Ten (14 page)

“What do you want to do?” Kumiko said. “Swim for it?”

“The storm’s let up some,” Kenny said. “We could make it across.”

Ben shook his head. “Did you see the waves crashing over that strip of beach? It washed the bridge away. No way we’d make it.”

“We don’t all have to go,” Kenny said. “In fact, we shouldn’t.”

T.J. stood up straight. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dude,” Nathan said. “Are you mental?”

“No, I’m just the black guy. Which means I should be grateful I’m still alive at this point, remember?”

“It was a joke,” Nathan said. His leg continued to bounce up and down.

Gunner edged forward in his chair. “Not funny.”

Nathan did the same. “Not my fault you and your boyfriend don’t have a sense of humor.”

“So now it’s gay jokes?” T.J. said. He clenched his fists. “Racist
and
homophobic?” He nodded at Kenny. “Why are you friends with this guy?”

Kenny pushed himself off the sofa. “Only matters that I am.”

Kumiko threw herself between them. “Oh my God, what is wrong with you guys?”

Nathan wasn’t about to back down. “Those marks on the wall? They didn’t appear by magic.”

The room fell silent. It was what they’d all been thinking, but Nathan was the first to say it out loud. There was no one else in the house. One of them had made the marks on the wall.

“Look!” Kenny kicked the leg of the sofa so fiercely Meg jumped. “One of us is an asshole. And I’m not going to sit around and wait to see what happens next.”

It was as if Kenny’s whole demeanor had changed since Lori’s suicide. That first night he’d seemed like a soft, gentle giant who barely said a word and just smiled a lot. Now he was a ticking time bomb.

“Exactly,” Nathan said, resuming his seat. “So excuse us if we don’t want everyone”—he looked pointedly at Meg—“along for the ride.”

Meg opened her mouth to protest, but T.J. beat her to it. “She’s the one who discovered the paint was missing from the boat. Why would she point that out if she was responsible?”

“Maybe she’s trying to throw us off.”

“She didn’t do it,” T.J. said through clenched teeth.

“Yeah?” Nathan said. His leg bounce was so manic Meg could actually feel it through the floorboards. “And we’re what, supposed to take her word for it?”

T.J. squared his shoulders. “Hers
and
mine.”

Meg glanced at Minnie, hoping her best friend would jump in and add her endorsement of Meg’s innocence. Instead, Minnie stared at the coffee table.

“Excuse me if that’s not good enough.” Nathan got to his feet again. “Kenny and I are heading to the other house,” Nathan said. “Alone.”

“Whatever,” T.J. said. “Good luck.”

Nathan and Kenny stormed out of the living room without another word.

“That was ridiculously dramatic,” Kumiko said.

“Shouldn’t we try and stop them?” Meg asked. “They’ll never make it.”

Ben stood and stretched his long arms over his head. “I’m sure they’ll be fine. The sooner we get hold of the police, the better.” He placed a hand on Minnie’s shoulder. “Why don’t you get some rest? It’s been a long day.”

Minnie jolted in her chair as if Ben had just woken her from a nap. She got to her feet without so much as a nod or a smile and followed him out of the room.

Meg was worried. It was so not like Minnie to be this calm, this stoic. Her usual MO was what Meg had witnessed that morning—total freak-out followed by slightly dramatic narcissism. So this reaction was … odd.

“Minnie, wait up,” Meg said, hurrying after them. She caught up to her at the bottom of the stairs. “Hey, are you okay?”

Minnie glanced at her briefly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Um …” Was Meg the only one who remembered the epic meltdown just two hours earlier when Minnie literally ripped their room apart looking for her meds? Ben was a few steps ahead of them, the only one within earshot. “You know. Without your anxiety medication? I’m worried everything that’s happened today has been—”

“I’m fine.”

“Oh.”

