“What do you mean, ‘isn’t safe’?” I said. “You’re going to tell them there’s something evil in the house?”
“Of course not,” David said. “We prove that it’s physically unstable. I don’t know, like the roof might collapse or whatever. Maybe we could start a fire or something, just a small one.”
I sat there, looking back and forth between the two of them. Their expressions were anxious, but in an excited, not-nervous way. Kids listening for Santa’s sleigh on the roof.
The waiter placed our drinks on the table. “Would you like to hear this evening’s specials?” he said.
Specials? Who could think about food? I couldn’t even conceive of reading through the menu with David’s words hanging in the air. A fire? Was he kidding?
“I don’t need to hear specials,” I said, just to say something. “I’ll have the fettuccini Alfredo, please.”
“Steak for me,” David said. “Rare.”
“Ooh, me too.” Celeste was almost giddy. “Listen,” she said to the waiter, “do you think the restaurant is going to get new seating anytime soon? Because if they do, I’d be interested in buying one of these booths.”
Cliff stifled a smile. “I don’t think so. I’ll check, though.” He chuckled as he walked away.
“You’re joking, right?” I said to David.
“I know it sounds extreme,” he said. “But think about it.”
“Burning down the haunted house,” I said. “Like in a cheesy horror movie? Are you crazy?” Right away I knew it was a bad choice of words.
“David and I are both crazy,” Celeste said in a woo-woo, exaggeratedly eerie voice. She wiggled her fingers in the air. “And we’re going to make you crazy, too.”
“No, we’re not,” David said. “I don’t necessarily mean a fire. Just something to make the house unlivable. You know all about house construction. What could we do to make it unlivable? Like,
a major plumbing leak or something that ruins some stuff.”
“I don’t want it to be unlivable,” I said. “In case you’ve forgotten, I live there!”
“So you’ll move into an empty room somewhere else.” David pulled out a breadstick and snapped it in half.
“No. This is a ridiculous idea.”
“Leena,” David said. “Celeste can’t keep living there. And any other solution involves making her look sick. Unless you want us to make up some story about how you guys are mean to her. We’ll tell the dean she’s too miserable to stay there.”
“No way,” I said. “Absolutely not.” Aside from the fact I’d be mortified for them to do that, this whole plan was predicated on the fact that Celeste would be okay if she moved out. Could David honestly believe that?
“Come on,” David said, cajoling, as if he was trying to convince me to take a breadstick or something equally trivial. “Next year we’ll have a nice place in the city. You can handle living in some other dorm until then. What’s the big deal about you staying there?”
The big deal? He knew how I felt about my room. How could he even ask? And how could they be so casual, so … so … so goddamn cheery? I stared at my fork. “I don’t want to move out.” My voice was tight.
“It’s a good plan,” Celeste said to me. “We know it’s kind of weird, but not so much if you think about it.”
“It’s kind of impractical, to put it mildly,” I said. “And what about Viv and Abby and Ms. Martin? You’re going to make all of them move out, too? And Kate is supposed to move in next semester. What about her? We’re all supposed to live there.”
“Do you have a better idea?” David said.
I couldn’t believe he was putting me in this position in front of Celeste. He knew what I thought.
“A problem with the wiring,” he said. “Don’t old houses have dangerous electrical problems sometimes?”
“The dangerous wiring isn’t in the house,” I muttered.
“What?” David leaned toward me.
“Nothing. I mean, yes, of course there could be dangerous wiring. But we wouldn’t know.”
“What if we just scorched the wall?” he said. “Not a full-fledged fire. Just enough to make them nervous. You know, a big, scorched area around an outlet. Would that be enough for them to move you?”
With no warning, Celeste stood up, jiggling the table and sloshing our drinks. She lifted her glass. “A toast,” she said.
“What?” I said.
“I can’t even tell you how good this feels,” she said. “Even just knowing that you guys know, and that we’re going to do something about it. I have been so fucking scared and so fucking alone. I would like to toast our new coalition. Formed out of a betrayal, yes,” she said, looking me in the eye, “but formed nonetheless.”
