave me a dark, smoldering look. 

“Mom! You scared me.”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?!” she shouted, enraged. Her arms were crossed at her chest, and her brow wrinkled in vexation.

“I know…I’m sorry.”

“Where were you?”

“I-I can’t tell you yet, but if you just trust me–”

“Trust you! I don’t even know who you are anymore!” She squared her shoulders. “You come home with expensive clothes…you go out and come home late…you can’t tell me where you’ve been!” Her face was red, and she flared her nostrils. “The other night you came home early from the homecoming dance hysterical, and the best you could come up with was that you were sick! As soon as you got home, you ran up to your room and didn’t come out the rest of the night! I mean…do I need to call Dr. Shaw?” A vein was throbbing at her temple.

“No! No…Mom, please. I’ll explain everything...I just can’t right now.”

“Does this have anything to do with what happened to Brooke? Has Detective Walters approached you again?”

“No! I’m...just…going through some stuff right now.” 

My mother’s arms dropped to her sides. Suddenly, she had a pained look on her face, and her eyes became wet with tears.

“I’m just scared, Hanna. I’m scared you’re going to start cutting yourself again. If you need to talk, then please talk to
me
or Dr. Shaw.”

She lowered her head, and I walked up to her and gave her a hug. She hugged me back.

“I’m not gonna cut myself again, Mom. I promise,” I whispered.

At that moment, I wasn’t sure who was more frightened: my mother or me

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN—THE SISTER SHE NEVER REALLY KNEW

The third period bell had just chimed, and the halls were flooded with students. I was walking to my locker when I overheard a girl whispering to her friend. Her loose brown curls cascaded down her back. She had a heart-shaped face and a pinched nose.

“I can’t believe she had the balls to show her face at school.”

“I know, right?” said a petite girl with thick auburn hair and orange skin. She wore a long-sleeve tee from Victoria’s Secret, and she had big boobs. “She was in a mental institution, so who knows what she’s capable of?” She twirled her hair through her fingers. “She thinks she actually has a shot with Josh Banks. What. Ever.”

I pushed past a chubby girl with stringy blonde hair.

“Hey! If you’ve got something to say, then say it to my face!” I snapped.

They looked at each other and giggled. “Whatever…loser!” bellowed orange girl. The two of them then strutted away.

I sauntered through the hall and wandered into the quad. A guy wearing glasses and an Adidas backpack walked past me, playing on his iPad. A cluster of students in the Book Club were lounged on the grass discussing
The Great Gatsby
. I spotted Jessica standing with a couple girls who weren’t Claire or Katie. She was talking animatedly with her hands. She had on a short plaid skirt, a black Guess Ballet Neck Tube Tee, and black high boots. Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail. I held my geography books at my chest and marched towards her, then tapped her on the shoulder. She whirled around to face me.

“Oh, it’s you. What do you want?”

“I just wanna talk to you for a second.”

“Look, if Claire sees me talking to you, I’ll be in Siberia, too.”

“So, Claire tells me you’ve been to rehab a couple times for drug addiction. Is that true?” I asked.

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m just trying to figure out if you OD’ed the other night because you have a problem, or if you’re trying to cover up something else.” 

She leaned on one hip and rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she said.

She was about to turn around, so I grabbed her arm. “Look. I think that asshole Zack from the party raped you and you’re trying to act like everything is okay by dressing up and piling make-up on your face.” I let go of her arm, and her face became soft. “If you want, I’ll go to the police with you, because he tried to rape me, too.” She blinked in surprise as her mouth fell open.

“Really?”

“Really,” I echoed.

Suddenly, the expression on her face changed. “Whatever, loser! I don’t wanna eat lunch with you!” Jessica shouted.

I whirled around to find Claire and Katie walking towards us. Claire assumed a posture of superiority in dark blue Versace studded jeans and a three-quarter sleeve knit top. She had her arms crossed over her chest. Katie stood beside her, wearing pink Gucci capris and a black J.Crew top.

“Oh, Hanna…you’re so pathetic. Begging people to eat lunch with you?”

