I wove through the crowd like a panicked mother looking for a wayward child in the mall until I found her. She was sitting on the interior balcony that overlooked the loft, her feet through the railings, dangling over us. I climbed up the metal, fire-escape-like stairs, and sat down next to her, handing her the drink I was still clutching. It was less loud up there, and the DJ had decided to mellow out the tunes for a bit, maybe encourage some romance. Everyone had to have someone to kiss at midnight, after all. Maybe I’d end up kissing Kiki.
“I thought I’d lost you,” I said.
“I didn’t go anywhere.” She took a hesitant sip of her drink, then made a face. “What’s in this?”
“Swamp juice.”
“What’s that?”
“One of everything in the bar.”
“Ugh.” She put the glass down next to her. She looked down at the crowd. “There’s a lot of people here.”
“It’s a party.”
“You know all these people?”
“Only a couple.”
“Why did you want to come, then?”
“I like big parties.”
Her shoulders rose and fell. “I don’t.”
I reached around her to pick up her glass. I drained it. “I’ve screwed all this up, haven’t I?”
“What up?”
“You? This. Reintroducing you to society. I’m failing.”
“I’m not a class.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Didn’t you?”
“No, of course not. Fucking Todd.”
I felt her tense next to me. How long would it take until she didn’t react when I spoke badly of Todd? I’d never been so glad he was dead.
“I’m going to write about him,” I said.
“You are?”
“I had the idea a couple of weeks ago. I pitched it to my editor and he loved it. It’s going to be my first big piece.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“Why not?”
Kiki played with the ends of her hair. “Something about it feels dangerous. And wouldn’t you have to disclose your connection? Do you think you could even be objective?”
My cheeks flamed. “The piece isn’t going to be about me.”
“But, oh—”
“What?”
She turned away from me. “Nothing, it’s, um . . . Covington is here.”
I looked down at the crowd. There he was, all tall and gangly, with a knit cap resting far back on his head. He was searching the room, looking for someone.
“Did you invite him?”
She nodded. They’d been in touch, obviously, but for how long? Why hadn’t she ever mentioned it? Why hadn’t he? Were they dating?
I stopped my spinning brain. I didn’t care if Kiki dated Covington. He was a good guy, but I had zero romantic interest in him. It was the lack of input that was bugging me. I could hear Liam’s admonishment: You can’t control for all outcomes.
Oh, but I wanted to.
I forced a smile onto my face. “That’s great, Kiki. Good for you.”
She looked away. “It’s stupid.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m doing that exchange thing next year. It can’t go anywhere.”
What the hell? “What exchange thing?”
“I told you. I’m doing a year at Ohio State.”
I felt queasy, though I hadn’t yet had that much to drink. I had zero memory of Kiki telling me about it. But that didn’t surprise me, in some way. We’d learned in the LOT that it was easier to blame the other person for something than tell them the truth. You just weren’t listening to me was a frequent ploy used in the Upper Camp to get away with minor infractions, right along with But you said yes when I asked you. Lying was so ingrained as forbidden, and the punishment for being caught so severe, that the adults mostly chose to believe that they’d forgotten over the possibility that we’d disobey them deliberately.
Or Kiki actually had told me, and I’d been so wrapped up in my own shit that I hadn’t listened. That was a possibility too.
“You’re leaving for real?” I said.
“Just for a bit. And not until the fall.”
I pulled her to me. She still smelled like our childhood, as if she were carrying the Land of Todd around with her wherever she went. And maybe she was. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.”
“What am I going to do without you? I just got you back.”
“I won’t be far. And I’ll be back.”
“You better,” I said, then pulled away. “Now go find Covington.”
After I’ve finished looking around and collected everything there is to find in Jessie’s tent, including a cell phone I’ve never seen, I leave the tent, dip into mine, and quickly fill my backpack with some necessities. Then I climb out and hoist the bag onto my back. I pick up the third paddleboard, loop the life vest around my neck, and tuck the paddle under my arm. The board is heavy, and I hate carrying things long distances, but it’s only about a quarter of a mile to the beach. The path is an old ski trail, not properly tended, and there are downed trees across it every hundred feet or so. I walk into the woods to go around them, breathing in through my nose as the weight starts to pull at me. The last part of the path is a hill. I drop the board and hurry up it, leaving my pack and paddle at the top, then return down to retrieve the board.
I continue past my stuff and reach the beach just as JJ and Jessie are ready to push off. I was worried about being too far behind them, but the adrenaline coursing through me made swift work of the path.
“I need to go back for my paddle and pack,” I say, motioning to the trees behind us.
“Should we wait?” Jessie asks.
“Start. I’ll catch up.”
JJ gives me a look. “You okay?”
My face feels red, like I’ve been drinking or caught a bad sunburn. “Yeah, of course. I just hate carrying stuff. Plus, it’s hot.”
“It’ll be cooler out on the lake.”
“Get going, then.”
I watch them for a minute as they leave. JJ explains how to paddle to Jessie, and they soon have a good rhythm going. The lake is glass, like it gets most afternoons. There’s no one on the beach, and though I can hear the faraway buzz of a motorboat, I can’t see it. The scene looks like one of the postcards you can buy in the gift shop.
