by Clara Kensie
The dark-haired man looks down at us. I remember a younger, thinner version of him from the photos on Lily’s wall. The coveralls swallow him up, the same way his clothes swallowed him up back then.
“Hey there, Morrison. Shame what happened to Diana Buckley,” he says. “Tragic. But you and me, we’re cool, if that’s why you came in today. I hired you as a favor to Diana, but you’ve proven yourself over the years. You’re a hard worker and a good pilot. Your job here is safe.”
“Thanks. Appreciate it.” Ash reddens and looks at his boots, clearly not used to hearing compliments.
Javier turns back to the engine and gestures to a plane on the other side of the hangar. “I’m working on the Cessna, but you can take the Piper up today. Be back by two, though. I gotta take Amelia to a birthday party. My three-year-old has a busier social life than I do.”
Ash grunts a laugh in response. “Actually, Javier, my friend Ever and I came in today to ask you some questions.”
“All right then, shoot,” he says into the engine.
Ash gets right to the point. “How well did you know Lily Summerhays?”
Javier stops fiddling with the plane and looks down again. “Why?”
Ash gives a casual shrug. “Ever and I are both finalists for the scholarship. We just want to know more about her.”
“Yeah, I heard something about how Diana snuck you through to the final round,” Javier says, then chuckles. “Her final act of kindness. She really looked out for you.”
“Yes, she did,” Ash says. His voice sounds tight, like his throat is closing up.
“I knew Lily really well. Lots of fun. Always getting into trouble.”
“Really? What kind of trouble?” I ask.
“Oh, you know. Fun trouble. Stuff like going to parties, sneaking out of her house at night, breaking curfew. She once jumped out of a tree onto a trampoline, bounced out of it, and shattered her elbow. She was the first one of us to jump off the bridge into the creek every year. Sometimes I’d bring her up in a plane with me and let her fly, and she’d always beg me to let her do a loop-de-loop. That girl was fearless, I’ll tell you that.”
The more I learn about Lily, the more surprised I am. She was definitely not the quiet, well-behaved girl her scholarship poster made her out to be—the girl I am now. How could Lily, who remembered all of our deaths and knew how easy it was to die, be so fearless?
Would she be happy that she had been reborn as… me?
“We know Lily was friends with you and Miss Buckley,” Ash says. “Who else was she friends with?” With a shrug, he casually suggests, “Will Duston, maybe?”
Above us, Javier snorts. “No way. We all hung out, but Lily and Will despised each other. But you know, their families had that feud.”
“A feud?” I ask.
“Over the business. Agri-So. I don’t know the details, but they started that business together, but then the Summerhayses screwed the Dustons out of a lot of money. They lost their farm.”
“Motive,” I mouth to Ash, who nods. Now we know why he killed her: revenge.
The sound of tires driving over gravel echoes through the massive open door to the hangar. A black-and-white patrol car stops, and Chief Paladino unfolds himself from the front seat.
“Shit,” Ash mutters. “What’s he doing here?”
“Looking for you, probably,” Javier says. “You in trouble again?”
“No, but knowing him, he’ll say that I am.” He pulls me deeper into the hangar, toward an area cluttered with corrugated boxes, engine parts, and metal shelves stocked with tools. “We’ll take the back way out. Do me a favor, Javier. Don’t tell him we were here, okay?”
“No problem, Morrison. Get out of here.”
As we sneak out the back door, I peek into the hangar one more time. Hands on his hips and speaking in a low voice, Chief Paladino stands where Ash and I were standing just moments before, looking up at Javier on the scaffolding. I have just enough time to see Javier shaking his head before Ash pulls me away.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lily ~ Eighteen Years Ago
When I snuck out two hours ago, my house had been dark. Now, as I returned, it was all lit up.
Oh
crap.
No point in sneaking back inside. I didn’t bother to be quiet when opening the front door. And there he was, just as I knew he’d be. Dad, standing in the foyer, his face red and scowling.
He eyed the dirty, bloody Hot Tamales box in my hands. “What’s that?” The vein on his forehead thumped an angry beat. “Don’t tell me you left in the middle of the night to buy some candy.”
I should tell him. I should tell him about the box, about the bridge, about Neal. But he was so angry, he wouldn’t believe me. Not tonight. “It’s just some garbage I found on our lawn.”
Mom came stumbling down the stairs in her blue terrycloth robe and matching slippers, hair tucked neatly into a paisley silk scarf, eyes blurry with sleep. “What’s going on?”
“I caught her sneaking back into the house, after doing who knows what,” Dad said.
Mom looked at me with horror. “Lily Anastasia. What were you doing out in the middle of the night?”
“I had to see Diana about something.” If they asked her, she would cover for me. I was almost positive.
“What was so important that it couldn’t wait until morning?” Dad demanded.
He was right, of course. There was no reason I couldn’t have waited to investigate the movie theater and the bridge until daylight. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about the time.” Will’s voice echoed in my head: Typical Lily.
“You didn’t think about the time.” Dad’s mouth set in a hard line. “I’ve had enough of this. You crashed your car, you jumped into the creek, and now you’re sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night. I don’t know what to do with you anymore.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll be better. I promise.”
