Don't Trust Her

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Don't Trust Her Page 10

by Elizabeth Boles


  The first thing I notice is that the news anchor looks tired. Her skin is dry, and her makeup does not do a good job hiding the shadows beneath her eyes. Her hair looks like brown lettuce atop her head.

  They’ve been there all night.

  Not a good sign.

  The newscaster says that nearly half of the state was hit by an ice storm. Thousands are without power, and the storm is still raging and will be for at least twelve more hours. The low temperatures may last for three days, keeping the ice from melting.

  A tape rolls and we’re shown pictures of ice slabs where roads used to be, houses covered in what look like glass crystals. No one is outside.

  And still the ice falls.

  “Many roads are in dangerous conditions,” she explains. “The governor has called for a State of Emergency, and unless you are an essential worker, you are to shelter in place. If you are not an essential worker and you have a car accident, your insurance company may not cover the damages, so be mindful. Ask yourself—is the trip you need to make absolutely necessary?”

  “I knew this would happen,” Faith says quietly. “I just knew it.”

  “There’s nothing we can do about it,” Blanche says. “We have to stay put until everything melts.”

  Faith shoots her a look. “I know that isn’t what you want to do.”

  Blanche shrugs. “What I want doesn’t matter.” She grins at Faith. “Don’t worry, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  How is Tal? Are he and the kids okay? Do they have power? I quickly stop myself from thinking too many outlandish ideas. Of course they’re fine. Tal is a great husband, a fantastic father. He can weather something like this easily.

  But still…I need to talk to them.

  “Has anyone tried to call their families?” I say.

  Blanche shakes her head.

  “I did, but the Internet isn’t working. So I couldn’t video chat,” Faith replies.

  Worry gnaws at me. Didn’t Paige say that if the TV was working, the Internet should, too? My phone is upstairs. I go up and get it.

  Stillness greets me. I pass my room and walk toward Paige’s, listening at the door for any sound, but hear none. I return to my room and grab the phone, checking the bars for service.

  There are no bars. There’s also no Internet service. Like Faith said, it’s down. The cabin not having phone service is no surprise. But the Internet being unavailable still strikes me as strange.

  But wait—Paige has a phone landline. I can still make a call to Tal and check on my family.

  Feeling better, I head down the stairs. My phone is in my back pocket.

  “It’s weird that everyone is without power,” Faith says, “but we’re up in the mountains and we’re fine. I would think we would be the first ones to lose electricity.”

  Blanche and I look at each other. An uncomfortable realization strikes us.

  “Maybe we have,” she murmurs.

  The three of us exchange looks.

  “We should get Paige,” Faith murmurs. “Wake her up. She needs to know this. Besides, I’ve never known her to sleep in so late. It’s almost nine.”

  Before any of us can speak, the weatherman comes on. The temperature will dip, he explains, and a cold blast will follow the storm. We will hit close to zero, and it will stay like that for the next forty-eight hours.

  They don’t expect the ice to melt for two days, at least. It looks like the State of Emergency isn’t on the downslide. It’s only just begun.

  “We need to wake Paige,” Blanche reiterates. “Let her know what’s going on.”

  Faith twirls her hair nervously. “Do you want to do it? You’re the one who attacked her last night. You can wish her happy birthday and apologize.”

  Blanche closes her eyes. It looks like she’s silently counting to ten. Is she afraid to admit what a monster she was last night? Worried how Paige will take her being the first face that she sees that morning?

  After several seconds Blanche relents. “I’ll go.”

  As soon as she’s up the hallway and out of earshot, Faith tucks a caramel curl behind her ear nervously. “Do you think they’ll get along?”

  I shrug. “Paige will be nice.”

  “I mean, do you think Blanche will apologize?”

  “I don’t know,” I say in a clipped voice. Blanche is the least of my worries.

  I rub my arms. Thoughts of my family fill my head. I want to talk to Tal. Make sure the storm didn’t cause any damage to the house. Make sure the kids are fine. My stomach aches with worry.

  No one will mind if I use the phone to make a long-distance call.

