Where the Truth Lies

by Jessica Warman

  “I want to tell you something,” he says.

  “What?”

  “You know I love you. Don’t you?”

  I nod. “Yes,” I whisper.

  “You love me, too?” As we start kissing, I realize he’s crying. We both are.

  “Yes.”

  Del is my first kiss. He’s my first boyfriend, and my first love. It feels right that he would be my first everything.

  “We can stop,” he says. “Nothing else has to happen.”

  I wipe my eyes. I can’t stop staring at him. “I’m not going back,” I tell him. “Not now.”

  He’s still crying. “Okay.” He nods. “Are you sure?”

  All I can see is Del. All I can hear is his breath. “Yes,” I say, “I’m sure.”

  It’s after two in the morning. The wind is whistling through the trees as we lie wrapped in the blanket together. I imagine even the Diggers must be asleep by now.

  “I should go back,” I tell him. My eyes are closed. “I need to go to sleep.”

  Then he does the strangest thing.

  “Open your eyes,” he says. “Can you see me?”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  He says, “I want you to trust me, okay? Hold still. Keep your eyes open.” And he takes his index finger and slides my contact lenses—one eye, then the other—off to the side of my eyeballs, so that everything is blurry.

  “Can you see me now?”

  “No.”

  “I can see you, Emily.” He kisses me again. “I can see parts of you that you don’t even see yourself.”

  I blink my contacts back into place. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean what I said.” He yawns. “You’re right. We should go. I wouldn’t want Daddy to find out what we’ve been up to.”

  “He’d kill us,” I murmur.

  Del smiles. “It’s more exciting that way, don’t you think?”

  I kiss him again, for a long time, before saying, “It sure is.”

  When I finally get back to my dorm, at almost three in the morning, I’m so tired that my whole body aches. I grab a quick shower and get into bed. It’s only after I’ve taken one of Dr. Miller’s pills, only once I’m drifting off, that it occurs to me there might be consequences to what we’ve done.

  But we love each other. And we were careful enough. I’m sure of it.

  The pills work quickly. It seems like only a minute or two before I can feel myself falling asleep. The nightmares start immediately. They don’t stop until morning.

  chapter nine

  “It’s rain,” I tell Dr. Miller. It’s been almost a full month, and my dream journal is filled with notes. I’ve been keeping it beside my bed, along with a pen, and have gotten used to writing down everything I can remember as soon as I wake up. “I don’t think it’s drowning that I’m afraid of. I think it has something to do with rain.”

  She’s so thrilled, she actually claps her hands. “Oh, Emily. We’re making progress, aren’t we?”

  I nod, smiling. My parents aren’t with me this time; they’re at a board meeting. It’s so much easier to talk with Dr. Miller when they aren’t here—even though, no matter what, talking with Dr. Miller is not my favorite thing.

  “Are there any memories from your childhood that you can think of having to do with rain?”

  “It’s more than rain,” I add, flipping through the notebook. “I wrote it down right here: violent rain, so hard that I can’t breathe in it. Like standing in the shower, right under the spray, or being outside in a storm.

  She shakes her head, thinking. “You know, it could be something as simple as a harmless memory. Maybe you were traumatized by being in a car wash when you were a baby, Emily. The car wash used to terrify my kids.”

  This is the kind of crap from Dr. Miller that makes it hard for me to get along with her. I’ve been taking her pills and keeping a notebook for a month, and her suggestion is that I’m like this because of a car wash? “No,” I say, biting my lip. I can’t help but feel disappointed by her lack of insight. “That isn’t it. This is vivid. I feel like I’m drowning.” She’s so off that it’s giving me a headache.

  “That’s the nature of night terrors. They seem very real.”

  “It is real,” I insist. “You aren’t paying attention. I remember being in car washes when I was a kid. I wasn’t afraid of them. Trust me, it was no car wash.” I sit back hard on her sofa, sighing, glaring at her. “You’re a big help, Dr. Miller. You ought to have your own television show.”

  She doesn’t seem offended. Her demeanor is still friendly, irritating as hell. “Emily, I’ve never seen you so hostile before. Is something else going on?”

