Uncanny

by Sarah Fine

  It doesn’t matter. What they think, whatever it is, doesn’t matter. What matters is I’m running out of time. What matters is whether I’ll be able to hold my rage in check long enough to find out the truth.

  There is music playing. I recognize the band—Cynical Revolution. I used to like them, and then Hannah insisted on listening only to them, always to them, so I started to hate them, and when I said I hated them, she looked so hurt and said she was trying to bond with me by listening to something we both enjoyed, and she seemed so sad that I relented even though I wanted to clap my hands over my ears to shut out the noise.

  Part of me wondered if she knew that and if she enjoyed seeing me on edge.

  Part of me, the part that got smaller and smaller over time, said no, of course she’s not trying to drive me insane on purpose. Because who does that?

  I still haven’t decided if thinking Hannah was trying to get me to kill myself—or just lose it to the point that Gary and Mom had to send me away—is paranoid or smart. If it makes me a crazy person or a sane one. But I’m getting closer and closer to figuring it out.

  I turn in place. Finn is slumped on a chair. He gazes with unfocused eyes at the vid playing against the wall. It’s of him and Hannah, and they’re dancing, and it’s from maybe a year and a half ago, and he looks so in love with her that my chest feels tight. He’s riveted, beaming, looking like he still can’t believe she’s his girlfriend and he gets to touch her.

  She tossed him away. In pieces. Little by little, I could see it in her, just like I saw how she looked at me. Boredom, irritation, contempt. Like rungs on a ladder, and she climbed high and left him on the ground, torn up and confused. I wanted to clean up the mess. I was there and welcoming and had had a crush on him for months. I was available and willing and hungry. I didn’t demand that he talk or think or be clever or quick. Whatever he was, I wanted it, just for a moment. Something that was hers, or had been hers, or would always be hers . . . I didn’t care which one it was.

  I say to Neda, “I’m going to go talk to Finn.”

  She knows I mean I want to do it alone, and she nods and goes to talk to Mei, who is dabbing at her eyes as she watches vids of her and Hannah from elementary school, both of them with missing teeth and knobby knees and frilly dresses.

  I go over to Finn. “Turning off Franka that night was Hannah’s idea.”

  He starts. Blinks. Peers up at me. “What?”

  “That vid Hannah sent you. The one taken from my Cerepin just before midnight. She pretends like it was my idea to turn off the house, and that she wanted to turn it back on, but that’s not true. Hannah wanted to turn Franka off, just like she wanted our parents to go on vacation and leave us alone even though she claimed she was so scared of me. Why would she do that?”

  He looks around and then back up at me. “I thought you said you couldn’t remember anything.”

  I let out an exasperated sigh. “Hannah was doing what she always did. What nobody knew she was doing. When she sent you that vid of her and me from that night, she was showing you what she wanted you to see, but that doesn’t mean it was real, or the whole truth.”

  He seems so surprised that he doesn’t even get a word out before Lara uses her Cerepin to project her voice through the sound system, drawing our eyes to where she’s standing, right by the fireplace. The diamond-dust tattoo on her temple sparkles. She is wearing a black sheath dress that is obviously made of self-fitting fabric and black heels set at a height that allows her to tower over nearly everyone. She isn’t wearing any makeup that I can see, but I’m no expert.

  The music fades away, and Lara’s voice is loud, too loud. I draw my shoulders up and scowl, wanting to cover my ears. “—here to honor her,” Lara is saying. “We’re not going to mourn. We’re going to celebrate.”

  She motions to the projection space over the mantel, and a new vid comes on, Hannah last summer, up on the widow’s walk of the house, with the sun setting behind her. She touches her Cerepin nodule and smiles in a self-conscious, almost shy way. “How does it look?”

  “You look the same,” says Lara’s voice. “Beautiful.”

  Hannah is beautiful, even when she rolls her eyes and bites her lip. “Everything is changing,” she says. “Dad’s getting married again.”