  As I move toward the kitchen, I hear Blanche upstairs.

  “Paige! Paige!”

  Something in Blanche’s voice makes me stop reaching for the phone. A cold shiver races down my spine.

  There are moments in life when you know something bad is about to happen, when you can feel it in your bones, in the marrow, and in the very tiny cells that work their way through your body.

  This is one of those times. I turn as Blanche screams down the stairs, her voice breaking.

  “Paige isn’t breathing! Y’all get up here! She needs help!”

  Chapter 16

  Charlotte

  Late October 2000

  I am too smart, I sometimes think. Too smart to be caught. Too smart to be seen doing what I do. There are risks, I know, especially since I’ve shown Brittany this place.

  But she’s busy with school and the yearbook club. She has very little time to secretly meet Tal in the woods.

  Or so I think.

  In my mind, I’ve done what I needed to do. After all, if it wasn’t for me, she and Tal never would have kissed. Their romance is out in the open now, and as far as I know, Brittany is happy for it.

  It’s hard to keep secrets. They’re like deadweight on your heart, sucking you down. That’s sometimes what I think about Sam—that he’s deadweight.

  No, we haven’t stopped doing what we do, but he talks more and more about love, giving me sly looks.

  He brought me a rose last Thursday. I thanked him and put it behind my ear and kissed him.

  He still hasn’t broken up with Court. He screws me while taking her on dates to the movies and the mall, where they eat at Sbarro and slurp Orange Julius.

  I’ve seen them, watched them. Sam saw me one time, standing in the food court, about to order Chick-fil-A. His face turned red, and he dragged Court away so fast that I thought maybe she had seen me, too.

  He was angry about that and called, asking what the hell I had been doing at the mall.

  I told him that I had a right to shop anywhere I wanted, didn’t I? It was just coincidence that I was there—alone.

  He didn’t know that part, and I’d sworn to my mom that I was meeting friends, but that wasn’t the truth.

  I wanted to see how Sam is with her. What he’s like with Court when they’re away from school. I wondered if he treated her like he treats me—gifts and attention.

  No, I haven’t changed my mind about wanting a boyfriend, but I am curious as to what sort of boyfriend he is.

  It’s enough for me to see his beautiful eyes when he’s on top of me and to have his sweat sprinkle onto my bare breasts. I don’t want more than that from him.

  But I do want to know if he ever tries to put his hand down Court’s shirt and if she lets him.

  So I followed them into a movie. After he spotted me in the food court, it was harder to avoid being seen by him. But I am good, and the movie house inside the mall was busy.

  I got a seat a few rows back, ducking down so that they wouldn’t notice me. They talked before the movie started. She threw popcorn at him, and he caught it in his mouth.

  When the lights went down, I sat up. His hand rested over her shoulders—the entire time. They didn’t even kiss.

  I remember what it’s like to be that pure, to only kiss a boy. That’s when everything is cotton-candy innocent and the kisses ar
e as sweet as a Pixy Stix.

  I have to say it was impressive to watch Sam not even try to stick a hand under her shirt. He can be a gentleman.

  That’s good to know.

  By the next week he’s cooled off about the food court fiasco. He won’t miss his Tuesday.

  “Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we dated?” he asks.

  I tut. “You have a perfectly nice girlfriend who loves you.”

  He rakes his fingers through his hair. “Sometimes…sometimes I’m so confused. I want you. I like you. I want her, but…”

  I unbutton his jeans with my teeth. “But she hasn’t put out.”

  “Yeah.” He strokes my cheek. “Does she not want to?”

  “I don’t know. I want to.”

  He chuckles at that and slips down his pants. I wiggle from my panties and tell him I want to try something new. He’s all for it—of course he is.

  I’ve heard of the woman-being-on-top position. I sit on him and he moans. When I’m rocking us back and forth is the first time I hear it—a rustle in the leaves.

  It’s just the wind, I tell myself. It’s only the wind. There’s no one out here, no one to see us.