  “No.” I cross my arms. “I’m just tired of coming here and not getting anywhere.” I sniffle. “And I think I’m getting sick.”

  She nods. “Well, it’s almost flu season. As far as not getting anywhere, though—it’s understandable that you would feel frustrated. What about the fire? Any progress in that area?”

  I shake my head but don’t say anything. All of a sudden, I’ve had enough of her. All I want to do is get out of here.

  Dr. Miller rests her chin in her fists, elbows propped on her desk, and gives me a long look. “Okay, Emily. This is what I’m going to do. I’m going to increase your dosage a bit, and I want you to continue with the dream journal.”

  “Really? That’s shocking. That’s a surprising plan, I have to tell you. I never would have expected something like that from you.”

  She squints at me. “Are you sure there isn’t something else you want to talk about?”

  “Yes. I’m sure.”

  “Okay, then.” She hands me a new prescription. “I’ll see you in two weeks. In the meantime, my door is always open.” She pauses. “Well, you know, metaphorically.”

  As I’m leaving her office, Stephanie jumps out of the way. She’s been listening, I know, ear pressed to the door.

  “Were you listening?” I snap.

  “I didn’t even know it was you at first. I have an appointment in ten minutes.”

  “Have fun. I can already tell you what she’s going to say.”

  In spite of herself—Stephanie hasn’t done much smiling since her father moved his mistress in a full eighteen hours after her mother was out of the house—Steph giggles. “What’s she going to say, Em?”

  I lower my voice to a deep, professional tone. I don’t care that Dr. Miller can probably hear me from the other side of the door, which I’ve pulled shut. “Stephanie, what I’d like to do is increase the dosage of your medication a bit, and see you back here in two weeks.”

  Steph’s grin fades just a little. “You’re almost right. I’ve been seeing her twice a week.”

  “Oh.”

  “You don’t know because you’ve been spending so much time with Del. And Renee.” There’s a hint of bitterness to her voice.

  “Steph, Renee is great. So is Del.” I lace my fingers through hers and we swing our arms back and forth as we stand in the hall together. “But you’re my best friend.” I smile at her. “We complete the quad.”

  She doesn’t seem so sure. “Renee is just so … I don’t know, Em, she’s in the tabloids. And the whole thing with Bruce Graham is so weird.”

  “It’s not that weird,” I say. “She isn’t close with her mom. It’s different, that’s all.”

  “Huh,” Steph says. “You really like ‘different,’ don’t you?”

  I frown. “What does that mean?”

  She ignores the question. “I have to go,” she says. “I don’t want to be late.”

  I give her a quick peck on the cheek. “Hey. You can talk to me anytime, you know. I love you.”

  “All right,” she says, over her shoulder. “How about tonight, after lights out?”

  I hesitate. I know she’s testing me, assuming I’ll be sneaking out to meet Del, like most nights.

  When I don’t say anything, Stephanie just shakes her head, walking into Dr. Miller’s office
without knocking. “That’s what I thought.”

  I feel sicker and sicker as I make my way back to the dorm. My headache gets worse, and I start to feel nauseous. I have to rush into the bathroom as soon as I get inside. I throw up with force. Renee is in the stall next to me.

  “Hey,” she lilts, coming out of her stall, tapping on my door. “Got some morning sickness in there?”

  I gag into the toilet. “You’re funny.”

  And then I pause, thinking. It’s just long enough that Renee says, “Emily—”

  “No,” I say. “There’s no chance.”

  But she can hear the doubt in my voice.

  “Come to my room,” she says.

  Hillary, as usual, is not around. Renee goes to Hillary’s desk, opens the bottom drawer, and rifles around until she comes up with a pregnancy test.

  “She’s on these birth control pills where she only gets her period once every three months,” Renee explains, tapping the box against her open palm. “So she’s constantly paranoid that she’s pregnant. I don’t know why the moron doesn’t just switch to regular pills.”

  “Won’t she know it’s missing? Won’t she think—”

  “If she says anything, I’ll tell her I took it,” Renee says. “I’ll pay her back. It’s not a big deal.”

