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This is WAR

Page 17

by Lisa Roecker


  Willa jumped down from the table, stopping only to whisper to Sloane and then flew right out of their grasp like a hummingbird.

  James kept a polite distance from Willa, the same way he did whenever any girl threw themselves at him. But she never grew discouraged. Madge knew why: Willa believed in that trashy crap she read. If James was a character in one of the romance novels she devoured on a daily basis, he’d come around. He’d stop drinking, breaking things, and otherwise behaving badly, and he’d fall in love with Willa. It wasn’t a matter of if; it was a matter of when. Boys like James fell in love with girls like Willa. It was practically a law.

  Madge watched her sister across the room, could see the sweet flush on her cheeks from where she stood. She watched as Willa lifted onto her tiptoes and slung her arms around James’s strong shoulders. Willa appeared oblivious to his awkwardness, his resistance. Madge knew this would be one of those nights where Willa would sneak into her room and climb into her bed like she used to do all those years ago. Back when the two girls had first become a family.

  Yes, tonight she’d be all nerves and excitement. Tonight she’d whisper into the dark about her dreams and ask her sister if she’d seen the look on James’s face, if she’d felt it, too. Madge would roll her eyes, but at the same time relish every second. If that was what closeness with Willa meant these days, she’d take it. Like all the best things in life, it never lasted long enough.

  Willa’s laugh rose above the music. James barely even cracked a smile.

  Madge saw through all of his bullshit. Why couldn’t Willa? He was just another entitled brat living some kind of fantasy. But his fantasy was real life: he’d not only hit the genetic jackpot but was also filthy rich. Willa was too good for him. It was so easy to see what her future would look like with a boy like James. He’d never laugh at her goofy jokes; he’d probably force her to stop reading all of her trashy romance novels; there was no way he’d encourage her to follow her dream of writing a grown-up version of My Only Home or doing celebrity interviews for Teen Vogue. No, if Willa fell in love with a guy like James she’d end up just like her mother. Bitter, sad, and destitute after her third husband gambled the family into a pit.

  No way would Madge let that happen to Willa. No way would Willa end up a forgotten trophy wife. So she marched over to her sister and decided to end this stupidity once and for all.

  “Can I talk to you?” Madge stood with her back to James, refusing to even acknowledge his existence.

  “ ’Course you can!” Willa chirped but didn’t stop swaying to the beat.

  “In private. I need to talk to you in private.”

  But Willa just kept dancing. Madge grabbed her arm and yanked her out onto the deck of the boat. Maybe some fresh air would do her good.

  “You’ve had too much to drink. We should go.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. James and I are finally talking. I want to stay.” She sang the words like a toddler, still swaying on her feet, even though there was no music. Her eyes were bleary and her words were slurred. This was worse than Madge thought.

  “Come on, I’ve got to get you home.”

  “No way. You’re not going to ruin this for me. Not tonight.” Willa slithered out of Madge’s grasp and started walking back toward the party. “You’re just jealous. You hate seeing me happy. Well, sorry, Madge, I’m not going to spend the best years of my life moping around. I’d rather love and lose or live and love.” She paused and giggled. “Whatever. You know what I mean.”

  Madge knew exactly what she meant. She’d heard the same accusations out of Willa every time she tried to steer her away from James. And some of it was true. She was jealous. But she was also afraid of the way her stepmother encouraged Willa. She was afraid that on some twisted level, Carol was pulling the strings, coaxing her beautiful daughter to chase after the heir to the Hawthorne Lake empire.

  “You are throwing yourself at some jackass,” Madge spat. “Who isn’t the least bit interested, for the record, all because you think it’s what you’re supposed to do.” Her voice rose, but she couldn’t stop the words from pouring out. “You’re such a stereotype, Willa. Blonde, beautiful princess who thinks she’s in love with a dark, handsome asshole, but really she’s been manipulated and raised to think she should fall in love. Give it up. You reek of desperation. Or maybe it’s eau de gold digger. Just like your mother.”