“Celeste,” David said. “Leena did the right thing, telling me. We wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t.” He lifted his Coke. “We should be toasting her.”
“Fine. To Leena,” Celeste said.
Their eyes pinned me against the back of the booth. At that moment, I couldn’t see how not to do what they wanted. I lifted my glass.
Chapter 38
“HOW CAN I DO IT-?” I said. “How can I help Celeste without losing David?” Please be wise, I thought. Please, I need help. I need wisdom. Cubby’s eyes stared back at me in the light from the camping lantern. I’d taken a pill to calm down, but what I really needed was answers.
You can’t.
I shivered. “I don’t understand how he can be so blind.”
He’s not blind. He’s sick.
“No.” I shook my head. “He just wants her to be okay.”
He wants her to be crazy. He likes it.
No. I knew that he wanted to take care of her, but he would rather he didn’t have to. I knew that. He wasn’t sick.
And now he’s going to take away Frost House.
“No.”
Someone was knocking on the bedroom door. Loudly. My room light was on; I couldn’t pretend to be asleep.
I emerged from the closet, unlocked and opened it.
Celeste stood with a manila envelope in her hand.
“Okay,” she said. “I told you not to tell David. Right?”
I swallowed. “Right.”
“But, I’ve decided, there’s no reason for me to be mad, really, since David is being so great. I actually … I want you to have this,” she said, handing me the envelope. “As a kind of thanks. You know, I see that you were really just freaked out. And how can I blame you after the way I was acting at the party? That was too much to expect you to deal with.”
I ran my finger along the sharp edge of the manila flap. I had visions of finding something inside that she could use to blackmail me. “Should I open it?”
“Of course.”
I eased out an eight-by-ten color photograph. In it, a cockroach wearing a tiny white dress and gold wings appeared to be flying in front of what was obviously a painted sky and green mountains—like the flats from a miniature stage set. It was delicate and strangely beautiful.
“You made this?”
She nodded.
“This is what you do with the roaches?”
Celeste leaned forward on her crutches so she could look at the picture. “Well, basically. But this is the only one that’s of an angel. I have a whole bunch of different painted sets that I photograph them in front of. I have so many roaches because I ruin a lot in the process. It’s hard to get it all perfect. I don’t like correcting stuff in Photoshop. I like it to be all … real.”
“It’s really strange. In a good way,” I said. I slid it back in the envelope. “I like it. Thanks so much.”
“Sure,” she said. “Well, like I said, I realized you were trying to help. And as it happens, you ended up doing the right thing. David and I will owe you after this is all over. I’m sure he feels that way, too. I’m sure this will, you know, bring you guys closer together. All of us. Like, now it’s the three of us in on it. Right?”
“Sure,” I
said. But I must have hesitated just a second too long.
“You still think I’m sick. Don’t you?” she said.
My big toe followed a crack between two floorboards. She wouldn’t hurt me, would she? I didn’t think so. Her violent tendencies were toward herself.
“It’s okay,” she said. “As long as you give me a chance to show that I’m not. You’ll see. It’ll be better for you, too. David’ll see how much he can trust you.” She reached up and brushed something off her cheek. The sleeve of her leopard-print vintage sweater crept up a bit. A bruise I’d never noticed before circled her wrist. “It bothered me a bit,” she said, “when you and David got together. Partly, you know, I already felt lonely because of this … this house stuff. But also, I think, as much as I hated how protective he was, I got nervous that I needed him. But now I’m glad you’re, like, in love. I’m sorry if I made it hard. I should’ve realized it didn’t have to be you or me. And that I’m stronger than I thought.”
I lay down on my bed and stared at the cockroach angel in Celeste’s photograph. I pictured that bruise on her tiny wrist, a bizarre bracelet. I couldn’t do what they wanted me to do. But maybe … maybe there was a way. A way I could take care of Celeste without losing David. Or Frost House. Because if I lost them, what would I have left?
