Lies Beneath

by Anne Greenwood Brown

  We followed the lichen-crusted boardwalk to the steps that led down to the bridge. Several boards were rotted and broken, so we passed carefully, crossing the ravine and then marching across the sand, through the trees and onto the sun-flooded beach. A few families walked the beach.

  Lily ran ahead of me, shedding her clothes. I didn’t know what was more appealing, the soft dip of her waist or the orange glow that streamed down her arms and dripped from her fingertips like melted ice cream. The other beachgoers watched incredulously as Lily splashed into the water and then ran back to me, crashing herself against my chest.

  Her skin glistened and goose bumps rose all over her body. I reached behind me and pulled my sweatshirt over the top of my head. Lily put her arms in the air, and I pulled the shirt back down over her, inside out.

  Maris’s voice growled in my ear. Remember why you’re here, Calder.

  I remember, I thought, dragging my finger around Lily’s ear to secure a lock of hair.

  Go too far and I swear I’ll …, Maris’s voice warned.

  What’s too far? I wondered. Lily shivered. I can do this, I thought. I can straddle this line. I can satisfy Maris and still somehow care for this girl. I pushed all contradictory thoughts to the back of my mind. What other choice did I have?

  A cold wind snapped at my bare chest, and Lily looked at me apologetically. “I should have brought a towel,” she said. “What was I thinking?”

  “I would have brought one for you if I’d thought you were insane enough to go in.” I regretted my choice of words, but she smiled broadly. “I thought you were kidding.”

  “Insanity. I guess it’s in my blood.” She pulled out her ponytail and shook her hair.

  “Hmm. Right. Your crazy gene pool.” I kept my eyes on my feet as I asked the question that had plagued me since I was just a kid. “So, what happened to your grandpa, anyway? After he left here.”

  I rolled my ankles in the sand, trying to sound oh-so-casual—as if I didn’t really care—but my skin prickled with expectation. Over the years, my fantasies had been colorful. The one I’d finally settled on included Tom Hancock hiding in a cave, eating vermin.

  “I already told you,” Lily said, brushing a dragonfly off my shoulder.

  “I mean, how did it end?”

  She looked down at the sand and covered my toes with her own. “Alzheimer’s. By the end, he didn’t even recognize my dad. Every little bit of normal just trickled away. The last thing he ever said to my dad was ‘Your mother’s calling, but don’t go home.’ ”

  “What was that supposed to mean?”

  “Seeing as my grandma died five years before, not a whole heck of a lot. My dad took it to mean that Grandpa wanted him to stay with him. So of course he did. He held Grandpa’s hand while he died. Still going on about the monster …” Lily stole a glance at me. “It broke my dad’s heart. Mom wouldn’t let us stay to watch. I’m not sure I would have wanted to. Have you ever known anyone with Alzheimer’s?”

  “No.”

  “It’s awful. Watching someone fall apart like that, little by little. I’m not sure I could have watched him go. In the end.”

  There was a moment of silence and then Lily smiled and shrugged, changing the mood as easily as turning the page of a book. She pulled me to what she declared to be the “perfect spot” and spread out her skirt on the sand like a beach blanket. I lay next to her, wriggling my body until I was form-fitted into the sand. I concentrated on the heat behind me, rather than the coolness of the breeze over my skin. My eyelids burned red and then darkened as a cloud passed over. Lily sat up, but I didn’t move. I was thankful for the quiet. A few minutes later I was asleep.

  But the monster had never been more awake.

  21

  DON’T TEMPT ME

  Heat. That was the first thing I noticed and the reason I knew I was dreaming. It was the kind of heat that came from being baked from the sun above and the hot sand underneath. In my dream, I opened my eyes, recognizing my surroundings, grateful to be back in the Bahamas. Turquoise and pink replaced the dark browns and greens of the North Woods. A dark-skinned man played a steel drum under a striped awning while vacationers sipped brightly colored drinks through plastic straws. The sand was powder under my skin, and I let it trickle through my fist like an hourglass.