That was a first. In six years of friendship Meg had always been the only person Minnie confided in. And as bad as Minnie’s mood swings had gotten over the last year or two, Meg was used to that role. The shoulder to cry on. The one who fixed everything. Made it all better. That was the pattern. Maybe it wasn’t the healthiest of relationships, but it was the norm, and something about it made Meg comfortable. Now this? Had to be the lack of meds. Had to be.

They reached the second-floor landing and Ben peeled off to his room. Minnie started up into the tower, then turned abruptly.

“I’m going to take a nap,” she said matter-of-factly. “I need some time alone.” And with that she ran up the stairs two at a time, disappearing into the garret room before Meg could ask another question.

“Okay,” Meg said to no one in particular.

Meg stood on the stairs for a full minute. Alone time was Minnie’s nemesis. Her kryptonite. Her Achilles’ heel. In the face of a depressive episode, Minnie would call Meg at any hour of the day or night, keeping her on the phone for hours because she was so terrified of flying solo. And now in the midst of this nightmare, she wanted to be alone? Of all the freaky stuff that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, that topped the list.

Slowly, Meg turned around and wandered back downstairs. Was it her? Was she the social leper in the house? Nathan and Kenny clearly thought she was behind the slashes on the wall. T.J. had disappeared. Minnie didn’t want to be in the same room with her.... Well, crap.

At the bottom of the stairs, Meg paused. Where was she going? The study had a dead body in it. The foyer had the ominous red slashes that she didn’t want to be caught within twenty feet of. Part of her wanted to go upstairs and find T.J., or Kumiko and Gunner, just for the sake of having some company.

She needed something to do, something to occupy her time. Meg’s hand crept into the pocket of her coat and fingered the worn cover of the diary. Or she could find someplace quiet and find out exactly what was in that journal.

The pull was too great. Living room it was.

The room was icy and dark. The fire had died down and even when Meg stoked it, only a shuddering of orange sparks fluttered up the chimney. There wasn’t any more firewood in the log rack, so Meg was left with the dullish glow of dying embers that barely penetrated the gloom of the house. Definitely not enough light to read by. So despite the chill, Meg sat in the window seat, where at least she had some dullish sunlight by which to read.

With a slight shiver—caused by the cold or nervous anticipation, Meg wasn’t sure—she opened the diary.

They’ll know when I’m gone what a mess they made of things. Maybe they’ll be sorry? I don’t know. But at least they’ll know they caused this. It was their fault and someday they will pay.

All of them.

Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot. What in the hell was that? The entry was written in black ink, uneven and smudged in places where the paper was slightly warped, as if drops of water had been sprinkled over the page. Tears maybe? Meg thought of all the tears she’d shed while writing some of her own journal entries and could almost picture the author doing the same.

It was hard to tell from the language whether this was a recent entry or something written years even decades ago. And still no hint as to the author’s identity.

Once again, Meg felt like she should close the diary, leave it on the window seat, and walk away. She shouldn’t be doing this. And yet she felt compelled, despite the author’s warnings, to continue. She was totally hooked.

Still, it was wrong, and Meg knew it. These were someone’s private thoughts, and when you read people’s private thoughts … well, things could go horribly wrong. Meg thought of what Minnie or T.J. or even Jessica Lawrence would think of her if they read what was in her journal. Just like most of Meg’s life, there were some things better left unsaid.

Which is why she kept a journal.

And yet Meg’s journal was, in some ways, the most concrete thing in her life. It was totally real and authentic, the only place where she could always be herself, always say exactly what she wanted to, when she wanted to. She was never tongue-tied, never shy, never unsure of herself.

She should have put the journal down.

Instead, she turned the page.

TWENTY

I’M SO EXCITED!

Today was the first day at the new school and I think it’s going to be awesome. I can feel it.

Mom’s in a good mood. The move went well. She loves the new house and it’s closer for Bob to get to work so we can all have dinner together like a real family. I hope she stays this way.

Dr. Levine says the move will be good for me, too. New house, new school, new friends. I think he’s right. I feel lighter already. And hopeful.

