“Hey, Garrett!” I bounce down the steps toward him. “Where’s your truck?”
He squints his eyes and tilts his head like he can’t believe I’m talking to him. “And you care why?”
I see the driver leaning toward the passenger window. “Garrett, try to find a ride home, man. I got other things to do than be your chauffeur.”
I look through the window. “Who’s that?”
“My brother, Caden,” Garrett growls.
I freeze. I’ve seen that face before—blocky shape, long nose, sharp chin, now scruffy with a few whiskers, deep set eyes, curly hair. Caden stares at me then backs up, opens his door, and stands, looking at me over the hood.
“Do I know you?” he asks.
I can’t breathe. He’s older now than when I first saw him, his hair longer, broader shoulders, but he still has the freckles I noticed when he offered to show me where Dad was on Onion Creek Trail. Garrett’s face is a softer, kinder version of Caden’s, but except for the freckles, few would recognize them as brothers.
I can’t understand why I suddenly feel chills and shudder. “I don’t think so,” I say as I hug myself.
Garrett starts to walk away.
“Where’s your truck?” I call after him.
“Dumbshit wrecked it last night.” Caden sneers at me as he stares at my breasts. I cover them with my pack. “Do you have a sister?”
A chill settles in my chest. “No. Why?”
He smiles, sucks in his bottom lip then climbs back into his jeep and slams the door just as Garrett turns around and flips him off. I see Caden’s finger out the window above the roof. A single thought fills my brain—that boy is evil.
Garrett starts up the steps. I move toward him but have to grab the railing. My head is spinning. “You wrecked your truck?”
“Yeah. Someone pissed me off last night. I wonder who?” He stomps away from me.
9
I’m trying to catch up with Garrett, but my legs wobble above feet I can barely feel. Garrett had a wreck even without me?
“Garrett! Please wait.”
He stops with his back toward me. I come to him and see my hand reaching out to his arm. He moves his hand up to his hair, avoiding the contact. “I’m sorry about last night. I fell asleep. I didn’t see your messages until my father called. How did you wreck your truck? Are you hurt?”
He looks around like he’s afraid someone will see him talking to me. “If I was hurt, I wouldn’t be here, would I?”
“How bad is your truck?”
“Probably totaled. Look, I need to get inside and try to study a little.” He walks away.
I catch up.
“Are you blaming me for the wreck? Just because you were angry, or was there another reason?”
“Listen, I was pretty mad when I drove away from your house. I don’t think I would’ve wrecked my truck if you’d gone with me.” He takes a few steps away.
I know you would have. I follow right behind him. “I heard Marissa had quite a party last night. Were you there?”
He hesitates like he’s not sure he should admit this. “Yeah.”
“And Terry and Jake?”
He stops. “Who’s telling you all this?”
“I have sources.” I try to smile, but he continues to scowl. “I hear there was lots of drinking.”
He glances around again. “Could’ve been for some.”
“And Marissa had some videos?” I watch his eyes widen then look above my head. “Did you recognize any of the girls?”
He slumps and looks to his feet. “Wasn’t really paying attention. Why are you asking all these questions?”
I pull out my phone. “Because I was wondering if you sent this message about watching meteors after you thought you saw me naked in a video?”
His eyes meet mine, and I smile. I don’t want him to clam up because he thinks I’m mad at him or will accuse him of something. He breathes quickly as he shoves his hands into his pockets.
I keep smiling. I want him to tell me what he said in his truck last night. “You know, the video where the girl had an orgasm.” He turns away. “You thought she sounded like me, but Marissa had blurred the face.” I move to face him. “Were you angry you couldn’t watch meteors with me, or you couldn’t have sex with me?”
He licks his lips. Sweat beads on his forehead.
I find his eyes with mine and make him look at me. “Did you know the showers ended three days ago?”
“They did?”
I know he’s lying. “You knew that. Where were you going to take me?”
“To the park. It’s dark, and you can see the light trails better.”
And no one could see us.“Did you drop off Terry and Jake before driving to my house?”
“Yes, but how . . .”
“Did you see a video of a girl you thought was me?”
He almost whimpers. “Marissa said it was you.”
“The girl in Marissa’s video was not me. She blurred the face because it was someone else. She probably got the clip from a porn site. I’m sorry you wrecked your truck, Garrett, but if you had picked me up, you would’ve killed us both. You were drunk when you left my house last night, and that’s why you crashed. You’re lucky you’re not in jail.” I leave him on the sidewalk and head indoors.
Even more strongly than I felt last night, I realize that yesterday I died. Literally. I’m not the version of me who chose not to sneak out of the house. I’m the one who chose to go. Somehow I skipped my consciousness back into the girl sleeping on her desk, which means that in another universe two kids died in the park, wrecking their families’ lives forever.
But Mom says skipping is impossible.
I see Marissa next to her locker and walk to her. She thumbs through her phone with one hand while playing with her long red hair with the other.
I’d like to hit her, but I want to make sure my memory is correct. I didn’t forget what I really did at her house with Kaitlyn. I actually did nothing. So I smile and act as friendly as I can. “Hey, Marissa. Can you show me the video of the girl you told Garrett was me?”
