“I know.” Nicole Palmer waves her hand. “It’s like what happened on the island when Jack and his followers took over. There was no order or control. They just did what they wanted.”
“Perfect, Nicole. And what was the result?”
“Violence,” shouts a voice from the back.
“They killed Simon because they thought he was the beast.”
“No, they didn’t,” Mikaela says. “They used that as an excuse.”
Leaning against the whiteboard, the heels of my hands propped on the pen tray behind me, I listen as the kids deliberate over the actions of the boys left to fend for themselves on the deserted island.
“People are basically evil,” Trevor says. “I mean, if they can get away with doing something bad, they will.”
Nicole Palmer whips around in her desk to face Trevor. “That’s not true. Ralph wasn’t evil. And neither was Piggy or Simon.”
“And what about Samneric?” Mikaela says of the young, twin boys. “They were just scared.”
Trevor snorts. “So, a few of the boys weren’t evil. Look at what the others did. Most people, if they can get away with it, will break the law.”
Voices rise across the room, some in agreement with Trevor, others arguing with him.
“Whoo hoo.” I wave my hands to get their attention. “Let’s set aside, for the moment, the violence that occurred on the island. If we didn’t have law and order in this country, what do you think would happen? And please, one at a time.”
James Riley raises his hand.
“James?”
“We’d be in constant war with each other. How else would anyone gain control?”
Mikaela adds, “It would be really hard to hold anyone accountable when they broke the law. Who would police everyone?”
Trevor’s hand shoots up so fast, I expect it to take off. “People get away with things all the time. I bet half the people who commit crimes today don’t get caught.”
Mikaela turns to him. “That wouldn’t happen if witnesses would come forward. Too many people chicken out when they see a crime committed.”
“You mean people should snitch,” Trevor says.
“Snitch?” Mikaela rises halfway out of her chair. “Would you call it snitching if you were the one who needed a witness?”
“Okay, class. Let’s try and keep this civilized. It’d be interesting to see what would happen if I stepped out of the classroom for a while and left you to fend for yourselves.”
“I’ll tell you what would happen,” Mikaela says. “Trevor would bully everyone into his way of thinking, just like Jack did.”
“Trevor’s right to some extent.” I laugh at Mikaela’s wide eyes and mouth-dropping stare. “With a show of hands, how many of you would cheat on an important test if you knew you could get away with it.” The students squirm in their desks, eyeing each other, but no hands go up. “Oh, come on. Let’s say you didn’t bother to study, or I surprised you with a pop quiz and told you it was worth eighty percent of your grade.”
Hands creep up, a few inches at a time. Everyone’s except Mikaela’s and Nicole’s.
I cross my arms and rest my backside on the whiteboard. “Wow. We have thirty-two students in here and only two of you believe you wouldn’t cheat. What does that tell us about society?”
“Evil,” Trevor says. “Just like I said.”
Mikaela pops up. “Can I ask a question?”
“I don’t know, Mikaela. Can you?”
She rolls her eyes. “I mean, may I ask a question?”
I nod.
“How many of you would cheat if you knew someone else in the class would turn you in?”
No hands go up.
“I rest my case.”
It isn’t until the students file out, forty-five minutes later, that Stephen Fields even enters my mind. In the presence of the students, the ugliness of his return evaporated.
But with its return were also Mikaela’s words: Too many people chicken out when they see a crime committed.
* * *
Jake
I step out into the alley and fumble with the keys. Can’t find the keyhole in the one dim light overhead. Even this simple, daily task takes too much energy. Connor’s words of the other night are like a bass drum in my head—it’s a waste…it’s a waste…it’s a waste. Exhausting. Eyes closed, I hit my forehead on the steel door with a thump. I messed up.
And someone else paid the price.
The key hits home. I lock up and head for my car—the only one left in the parking lot. Friday night, and I’m on my own. Katie got a friend to cover for her—said she had to study. I didn’t buy it, but didn’t have the energy to fight, either. The kid actually did a decent job. Should hire her. And Tess didn’t show up. Again.
We take one step forward, two back. Sometimes three. This time, it’s definitely three. When I called the other night, she gave some sorry excuse for not showing up at work. She was safe, so I didn’t push. But I should have. Something was off. Still is.
I turn onto our street—their street—and park my car at the curb. The house is dark. Empty dark. No one’s home. Climbing out of the car, I take a moment to scan the neighborhood. Looks different at night. Everything’s shrouded in shadows and mystery.
Where’s that dark thought coming from?
Keys in hand, I follow the brick pathway to the back of the house. Should go to bed, but I can’t seem to get Tess out of my mind. I know something’s off, but when I ask, she just clams up. Her eyes… They look…bruised. No other word to describe it. A few days ago, she was fine. Seemed…happy, even.
Stepping into my cell, I flick on the light and wince at the brightness. No shadows here to soften the scenery. I live in a hovel. As I’m closing the door, I spot the big house. Tess might be home soon. No time like the present. Snatching up the Tom Clancy novel by my bed, I step outside.
Their back door is locked. There’s hope for them yet. I retrieve the key from under the brick and enter enemy territory. Only, the enemy’s not so tough. More like a kitten hissing and spitting for show. Tess wouldn’t like the analogy.