I hustle back to the trees to recover my pack and paddle, then rush down to the water once more. Beads of sweat are running down my back, and my hands are slick as I put the board in the water. I drop it, splashing myself, then almost lose my balance as I scramble onto it. When I’m finally situated, kneeling in the center of the board, I push off, using the paddle to get past the rocks before I stand up.
JJ and Jessie are not that far ahead of me, and once I stand, it only takes a few minutes of hard paddling to reach them, my shoulder initially protesting, then warming up and settling in. I slide in between JJ and Jessie.
Or should I call her Molly?
She doesn’t look like a Molly. As I watch her paddle, I wonder how often she goes by that name. Are names part of the game for her? And what does she call this game? This finding and frauding of Jessicas? What made her like this? Did she belong to a family of grifters? Was she simply the bad seed in an ordinary house? Did something happen to her when she was a child? I’m old enough to admit that I’m the way I am because of Todd. And what has she been doing with us all this time? I have my theories, but that’s all they are.
“We’re going all the way across, yes?” JJ says.
“Huh?”
“The lake? We’re going to the other side, right?”
I turn toward her. She’s got a compact motion with her paddle. It breaks the surface without a splash and leaves little eddies in its wake.
“I’d like to,” I say. “You up for it?”
She nods, her eyes hidden by her sunglasses. “Sure, if you think it’s safe.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jessie asks, sounding nervous.
JJ raises her eyebrows, mocking her. “Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!”
“Surely not.”
“Bears, probably.”
“Maybe we should go back?”
“What are you, chicken?” I flash Jessie a smile that’s a challenge. “First person to the other side gets a prize!” I shout for good measure.
“What’s the prize?” JJ asks.
“You’ll have to paddle to the other side to find out.”
“Fair’s fair, though. Let’s line up.”
I miss a stroke and wait for us to re-form our line. Three Jessicas in a row. Ashes, Ashes, we all fall down.
JJ leans forward, ready to take me on.
I look at Jessie. “You in?”
She squares her shoulders. “Bring it.”
“Three, two, one . . . go!”
Chapter 29
End of the Line
It’s hard to tell how long it takes us to get to the other side of the lake. All I know is that my lungs are screaming, and the buildup of lactic acid in my arms almost makes me stop, but I don’t. I think about everything that Jessie has done, and this propels me. I can look past the pain and focus on the shore as it gets closer, closer, closer, we’re here.
My arms feel like lead, and I’m worried about the paddle back, but it’s too late for that now. I paddle right to the shore, the bottom of the board scraping against the rocks. I walk off the end, teetering slightly, and pull it up so it won’t float away. Then I fall to the rocky beach. I lie there on my back for a minute, trying to catch my breath. JJ got here first, winning the race, and Jessie’s somewhere behind us.
I prop myself up and sit on my bum. I look up at the blue sky. It feels so impossibly far away even though we’re actually closer to it than back in New York. I check the lake as I take off my pack. Jessie’s a couple hundred feet away. My pack clangs and sloshes as I put it down.
“What you got in there?” JJ asks.
“Your prize.”
She pulls a piece of driftwood toward me and sits down on it, grinning. I haul myself up beside her, my feet curling into a cramp. I kick off the cheap water shoes I bought a week ago at the convenience store near the park entrance and flex my toes against the rocks. I look around to distract myself. The forest is thick on this side, though there’s evidence of people. A fire ring. A picnic table. A few discarded cigarette butts.
“You bring anything to drink?” JJ asks.
“You bet.”
I reach into my pack and take out a canteen. I take a long drink of water; it’s still cool, well insulated from the sun. I pass it to JJ.
Jessie’s board scrapes against the rocks, announcing her arrival.
“You made it,” JJ says.
“Barely.” She stumbles off the board like I did a few minutes earlier. She’s very red in the face, both from sunburn and from the exertion. “Dead last,” she says.
“You’ll still get a reward,” I say.
“Lucky me.”
“There’s water.” I motion to the canteen in JJ’s hand. “And also . . .” I reach into the backpack and pull out the cans of beer I stashed in there. “How about a real beverage?”
JJ puts the canteen down on the gravel at her feet. “Now you’re talking.”
I pull a beer off the tab and toss it to her. She cracks it open and drains it like we’re at a kegger. She crushes it under her arm and wipes her hand across her mouth. “That hit the spot.”
“You want one, Jessie?”
“Sure.”
She takes a seat next to me gingerly and I hand her the beer. I put the six-pack back in my bag.
“You’re not having one?” she asks.
“In a minute.”
Jessie nods as she opens her beer. I look out at the lake again. There’s no one in sight. The only thing I can hear is the soft lap of the water against the shore and the buzz of insects in the trees.
JJ stands. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’ve got a date with a tree.”
Jessie takes a sip of her beer. “Don’t let a bear get you.”
“I can defend myself.”
JJ walks into the woods.
“What else you got in there?” Jessie asks, nudging the pack with her foot. She’s wearing an old pair of Adidas, gray with grime.