I’m starting over. Reinventing myself. No one knows what I was before I came here. Everything is going to be different.

Meg caught her breath. She could have been reading her own journal. She vividly remembered being the new girl in school when her parents moved the family from New York to the Seattle suburbs before the start of seventh grade. The excitement and the apprehension. Just like this author.
I’m starting over. Reinventing myself.
How many times had she written almost that exact same thing? It was one of the reasons she was going to college out of state.

I met a few people, but not too many. There’s a really cute guy in my Spanish class. I can’t believe I’m even thinking about boys already! Dr. Levine says I should focus on making friends first. Just friends. But I couldn’t help it. He cracked a lot of jokes in class, and when I laughed at one, he smiled at me. Not mocking, but an actual smile. He noticed me in a good way.

Holy crap. Were she and the author living parallel lives? Meg remembered the first day she had an actual conversation with T.J., something more than just a passing “What’s up?” at a party or in the corridor at school. They’d been paired up for a project on
The Grapes of Wrath
and met at a coffee house after football practice to come up with a plan.

At the time, they were practically strangers. What Meg knew about T.J.: (a) he’s a player, and (b) my best friend’s in love with him. What T.J. knew about Meg: (a) she gets good grades, and (b) her best friend may or may not have a crush on me. It was a stiff and awkward meeting.

Then T.J. made a stupid joke, and Meg followed it up with one of her comebacks. T.J. had paused and looked at her. Really looked at her, maybe for the first time. Then he smiled, that perfect, dimply smile.

And Meg melted.

Not that she’d admit it to herself. Day after day, she’d write in her diary about how they were “just friends,” more to convince herself than anything. She knew she was falling for him, and she felt like a horrible friend for doing so. Minnie had been in love with T.J. for so long, and Meg was the only one whom she’d told. Even if something happened between Meg and T.J., how would she ever tell Minnie? It would be the ultimate betrayal.

And yet Meg had continued to go out of her way to see him. They spent way more time together working on the project than was necessary. But Meg couldn’t help herself. T.J. was more than just a jock—he was smart, quick-witted, playful. There was substance to him, something deeper and more real than the other guys he hung out with. Meg saw that there was more to him than just the star wide receiver—and she desperately wanted him to realize how perfect they were for each other.

Until he did.

Choir was the best part of the day. We all had to audition and the director seemed really impressed with me. I don’t think any of the other sopranos sang as well as I did, except maybe one girl. She’s really sweet, though. She helped me find a folder and had me sit next to her. It felt so good to find a friend, you know? But I’m going to feel bad when I beat her out for the solo at the next concert.

Hee. Can you believe I just wrote that? See, I’m different already! Tom said I would be. I feel like I can do anything!!!!!

Meg grinned. She couldn’t help but feel a connection to this girl, whoever she was. There was such hope, such joy in her voice. Meg could almost picture her sitting in bed, a huge smile on her face, writing these words.

There was also a pang of guilt. She really shouldn’t be reading this. Clearly, this was not a journal written twenty or a hundred years ago. It must be relatively recent. Meg felt hypocritical. If anyone found
her
journal—which didn’t even have the aggressive warning at the beginning—she’d be mortified if they read even a page. But here she was, barreling on. She needed to know what happened with the boy in Spanish class. It reminded her so much of how she and T.J. met.... She needed to know if this had a happy ending.

Meg turned to the next entry.

I can’t believe it’s been a week since I wrote last. Well, yes I can because it’s been completely crazy!!! I joined … wait for it … the debate team!

I know. I told you it was crazy. But Dr. Levine said it might be good for me to do group activities, kind of force me to meet more people.

I’m willing to try, you know? So I signed up for choir and then on Friday, the girl who sits next to me in history was telling everyone about how the debate team is traveling all over the area and how she knows people at like every school in the state and I thought, “That’s exactly what Dr. Levine was talking about.”

So I did it. I joined. The first meeting is after school tomorrow!