Twenty-Four
AMBER PRESTON LIVES ON THE EDGE OF TOWN ON A CUL-DE-SAC that cuts into the forest. Her family’s split-level ranch house is distinguishable from the neighboring split-level ranch houses only by the color of the front door and the fleet of cars out front.
“Okay,” I say as Chase parks his mom’s Malibu on the street, “is it just me or is it not weird that Amber would plan a party when one of her best friends was recently hauled out of the river and is barely out of the hospital?”
Aidan chuckles. “Amber’s parties are more opportunistic than planned.”
“In other words,” says Chase as we climb out of the car, “they happen whenever her parents go out of town regardless of whatever else is going on.” As we head up the driveway, he shoots me a smile that’s bright enough to light up the block. “This is your first Canadian party, right?”
“Let me guess? Flannel shirts and maple syrup shots will be out in full force.”
“Smartassssssssss.” Chase pulls out the word, winks at me, and then ambles toward a group of guys who are all wearing varsity jackets even though the night is plenty warm. They slap him on the back and let out exuberant whoops.
I shake my head. “I don’t get it.”
“Get what?” Aidan asks.
“Chase is obviously popular.”
“Yes.”
“But he spends all of his time hanging out with Joey.”
“Yes.”
“Why?” I mean, I can sort of see Skylar being drawn to Joey because they’re both so different and I can see Aidan falling in with them because he’s always been the new kid, but Chase just makes no sense.
Aidan shrugs. “Never underestimate the value of childhood loyalty.” He steers me down a concrete walkway and into a sprawling backyard that leads right up to the edge of the trees. A few people call out greetings to Aidan. More than a few stare at me.
A girl detaches herself from a group and slips a hand into the crook of Aidan’s arm. “You came.” She curls up against him like she’s been there before. She’s curvy and pretty with jet-black hair and wide brown eyes. Even though I still can’t figure out if this is some sort of date in Aidan’s mind, I don’t like seeing her at his side. I don’t like how easily she leans into him, how effortlessly close she is.
How she can touch him.
“Who’s your friend?” the girl asks.
“Cat meet Tanya.”
Tanya flashes me a small smile that looks genuine before turning her attention back to Aidan. “How’s summer school? I can’t believe you’re stuck here instead of in France.”
I stare at Aidan, surprised. “You were supposed to go to France?”
“I was supposed to visit my folks,” he says to me. To Tanya, he says, “I thought you were spending the summer with your grandmother.”
“I am. I’m just down for the week.” In an effort to include me, she says, “My grandmother lives up in Listuguj.”
“Listuguj Mi’gmaq First Nation,” Aidan supplies, for my benefit. “It’s four or five hours from here.”
Tanya tries to press herself even closer to his side, but he gently disentangles himself. “Let’s get something to drink,” he says, looking straight at me.
“She’s pretty,” I say, once we’re out of earshot.
“I guess,” he says.
We reach the house and cross a wide wooden deck. “It must be hard: being stuck here instead of spending the summer abroad.”
Aidan makes a noise that’s half snort, half chuckle. “Honestly? I flunked on purpose. Summer school is way easier than dealing with my drill sergeant father. Besides,” he says as we reach the door and he holds it open, “there are more interesting things here.”
It’s stupid, but as I squeeze past him, I’m glad he can’t see me smile.
It takes only a second, though, for the smile to fade.
The kitchen is a riot of noise and bodies that makes me instantly regret stepping inside. I’ve never liked parties—too many people, too many chances for accidental contact—though I usually tolerated them for Lacey.
“Where do you think Amber is?” I ask, trying to ignore the way my nerves seem to tingle beneath my skin.
“Why?”
Even though I’ve already dragged Aidan to the hospital to talk to Rachel, I don’t want him to know that I have an ulterior motive in being here. I like the idea that Aidan is separate—or at least mostly separate—from all the stuff with Riley. That, unlike Noah, he wants to be around me for who I am and not what I can do. That he thinks I’m normal. And because I like the idea of being a normal girl at a normal party for normal reasons—and because I like the idea of being here with him—I don’t tell him the truth. “Just curious,” I say with a small shrug.