  In contrast to the heat on the outside, my heart shook with cold. My mind clouded over, dark and bleak, battling back the threads of despair that were now woven through me like the wefts and warps on a loom. With each passing second, the threads pressed more tightly together, until the despair nearly choked me.

  I’d known this feeling before. Way too many times before. It was only a matter of minutes before the depression grew so thick it would overtake any sense of reason I might have left. I wondered what would set me off this time. A smile? A laugh? I just hoped, whoever it was, they wouldn’t be too young. Children were harder to get over once the initial high wore off.

  And then the dream shifted with the sand as someone stepped closer to me.

  A low whisper in my ear: “Remember us?”

  An anticipatory tremor ran through my legs.

  I looked up, shielding my eyes from the sun. Two silhouetted figures looked down at me, their arms strangely elongated, their heads small.

  “From the bar last night,” I said groggily, trying to remember their names.

  Of course, they couldn’t see the danger I presented. They saw me as nothing more than the perfect summer fling: exotic, affectionate, generous with a laugh. I loved them so they wouldn’t be afraid—nothing like Pavati, who toyed with her prey like a kitten with its ball of string, letting it roll away before pulling it close again, slowly teasing the emotion out of her victims until they were too numb to fight back. No. I was nothing like Pavati. My victims always died with dignity; at the very least, I made it quick.

  “We’re going skinny-dipping,” one of the girls said, her voice sounding far away, while the other laughed. My eyes darted to her, and my heart lurched with longing.

  “We thought you’d like to join us?” she suggested.

  One of the girls—I couldn’t tell which—grabbed my hand and pulled me up, leading me to a secluded spot, on a high perched rock away from the public beach. I felt her pulling my arm although my vision was tunneling and I couldn’t see her anymore.

  She stopped. Turned. Kissed me. She laughed in a way that made my insides bubble over. The second girl said, “Kiss me, too, Calder,” and her smile flashed like lightning, illuminating the whole scene.

  Finding myself naked, I gasped, and in one fluid motion wrapped both of them in my arms. Their joyful shrieks filled my ears as I dove into the ocean, taking them deeper, pressing their bodies to my chest while the metamorphosis took over.

  As we went deeper, the increasing pressure of the water helped me squeeze the life from their bodies. Their bright emotions seeped through their skin and into my own.

  Like champagne osmosis.

  It bubbled through my veins and made me so light I had to struggle not to float to the surface. But I pressed on, spiraling them down toward the sand, wringing them out like dishrags, not looking at their faces, not wanting to see their eyes roll back, their mouths go slack.

  It only took a minute.

  When I absorbed everything I could, I gave one final squeeze, then discarded their empty shells in my usual spot.

  Exalting, I resurfaced, feeling ten times bigger and drunk with triumph.

  And then I was conscious of someone watching me.

  It was Lily. I was awake. And—damn it—I was cold. I gulped back the hunger that now tore with razor sharp teeth at my heart.

  “What are you looking at?” I growled. I flung my arm over my eyes.

  “Who says I’m looking at anything?” she snapped back.

  “I do. I can feel you staring at me.” It amazed me how conscious I was of her. I wondered at what distance I could feel her. “What are you doing?”

  “Writi
ng.”

  I pulled my arm back and squinted up at her. She had a notebook balanced on her knees, her backpack open by her feet. Lily bent her head over the page while her pen scritch-scratched across the paper. “What are you writing?”

  “I’m writing about you,” she said without looking up and without any apology.

  I laughed a hard, bitter laugh. “I don’t think I want to hear it.”

  “I’m just trying to describe what you look like. Are you Italian?” This time she looked at me with narrowed eyes.

  “No.”

  “Irish? Armenian?”

  “No, why?”

  “I’ve never seen anyone who looks like you before. Black curly hair. Olive skin. But you don’t look like you have to shave—not even a little stubble. And you’ve got green eyes. I mean, who has eyes like that? They probably glow in the dark.”

  “They don’t.”

