by Kaitlin Ward
I’m flawed. We all are, obviously. But if I were going to pick one of the three of us to live … I don’t know. This is a bad path for my mind to take, and I wish Steve hadn’t said anything.
“I have good taste in friends,” I tell her. “That might be my best trait.”
Tera laughs and hugs me again. “Can’t argue with you there. Now let’s get to class before Mrs. Marecaux thinks we were both murdered in a bathroom.”
* * *
“Steve’s a pile of crap,” says Liam, not mincing words.
Hunter’s doing something for his senior capstone project, so I’m stuck at school for a half hour or so before we can go home. Sky went with Hunter because that’s what she does now, but Liam’s hanging out with me in the athletic building—a place where we both spend way too much time and therefore feel most comfortable. We’re sitting at the top of the bleachers surrounding the empty basketball court, and I’ve told him every detail of my encounter with Steve.
“Sorry,” he adds, “I know he’s having a hard time and I should be understanding, but I don’t like him.”
“He’s, like, a lot younger than you, though; when have you even interacted with him?”
“His parents are the ones who started the rumor that my dad murdered my mom and buried her in the woods somewhere.” Liam’s tone is beyond bitter. “And Steve’s the one who made sure the entirety of Hen Falls Elementary heard that story.”
“All right. That concludes it. He’s a pile of crap.”
Liam laughs. “Hey, I have something for you. I almost forgot.”
“Is it another carrion beetle? Where’d you get that, by the way?”
Liam pauses mid-rummage through his backpack. “Get what? The beetle?”
“Yeah. They eat corpses, that’s where they’re usually found.”
“Oh. It was on my lawn near the road. Probably came off a dead squirrel or some other roadkill.”
“Makes sense.”
“Makes me extra glad I washed my hands after I touched it.” He grins, and then holds something out to me in a clenched fist. “Listen, I know how much you liked that necklace. I remember you wearing it, and I felt bad that you missed it so much. So I went online, and I found you one that I think is pretty similar.”
He opens his fist, and there sits … my necklace.
I pluck it gingerly from his palm. The chain is different—more delicate, and it’s not silver—but the rectangle of wood, it’s not just “pretty similar.” It’s literally my necklace. All the different shades of wood scrap are in the same spot. It has the same dings around the edges. The same imprint on the bottom where they tightened the clamp too much while the glue dried.
“Liam, where did you get this? This is my pendant. The very same one. How did someone have this for sale?”
“It’s not the exact same one,” he protests. “There’s no way. Anyway I got it off an Etsy shop, and the lady lives in Arkansas.”
I don’t want to argue with him, but something isn’t adding up here at all. I’ve worn this pendant every day for years. I know it like I know my own skin.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He smiles at me, bright and perfect, and clasps the necklace around my throat. It feels right, like a piece of me that’s been missing, but also wrong because the chain’s different and it sits differently on my chest, and because nothing can just be uncomplicated, ever since my accident.
I squeeze my fist around the rectangle of wood and breathe a long, slow sigh.
I don’t know how Liam got my necklace back, and I don’t think I want to know. But regardless of anything else, I’m so glad I have it.
* * *
“Where’d you get that?” Hunter demands the second I get into the car.
“Liam bought it off Etsy,” I answer. It feels like a lie rolling off my tongue, even though it isn’t. Liam showed me the store on his phone, and the lady in Arkansas really does sell wood jewelry just like this. Except, well, this one is mine.
“Maybe the chain,” Hunter says, “but I made that thing, remember? I know what it looks like.”
I clutch the necklace in my fist and shrug. He and Sky exchange a glance in the front seat, and I can tell I’m not going to like whatever I’m about to hear.
“Amelia, Hunter and I have been talking,” Sky begins. “And he told me something about Liam that’s a little … worrying.”
“Oh, you mean there’s an actual reason you hate him so much, not the weak excuse you made up when you lied to me?” I snap. I’m being rude, but I feel defensive and teamed up on.
“Yes,” says Hunter coolly. “And I didn’t want to say anything because I was trying not to be a jerk and I know we all make mistakes, but I mean, where did he get that necklace? How did he have it? Why is he— Just listen. He and I were at the same soccer camp one summer, in middle school. And please do not tell him I told you this, okay?”
“Okay,” I say sullenly. I don’t like that Hunter’s trying to drag my boyfriend through the mud, but also I’m not going to not listen to this.
“It was late at night and I’d snuck out of my cabin because I had to use the bathroom. I didn’t want to go all the way to the actual bathroom because, you know, why walk that far when you can just pee into nature.” He’s trying to lighten the mood, but I’m not laughing. “And I went into the woods a little bit, and I saw Liam with … There was a whole bunch of dead squirrels at the base of a tree all laid out in this neat row with their tails curled perfectly over their backs, and he was … Well, to be honest I don’t know exactly what he was doing with them before I got there, because he’d clearly heard me coming. He told me he’d found them like that and was just looking.”
“And you think what? He killed a pile of squirrels?”