Taking my words at face value, Aidan pulls a guy aside to ask if he’s seen the hostess.
“She’s upstairs with Troy. Go ahead and interrupt them, if you don’t mind getting your ass kicked.”
Aidan runs a hand through his hair and shrugs. “There you have it,” he tells me with a rueful smile. He grabs two bottles of beer from the ice-filled kitchen sink and leads me back outside. Several people beckon him over as we make our way across the yard, but he ignores them and heads for an old oak tree.
A tire swing hangs from one of the branches.
“Hop on.”
I oblige, a little uncertainly.
Aidan pops the cap off one of the bottles and hands it to me. I take it, careful to keep my fingers far away from his. Not that I have any intention of drinking. I need a clear head, and after what happened the last time I drank at a party . . .
Aidan opens his own bottle, takes a swig, then sets it down in the grass.
Clumsily, I try to keep a hold on both the bottle and the swing as I take a small, experimental push. The tire spins in a slow, wobbly circle.
“Not many tire swings in New York?”
“Not in my neighborhood.”
“A tire swing virgin.”
“Not all of us can be worldly army brats, a tire swing in every town.”
Chuckling softly, Aidan steps behind me. He catches the swing, then pulls it back and lets go. I tense as he starts to push me, but he keeps his hands on the tire, not brushing me at all.
“Why do you really want to talk to Amber?”
“I told you: I’m curious.”
“And this has nothing to do with the fact that she was Riley’s girlfriend or that she saw Rachel the day Rachel ended up in the river? I’m not stupid, Cat. I know you and Noah Fraser have a whole Hardy Boy–Nancy Drew thing going on.” He doesn’t sound angry; if anything, he sounds vaguely amused.
“All right, fine. We’re trying to find out what happened to Riley.”
“The whole town searched for Riley for months. Most people are starting to say he just ran away. What makes you think he didn’t?”
“Noah. And that medal.”
“You told Jensen Riley wouldn’t give that medal away, but you wouldn’t tell him why.” Silence stretches out between us. Aidan catches the swing and spins it around. “And you’re not going to tell me, either, are you?”
There doesn’t seem to be any reproach behind the words. In fact, when I shake my head, Aidan actually smiles. “Like I told you: never underestimate the value of childhood loyalty.”
He steps away so that he can grab his beer. “I wouldn’t ask Amber about Riley. She’s still really messed up about it.” He drains the last of the bottle, tosses it toward a nearby cluster of bushes, then steps back to the swing. This time, instead of pushing me, he corkscrews the tire, turning it around and around so that the rope twists tightly up, lifting me until my toes barely scrape the ground.
“I have a proposal,” he says, gripping the edge of the tire tightly.
“Yes?”
“I’m not going to ask you to stop playing Nancy Drew, but I suggest you spend the next hour just having fun.”
“Fun?”
“Strange concept,
I know. But pretend you came here because you like me and that you didn’t have a nefarious purpose. Just for an hour.”
“I didn’t come here just for nefarious purposes.” And it’s true. I do like Aidan. I like spending time with him. I like how light he makes everything seem. I like the idea that maybe he wants me. Even though that would open a whole host of problems and complications. Even though I’ve spent years trying to convince myself that I don’t really want anyone—at least not enough to ever risk acting on it. “One hour of fun?”
“And then it’s back to solving mysteries.”
I tell myself that one hour won’t make a difference. That Noah is in Saint John and doesn’t even know I’m here, so there’s no reason to feel like I’m somehow betraying him—or Rachel or Riley—by giving in to Aidan. Or by liking the way Aidan is looking at me.
Noah doesn’t see me that way.
I’m sure he doesn’t.
And Aidan is here. Right now.
“One hour of fun . . . ,” I agree, infusing the words with more enthusiasm than I feel.