  “You okay with that?”

  Hannah nods. She’s running her fingertips along the railing of the walk. She looks delicate and fragile. “I want him to be happy, and she makes him happy.”

  “But does it make you happy?” Lara asks.

  “I’ll have a sister,” Hannah replies, her voice soft and wistful. “A real sister.”

  As the vid closes with Lara focusing on the sunset, I glance around and see half the room glaring at me. I lower my gaze to the floor.

  “She was the best friend,” the now-Lara continues while the perspective of the then-Lara fades away. “She was the most loving person I knew.”

  From the corner, Mei lets out a sob, and Neda puts her arm around her.

  “She was willing to give anyone a chance,” Lara says. I can feel her eyes on me. “She loved everybody.”

  She keeps talking. About how Hannah was so unselfish, how she always went out of her way for others, how even when Lara was a bitch, Hannah would forgive her. She goes on and on. People listen. Some cry. Mei holds on to Neda, her body shuddering.

  Finally, Lara says, “And there’s one thing we all know is true—she was taken from us way too soon. We don’t know exactly what happened that night. We just know she fell and that no one helped her, no one called for help, and she died. We know it’s a tragedy, and we’ll carry the memory with us forever. We’ll know where we were when we found out she was dead.” Lara bows her head. Then she raises it abruptly. “Finn, maybe you want to say something?”

  Finn nods. Stands up and walks over to Lara. Hugs her. Looks right at me. “Hannah sent me a message the night she fell,” he says.

  My heart is freezing over, jagged frost crystallizing all my cells.

  “She was worried about someone she loved, and she was looking for advice. For help.” He lets out a sigh. “I kept her com secret at first. But after a lot of soul-searching and talking with the people who loved Hannah the most . . .” He pauses and smiles at Lara. “I decided I needed to share it with the right people. And so, a few hours ago I sent it to the police detective in charge of the case.”

  What? My mouth is opening and closing. I’m not making any noise. I’m just thinking about what his vid shows—me slapping Hannah, me cursing at her, me hurting her, always hurting her.

  And I’ve deleted the vids that might save me.

  People are whispering now. The glances that cut toward me are sharper.

  “Hannah was the first and only girl I’ve ever loved,” he continues. “And she should still be with us now. We had just gotten back together a few weeks before she died.” He makes a face. Looks at his feet. “I was so happy. I would have done anything for her.”

  I’m twenty feet away, and things around me are crumbling. I’m waiting for the house to crack and fall away, revealing that we’re in some sort of virtual world and I’ve just lost the game.

  They’d gotten back together. They were together.

  He’s crying now, and people are gathered around, except for Lara, who watches me with a smirk. I can’t let Finn make me forget why I’m here.

  Because now’s my chance. I march toward her. “Can we talk in private?”

  She narrows her eyes. “Planning to push me down a flight of stairs?”

  Slowly, as slowly as I can when I want to jump on her and tear her into ragged little pieces, I lean toward her. “I know something,” I say. “And I could tell everyone here, or you can talk to me in private.”

  There is a rush of satisfaction when she pales. “Over here,” she snaps. She grabs my arm, her nails digging in, and drags me down a hallway. She shoves me into the second room on the left. There are floor-to-ceiling windows. A fireplace, a nice rug,
a heavy wooden desk. She glances around. “Complete privacy, Lawrence.”

  “Of course, Ms. Perry.”

  I look out the window and blink. Once. Deliberate. Hannah was good at this game. Maybe I can be good, too.

  “Okay,” Lara says. “You got your way. What did you want to tell me? Because if you’re going to confess, I—”

  “You were there that night.”

  She goes still. “What are you talking about?”

  “I know you were there.”

  “I was with Finn,” she says. “You can ask him.”

  I waver. Considering what he just said, I guess he would probably lie to protect her. I can’t believe I was so blind for so long. “I don’t know when you got there. I don’t know how long you were there. But I know you were in our house that night.”