“I don’t know! I mean, maybe he did just find them there, but something about it always, always felt off to me, Amelia. What was he doing out there in the middle of the night? How did he happen to find this incredibly weird thing, and when I asked if he wanted to walk back to the cabins together, why did he say no? Why did he want to stay there looking at those perfectly arranged squirrels? It was disturbing, and I’ve never forgotten it.”
“Oh come on, Hunter.” His story combined with this necklace weirdness isn’t sitting well with me at all, but I’ve reached the limit of what I can take, and I feel myself snapping. “This was so many years ago and you already didn’t like him; you don’t think you might be choosing not to give him the benefit of the doubt simply because you’re not a fan?”
“He’s just saying you should be careful with Liam,” says Sky.
“You are the one who pushed me toward him in the first place,” I snarl. “Because according to your dad, he’s the absolute best. Did you tell Hunter that during the one billion hours you’ve spent together, talking about me, apparently, and what’s best for me? But not including me, because why would you bother?”
“I didn’t know this story, Amelia, and you’re not being very fair right now.”
“No? So you haven’t been prioritizing plans with Hunter over plans with me for months now? My mistake.”
“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”
“Because you know I’m right!”
“Fine, be mad at us.” She whips around in her seat and glares at me. “Whatever, Amelia. Just please at least think about what Hunter is telling you and whether you should be giving it just a touch more thought than you are right now.”
I don’t dignify that with a response. I slump in my seat and glare out the window until we get home. Then I slam upstairs and lock my bedroom and close my blinds and fall face-first onto my bed, where I scream into my pillow.
It doesn’t fix anything.
Are u allowed out?
It’s Saturday, and I wake to this text from Grace.
Yes, why?
We won’t talk about how long it takes for me to think up that response. I’m going to go ahead and blame the fact that I just woke up,
even though it’s not exactly the crack of dawn.
Idk, I thought you might like to do something … normal & indoorsy. Shopping?
YES.
Should I see if Tera wants to come? & Sky?
Sky & Hunter have plans today but yes check with Tera! I can drive us obv.
At least, I better be able to. I’m technically allowed to drive now, but I haven’t done it yet. I hop out of bed, invigorated by the idea of getting out of this town, this whole area for a little while. Because when Grace asks if I want to go shopping, she doesn’t mean at the postapocalyptic wasteland that passes for a mall in St. Elm, with its one nice department store and its eerie, mostly empty corridors. No, she means driving a couple of hours to Burlington, where they have actual stores.
I haven’t spoken to Sky since our fight, and I haven’t spoken to Hunter either, except when I have to. Our car rides home from school have been absolutely glacial, but I am not going to be the one who apologizes first. The fact that Liam managed to find my exact necklace is definitely weird, but he’s been more supportive and helpful than anyone else throughout all of this. I have to trust that he has his reasons for not telling me how he got that necklace back. My guess is he went searching behind the dam, which is phenomenally stupid but also extremely kind.
None of my friends—except Liam, and I didn’t tell him the whole truth about why—even knows I’m fighting with Sky, though. I don’t want anyone to feel like they have to start taking sides.
I explode downstairs in my T-shirt and pajama shorts, skipping the last four steps and landing at the bottom just at the right moment to scare the crap out of my mom, who happens to be walking by.
“You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days,” she says, pressing a hand to her chest.
“Sorry. Can I take the car? Grace and maybe Tera want to go to Burlington.”
I can practically see the war in Mom’s eyes. She doesn’t want me to go—there or anywhere—but she also doesn’t want to coop me up in the house and push me into a boredom-induced bad decision. I hold my breath and try to look as adorable as possible so she’ll give in.
“Drive extremely carefully,” she says, and I shriek and hug her. “I mean it, Amelia. Do not drive like your father and me. Drive like your grandmother. And if you feel even the tiniest bit dizzy, pull over and switch with one of your friends.”
Gram is a very cautious driver and may never have exceeded the speed limit in her life. Mom, on the other hand, drives like she’s in a high-speed car chase. And Dad is even worse.
“What are you talking about!” he protests from the living room. “I am a professional driver!”
This is what he says anytime Mom comments on his bat-out-of-hell habits.
“I will drive like Gram,” I promise. “Or … close enough, at least.”
That earns me a chuckle from both Mom and Dad.
“Fair enough,” says Mom. “But hey—if we’re not home when you get back, we have a meeting tonight with the selectmen. Text me before you leave Burlington, and text me when you get home, okay?”
“Okay. I thought they met on Tuesdays, though?”
“They do. This is a special meeting. People want to set up a, um, neighborhood watch type thing.”
My stomach plummets. “Like, they want to watch me, basically?”
“Not from our backyard or anything.” Mom folds her arms. “People are just really worked up about this. They’re worried for you, of course, but also for the other teen girls in town. Think of this as a nice thing, Amelia, not a nuisance. No one will invade your privacy, I promise.”
I don’t like the idea of people neighborhood-watching me, but whatever. I’m not going to complain about it, because I can already tell from the fact that Mom didn’t bring it up till now, and from the way she’s talking about it, that she thinks this is a great idea.
“It’s fine, Mom,” I tell her, and I’m sure she can sense I don’t really feel that way, but she doesn’t say anything else. And neither do I, because I have some being normal to do.