Beer from the fridge and novel in hand, I kick off my shoes and stretch out on the couch. No avoiding me now. Ten minutes later, as my eyes are drifting shut, a car pulls into the garage beneath me.
I trace Tess’s progress from familiar sounds—the garage door mechanism kicking into gear, the thwack of the car door as it closes, the snick of sound when she enters the family room, and the scuffle of her shoes on the steps. Light from the kitchen leaks under the swinging door right before it opens.
Sitting up, I wait the few seconds it takes for Tess to spot me. Fear crosses her features, pales her complexion, then recognition. Good to know it’s not me she’s afraid of.
“Make yourself at home.” Sarcasm’s back in her tone.
“Knew you wouldn’t mind.”
She drops her purse on the dining room table and crosses her arms. “What’re you doing here?”
“Thought I’d check on you. See how you’re doing.” I push off the couch, watching her for a reaction. “I get the sense something’s bothering you.”
“So you said yesterday.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“My answer hasn’t changed.”
“So, we’re back to square one.” Hands in my pockets, I shake my head. “Thought we were past that.”
“I’m tired, Jake. Can we talk about this later?”
“I don’t know. Can we? Seems like you’d rather avoid me.”
Eyes closed, she sighs. “Not you. Just…this. I’m too tired tonight to fight you.” She looks ready to drop.
Give her a little space and she might quit running. “Tomorrow then?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Tucking the book under my arm, I slip my shoes on and retrieve the beer bottle. When I meet her in the dining room, I stop to say good night. But the words don’t come. Instead, I reach out my hand and run the back of it along he
r cheek—soft—and her eyes drift shut.
“I’m here.” The words come out of their own volition. “If you need anything.”
Eyes still shut, she nods, her lips catching on my knuckle.
What would they taste like?
Her breath hitches and my mouth goes dry.
What I wouldn’t give to know what she’s thinking.
* * *
Tess
Jake’s gentle touch on my face is a whisper—soft and difficult to grasp. It steals the breath from me, like a panic attack but different. Professor Fields is still so twisted in my brain from yesterday, I can’t think straight. And then Jake steps away, like it never happened.
Did it?
What game is he playing? My mind searches desperately for something to focus on, anything that’ll get me grounded in reality. Because this is…not real. What is real has nothing to do with gentle caresses and fairytale endings.
Focus, Tess.
Crossing my arms against the sudden chill, I keep my eyes off his. “Katie must have already gone to bed.”
“What?” Jake’s eyes bore into me, willing me to turn.
“Katie. She came home with you, right?”
He hesitates. “No. She found someone to cover for her tonight.”
What? I spin to face him, but he’s walking away. “So, where is she?”
“Studying. With a friend.” He tosses it over his shoulder like a casual wave.
“And you believed her?”
That stopped his retreat. He doesn’t look so sure of himself now, does he? “Why wouldn’t I?” Has he no sense?
“On a Friday night? Who’s she studying with? It’s almost midnight.”
He winces. From my tone or his stupidity? Either way, we’re back on track.
The slamming of a car door reverberates through the open windows.
He jogs past me. “That’s probably her now.” A car peels off as he flings open the door and lights up the yard with the flick of a switch.
I peer around him and spot Katie at the bottom of the brick stairway. She’s clinging to the banister as if it’s a life boat.
Drunk.
“What the…?” I pass Jake and fly down the steps. “For crying out loud, Katie. Where’ve you been? Who dropped you off? Was it Tony?”
“Hey, Tess.” Her words are slurred, eyes unfocused. “Din’t Jake tell you I was stud…stud…doin’ homework?”
Jake pushes his way in, and I shoot him with a glare. If only it were something lethal. “I’ll just bet you were studying.”
Katie giggles. “I din’t tell him what I was studying.”
With one of us on each side, we get Katie up the steps, into the house, and seated on the couch. Eyes droopy, hair mussed, she reeks. Her too-short shorts and too-tight tank top are disheveled.
A red-hot flame jolts through me as I lean over her. “Are you out of your mind?” My face pushes into her space and she rears back. I don’t let up. “Have you any idea what kind of danger you put yourself in?”
“Tess.” Jake tugs at my arm. “Maybe this isn’t the time. You’re all worked up. She’s not going to hear you anyway.”
Professor Fields’ face superimposes over Katie’s features. I’m going to throw up. Springing up, I run into Jake. Shoving at his chest to get past him, I stumble across the living room.
“Nothin’ happened.” Katie’s voice follows me. “We jest went to a party.”
Feet as unsteady as Katie’s, I make it to the bathroom and slam the door. Head hanging over the toilet, my stomach roils as saliva pools in my mouth. I spit it into the bowl and fight the sobs constricting my chest.
It could be Katie next time.
Why did this have to happen? Oh God, why? You gave me hope and now…what do You want from me?
A rap on the door and Jake’s deep voice cuts through my prayer. “Tess? Are you okay?”
I yank at the end of the toilet paper and gather a wad, pressing it to my dripping eyes and nose. “Go away.”
“Not until I’m sure you’re okay.”