Students were quick to laugh. I looked at Jessica, who held my gaze for a second, then looked down. I glared at Claire and Katie and spun on my heels. I didn’t want to carry my geography books anymore, and my stomach started to grumble, so I headed for my locker. The word
Freak
was still written across it. I opened my locker and threw my books on the shelf, then I gritted my teeth. Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Stephanie.

“Hey…I just wanted to see how you were doing?” Her chestnut brown eyes looked sincere. Her raven hair was parted in the middle and fell to her breasts.

“I could be better.”

“Why didn’t you say anything about…you know?”

“About Hessner? You can say the word, Stephanie! It doesn’t really matter anymore, because everybody already knows!” I turned around and slammed my locker shut, then leaned the back of my head against the locker and looked up.

“I-I just wanted you to know I’m here for you if you need me.” 

I bet you are
, I thought. She always seemed to be there when I was in trouble.

“I have an idea,” she said. “Do you wanna come to my house tonight? We can eat junk food and talk.”

I was going to turn her down, but then I thought this would be an opportunity to get into her house to see if I could find anything linking her to Brooke’s death.

“Sure, but can you pick me up? I don’t think my mom is gonna let me borrow the car.”

“Okay. Say...seven o’clock?”

“It’s a date,” I said.

“Cool. See ya,” she said, then whirled around as her hair flung in the air.

I went out the side doors and walked across the street to the small strip mall. I went into the convenience store and bought a bag of zesty cheese Doritos and a small carton of chocolate milk. While I was paying, Mark walked in with a couple of his buddies. He had on a red cap with the word
Liverpool
on it. I went up to him as his friends wandered around the store.

“Hey,” I said as I tucked some hair behind my ear.

“Hey,” he said.

“I called you last night.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. It rang a few times and went to your voicemail.”

“Oh…sorry I missed you.”

“You didn’t see my missed call?”

“I guess not…sorry.” His friends came back.

“Can we talk later?” I whispered.

“Yeah, I’ll text you tonight.”

I looked at his friends, who were staring at me and laughing under their breath. “I’ll see you later,” I said, then scurried out of the store.

***

Stephanie pulled up to my house shortly after my mom and I finished eating dinner and honked her horn.

“Stephanie’s here, Mom. I’ll be home no later than ten,” I said.

My mom stopped doing the dishes and turned off the water. Her hands were covered in soapy water.

“It’s a school night, so no later than ten o’clock, Hanna. No excuses.”

“Yes, Mom, I know.” 

She put the water back on and continued doing the dishes.

I grabbed my bag off the counter and left. Once outside, I opened the door to Stephanie’s car and slid in the passenger seat.

“Hey, girl,” Stephanie beamed.

“Hey,” I said as I strapped on my seatbelt.

I caught myself staring at the strawberry car freshener that hung from her rearview mirror, the very same one that hung in the car I saw in the school parking the night I was attacked...the car that looked exactly like this one.

“Is something wrong?” Stephanie asked, noticing my silence.

“Uh…no…I’m fine,” I stammered.

She reversed out of my driveway and continued on the road. Shortly after we left, Stephanie veered into the driveway of a brown two-story house. She lived in a middle class neighbourhood in lower Willowdale. We got out of the car and sauntered on the white stone path to her charcoal-painted front door, then entered her small, mosaic tiled foyer. Stephanie threw her keys on the floating shelf and took off her black wedge shoes. I slipped off my black ballet shoes, and we headed into the living room. I settled on the plush burgundy couch, while Stephanie wandered into the kitchen. The walls were painted with family photos. Most of them were of Stephanie and her mom, others were of extended family and friends. One particular photo caught my eye. It was of an older man with greyish hair and a round face.

Maybe that’s her dad
, I thought.

Seeing that picture reminded me of how upset Stephanie got at my house when I asked about her father.

Stephanie came back with a bag of
Ruffles
and two cans of
Coke
. I scanned the house and saw a set of straight stairs, which probably led to Stephanie’s bedroom. I had to get in there to see if I could find anything that would prove her involvement in Brooke’s murder. She set the pop cans on the round wooden coffee table and sat down beside me with the chips in her hand.

“So,” she said, “let’s talk.” 

The potato chip bag made a crinkling sound as she ripped it open. She took a chip and popped it in her mouth. 