My heart thuds. “What?”
“In your pack. You wouldn’t happen to have any snacks in there, would you?”
“Oh yes. Of course.” I put it between my legs and root around inside. I pull out a package of beef jerky and another of trail mix. “Which do you want?”
“I’ll take the jerky. And water, if you’ve got it.”
I toss the jerky to her. She catches it easily.
“The water’s in the canteen.”
“Can you hand it to me?”
“Oh, sure.” I keep one hand on my pack while I reach for the canteen. I take a sip of water to quell my dry mouth, then hand it to her.
I can feel her eyes on me. Am I behaving strangely? I can’t tell. Is Jessie looking at me oddly? Maybe, maybe she is.
“Well, this is a party,” JJ says, reappearing with her arms full of wood. She dumps it into the firepit, bends down, and makes short work of starting it with a lighter that she pulls from her pocket.
“What’s the fire for?” Jessie asks.
She shrugs. “Felt like making it. Who knows how long we’ll be here?”
“It doesn’t get dark till late, though.” Jessie looks at her watch. “It’s only four. We have plenty of time to rest, then get back.”
“Who doesn’t like a campfire?” JJ says by way of explanation, then walks over and sits next to me. She reaches into the pack and emerges with a beer. The pop of the tab opening sounds loud. Everything seems loud.
I think I’m losing my mind.
“What’s wrong with you two?” JJ asks.
Jessie rips open the beef jerky package with her teeth. “Nothing.”
“Yeah, nothing,” I say.
“Bullshit. You guys have a fight when I was gone?”
“Nope,” Jessie says, putting some beef jerky in her mouth. “But Jess doesn’t feel like talking.”
“It’s nothing,” I say. “I’m tired.”
I take one of the beers and open it. It’s lukewarm, but I need something to calm my nerves.
“So, that was a shitshow today,” JJ says, crushing up her beer can and tucking it into the pack. “Ooh, trail mix.” She pulls it out.
“You don’t say,” I answer, trying to keep my tone even.
“We should go home,” Jessie says.
“You sound like Liam,” I say, and Jessie makes a face.
“And what, give up?” JJ says.
“I guess.”
I take a long drink of the bitter beer and listen to the fire pop. Going home would be the easy thing to do. It would be the sensible thing to do. But it’s not what I’m going to do. Because I came here to catch a Jessica, and here she is, sitting next to me, like she’s been all along.
“No,” I say.
“What’s that?” Jessie says.
“I said no.”
“Why not?”
“You know why.”
I haven’t been looking at her directly. But now I do. I gather my courage and remember everything she’s done to me, and JJ, and the others. And then I imagine that she’s Todd, and I look her right in the eye like I wanted to look at him all those years. Like I did when I was twelve and we got sent to the Back Forest.
“What’s that?” she says again.
“I said, you know why.” I pause. “Molly.”
The beer can slips from her hand and splashes against the rocks.
“What did you just say?”
“I called you Molly.”
Jessie scrambles to her feet. JJ and I are not far behind.
“Catch me up,” JJ says.
“I went through her stuff while you guys were going to the beach.”
“You what?” Jessie says, her voice shaking.
“Shut it,” JJ says.
“I found her other ID.” I bend at the knees so I can keep my eyes on Jessie. I put my hand in my pack and pull out Jessie’s wallet. Her eyes narrow. “Here.” I stand and toss it to JJ. “Check the inner compartment.”
JJ opens the wallet and finds a second driver’s license with Jessie’s photo on it.
“There’s a boarding pass in there too,” I say. “The one she used to get into the airport today. She also had a bunch of other IDs in a pouch, bank cards, a few passports. Who knows which are real and which are fake.”
I’m explaining to JJ, but my eyes haven’t left Jessie. She hasn’t reacted beyond the first blip. She’s standing there, a stone. Only her eyes are moving slightly, as if she’s calculating the distance to the door. But there isn’t any door. There’s nowhere to go but the lake.
“I can explain,” Jessie says finally, her voice a squeak.
“I’m listening,” JJ says, but she takes a step toward Jessie. JJ’s body is tense, like it was last night at the washstand. As if violence isn’t far behind.
“It’s not what it looks like.”
“Of course it is,” I say as JJ takes another step.
“It’s not. I swear. Jess, come on. We’ve been together off and on all summer. I’m not . . . I’m not her.”
“You are.”
“No. I only have those IDs because of her. I needed to be someone else for a while. Someone she didn’t have a hold over, a connection to. You understand, don’t you, JJ? After everything she did to you, wouldn’t it be nice to be anonymous?”
“That’s a good story,” I say. “Tell me, have you had that ready for a while, or did you make it up on the spot?”
“It’s not a story.”
“It is, though. And I can prove it.” I reach into my pocket and take out my cell. I scroll through my texts until I find it. The thread with Jessica Two. The threats she’s sent me, including the one from today.
I type something and hit “Send.”
Then I take out the other cell phone that I found in Jessie’s tent and hold it in my left hand. An unmistakable sound goes off as it receives my text.
Ping!
She got the message.
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