Her head snaps up, eyes bright green and heavily lined.
I show more teeth. “Hey, no problem. I thought it was funny as hell. He said my groans were amazing. Can you show me?” I show her my best rendition of happy, sparkling eyes. “Please?”
“Sure, Delaney.” She thumbs through her phone then pushes the play button.
And there I am—naked, holding a vibrator between my legs, twisting and moaning until I grunt through clenched teeth and twist into a fetal position. My face is pixelated, but the body is definitely mine.
I can’t move or breathe. My mouth hangs open as my eyes stay fixed on the screen.
“Delaney, are you OK?” asks Marissa.
I try to speak, but no sound emerges. I swallow a few times and try to pull myself together. “Where did you get this?”
Marissa rolls her eyes. “When you spent the night Friday. I shot Kaitlyn and you, and then she shot me. We all agreed to do it if I blurred the faces.”
Flashes of what I thought was a dream push through my brain. “I don’t remember.”
She laughs. “Well, we all got pretty stoned afterward, so no wonder.”
“You told Garrett that was me?”
“No, I did not. He said he recognized your voice, but I never told him it was you. For what it’s worth, he thinks you’re amazingly hot.”
She smiles like she told me the best news of my life.
“He was probably drunk.”
“He was, but of all the videos he watched, he liked yours the best.”
“Cool.” I force my lips into a smile.
“Hey, I’m having some girls spend the night on Saturday. We’re celebrating the end of finals. Wanna come?”
“Oh, I’d love to, but I’m flying to Alaska on Friday to see my Dad. Maybe next time.”
I walk into the bathroom and find an open stall. I need to think alo
ne for a few minutes. I distinctly remember leaving Marissa’s house at about nine o’clock Friday night, but I can’t remember driving home. Nor having to explain to Mom why I came home early.
Could I have confused walking outside with the girls smoking weed with me leaving the house in a huff? Or maybe I wanted to believe I left because I was trying to block out the bad stuff I did? But I distinctly remember grabbing my bag, opening her front door, and leaving in my car.
Unlike my phone, which has no record of a call to 911 during an event that seemed as real to me as my conversation with Marissa, her phone has a video of me. Meaning? I didn’t leave her house.
Or I came back, but I don’t remember driving back.
Maybe I skipped over, just like I did last night. I skipped over to the Laney who never left, who played their games and smoked pot and whatever else we did.
Why? Because something happened to me on the way home? A wreck? What?
I don’t know, but this is not a case of the other Laney’s feelings and memories of staying at Marissa’s leaking into my universe. A video itself can’t leak. The memory of it, the reaction to seeing it, the sensations while making it—all that can leak into my brain. But the video is real.
As I walk to English to take my first final of the day, I can’t help but consider that another Laney will stay in Austin and go to Marissa’s party. No telling how many wild visions and versions of me I’ll be missing while in Alaska.
Or will they still affect me up there? Maybe once I’m in Alaska I won’t be bothered by all this.
I sit down in the classroom, take out my pen, and wait for my test and notebook paper to be given to me. We can’t use our own paper because who knows what we’d sneak in?
As long as I can remember, I’ve had the same attitude toward tests—kill them. The little bastards are trying to trick me, to beat me, but I refuse to lose to them. My brain focuses on the contest with an arrogance and confidence I feel at no other time. Just try to kill me and see what happens.
Mr. McClellan wacks his desk with his expandable pointer and orders us to put our phones into Airplane mode. “I want to watch you do this, so hold them up. Now!” he commands in an older, breathier version of the booming voice, which used to command Army troops—in World War II. “If I hear any buzzing or dinging from a phone during this test, both your device and your exam will be confiscated. Am I clear?”
A few suck-ups say, “Yes, sir.”
Why do teachers have to turn into ogres during tests?
He gives me the exam and paper. I welcome the time away from my thoughts and dive into the questions, ones I can easily answer, unlike those about leaks and skips. Two hours later, the test cries for mercy, but like Gus told me this morning, I don’t let up and stab it in the heart, with a twist for good measure.
I now have two hours to kill before Pre-Cal this afternoon. As I leave the room and enter the hallway, I unlock my phone and see a text from Dad. Call me when you can.
Immediately I worry that something is wrong. Once inside my car, I press Dad’s number.
He answers after two rings. “Hey, Laney. Hang on a second.” It sounds like he tosses the phone on a table.
I hear a door slam then muffled crying. Then banging.
“Gibbs,” Dad shouts. “Open the door!”
“Go away!”
“Please let me in.”
“Leave me alone. That’s what you want to do. So do it.”
I hear the phone being picked up. “Are you still there, Laney?”
“Yes. What’s . . .”
“Hang on. I’m going outside.”
I close my eyes and try to breathe. My heart is pounding. I know he’s about to say I can’t see him. Gibbs doesn’t want me there.
I think he pushes the phone into a pocket. I barely hear a door open and close, then another door. A car starts with a loud whining sound like something’s about to break. Suddenly the volume sounds normal.
“Dad?”