But he just frowned and shook his head. “That’s what you said last time.”
“You’re grounded, Lily,” Mom said. “One week.”
I nodded in defeat. It could have been worse. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
“Which means,” Dad added, “you’re not going with me to New York.”
I gasped. “No! Please! I have to go to New York! I have an—” I stopped myself before I told him about the appointment I made at CFGU’s admissions office. “Dad, please. Ground me for a month, for three months, take away my car forever, but please, please let me go to New York. I’ll be on my best behavior. I promise.” I looked to my mom for support, but she was mirroring Dad’s angry head-shake.
“You’d better stay home too, Jacquelyn,” Dad said. “We obviously can’t trust her to stay home alone.”
The anger in Mom’s eyes turned into devastation.
“Go to your room, Lily,” Dad said.
Holding back tears, I ran up to my room, gripping the bloody Hot Tamales box so tightly that it crumpled. Stupid box. It meant nothing. Neal Mallick slipped off the bridge on his way home and drowned. The bridge was slick with dew, it was dark, he slipped, he drowned. Simple as that. Everyone else accepted it. And now so would I.
The blood on the box? Probably from some forest animal.
I shoved the
stupid,
stupid,
stupid
box deep into my wastebasket.
I was going to be responsible from now on.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ever ~ Present Day
His hand wrapped around my arm, Ash rushes us away from the hangar, practically dragging me across the back lot. We crouch behind a bright blue plane with Soto Agricultural Aerial Applications printed across it in white letters. I can’t see inside the hangar from here, but I’m certain that any second Chief Paladino will come storming out after us.
“What if Javier tells him we’re out here?” I ask.
“Even if he does, we didn’t do anything wrong.
We just asked him some questions about Lily. Nothing illegal about that.” Ash peers through his hair at the direction of the hangar.
“No, but Paladino won’t be happy that I’m asking about Principal Duston.” It’s warm today, but not hot enough for me to be sweating the way I am. “Talking to Javier was a bad idea, Ash. Miss Buckley knew the truth and now she’s dead. We can’t talk to anyone else about this. Not anyone in Ryland, anyway. It’s too risky.”
Ash stands to his full height and looks down at me. “We can talk to whoever we want and no one will take us seriously. You know why? You say you overheard Miss Buckley telling Duston that she knew he was Lily’s real killer. You know how flimsy that sounds? No one is going to believe us based on something you overheard. I don’t even know if I believe you.”
Ash is right. On all points. I lied about overhearing a conversation between Principal Duston and Miss Buckley. “If you think I’m lying, why are you helping me?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” He rubs his huge palm on the plane, the span of his outstretched fingers reaching wide. “Maybe because I want to believe you. Maybe because Duston is an asshole, and if there’s even a chance that he killed Lily Summerhays and Miss Buckley, he needs to pay. Maybe because I need that scholarship and this is the only way I’ll get it.”
The scholarship. I wish I never saw that hatchet tattoo on Principal Duston’s wrist. None of this would be happening, and the scholarship would be mine.
But that wouldn’t be fair to Lily, or to Vinnie Morrison.
“You should ask your dad,” I tell Ash. “He might know something.”
“I told you, he doesn’t remember anything about that night. He was black-out wasted.”
“True, but Duston had to do something to frame your dad so he didn’t get caught, right? He must have planted that diamond pendant in your dad’s place. They must have had some kind of connection.”
“I guess my father could have been Duston’s dealer.” Ash gives half a nod, then rapidly turns it into a shake. “No. Forget it.”
“Why?”
“Because even if my father says he was Duston’s dealer, we’d still have no way of proving anything. I’m not talking to him. I closed that door a long time ago and I’m not opening it again. We’ll have to think of something else.”
And with that, Ash gets up and stomps his massive form down the runway, like he’d rather Chief Paladino catch him than talk to his own father.
Ash and I don’t say a word as he walks me all the way back into town, occasionally watching over his shoulder for Chief Paladino.
“I’m sorry,” I say when we arrive at his motorcycle, still parked under the tree where he left it that morning. “You don’t have to talk to your dad. We shouldn’t get his hopes up over something we can’t prove.”
“Thanks,” he mumbles. He shakes his long hair from his eyes.
“So what now?” I ask, but neither of us have an answer. It’s late afternoon, and we’ve walked miles and miles today. I’m tired and achy. I’d almost be willing to accept a ride home on Ash’s motorcycle—if he goes slow—but he doesn’t offer. He just wheels it along as we trudge slowly down Jefferson, back into town.
When we reach Main Street, I turn left toward my home, and he turns right toward his.
“Are you hungry? We could get something to eat.” My ears hear the words before my brain registers that I’m the one saying them.
He grunts and gestures down the street to The Batter’s Box. “Where, at your boyfriend’s diner? I don’t think so. See you tomorrow, Ever.”
He swings his leg over his bike. He holds out his white helmet. “Safety first.” He chuckles, and with a flourish, he places it over his head. I feel an immediate, sharp loss over the fact that I can no longer see his dark, intense, soulful eyes. He starts the bike and roars away. I watch until he disappears.