In response, Aidan lets go of the tire swing and the world spins.
The party keeps spinning after we leave the swing. Everyone seems to know and like Aidan. They keep trying to pull him into conversations while I hang slightly back. He’s pretty good at extracting himself—until he gets hauled off by a trio of guys who swear they need him to settle a bet.
Then he disappears, and I’m left to wander on my own.
Occasionally, I see Chase. He’s always in a group. Maybe not at the center, but near it. Each time he spots me, he tries to wave me over. Each time, I smile and shake my head. It’s the first party I’ve been to since what happened back home. Keeping at least a little distance from the masses just feels safer.
If Lacey were here, she’d be with him. Always in the big groups while I hung out somewhere off to the side. Watching. Waiting until she decided it was time to leave.
At the time, I had never really questioned it. At the time, the arrangement had suited me just fine. But after a few months apart? After a few months apart, I’m less sure.
A girl crashes into me, jolting me from my thoughts. “Watch it,” she slurs. She squints at me through red-rimmed eyes. “I don’t know you.”
Amber.
In the photograph with Riley, she looked perfect. Now, she’s a mess. Her shirt—which I’m pretty sure is designer—is ripped at the shoulder and stained with what I hope is just beer, and there are bits of grass and mud clinging to her black skirt. Her boots—also designer, I think—have too much heel for the grass: they sink in like golf tees, causing her to wobble and then go over. She crumples to the ground, ass hitting grass, and lets out a long sigh that morphs into an alcoholic burp. I glance around, looking for her friends, but this corner of the yard is virtually empty.
“Do you like my party?” she asks, looking up at me with wide, watery eyes.
“It’s great.” My tone couldn’t be less convincing, but it’s not like she’s actually listening to me. She probably won’t even remember this tomorrow.
“I thought it would make me feel better. I thought maybe I wouldn’t miss him if everybody else was here.” She tries to crane her neck. “Everybody is here, right?”
She’s so sad and pitiful that trying to question her about anything feels a little monstrous. Still, I find myself asking, “Who are you trying not to miss?”
It’s not that I don’t already know the answer. It just seems like an easy way to get her talking about Riley.
The squint is back. Her eyes narrow until I’m not sure how she sees anything but her own lashes. “You’re not from here.”
I guess the five seconds when she glanced at me in the drugstore were not memorable. “I’m visiting. I’m here with Aidan.”
Her eyes open a little bit at that. “Aidan. Aidan is awesome. Aidan understands. Everyone else wants me to just forget about Riley. You know what my mom said?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “She said Riley probably ran away—that he left me, so why care about where he is now? It’s not like I can just . . .” Amber’s eyes go wide as she loses the trail of her thoughts. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
She tries to climb to her feet, can’t make it, and falls back on her ass. Oh, hell, I think, it’s not like I probably wasn’t going to do this anyway. I reach down with both hands and grip her around the forearms. As I start to pull her up, as I start to get sucked down, I try to find her fear on the off chance it connects to Riley or Rachel—
Strong arms around me. A warm body at my back. Skin against skin. “It’s okay . . . Everything will be okay.” A deep voice, soft against my ear. “You’re safe.”
The arms tighten around me.
“I’m going to take care of everything. You’re safe.”
Safe . . .
I blink, dazed, as the night comes rushing back.
Riley.
It’s the first time I’ve heard his voice in five years, but I know it’s him. Just like I know the shape of his arms and the weight of his body against mine.
I know these things because Amber knows them.
An ache spreads through my chest. I feel lost. Lost and empty.
Amber stumbles away from me. She makes it to the nearest bush and hurls.
This couldn’t have been what Aidan had in mind when he said I needed to have fun.
I wait for the pounding in my head to come. When it does, it’s slow and light, practically just a background hum. Maybe it’s proof of Noah’s desensitization theory, or maybe it’s something to do with the caliber of Amber’s desire.
And I must have seen desire. I must have done something wrong.