  “I can’t be pregnant,” I tell her, trying to reassure myself at the same time.

  “You slept with Del. I mean, you’re sleeping with him. Right?”

  I nod.

  “Are you taking the pill? What are you using?”

  I’m embarrassed to admit how irresponsible I’ve been, especially to someone like Renee, who I feel sure would never be so careless.

  When I don’t say anything, Renee raises one eyebrow. “Emily. You’re going to take this into the bathroom and pee on it. Right now.”

  So that’s what I do. My hands are shaking. My whole body is nauseous as I sit on one of the toilets in the girls’ room. I’ve never taken a pregnancy test before; Renee, however, seems to be quite experienced with them. “It’s digital,” she tells me, “so there’s no room for error. It will say ‘pregnant,’ or ‘not pregnant.’ It’s designed to detect the hormone your body makes when it’s pregnant. It can’t pick up something that isn’t there.”

  She stands guard outside the door to the bathroom while I pee. I’m shaking so badly that it’s hard to imagine I’ve even peed enough on the stick to get a response.

  Turns out, it was plenty. I stare at the results for a good thirty seconds. Then I throw up.

  “Emily,” Renee whispers, coming into the bathroom, locking the dead bolt behind her. “What the hell’s going on?”

  I open the stall door. I hand her the test.

  She peers at the screen. “Oh shit.”

  “Oh shit is right.”

  “Emily … you’re pregnant.”

  “I am.”

  “I can’t believe this.” She seems almost more shocked than I am. “You’re the headmaster’s daughter. Oh—oh, don’t cry. Listen, you have to do something. You have to … um …” Her voice trails off. For the first time since I’ve known her, Renee seems completely at a loss. She takes a step backward, leans against the wall, then slides slowly to the floor and sits cross-legged, gazing at the test. “I guess you should tell someone.”

  “I’m telling you.” I still can’t believe any of this is real.

  “Not me.” She shakes her head. “What can I do? I can’t do anything. You have to tell Del.”

  The thought alone makes me go cold. I shake my head. “No. No, no, no. I can’t tell Del. I can’t tell anyone. That would make it real.” I reach out to grip her arm. “Oh my God … my parents …”

  “Are you meeting Del tonight?” she asks.

  I stare dumbly at the test. “We have other plans.”

  “What do you mean, you have other plans? What can be more important than this?”

  When I sigh, my breath comes out shaky. I wipe tears from my eyes, my vision blurry. “We’re breaking into my parents’ house to steal Madeline’s file. Remember, Del promised he’d find out what happened to her?”

  “He said it would take two weeks,” Renee says. “That was months ago.”

  I nod. “He’s been distracted.”

  Someone is knocking at the bathroom door. It’s Amanda Stream.

  “Helloooo. I have to take a shower. Unlock the door already.”

  Renee slips the test up the sleeve of her shirt, not caring that she’s getting my pee all over her arm. “My room,” she says. “Now.”

  Once the door to Renee’s room is locked, she sits on her bed for a moment, quiet, thinking hard. Finally she says, “Emily, what do you mean you’re breaking into your parents’ house?”

  “I told you, we’re going to steal Madeline’s file. It will probably say what happened, and where she is now.”

  Renee shakes her head. “That’s a bad idea. Why can’t Del do it by himself? Why drag you into it?”

  “Because it’s my parents’ house. If he’s alone, it’s breaking and entering, not to mention burglary. But if it’s me and him … well, I guess it’s just entering.”

  Renee studies me.

  “What?” I ask. “What is it?”

  “It’s … okay. Emily, it’s just that I cannot believe you were so irresponsible. What did you think would happen? You took health class. You’re not stupid. How could you just not use anything?”

  I stare at a coffee stain on her carpet. “I didn’t say we never used anything. We did, sometimes.”

  “Sometimes isn’t enough.”

  “I was going to get on the pill. We were careful most of the time.”

  “ …”

  “ …”

  “I don’t think that’s much of an excuse.”