  Then a branch snaps, a twig breaks, and I spot them—Brittany and Tal. They see us. Brittany stops talking midsentence.

  They just stand and stare. I stop what I’m doing and for a split-second wonder if it’s real.

  Brittany gasps.

  It’s real. I’ve just been caught screwing Sam.

  “Fuck,” I yell.

  “Sam?” Brittany shouts.

  “Shit,” he says.

  Tal pulls her away, and they’re gone, sinking back into the woods, the sounds of breaking branches and twigs like thunder.

  I scramble off Sam and put on my clothes. He drags his on, too.

  “Shit.” His voice twists with desperation. “Do you think they’ll tell? Do you think they’ll tell Court?”

  “I don’t know.” Where’s my shirt? Where’s my bra? “I can try to call her. See if she’ll keep it a secret.”

  He nods, anguish in his eyes. “Yeah, tell her it was an accident, a one-time thing. You brought me here.”

  I ball my shirt against my chest. “I brought you here?”

  “Yeah, just tell her that.”

  I jab him between his pecs in a small, concave spot. “I didn’t bring you here. You brought me. Jesus, are you kidding? You want me to take the blame for this?”

  He drops his hands to his sides and shakes his head. “I can’t lose Court. She knows me better than anyone.”

  What a jerk. “So I’m just supposed to be some slut? I’m supposed to say that I seduced you? That I dragged you into woods I didn’t even know about?”

  His face reddens. “You wanted it as much as I did.”

  “Yeah, but now I’m the whore who tempted you. Right? Is that right?”

  Sam tugs on his shirt and shoves his feet into his sneakers. “I don’t know. I don’t know. Look, I have to go.”

  “Then go.”

  He grabs his things, and I slip on my shirt. My flesh is clammy, and the fabric clings as I yank it on. There’s no point hurrying. We’ve already been seen.

  How bad could the fallout be?

  The answer is—bad.

  I discover that the next day.

  Chapter 17

  I rush up the stairs behind Faith, who sprints, taking them two at a time. When I reach the second floor, my heart is drumming.

  Blanche is already in the bedroom.

  “What’s going on?” Faith yells before disappearing through the open door.

  Sweat sprouts on my skin as soon as I cross the threshold. Paige lies motionless on the bed, her face tipped to the ceiling. Her lips are parted as if they are about to kiss. Her eyes are open slightly.

  But they do not see.

  A film covers irises that were once so blue. They look hazy like cataracts.

  My breath staggers in my chest. My hands tremble. I look away, taking deep breaths, inhaling to fill my lung cavities.

  I cannot pass out.

  I cannot pass out.

  “I found her like this,” Blanche says. “She’s cold.”

  Faith’s eyes scan the room wildly. She mashes her hands on the bed. “Wake up, Paige. This isn’t funny!”

  “She’s cold,” Blanche repeats, this time with bite.

  “Do CPR,” Faith says.

  Blanche stares at her. Faith snaps her fingers. “Do CPR!”

  Blanche yanks back the sheets, makes a club with her hands, and begins compressions.

  One of Paige’s arms hangs over the edge of the bed. It jerks as her body is pumped.

  “She’s not responding,” Blanche says.

  I know what she’s trying to say. Paige has been dead too long for this to work. But I can’t focus on that.

  My mind tears, rips right down the center. Screams echo in my ears, sounding like they’re coming from right beside me. Rain sluices down a windshield. There is a crack of thunder, a splinter of lightning.

  “Court,” Blanche says.

  I can hear her, but she seems far away.

  “Court,” she yells.

  My mind springs back, and I’m not in the SUV anymore. I’m staring at Paige’s body. With every pump that Blanche makes, her eyelids slip open even more, as if she’s about to wake. But they shutter closed between thrusts.

  It’s the illusion of life, I tell myself. Just an illusion.

  “Make a call,” Blanche commands me. “Call for help!”

  Call someone. Right. I was about to contact my family before this. I rush from the room and race to the kitchen. I pick up the phone from its cradle.

  I dial 9-1-1 and press the receiver to my ear.