  Too far. She’d gone too far. Madge expected her sister to burst into tears. To slap her. To run away.

  What she did not expect was for Willa to laugh in her face.

  “You’re so completely tragic, you know that?” The words came out jumbled-sounding. Willa was becoming more wasted by the minute despite the fact that Madge hadn’t seen her take a sip. Willa spun on her heels and started back toward the party, but didn’t make it more than four steps before falling in a puddle of drunk girl.

  Trip appeared out of nowhere. “Whoa,” he said, bending to Willa’s side.

  Shit. How long had he been there? What had he heard? Madge liked to think she didn’t care about the Gregorys or what they thought, but she did. It was impossible to be a member at the Club and not care about them.

  “Easy there, killer.” Trip helped Willa back up into a standing position. “Hey, let’s get you out of here …” He nodded at Madge.

  She felt a slight sense of relief at having someone on her team. Maybe he’d step up and actually help get Willa home. Maybe he’d surprise her.

  But then James stumbled onto the deck. Her face brightened as she slipped from beneath Trip’s grasp, drawn to him like a magnet. Madge marveled at how much more drunk he appeared compared to a half hour ago. His light hair was mussed, his eyelids so heavy it was a wonder he could see. The transformation was dangerous. They laughed hysterically at each other as though Trip and Madge were invisible, which in a way they pretty much were. Eclipsed by their siblings.

  “Keep an eye on her, Trip. I’m gonna grab my purse and get her home.” Madge was ready to end the night. Trip wasn’t the most responsible guy in the world, but surely he’d be able to keep an eye on Willa for five minutes while she grabbed her bag.

  She should have known better.

  As Madge ducked into a guest room to retrieve her purse, she heard the revving of a motorboat. She ran back out onto the deck just in time to see James driving the boat away.

  Trip stood at the railing, screaming into the night. But his voice was nothing against the boat’s motor.

  “What the hell?” Madge shouted. “How could you have let them go?”

  Trip was serious for once in his life, his normal grin replaced by confusion. “I tried to stop them, but you know James. He’s kind of impossible to stop when he decides he wants something.” He grabbed Madge’s arm and pulled her toward the stairs that led to the opposite end of the yacht. “Come on, there’s another skiff over here. We’ll get them back.” Trip climbed in and started the engine, then lent a hand for Madge to follow. The narrow wood creaked and teetered under her heels. She quickly sat down before she fell over. “I know exactly where James takes girls. There’s a sandbar not too far from here. Guarantee they’ll either be passed out or making out.”

  The boat bounced over the dark water. She felt queasy. The cool spray across her arms and legs did nothing to extinguish her anger. Willa was taking stupidity to a whole new level tonight, and Madge was sick of having to pick up the pieces. Without thinking, she snatched up her phone and texted: when i find u i’m gonna kill u. She almost hesitated—not because she regretted the words, but because she’d texted the exact same message dozens of time in the past and Willa always laughed it off. Madge could never sound serious enough. i mean it, she added, then pressed send.

  “Sucks being the older sibling, right?” Trip laughed.

  “Uh yeah, it does.” She tucked her phone back in her bag. “But aren’t you like five minutes younger than James or something?”

  “Well, that depends on your source.” Trip shook his h
ead, his red hair catching in the moonlight. “According to my grandfather I’m younger, but my birth certificate says I was first.”

  “But why would they lie? I don’t get it.”

  “Oh come on, you know how the story goes. He hates me. I’m the reason my parents are dead. In the old man’s eyes I’m a killer.” Trip’s smile stopped at his eyes.

  Madge wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She twisted the chain of her key necklace around her finger. She’d heard the rumors about the head-on collision that killed his parents, but she’d never guessed they were actually true. Or maybe she’d found them too creepy to think about.

  “And here are the little lovebirds now.” Trip maneuvered over to where James’s boat idled near a sand bar. From a distance it looked empty but as they pulled in closer, Madge could make out Willa and James lying in the bottom, not moving.