* * *
The drive to Burlington never feels long when you aren’t alone. I pick up both Tera and Grace from Grace’s dorm—Tera lives near the school and hates people coming to her apartment and potentially interacting with her not-so-great mom. They spend most of the ride squabbling over what kind of music we should listen to, and finally I overrule them, turning on the ’90s station that I’ve been Stockholm syndromed into liking by my mom, who listens to it all the time. (She also loves to tell me what songs she used to have on cassette tape or which ones she recorded onto a blank tape using her clock radio. She seems to really enjoy painting herself as some kind of ancient relic, no matter how little interest Hunter and I show in this cassette tape nonsense.)
The roads are clear, but a dusting of snow covers the rest of the ground, making for picturesque scenery on our trip. I feel relaxed and entirely unafraid for the first time in a long while. Our first stop is Plato’s Closet, and it’s not too busy today, thankfully. After we load up our baskets, all three of us are able to get adjacent changing rooms. Tera, as usual, announces her feelings about everything she tries on loud enough for the whole store to hear.
“Nothing has ever looked worse on anybody than this shirt!” she shouts.
“Then don’t buy it!” Grace shouts back.
“I’m putting it in the maybe pile.”
Grace and I both laugh. I’m sure everyone else in the store is annoyed by us, but I don’t care. My phone buzzes with a text message alert.
There’s a beetle in my changing room come tell me if it’s going to murder me.
The text is from Grace. I laugh and emerge in the outfit I was trying on. She’s already got her door open and lets me in with a smile. “I like this,” I tell her, gesturing to the high-waisted jeans and crop top combo she’s trying on.
“Me too.” She glances at herself in the mirror. “But it’s kind of a waste of money, isn’t it? I can’t wear it to school.”
Sometimes I wonder why she cares about wasting small amounts of money when her parents have so much of it, but then I think maybe if all rich people were this responsible, we’d have fewer problems.
“Where’s the beetle?”
She points to the floor near her feet. I crouch beside it. Black, shiny, hard-shelled, oval. It’s an easy one.
“That’s a black carpet beetle,” I tell her. “I find them cute, but they’re kind of a menace.”
“Should I squish it?”
I do it for her, grinding it into the carpet with the toe of my sneaker. I feel a tiny bit bad killing the thing, but they’re destructive, and if a bug’s destructive, I don’t free it.
“You’re my hero,” she says, grinning. “And you should buy that shirt.”
Her gaze lingers, and I feel it in my stomach. I am definitely buying this shirt.
“Hey, while you’re here,” she says in a low voice, “I want to update you on the maybe-stalker.”
“Yeah? I wish your update was that there isn’t one.”
“Me too.” She frowns. “I’ve been trying to be really careful and not, like, walk alone too much, but last night I went to Tera’s and I didn’t want to make her walk me back, because then she would be walking alone in the dark, which didn’t feel any better. When I was like halfway home, I started to get the creepy feeling, so I walked faster. And then I definitely, one hundred percent, heard footsteps behind me. But when I turned around, they’d stopped. Like, straight out of a horror movie. I took out my keys and my pepper spray and I started just … sprinting. I’m sure people saw me and thought I looked like an idiot, but whatever. I could still hear footsteps after that, but I made it back to my dorm before whoever it was caught up to me.”
“So someone really is …” I swallow hard. “Why don’t you just take some space from me for a while, honestly? I don’t know who’s after me and why they would also be after you, but you’d be so much safer.”
“They�
��d know,” she says, and her voice is fierce. “And I don’t want to stop being friends with you. I’m not going to be forced into it.”
“Can I at least give your phone number to that detective I talked to? I’ve been texting her updates, like, constantly, even when nothing’s happening to me. I’m sure she’d be interested.”
“Yeah, okay. That’s a good idea.”
A knock on the changing room door startles us both. “Losers!” Tera says from the other side. “If you’re going to share a dressing room, you gotta tell me.”
Grace opens the door for her, laughing. “There was a bug situation. I thought you would probably make a scene.”
“I absolutely would have.” Tera’s lips curve into a smile. “But the bug’s gone, right? Let’s all change in one room and harshly judge each other’s outfits.”
I hesitate, because the idea of changing in front of Grace now has taken on a new weirdness, but I’m trying to be normal today. Like none of this crap ever happened. So, I’m going to be normal.
“All right,” I say, “I’ll go get the rest of my clothes.”
* * *
When we return from our trip, I drop off Tera first. She rockets out of the car with her purchases, and I leave as soon as she’s in her apartment building just in case her mom comes out. I’ve met her mom plenty of times and she’s not a bad person; she’s just … troubled. But Tera doesn’t like it when she interacts with friends. I don’t blame her.
The atmosphere in the car becomes noticeably tenser and I don’t know why. It feels like Grace wants to say something; she keeps fidgeting with her bracelet and her earrings, and biting her lip, which isn’t something she usually does.
“Did you get everything you wanted?” I ask as we pull back onto Main Street.
“And then some.” Her mouth twists into a half smile.