Wearily, I help Amber up again. This time, I’m careful not to let skin touch skin. She’s so off-balance that it takes us forever to make our way to the house.
Not one person offers to help as I steer her through the kitchen and up the stairs. Not one person asks if she’s okay, and more than a few people snap photos of her on their phones. The fear of accidentally touching anyone isn’t the only reason I hate parties.
“Bed,” Amber mutters as she teeters toward a door on the right and lurches into a room that looks like it belongs to a six-year-old princess on a sugar high. All soft pastels and stuffed animals and an actual tiara on the dresser. It’s a room for someone much younger, and I find myself double-checking the sparkly name plaque on the door.
I guide Amber to the bed and make sure she lands on the mattress instead of the floor when her legs stop cooperating. She mumbles something completely unintelligible and rolls onto her side.
At least she won’t choke on her own vomit, I think, turning away.
There’s a jacket draped over a chair in the corner. Blue and white, like the ones the guys outside were wearing. Riley’s last name is stitched on the sleeve. I lift it, gently. It’s way too big for Amber. Big enough that I could easily wrap it around myself. I slip my hand into first one pocket and then the other, but all I find is a stick of gum and a crumpled movie ticket.
Feeling like a creeper, I press Riley’s jacket to my chest, just for a second. My head still isn’t hurting as much as it should. Maybe it’s stupid, but part of me wants to believe that maybe a desire like that—a desire tied to a memory of Riley—can’t hurt me.
I carry the jacket back to the bed and drape it over Amber. She doesn’t open her eyes, but she pulls the jacket close, like she knows what it is even in her sleep.
I think about what Skylar told me about Riley and the boat. About how he had lied to protect the girl in front of me. About how Noah said the difference between the boy I knew and the person he became isn’t as big as I might think.
I hear his voice in my head. It’s okay . . . Everything will be okay.
As I slip out of the room, I pretend the words were meant for me.
Twenty-Five
ANY COMFORT I GET FROM THE MEMORY OF RILEY’S WORDS is short-lived. Between the thumping bass of the living room stere
o and the press of people in the kitchen, the memory is just too hard to hold on to. I spot Chase, still surrounded by his friends, but there’s no sign of Aidan.
I slip outside.
The party seems evenly split between the house and the yard, but the deck is curiously vacant. A wooden bench runs along the railing, encircling the entire space. I take a seat in the corner where the shadows are deepest. That way, I can spot Aidan coming or going from the house while being alone with my thoughts until he turns up.
Tonight was a mistake, I think. What had I really expected to get out of coming here? That I’d have a chance to talk—really talk—to Amber about Riley? That I’d get a look inside her head and somehow find a clue as to who could have wanted to hurt her boyfriend or her best friend?
It all seems so stupid now.
The door opens, sending a triangle of light over the deck. I look up, hoping for Aidan, but it’s just a couple of girls. One of them is Tanya. She trails the other girl across the deck, tugging on her sleeve. “Just one more hour.”
Even in the shadows of the deck, I can make out enough of the other girl’s expression to know she isn’t happy. “You said that an hour ago.”
“You’re being such a killjoy. Why did you even come if you didn’t want to be here?” Without waiting for a response, Tanya turns on her heel and heads back into the house.
Even though she was outside for only a moment, a series of cheers greets her return.
The other girl stays where she is, uncertain. Maybe she doesn’t really want to leave as badly as she thought she did, or maybe she just doesn’t want to leave Tanya alone. She starts to walk away and then stops and turns back to the house. She stands there, in the middle of the deck, undecided.
I don’t need to watch the scene play out to know what she’s going to do. As one reluctant killjoy to another, I know what she’ll decide.
She’ll go back in. Because her friend wants her to stay. Because she thinks maybe—just maybe—she might be needed.
The last time I thought I was needed like that had been at Lacey’s. A Friday night when her parents were out of town at a conference. “Please,” she had said. “I need you there. Consider it a birthday present.”
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