“Was that Ash Morrison? You okay?”
The question makes me jump. It’s Keith, wearing his forest green Batter’s Box polo, panting slightly. He’s holding a couple of menus and his little apron is tied around his waist. He must have seen me from the diner talking to Ash and rushed over.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say.
Keith pulls me in and plants a wet kiss on my lips. “Was he bothering you?”
“No.” I resist the urge to wipe the slobber from my face and brush the airfield dirt from my jeans instead.
“He’s not the one you’re doing that group project with, is he?” he says warily.
“He is, actually,” I say, and realize it’s technically not a lie.
“How did that happen?”
“I didn’t have a choice,” I say. “The teacher just made us partners.” There’s the lie.
“Can’t you do it without him?” He puts his arm around me protectively and guides me toward The Batter’s Box.
“It’s a group project.” Back to the truth. “We’re partners.”
“Fine. I’ll come with you from now on.”
“What?” I huff and stop walking. “You want to come with me to my group project?”
He steps back. “I don’t want you to be alone with that guy. Why are you getting so mad?”
“Because you don’t like Ash for reasons that aren’t true.” When Keith raises a doubtful eyebrow, I elaborate. “He doesn’t do drugs. He doesn’t steal. He doesn’t cheat. He’s not violent. You don’t know him and you have no right to judge him.”
What am I doing? I’m snapping at my boyfriend for believing rumors that I myself believed until just recently. I sigh, then run my hand over his chest to make him feel better. “Keith, thank you for wanting to protect me. But I’ll be fine.” I stand on tiptoe and give him a quick kiss.
His body relaxing, he pulls me to him and presses his tongue into my mouth. I need to reassure him, so I kiss him back.
“I’m sorry, Ever,” he says when we part. “You’re right. I didn’t mean to make you upset. I’m sorry. Don’t be mad, okay?”
He may as well have bent his hands under his chin and panted like a dog. Damn Ash for putting that image in my head.
As we enter The Batter’s Box, I stealthily wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. So what if Keith’s kisses are slobbery? Who cares if he works just hard enough in school to pass? So what if he’s not the smartest or most ambitious guy in the world? Keith is
1. Dependable
2. Loyal
3. Kind
4. Sweet
5. Protective
There. Five reasons why I love Keith. And here’s one more:
6. He loves me.
In my head, I can hear Ash taunting me. Dogs are all those things too.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lily ~ Eighteen Years Ago
I was good all week. I was perfect.
Usually when I’m grounded, I pout and generally make such a nuisance of myself that my parents push me out of the house just to get some peace. But not this time. This time, I cleaned my room. I woke up early every day to straighten my hair. I did my homework right after school. I gave Dad a hug when he left for New York without me and wished him a good trip. I let my mother show me how to play bridge. I had
officially
learned
my
lesson,
and not once did I even glance at the crushed box of Hot Tamales in my wastebasket.
My good behavior seemed to be working. Mom smiled with approval at my hair and clothes, and she thanked me for clearing the dinner table each night. She was impressed with my bridge-playing skills. She must have told Dad, because when he got back from his trip, he brought me a snow globe of New York City.
The baseball team had a home game against our rival Eastfield High on Friday night, the last game before spring break, and Dad gave me permission to go to the game. Grounding: over.
Wearing my official Batgirl T-shirt and hair ribbons, I sat next to Diana in the stands. Usually Diana sat in the front row, ready to blow good-luck kisses to Brandon. The
two had reconciled a few days ago but had broken up again last night. She did not blow any kisses to him today as he took his turn at bat. Instead, she glared at him, as well as at the New York Yankees recruiter standing next to Coach Nolan in the dugout.
When the Eastfield pitcher threw the ball, Brandon hit it easily with the bat and sent it far into the outfield. The crowd, with the exception of Diana, went nuts as he sailed around to third base.
Will Duston was up next. He hit the ball with a
smack!
As the crowd flew into a frenzy, Brandon crossed home plate and Will ran to second base before the shortstop caught the ball. Grinning, Will peered into the bleachers. His eyes met mine, and I realized I’d been clapping and cheering for him like I didn’t despise him with every fiber of my being. Quickly, before he realized it too, I dropped my hands.
He was too far away to see clearly, all the way across the diamond on second base, but I could have sworn his pale cheeks flushed, and his grin grew even wider anyway.
I got home from the game as Mom was hanging up the phone, her brows knit with worry. “Dad’s late for dinner and he’s not answering his phone,” she said.
I shrugged as I slid into my place at the table. “He had a meeting in Lafayette, remember?”
She frowned. “He’s had meetings in Lafayette before. He’s always been home for dinner. Now it’s ruined.”
She just sat there looking forlornly at his place setting, which she’d set perfectly. On our plates were rotisserie chicken, a green salad, and mashed potatoes. In the middle of the table she’d placed a tasteful bouquet of fresh spring flowers in a bright white vase.
“It’s not ruined, Mom,” I said, cutting off a big chuck of chicken. “It looks delicious.”
Mom smiled at me weakly.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I’ll wait until Dad gets home.” She got up and put plastic wrap over their plates, then put them in the fridge.