  She trailed her finger over my arm, feeling the smoothness. “Do you wax your arms or something?”

  “I’m on the swim team,” I explained, the corners of my mouth twitching.

  “You’re lying.”

  “A little.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “I’m sorry,” I squinted up at her and she was blushing.

  “Okay, so what are you?” she asked, emphasizing the what more than I thought was normal. Or was that in my head?

  “I’m here. That’s what I am.”

  Her mouth twisted into a smile. “I guess that’s enough.”

  I rolled up on one elbow and leaned closer to her. “So, do I still make you nervous?”

  “Abso-freaking-lutely.” Lily returned to her notebook. I lay back flat in the sand and allowed my fingers to draw circles over the tattoo on the small of her back. The sun had all but disappeared, and the wind was growing colder.

  “Lily?”

  “What?”

  “Are you sure you’re going to Pettits’ tonight?”

  “Are you sure you’re not?”

  “I’m sure,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to ruin Jack’s party.”

  “I was hoping you would.”

  “What? Ruin his party?”

  She hit me over the head with her notebook. “No, stupid. I was hoping you’d go.”

  “We’ll see,” I said, relieved I was making enough progress to keep both me and Maris happy for one more night. “Now let’s get you dressed. It’s cold. I want my sweatshirt back.”

  22

  BONFIRE

  A yellow Lab paced back and forth along the shoreline behind the Pettits’ shed. She watched me watching her. Now and then she’d lower herself onto her front legs, then jump to all fours, then down and up again. The bonfire burned behind her. It was built in a ceramic bathtub half buried in the ground, just thirty feet from the shore, and the dry branches piled up inside it burned bright, scattering sparks into the air.

  Someone threw an armful of leaves into the fire over the protests of several girls, and a cloud of smoke billowed out of the bathtub. The partygoers backed up into the trees to avoid the toxic smell, and a gray cloud poured over the lake.

  The smoke choked off any light the fire created, and I had to work hard to find Lily in the haze. She was—as I had suspected, or maybe feared—standing in the dark next to Jack Pettit. Or maybe he was standing next to her, because when she sidestepped away, he closed the gap again. He leaned in to whisper something in her ear. She smiled. Her back was pressed up against a tree. I couldn’t tell if she was amused or merely being polite, and—What the hell was she wearing now? Jack fingered the fringe on a silk scarf she’d wrapped around her head.

  The light reflected off something behind her. I squinted through the darkness and realized a garbage bag was hanging from a pine tree. At least a dozen crushed beer cans and plastic cups littered the ground by her feet. A silver keg was half visible behind the tree.

  “Who’s your friend?” a boy asked Jack.

  “Lily Hancock,” Jack said, obviously enjoying his familiarity with her. “Lily, this is my buddy Bryce. He’s a senior this year.”

  “I don’t remember seeing you around school,” Bryce said. “You must not go to Bayfield.”

  “Just moved here,” Lily said. “Plus, I’m homeschooled for now.”

  “That’s too bad.” Bryce placed his hand against the tree where Lily stood, and leaned in close. “It’d be nice to have a new face at school. I’ve known these other girls since kindergarten.”

  I tried to gauge Lily’s reaction but couldn’t. Gabrielle came running up and hip-checked Bryce. “Dude, back off,” Gabrielle said. “Give the girl some space.”

  “What’s your problem, Gabby?” asked Bryce. “I was just saying hey to New Girl.”

  “Lily, come with me,” Gabby said. She grabbed Lily’s hand and dragged her away. “I want to introduce you around.” Then she yelled over her shoulder to Bryce, “To some less obnoxious people.”

  Lily ran off with Gabby. I would have followed to make sure she was okay, but Bryce’s leering gaze held my rapt attention. He crushed his empty can and chucked it on the ground under the garbage bag.

  “She dresses weird,” Bryce said.

  “Oh, she’s definitely weird,” Jack said.

  “But cute, right?” asked Bryce.

  Jack didn’t respond.

  “Yeah,” said Bryce, “definitely cute. Who’d she come here with?”