  “Jesus, they passed out.” Madge moved over to the edge and tried to get a better look. The boat rocked slightly beneath her weight, water lapping up around the side.

  “Don’t freak out. You know how to drive a boat, right?” Trip kicked off his shoes and climbed over the edge, the water rising to his knees as he waded to the other boat.

  Madge nodded mutely.

  “Great. I’ll follow you back. Take it slow. It’s dark.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure,” Trip said. “Just get back to the yacht.”

  Madge swallowed. She nodded again and pushed the boat into gear. She was going to kill Willa for this. Literally strangle her. But maybe this was finally the wake-up call she needed. Maybe now she’d begin to see how stupid she was acting. Maybe she’d even realize that her mother was manipulating her.

  Fireworks bloomed in the sky as Madge made her way back to the yacht. They were somehow even more beautiful from the quiet of the deep lake, the colors lingering in the dark sky long after another burst had taken its place. She felt a calmness wash over her, a bit of the anger finding its way out. She’d always loved fireworks. Ever since she was little. She and Willa would lay out on a blanket, bellies full of candy, glow-in-the-dark bracelets trailing up their arms. Willa would hold Madge’s hand, scared of the loud noises. Madge’s hand felt empty as she flew through the black water.

  By the time she found her way back to the yacht, the show was over, but the party was still in full swing. She stood at the stern, watching for the little vessel that carried her sister. Her stomach twisted. What was taking them so long? A sick feeling of dread wormed its way into her throat.

  After an eternity, she heard the engine.

  She was down the stairs and next to the boat just in time to see Trip drag a semi-conscious James onto the yacht. She craned her neck. “Trip! Where’s Willa?”

  His eyes were wild when they met hers. He nearly dropped his brother. “She’s not here? I was praying she was with you. She’s not with you?” The words tumbled out of his mouth, each one bumping into the next. Madge had never heard him so scared, had never seen his face so warped.

  “Trip? My sister? Where the hell is she?” She’d heard him wrong. This wasn’t happening. She was face to face with him now. Or as close as she could get to his six-foot-four frame. He shook his head at her, his eyes flicking across the deck and behind her, forcing her to take a step back. “Willa.” She whispered her name.

  “My grandfather. We need to find my grandfather now!”

  But instead of following Trip, Madge threw her bag aside, kicked off her shoes, and dove into the water. She swam back toward the sandbar in long practiced strokes. Willa was still there. She had to be. Her muscles burned and cried. It had taken five minutes by skiff. Maybe it took her five minutes swimming. Or an hour. She’d lost all sense of time. When Madge finally reached the sandbar, she waded onto the shallow waters and sat down to wait for Willa to return. This was just one of the Gregorys’ stupid practical jokes. Madge knew if she waited there long enough, Willa would show up giggling and make fun of her overly serious sister.

  So Madge waited. And waited.

  The moon had practically set when the first of the search boats appeared. At first she struggled against the police who tried to pry her off her perch. She only stopped when she saw the men on one of the other boats fish her sister’s body from the lake. She watched them try to revive her with chest pumps and mouth-to-mouth breathing. She watched them give up when Willa didn’t respond.

  Sometimes Madge still believed that if only they’d have left her alone out there a little longer, if only the Captain’s search party had faced some sort of delay, Willa would have finally swum back to her. Just a few more minutes and she would have come back. Madge was sure of it.

  Chapter 27

  Madge dreamt of a doorbell. It ripped through the thick silence on the beach. It clanged from Willa’s blue lips. By the fourth ding, Madge shot up and found herself in bed, her heart slamming wildly in her chest. The previous night flooded over her, the look of disappointment etched across Rose’s face. And as hard as Madge tried to dredge up a feeling of regret, as much as she tried to conjure up any type of guilt, she couldn’t seem to muster either. Maybe she was just too tired.

  The doorbell rang again.