  “Oh yeah?” She tilts her head. She looks like she’s enjoying this. “How?”

  “I saw you.”

  She arches an eyebrow. “If that’s true, why didn’t you say anything before now?”

  “Because I didn’t remember until recently. I’ve been recovering memories of that night.”

  Her throat moves as she swallows. “Finn told me that you were so drunk your doctors said you couldn’t even have formed memories that night, let alone recover them. And I know you’re a liar. You’ve always lied about stealing that bracelet that belonged to Hannah’s mom. You lied about taking stuff from Hannah’s room. You lied about all sorts of stuff.”

  I shove my hands in my pockets. My fists are clenched. “You’re just trying to make me mad.”

  “Why would I do that? You’re freaking dangerous when you’re mad, Cora. Hannah was terrified of you.”

  “If she was so terrified, why did she want me to find out how to turn off the house? Wouldn’t she want eyes on us?”

  Lara looks peeved. “She didn’t think you’d try to kill her, obviously!”

  “No,” I say. “She wanted me to kill myself.” I step closer to her, and she takes a step back. “Or maybe she just wanted it to look that way, and she convinced you to help.”

  She’s really pale now. Chalky. “I would never—”

  “She walked right down those stairs and shoved me. Hard.”

  “That’s not how it happened!”

  We stare at each other.

  “I-I mean—” she begins, but that’s it, because she knows I’ve caught her.

  “You were there,” I say again. “You. Were. There.” And now comes the big finish. “And you helped her push me.”

  “I did not!”

  “I know you did.” I smile. “I even got it on vid. You helped her push me, but it went wrong. And instead of helping her, your supposed best friend, you bugged out of there. I bet there’s a car somewhere with records that show you were there that night. We might have turned off Franka, but I bet you didn’t turn off everything.”

  “I didn’t help her,” she mutters. She’s got her arms crossed, her sharp fingernails digging into her own skin for once. “You’re lying.”

  “Say that again? I have it all on vid. I have your face. On vid. In that moment.”

  “Then you know I wasn’t standing anywhere near you!” she shrieks. “It was all Hannah’s idea!”

  “Yeah, right. You’ve always hated me.”

  Tears streak down her face, where bright-pink circles have formed on her cheeks. “You’re a big weirdo who just busted into our lives. We didn’t ask for you to be there.”

  “I didn’t ask to be there, either.”

  “And Hannah, she just wanted her life back. She didn’t want to babysit you.”

  “I didn’t take her life,” I say loudly. Loudly enough for me to wonder why people aren’t coming down the hall to find out who’s fighting. “And I didn’t need a babysitter!”

  “She knew you were messed up, and she thought maybe she could get your parents to send you away.” Lara’s voice breaks. “And then she thought she could push you enough to get you to kill yourself, because it didn’t seem like much of a stretch.” She could be upset because of the horrible thing she’s done, or because she’s desperate not to get in trouble. I bet I can guess which. “It just felt so out of control. She was out of control. I swear, I tried to talk her out of it.”

  “But she was determined.”

  She nods eagerly. “She put something in your drink when you weren’t looking. Amporene.”

  “And that’s why I can’t remember.”

  “That and you were drunk off your ass. You have a serious problem, I think.”

  “Shut up. I only ever drank when Hannah pushed me to.”

  “That’s not what she said.”

  “Because she was a liar.”

  Lara snorts. “Easy to blame someone who’s dead, isn’t it?”

  “I guess that’s what you and Hannah were thinking when you decided to try to kill me.”

  “I didn’t do anything! And I can prove it!”

  I wait. I’m breathing hard, and my heart feels like it’s trying to kick its way out of my chest just to get to her.

  She holds up her hands. “You said you had vid.”

  “That’s your proof?”

  “I’m not saying anything else. If you actually have vid, you would know I wasn’t even close to you when you guys were fighting.”

  “But she was trying to push me. She was trying to get me to fall.”

  Lara swallows again. Then she nods.