  The only sound on the line is that of emptiness, blackness, nothing. Where the phone is dead, the cabin sings with life. The refrigerator hums behind me. Boards creak as the structure settles. The heater buzzes as it churns out warmth.

  I tap the phone’s tongue several times. “Come on. Come on.” But when I press it to my ear again, it’s still dead.

  I think back to the news broadcast. The power is out across a large portion of the state, but it’s working here. Yet the phone is out. A long-forgotten memory tingles in the back of my mind. There’s a connection between the dead phone and the power. Yet I can’t recall it right now.

  There isn’t time to focus on that.

  I look at my cell. There’s still no service.

  “Damn it.”

  I rush back upstairs. Blanche still compresses Paige’s chest. Faith hovers nearby, willing Paige to come back.

  “You can do it. You can do it! You’re not gone.” Her gaze flashes to me. “The phone?”

  “It’s…” I don’t want to say it’s dead. I don’t want to use that word as I stare at the thumping body on the bed. Faith’s shining eyes plead for me to give her good news. “The landline isn’t working,” I finally answer. “My cell isn’t either. Is anyone else’s?”

  “I’ll check.” She races from the room.

  Blanche continues to work. Her hands pump, willing the blood to rush through the veins and oxygenate Paige’s organs.

  Paige’s arm jerks from the force. A flash of purple peeks out from the underside of her hand. Very slowly I reach out and touch her fingers. Her skin feels like cold stone.

  Blanche catches my eye and nods to the nightstand, where a bottle of pills sits.

  I pick them up and read the label—alprazolam, or generic Xanax. The vial is empty.

  Blanche stops compressing. She exhales and swipes an arm over her forehead. “What do you think?”

  I shake my head, sighing.

  Faith barges in. “My phone’s dead. I’ll restart it, but I don’t think it’ll work.” A sob escapes her throat. She prays her hands. “We have to help her.”

  Blanche closes her eyes. “We can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Touch her.”

  Faith re
coils, clasping a fist to her chest. She glances at me. I nod that it’s okay. She reaches out. Her quivering fingers slip over the sheets. They work slowly as if Faith is praying that Paige will awaken before she has to touch her. Finally her palm grazes Paige’s cheek.

  Her expression shifts from hesitation to one of realization. “Oh God,” she sobs.

  My heart shatters. I’m gone again, in an SUV. My sister is calling for me, screaming. I’m reaching over the seat, trying to unhook Jonas as he screams.

  I press my hands to my eyes and breathe. No, this isn’t the SUV. This isn’t that day. It is now and Paige lies on her back, her face aimed to the ceiling in sweet, simple repose, an empty bottle of pills lying next to her.

  I feel myself shriveling as Blanche confirms that she can’t call anyone on her phone either.

  Then we look at each other, and tears run down our cheeks. Faith strokes Paige’s face. Blanche touches her hand. She apologizes for what happened the night before. I stand back, not wanting to look at the dead body that reminds me of another one.

  Only Paige’s isn’t bathed in blood.

  They look at me, expecting me to take my turn, to speak to our friend who can no longer hear.

  I step forward. My mind whirls. It was only a few hours ago that we were playing cards, that we were standing on her patio screaming at the top of our lungs, that we were drinking and eating.

  My stomach roils. I shove away from them and jerk open the patio door. Ice sits thick on the ledge. My feet slip, and I clutch the railing. The ice burns my skin, and I barely make it to the edge before thick yellow bile surges from my mouth, shooting out onto the ice below.

  I stand there, grasping the frozen iron. The ice feels like a thousand knives biting into my flesh.

  It’s a reminder that I am alive. I’ve faced death before, and I must be strong.

  I wipe my mouth on my sleeve and spit. I go back inside.

  Faith and Blanche give me concerned looks.

  “You okay?” Blanche says.

  I nod. “I’m sorry. I just…”

  “We understand,” Faith says, meaning it.

  I smile at her, and her gaze darts away, back to Paige. My stomach is a pretzeled mess. The taste of bile fills my mouth, and I want to retch again.

 

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