Chapter 39
MOST FRESHMEN EAT IN LOWER RIGHT, at least the ones who haven’t made varsity teams or gotten leads in plays. Sure enough, the next morning I found Nicole there, eating breakfast with her friend, Sera.
“Can I talk to you, Nicole?” I said. “Alone?”
Sera stood and picked up her tray. “I was leaving anyway. FYI, Nicki, danger at ten o’clock.” She giggled. “See you later, lovebird.”
I followed Nicole’s eyes toward ten o’clock where a guy in an oversize Barcroft hoodie sat. Nicole jerked her gaze down to her plate. “Shoot. Did he see me?”
“I have no idea,” I said, sliding into the seat Sera had vacated. If only my main worry was running into some guy in Commons. “I need your help, Nicole. The situation is more complicated than I thought.”
“What situation?” Nicole’s eyes flicked back toward the guy. She smoothed her hair behind her ears.
“The thing with the girl in the locker room. I’m hoping you’ll do me a favor.”
Now she focused on me. “What can I do? I don’t even know her.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I said. “Just tell Dean Shepherd what you saw. You know, the bruises. Don’t mention my name. Tell the dean like she’s the only person you’ve told.”
“Why? Dean Shepherd hates me. Can’t you tell her?”
I shook my head, antagonizing the terrible headache I’d had since last night. I’d thrown up this morning, too. Nerves. “Like I said, it’s complicated. You don’t have to have a long thing with the dean. Just go in, tell her what you saw. That’s it.”
“Couldn’t it just be an anonymous tip?”
“Nicole,” I said. “You owe me.”
She bit her bottom lip and scraped her fork across her plate, through clumps of scrambled eggs.
“Okay,” she finally said. “I guess it’s not a big deal. I’ll do it.”
“Thanks.” I smiled with relief. One hurdle cleared. “Dean Shepherd usually gets to her office at seven thirty, so maybe you could stop by on your way to your first class.”
Nicole watched as I stood up to leave. “What’s going on with that girl, anyway?” she said. “Someone told me she’s going out with Whip Windham. Is it, like, an abusive relationship?” I could see in Nicole’s eyes that she’d be on the phone the minute I left, telling Sera what had just happened.
“No,” I said. “It’s nothing to do with that.” The last thing Celeste needed was to be the grist of the Barcroft rumor mill.
Although, I supposed that was the least of her problems.
There was a time bomb ticking. I could hear it counting off with every one of my shallow, accelerated breaths that morning. After bio, I wandered down the crowded hall, wondering if Nicole had done what I’d asked, if Celeste had been called to the office, if David knew. Silas Williams, from my Calculus class, stopped and asked me if I’d finished the homework. I couldn’t remember. Saturday, the day I’d last done homework, seemed so far away and fuzzy. I was about to tell him no when I felt a tug on my wrist. I turned.
“Leena,” Celeste said. “Come here.” My heart leapt into my throat. I followed her off to the side of the crowd, into an open space underneath the main staircase.
She stood so our faces were only inches apart and spoke in a whisper. “She told. The little redhead. She told Dean Shepherd.”
“She did?” I said. Celeste’s eyes betrayed no emotion. I hoped mine were just as unreadable.
“Yes! Can you believe it? She already snitched to you. Why would she tell the dean?”
“I guess she was worried,” I said. “So, are you okay? What’s going to happen?” Honestly, I was surprised she was in the classroom building. And that she seemed relatively calm.
“Nothing,” Celeste said. “Thank God. It’s just a pain in the ass.”
“Nothing?” That couldn’t be right.
Celeste brought out a tube of Blistex. I bit the insides of my cheeks to keep from asking more questions as she ran it over her lips. “I saw the dean a few minutes ago,” she finally said. “I gave her the whole blood-disorder song and dance, told her about my doctor’s appointment, blah, blah, blah….”