  “But I didn’t just fall. I fought back.”

  Another nod.

  “She was screaming for you to help her,” I say, realizing the truth. She wasn’t asking for help because I’d attacked her. She was asking for help because her best friend was only steps away and supposed to be giving her a hand.

  Lara closes her eyes. “I thought it was wrong.”

  “Liar. You were just scared. You froze.”

  Which makes me lucky, I guess. If she’d helped Hannah, I’d be the one with my head bashed in at the bottom of the stairs. With them standing over me.

  “She said you’d tried to throw yourself down the stairs before. That’s where she got the idea.”

  “She didn’t know I would die.”

  Lara keeps her eyes closed. I don’t press. I know exactly what would have happened if I’d still been alive when I hit the bottom step. I know exactly what they would have done to me. Exactly. My hands are balled in my pockets. “After she fell,” I say, “why didn’t you try to get help for her?”

  “Because I knew I’d get in trouble!” she says, her voice shrill. Makes me want to cover my ears. “I thought you’d do it. I thought you’d get help for her. I waited to hear.”

  “You just left her.”

  “So did you.”

  “But I was drugged. I was off my head. You weren’t.”

  “I didn’t know what to do, okay? I totally panicked!” Her voice is so loud. I’m surprised she’s not worried about someone hearing us.

  “Do you have some sort of audio shield around this room?”

  She gives me a tight smile. “It’s my mom’s office. No one can hear a thing.” Nasty, nasty look on her face. Like she took lessons from Hannah.

  “Was Finn in on all of this?” I ask. “She sent him that vid from my ’Pin. And less than a day after I told him I didn’t have memories of that night and never would, he decided to send it to the police—probably with some convincing from you.”

  “Scared?”

  Hell yes. But I can get through this if I hold it together. “It won’t matter.” I blink once, deliberately, stopping my vid capture. “I just got everything you said on vid, and I’m going to give your confession to the police.”

  She’s still smiling. “You sure?”

  “Yep.” I turn and walk out. I am shaking all over.

  “No one will believe you.”

  “That’s what the vid is for.”

  I keep walking. She grabs me from behind. Her nails rake my skin. The pain is hot and instant, and I throw myself ba
ck, slamming her into the wall. I turn around and shove her. Slap at her face. We’re in the hall outside the office now, and she screams, and instantly people come running.

  I hold my hands up. “She—”

  “She attacked me,” Lara wails, clutching at her arm. “Oh my god, I thought she was going to kill me.”

  People surround us, and they’re too close, pressing in on me. I lash out, shoving, kicking, and people cry out, whine, shout. “Get her out of here,” they say. “Someone make sure Lara’s okay.”

  Finn grabs my shoulders. “What did you do to her?” he yells. He shakes me a little.

  I start to cry. I don’t understand. “Why did you lie to me? Was any of it ever real?”

  “Nobody forced you to kiss me,” he says. “As I recall, you were totally into it.”

  “Why did you pretend?”

  “She wanted to know if you would betray her. She was sure you would, and she was right.”

  “You weren’t together!”

  “She said we could be if I did that for her. She thought it would be the last straw for you, if you couldn’t have me. And I thought it was worth it—I had to get her back.”

  He grunts as Neda slaps his face. She has wedged herself between us. Lara is still wailing, and Mei is nearby, sobbing, and people are milling and yelling and—

  “I’m taking you home,” Neda says.

  “Did you lie to me, too?” I ask. Because if she did, that’s it. I give up.

  “I can’t believe you’re even asking me that,” she says as she puts her arm around my back and hustles me up the hall, through the living room, toward the front door.

  We burst out of the house, and I close my eyes and breathe deep. It’s like I’ve escaped a maze where the walls are made of broken glass. I’m torn up, but I’m alive. I—

  Two police cars are rolling into the circular drive. The first stops. An officer gets out. His eyes scan Neda’s face, then mine, using facial recognition to find his target. “Cora Dietrich.”