“I’m here. I’ve got to get to work, but we can talk.”
I hear tires squeaking as they’re twisted and turned then a violent rumble. The phone must be bouncing.
“What are you doing? Sounds loud.”
“I’m trying to drive my truck without warming it up. The tires are square because it’s twenty-five below. They need to roll a while to round them out. And the defrost is on high ‘cause it’s damn cold in here.”
“Why didn’t you warm it up?”
“Because Gibbs decided to throw a fit this morning. That’s what I need to talk to you about.”
“OK.” Fear swirls hot in my gut. He wants to cancel my trip.
“First of all, did Hannah tell you Gibbs is up here? She doesn’t live with me, but she stays here sometimes.”
“She told me. Am I kicking her out of her bedroom? I can sleep somewhere else. I don’t mind.”
“You don’t need to do that. I want to ask you something.”
He’s going to tell me to wait or that I can’t come.The burning rises into my throat. I cover my mouth.
“Will you be OK being around Gibbs? Are you still angry with her?”
“I’ve been angry at myself for three years.” Which is the truth.“I’m tired of being angry. I just want to be with you. If Gibbs is part of your life, that’s fine. Is she mad about the room?”
“I haven’t told her about that yet. I was waiting until later. She doesn’t live with me, Laney. We’re good friends. She stayed here last night because she got fired.” His words are clipped. “Again. She’s worried about losing her house.”
“So all you did was tell her I’m visiting you?”
“I didn’t even tell her that. She saw me cleaning up the place this morning and asked me why. I got nervous and told her I just had an urge to clean up. She watched me for another minute or two then said, ‘When’s Laney getting here?’ I have no idea how she figured it out. I told her you’d come Friday night, and she blew up. She said I’d lied to her. I told her the truth. We always have stupid arguments.”
My heart slows down, and I actually smile. “You should’ve told her about me when she asked why you were cleaning. You said you had an urge, not that I was visiting.”
“But I did have an urge! How is that a lie?”
“Doesn’t matter. She must be worried that I’m going to hate her and try to separate you two. She must love you, Dad. Why aren’t you living together?”
He sighs. “It’s a long story, Baby Girl. We have off and on, but we do better when we have our own houses.”
“According to you or her?”
“What d’ya mean?”
“And now she’s worried she won’t have any house because I’ll persuade you to come back to Texas. No wonder she’s upset. She thinks I’m coming to take you away.” Maybe that’s why Mom is letting me go.
“You can have my room, and I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
“Does she always sleep in the little room when she stays at your place?”
Silence for several seconds. “Laney, I . . .”
“Hey, Dad. Remember balls and boobs. We can talk about anything. Why can’t she be in your room while I’m there?”
“I’m not sure that’s the best solution.”
“Did she sleep by herself last night?”
I hear the truck come to a stop, and the heater fan slows. “No, she didn’t.”
So I’m causing this mess. Again.“No need for everyone to pretend while I’m there. Maybe I should call Gibbs.”
“What would you say?”
“That I’m not trying to take you away from her. That if you two sleeping together makes both of you happy, then it makes me happy, too.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.” I hear the truck accelerate.
“Laney, she tries hard, but she still drinks too much and uses drugs. She got fired because she smoked pot during her break.”
“Then she doesn’t need to worry about where she sleeps. She must
have other issues to deal with.” I think about last night when I drank a half bottle of wine, something I’ve never done before. “Maybe she uses to keep her brain from driving her crazy.”
His voice tenses a little. “I’ve known her my whole life. She just can’t control her urges.”
“You knew me for thirteen years, but you sure didn’t know everything going through my head. We all have our own secret nightmares, Dad. I’m sure you have them, too. Let me talk to her. Maybe we can clear things up so Friday night won’t be so awkward.”
“OK. Damn, you’re growing up! I’ll text you her number in a minute. And I’ll give her your number and to expect your call.”
I hear the tires rolling again.
“Hey! What’d you think of my photos?” He chuckles.
“It looks freaking cold! I hope your house is warm.”
“Guess that depends on how everybody gets along. But otherwise, the stove and Toyo work pretty good. Talk to you later. I’m going into the Base now. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” We disconnect.
What the hell is a Toyo? I type the word into Google and see nothing but tires. Surely, he’s not burning tires.
Gibbs’ number comes through. I add her to my contacts.
I wonder what secrets she hides. Are they worse than mine?
10
Several cars are lined up to leave campus. Gus smiles and gives special words to each driver and passenger. I know some consider this ritual an unnecessary hassle, but I always look forward to talking with him.
He leans and touches his brim. “Howdy, Delaney. Did you kill it?”
“That test is slain. They’re mopping up the floor as we speak.”
He pats the top of my door. “Good girl! Have a great lunch.” He tips his hat as I power up my window.
I’ve never spoken to Gibbs. The only time I saw her she was naked, having sex with Dad. I never blamed her as much as Dad for what happened, but mostly I blamed myself. I couldn’t control how they acted, but I could control how I responded. And that’s where I screwed up.
Some Laneys Died: A Skipping Sideways Thriller Page 7