“I can’t believe Claire did that to me. I mean, I never asked to be homecoming queen.”  I sat back and tossed some hair over my shoulder. “It was all for nothing,” I said in a low voice.

“What was?”

“Moving here…the reason we moved here was to leave my past behind…but now…”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. It’ll all blow over. Eventually, they’ll move on to bigger gossip.” Her phone rang. “Excuse me for a second.”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna go use the bathroom.” 

“It’s just down the hall,” she said, pointing as she went to answer the phone.

I sprinted off the couch and stepped towards the hall. I looked back to see if Stephanie was watching me, but she was busy talking on the phone. I quietly trekked up the stairs, taking two at a time. There were two bedrooms on the right and a bathroom on the left. The first bedroom contained a king-size bed and a large mahogany dresser with a mirror. The next room was a little smaller, so it had to be Stephanie’s room. The walls were painted an eggshell white, and next to her bed was a wooden bookshelf. I wandered in to take a closer look. I noticed most of the books were murder mysteries. Among them were
Gone Girl
,
And Then There Were None
, and
In Cold Blood
. I opened her closet, and it was jam-packed with clothes. I scurried to her computer desk and pulled open the top drawer; there were a couple yellow highlighters, a container of black CoverGirl mascara, and a few quarters. The drawer below it contained a stack of lined paper.

I sprinted to her oak dresser and peeked in her black wooden jewelry box. My breath got caught in my throat and my eyes widened as I reached for a shiny gold chain with a half-heart pendant; it looked identical to the one Brooke had worn. It slipped out of my hand, and I bent down on my hands and knees to pick it up when I noticed an old shoebox under her bed. I carefully pulled it out and took off the lid. Inside were stacks of letters addressed to Stephanie. I unfolded one of them, and it said:

Dear Stephanie, I’m really sorry things ended the way they did. Even though your mother and I aren’t together anymore, I still want a relationship with you. Please give me a chance to make things right again. Love your dad, Frank Tillier.

Tillier! Ohmigod! It all made sense now. Brooke and Stephanie had the same dad, which meant they were half-sisters. Stephanie blamed Brooke’s mother for ruining her life. Could she have been angry enough to kill Brooke?

“What are you doing in here?”

I jumped, and my heart fluttered in my chest. Stephanie stood by the door with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Stephanie? Is there something you wanna tell me?”

As she glared at the open shoebox on the floor by my knee, her eyes widened. “What are you doing with that? Who gave you permission to snoop around in my room?”

She lunged towards me and grabbed the letter out of my hand. She was breathing heavily, and she pursed her lips and snatched the necklace from my other hand.

“You shouldn’t be in here!” she shouted. “These are my private things!” Her eyes became wet with tears.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were Brooke’s half-sister?”

“Because it’s none of your business!”

“Yeah, it
kinda is
, Stephanie. The police think I have something to do with Brooke’s murder, so if you know something, you better talk.”

She sat on her knees and lowered her head. Teardrops fell from her face. I placed my trembling hand on her shoulder.

“Stephanie? Did
you
kill Brooke?”

She whipped her head up. “What?” she whimpered.

“At my house…you were pretty upset about your dad leaving…and…well…you claimed Brooke’s mom ruined your life,” I said in a calm voice.

“Yeah, I was mad, okay!” She stood up and wiped the tears out of her eyes. “Sure…I
blame
her for my life falling apart…for growing up without a dad…but I wouldn’t kill my own half-sister.” The bottoms of her eyes were black from her mascara running.

“I saw your car in the school parking lot the other night,” I said. She looked at me with a stunned look on her face. “Everybody had gone home. Why were you there so late?”

“I-I was working on an article for the school newspaper, and I had a deadline. Principal Drake said I could stay to finish it.”

“Oh,” I replied. A thought then crossed my mind.

“Wait…if you and Brooke had the same dad, why isn’t your last name Tillier?”

“When my mother married my dad, she decided to keep her last name. I don’t know…maybe deep down she knew it wasn’t gonna last.”

“Hmm.”

“Why were
you
at school so late?” she asked.

“I was meeting somebody.”

She nodded her head, and sat down next to me on the floor, crossing her legs. “I may know something,” she said in a hushed tone.