  Jack folded his arms over his chest and leaned closer, digging the point of his elbow into his buddy’s chest. “I invited her. If she’s here with anyone, she’s here with me.”

  Without warning, electricity shot from my head down my arms, sending a white flash across the water. The people on shore all jumped. “Was that lightning?” someone asked. “It’s not supposed to rain,” said a boy. “Better not,” said a third. “I won’t get another weekend night off until Memorial Day.”

  A dead fish floated by my outreached hand. “You think she’s with you?” I muttered, picking up the fish. I chucked it at Jack and hit him square between the eyes. “You have no idea who’s here with you.”

  What the hell was that?” Jack yelled.

  The dog sniffed along the ground, trailing the mangled fish. When she found her target, she gave it a few good sniffs before sneezing and sitting down on Jack’s foot.

  “Get outta here, you dumb dog.” Jack picked up a stick and tossed it far out in the water. The dog trotted toward the lake, then waded into the darkness. She paddled out forty feet to retrieve it, swimming back with her prize held reverently above the waterline.

  She dropped the stick at Jack’s feet and shook all the water out of her coat.

  “Gah. Get outta here.” Jack threw the stick out even farther. It was an impressive throw, and it landed within inches of my hand. If I hadn’t known better, I would have said he was aiming for me.

  The dog paddled out again. As she got closer, I could detect her white muzzle and tired expression. How well I knew the frustration of her instinctual compulsion. Her nose dropped lower and lower in the water as her thoughts flashed like the images of an old slide show: rabbit … food dish … someone running their fingers down the groove in her skull … and then … fatigue … PANIC.

  Don’t turn around, ol’ girl. Come to me. I’ll help you.

  The dog whined and paddled closer.

  That’s it. A little bit farther. I put my hand under her belly—feeling every rib—and held her up. I delivered her onto the shore, several yards north of the party.

  Hiding again, I wished I hadn’t left my clothes back at the car. Lurking in the bushes was getting old—not to mention humiliating. Why didn’t I just stick with legs and crash the party like any other self-respecting person?

  I didn’t answer the hundreds of questions that scrambled my brain. Perhaps it was because my head was all messed up, maybe it was because I was listening to the yellow Lab’s low, warning growl, but at first I didn’t notice the girl climbing into the fishing boat, or the dark figure
shoving it off the sand onto the lake. My eyes searched the party for Lily as a thin thread of piney-citrus floated along the rippling waters.

  “Have fun,” said a voice I recognized as Gabrielle’s.

  The boat lurched as the darker figure threw one leg over the stern and climbed into the hull. By the silhouette I could tell it was male. The wind off the lake blew his sweatshirt hood off his head, and he took another step, rocking the boat. The girl shrieked, then laughed at herself, saying, “Gabby talked me into this. Do not make me regret it.”

  “Lily,” I whispered.

  The boy, still standing in the boat, pulled the starter cord once, twice, until the engine roared to life. He cranked the throttle, and the bow lifted out of the water. Lily faced the center of the boat. She leaned forward, bracing herself on the sides until the engine abruptly killed—just a hundred feet from shore—and she lurched backward.

  “Jack, you’re a terrible driver,” she yelled at the other figure. It was worse than I thought. What was she doing with him out here? There was no light on the bow. I looked around, hoping not to see any other craft. A collision was more than I needed right now. Jack stood up and staggered to the center seat. The boat rocked dangerously, disrupting the water.

  “You’re drunk. What are you doing?” Lily’s voice was panicked.

  “What am I doing? What are you doing?” he asked, teasing.

  “You’re going to sink us.”

  “No, I’m not.” He moved closer, sitting on the edge of the center seat. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Getting away from the crowd? I mean, they’re okay, I guess, but I couldn’t wait to get alone with you.”

  “I thought we were going for a ride,” Lily said.

  “Yeah, we will. But I wanted to talk to you first.” The words slurred as Jack spoke. “It’s not something I can say with just anyone listening. Believe me, I’ve tried.”