“Oh,” I said. “Right.” All of my muscles tightened. I had known Nicole would only tell Dean Shepherd about the bruises, of course. Why had I assumed that would lead to the dean finding out everything else?
Instead, it had led nowhere.
“The good news is I think David figured out a plan,” Celeste said. “Like we discussed.”
The tightness in my chest was keeping me from breathing. “Already?”
“Of course already. The sooner the better. You want me to die in there?”
“What is it? He’s not going to do anything too extreme, is he?”
“He hasn’t told me,” she said. “He sent a text that says, ‘Got it.’”
“‘Got it’? That could mean anything.”
“No way. It means he’s got a plan.”
As much as I wanted to believe otherwise, I knew she was right.
This couldn’t happen. I couldn’t let David do something horrible to Frost House. I couldn’t go along with this fantasy that Celeste wasn’t sick. And if I waited any longer, it would be too late.
“Can Dean Shepherd see me?” I asked Marcia. “It’s an emergency.”
I stood in front of Marcia’s desk, scrunching and unscrunching my toes in my boots, telling myself that this was the right thing to do. That whatever happened with David, I had no choice. I couldn’t jeopardize Celeste’s life just to hold on to him. I checked my phone about a hundred times to make sure I hadn’t missed a call or text. I’d left David a message that he shouldn’t do anything until we spoke. I was reaching in my bag to check it again when Marcia motioned me to go into the office.
Dean Shepherd was wiping the sleeve of her blouse with a paper towel. “Coffee spill,” she said. “Have a seat, Leena.”
I sat down and laced my fingers together tightly in my lap to keep my hands still.
The dean set aside the paper towel and gave me a small smile. “So,” she said. “Judging from the morning I’ve had, I’ll guess this is about Celeste?”
I started at the beginning, with the ripped skirt, the broken vase, the ruined nests. “I thought she believed Ms. Martin’s cat had done everything,” I said. “I didn’t realize she was connecting it to this other stuff.” I explained about Celeste’s fear she was being watched, the knocking noises, everything Celeste had told me, how she’d built it all up into this final paranoid delusion.
Dean Shepherd listened with a furrowed brow, absentmindedly running her fingers over her chin. “Are you sure this isn’t a joke?” she said when I’d
finished. “Maybe she’s upset about you and David, trying to get back at you. Isn’t that what you told me before?”
“No,” I said. “She’s serious.”
“And the bruises? They’re part of this?”
I repeated what I’d told David, about how she might not realize she’s hurting herself. The way she might not have realized she was causing the other things to happen, as well.
“It sounds like there’s been a lot of trouble in the dorm I didn’t know about,” Dean Shepherd said. “I can’t help feeling that maybe it could have been noticed earlier that something was wrong.”
“Noticed by me, you mean.”
Most people might have missed the look that flitted across her face, but I didn’t. Just a twitch of her lips that let me know that’s exactly what she’d meant. That it was my fault for not coming to her earlier. That I’d missed obvious signs the person I was living with—the person she’d trusted me to watch out for—was deeply sick.
“I just thought she was eccentric,” I said, trying to ignore the heavy sadness bearing down. “How could I ever have guessed something like this? It’s completely crazy. I was trying to make things work out okay … you know, in the dorm. I didn’t know.”
The dean nodded, her mouth a solemn straight line. “Okay,” she said. “We don’t want to come to any premature conclusions, of course. But I’ll handle it from here.”
“What will you do?”
“Don’t worry—I’ll do what’s best for Celeste. Does David know yet?”
“No,” I lied. “Not yet.”
We sat for a moment. Her face seemed to sag slightly, as if the conversation had added years to her age. “What happened this semester, Leena?” she said. “I feel like in the past, you would have come to me with this.”
I swallowed and tried not to tear up. “I … I kept screwing up. You’ve been so mad at me.”
“It’s been a rough semester,” she said. “That’s true. But I would still have been here for you. Always.”
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