  I look at her. “What?”

  “You heard me. You both should have known better. And I’m not just talking about pregnancy. I’m talking about diseases. You don’t know anything about who else Del has been with, do you? Did you even ask him?”

  “No.” I don’t want to think about the other girls he’s been with. But I know Renee is right; Del could have given me anything. “We didn’t exactly talk about it.”

  “Uh-huh. Maybe you should have.”

  “I can’t believe you’re lecturing me right now! You sound like somebody’s mother.”

  “Maybe I do. I don’t care.” She puts a hand to her forehead. “Oh my God. We’re in an after-school special. Emily, what the hell are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know.” I take a deep breath. “Would you stop? You’re practically yelling at me. I feel stupid, okay? I feel naive and irresponsible and—and I don’t know what I’m going to do.” My nose is running all over the place. I use the sleeve of my uniform to wipe it. My hands are shaking. I feel like throwing up again. “Can you just be my friend? Please?”

  “Oh, sweetie.” She sighs. Her anger appears to fade. “You are in a load of trouble. Listen to me. You cannot break into your parents’ house tonight. If Del loves you so much, why would he ask you to put yourself in a position like that?”

  “I volunteered to come with him,” I say. But it’s a lie. Del is the one who convinced me this was the easiest way to get to Madeline’s information.

  “What time are you meeting him?” Renee asks.

  “Eleven.”

  She shakes her head. “That’s so late. You’ll have to sneak out.”

  “We have to wait until my parents are in bed.”

  “Emily, you have got to tell him that you’re pregnant.”

  I put my head down. “I don’t know.”

  “What don’t you know?”

  I wipe my nose again. “I don’t know anything. I’m in so much trouble, Renee.”

  She lets out another deep breath. “Okay. You need to sort this out. Go find Del right now, before dinner. Tell him you aren’t coming with him later tonight. We don’t need to know what happened to Madeline, not right now. You’ve got bigger probl
ems. Talk to him. He’s in just as much trouble as you are. I mean, it’s his baby, too.”

  I nod dumbly. “Talk to him,” I repeat.

  “Yes,” she says.

  I stand up. I can’t think or see straight. I feel dizzy and sick and dirty. I use the duct tape along the floor in Renee’s room to guide me toward the door.

  “Good luck,” she says. “I’ll wait up for you.”

  But, of course, I don’t listen to Renee. Instead, I convince myself that things can’t get any worse; unplanned teenage pregnancy trumps breaking and entering any day.

  Once the clock hits eleven that night, I sneak out of the dorm as quietly as possible. I’m wearing a heavy coat over my pj’s. It’s almost Thanksgiving, and the warm spell is long over. Outside there’s a light snow beginning to fall, covering the campus in a pretty blanket of white. I love Stonybrook Academy because it’s my home, but I’ll always love Connecticut for its weather, its refusal to be meek.

  Del meets me on the patio outside my dorm.

  “I told you to dress in black,” he says. He’s wearing a black sweat suit and black ski mask. He’s obviously more experienced at things like this than I am; beneath my gray coat, my pajamas are pink.

  We’ve been planning this for weeks. Over the weekend, I intentionally left my copy of For Whom the Bell Tolls in my bedroom at home. During study hall, when my dad was making rounds at the dorms, I went back to get it. But I also got something else: the key to the filing cabinets in his home office. I gave it to Del, who snuck off campus right away to have a copy made. Then, before study hall was over, I went back to my parents’ house and returned the original.

  Without speaking, we sneak across campus, avoiding Digger’s usual routes. We let ourselves into my parents’ house using my key. The whole process feels surreal. Aside from the nausea, I can hardly feel my body. Every time I look at Del, he seems different somehow. Maybe Renee was right. Maybe it was wrong of him to involve me in something like this. I don’t care, though. Things can’t possibly get any worse.

  Once we’re inside, we slip off our shoes and carry them in our hands. The house is over two hundred years old, all creaky woodwork and tiny crevasses. Normally, this is why I love it, but tonight I can feel my heart beating hard in my chest, terrified that our steps might make a sound.