I’m spread out on the floor, head in the toilet, sobbing like a baby. Okay isn’t even in my realm. “Yeah. Great.”
A shuffling outside the door, then footsteps receding.
With another swipe at my eyes and nose, I drop the soggy tissue into the toilet and flush. Hands grasping the sides of the seat, I push off from the cool, tile floor and steady myself at the sink.
I pump soap from the dispenser and turn on the cold water. Once my hands are washed, I cup them until they’re filled and splash my face. Again. And again. As if I can wash the memories away. The anger. The shame. The ugliness.
Pressing the hand towel to my face, I breathe in and fight back another onslaught of tears. They did me no good in the past; they’ll do me no good now. I dare to look into the mirror, but the eyes that stare back at me aren’t mine. Old eyes. Soul-deep old.
By now, Jake should be out of the house and Katie passed out on the couch. I ease the door open and listen. Nothing. My bedroom’s a few steps away, but I should check on Katie before succumbing to its solitude. Angry or not, I couldn’t live with myself if she chokes on her own vomit. I have enough weighing me down without adding to it.
When I reach the end of the hallway, the low, deep rumble of Jake’s voice stops me.
“Are you trying to make Tess’s life impossible?”
Who’s he talking to? Katie must be out cold by—
“She doesn’t get it.” Katie’s voice is a slurred murmur.
I peer into the living room. Jake’s sitting on the coffee table, and Katie’s sprawled out on the couch, eyes closed.
He pushes a hand through his hair. “You’re wrong. I’d bet Tess gets way more than you give her credit for. Way more than I’ve given her credit for.”
Katie’s only response is a soft snore.
He stands and reaches for a throw draped over the back of the couch. With a deft move, he covers Katie and steps away.
My heart aches, and I press a hand to it. What I wouldn’t give to trade places with my baby sister right now.
Chapter 20
Jake
I lie awake most of the night. Debating. It’s not my place to confront Tess—demand she tell me what this is all about. But then again, Sean made it my place. I owe it to him to get to the truth. Or at least that’s what I tell myself as I head for the house, armed for battle. I know better.
It’s personal.
When I try the door and find it locked, I’d like to believe my nagging has finally gotten through. But my gut tells me it’s something more. Tess has a reason to fear. And I’d bet my life that reason has to do with her not showing up for work the other night—and whatever led up to it. The downward spiral to someplace dark. Sinister.
And it’s time I know what.
The house is quiet aside from faint snoring coming from Katie’s room. Must have found her way downstairs and is no doubt sleeping off a hangover. Hope it’s a whopper. It’d serve her right. I start up the stairs. Maybe I should call out. I don’t want to scare Tess. Then again, I don’t want to give her the opportunity to run, either.
Coffee pot’s half full, so Tess is up. I help myself to a cup and step through the swinging door, prepared to wait her out. But it’s not necessary. She’s curled up in the easy chair, wrapped in a blanket, eyes closed. It must be seventy-five degrees in here, so the blanket doesn’t make sense.
Or does it?
Her hands are wrapped around a coffee mug, propped on her knees.
I clear my throat, but there’s no response. “Tess.”
She jumps, eyes flying open, coffee splashing onto the blanket. “What is the matter with you?” Slamming the mug on the end table, she fights her way out of the blanket, glaring at me. But I’d hazard a guess the color rising to her face isn’t from anger.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
Standing, she drops the blanket onto the chair and snatches up the mug again, hol
ding it against her chest like a shield. She’s still wearing her clothes from yesterday. “You’re getting way too comfortable around here, Jake. I don’t go walking into your place whenever I want.”
“We need to talk.” I nod at her cup. “Refill?”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
Stepping past her, I move to the couch and sit. Her behavior the last few days, freaking out last night, not sleeping—or even going to bed—and apparent signs of shock. Evidence is mounting. She wants me gone, she’ll have to bodily remove me. “You said last night we’d talk tomorrow. It’s tomorrow.”
“Look, Jake—”
“Sit.”
Her eyes narrow. “I don’t have to—”
“Please.”
To my surprise, she puts her mug on the coffee table, pulls the blanket from the chair, drops it on the floor, and sits. “You want to discuss Katie, fine. It was idiotic of you to let her go last night.”
“I agree.”
Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
“But this isn’t about Katie. It’s about you.”
She snaps her mouth shut and drops her eyes. “You’re ticked because I didn’t show up for work the other night.”
Seems like an eon ago in light of last night. Can’t think about Connor right now and how his appearance might mess things up for me. One issue at a time. “Where were you?”
She scowls, but it’s for show. Not up to her usual standard. “I already told you.”
“No. You didn’t.” Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees and clasp my hands.
Her eyes dart to me and away. Thinking up a lie? “I was studying in the library and lost track of the time.”
“Come on, Tess.” I keep my words low, coaxing. “Whatever it is, you can trust me with it.”
Shaking her head, a tear breaks free and slides down her cheek. She bats it away, anger in the flick of her hand, the set of her jaw. At me? Or at something else? “I…” She swallows, and another tear follows the first. “I can’t, Jake.” Her eyes meet mine for an instant then drop again. But not before I see her pain.
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