  Madge rubbed her eyes, trying to focus on the time on her phone and what the numbers meant. Her head finally cleared enough to comprehend that 7:26 A.M. meant it was too early for doorbells. She slipped on a bra under her T-shirt and poked her head out the door, gripping her phone like a weapon.

  “Carol?” She waited a beat. “Dad?”

  The doorbell sounded again. This time it sent a shudder through her system. She knew she was alone—since Willa’s funeral, she’d almost always found herself alone after 7 A.M.—and anyone could be standing behind that door. The house felt insubstantial, the walls too thin, a window easily broken, the alarm they never set, worthless. Madge ducked into Willa’s room and pulled a tiny section of her curtain back to check the driveway. The window was cool on her cheek, the air conditioner on overdrive, and her breath fogged the glass. Lina’s car was parked in front with Rose’s close behind.

  Her relief was short-lived. Sick regret began to consume her. She was awake now. She thought of the previous night, of the semi-out-of-body-experience she’d had when approaching the Gregorys’ house—pulling on the brake line, the potential destruction it could have caused if everything had gone right. Or wrong, depending upon how you looked at it.

  When she opened the door, she saw Sloane first, looking like someone had died all over again. Lina towered over her, somehow managing to look even more jagged and raw than usual. Maybe it was the fresh tattoo on her left wrist, still swollen and seeping around the edges. Anger radiated off of her in waves but there was something else there too—something Madge couldn’t place. Rose hovered in the background, off the front steps near the grass. Maybe she was scared of what would happen now that she’d managed to unite Madge’s friends together against her. Or maybe she wanted to avoid the new outsider.

  Rose opened her mouth to speak, but Lina beat her to it.

  “How could you do that?” she spat.

  Madge took a step back.

  “Do you realize what could have happened? If one of them died, it would be traced back to you, to us. And then what?” Lina threw her hands in the air, pacing back and forth in the entryway. Her eyes were glassy with tears that would never dare fall in front of them. Madge had never seen her so upset. Not even the night of Willa’s death. “I get that the War isn’t enough for you, that you’re on some sort of suicide mission. If you have a death wish, that’s fine. Awesome. But don’t drag us down with you. I’m not about to destroy my life for those assholes, and you shouldn’t be either. They’ve already done enough damage.”

  “I … I …” Madge began but could formulate no response. For once in her life she had nothing to say. She looked at Rose. She wanted to hate her for reporting back to Sloane and Lina, for giving her up. But she couldn’t. She saw nothing but concern in Rose’s dark eyes and not
hing but disappointment in Sloane’s. Still, all she could think about was how she hadn’t tried hard enough the previous night, that if she were a little stronger, if she’d had more time, if she’d planned ahead, she could have won. She wondered if this was what James felt like when he reached for another drink. Powerless to stop—

  The phone buzzed in her hand, and she dropped it to the wood floor in surprise. It continued vibrating along the planks. At the same time, Sloane’s chirped, Lina’s rattled in her purse, and Rose’s jingled. Madge’s eyes widened. It was too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence.

  A text had arrived. Caller Unknown. A link to a webpage. Nothing else. As if in a nightmare, the four girls picked up their phones and clicked on the series of numbers and letters.

  Lina went pale first, her finger instinctively deleting the message before she even had time to analyze it. When Madge turned her eyes back on her own phone, she saw why. A photo jumped onto her screen: Lina standing next to a girl Madge recognized as a bartender from the Club, her hand draped lazily over Lina’s shoulder. Their faces were a whisper apart, the girl’s teeth seemingly biting Lina’s ear.

  Coupled with the shocking image were five simple words.

  Is she or isn’t she?

  Another photo appeared. This time Sloane’s eyes went wide, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths as though she were about to hyperventilate. On the screen was a picture of a sheet of paper, PSAT test results typed at the top, certain lines highlighted in glaring yellow.

  28 Critical Reading

  22 Mathematics

  33 Writing Skills

  10th percentile

  I thought all Asians were smart?

  The slideshow continued.

  Or maybe she’s just street smart.

 

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