Once inside, she motioned for him to follow her down a hallway. Their footsteps echoed in the dark. The place was vast, cavernous, full of large, empty rooms, presumably places where old machines used to sit. It smelled like damp and bird shit and mice. Dusty shafts of sun filtered weakly through the broken windows and pitted roof, but did little to penetrate the dark. JD fought to ignore a buzzing anxiety, a fear that spiders might drop on him from above or rats would suddenly swarm them from the darkness.
It was, without a doubt, the worst picnic place he could imagine.
He cleared his throat. “So, how’d you find this place?”
“I like old things,” Ty said. “Always have. My cousins and I like to explore. See who can dig up the best stuff. Ascension is crazy old. There’s a lot of cool places around here. Stories like you wouldn’t believe . . . haunted places. Places where they staked witches, or burned them alive. Well, women who they thought were witches, anyway.” For a second, her voice rang out, steely, harsh. Then she turned to him, and her teeth flashed in the half-dark. “Do you believe in ghosts?”
“Well, it seems like this would be the place to find them,” JD said, trying to joke. But he was uncomfortable. There was something about this place that freaked him out, made him feel as though he were being watched.
“Let’s find out. . . . ” Ty said, trailing off as they came to a tight, rickety stairway not unlike the one that led to the catwalk at the theater. “This way.”
She grabbed the basket from his hands and led the way, climbing so quickly it was almost as if she floated above the rung-like steps. He followed much less surely, planting his feet nervously and gripping the railings on either side.
The top of the stairs opened up into a bright, window-lined room. The walls were brick and the floors were thick slabs of wood. Iron pillars stood around the otherwise empty space. It was dusty and in disrepair. No one had been here in a long time.
The sun was just starting to set, and the glass burned orange-red. Ty walked over to the window and looked out. JD wanted to join her, but the moment seemed loaded. He didn’t want it to seem like he was making a move or something. He wasn’t even sure he should make a move—whether she wanted him to, whether he wanted to.
“Come look at this,” she breathed, shielding her eyes against the glare.
He hesitated for just a second, and then moved closer. The scene outside the window was a perfectly composed juxtaposition of industry and nature—the rusty, unused train tracks, overgrown with weeds, butting up against the forest, dark with evergreen branches. A scene of unrestrained wildness. For a moment, he felt like he was inside a museum exhibit, encased in glass.
“Wow,” he said. “Looks like a photograph.” Their arms were touching. He took a deep breath.
“Feels nice to get away from it all, doesn’t it?” Ty said before turning back to her basket and starting to assemble the “picnic”—a baguette, some Brie, a bunch of grapes, an apple, and a bottle of red wine. Classy. He wondered how old Ty was—it hadn’t occurred to him to ask.
“Great spread,” JD said. “Did you bring a knife?”
“Of course,” Ty said, reaching deep into the seemingly bottomless basket and pulling out what looked like a hunting knife. It was silver, and there was a snake engraved in its hilt. Not exactly your typical kitchen utensil.
JD drew back in mock fear. “Whoa. I didn’t know you were packing heat.”
“What can I say?” Ty shrugged and batted her lashes. “I always come prepared.”
“Good to know,” JD said. “I’ll call you next time I need help gutting a deer.”
“I’m good at that,” Ty answered evenly. JD wondered if she was kidding or not. The she laughed—that low, hoarse laugh that made her sound kind of like a woman from a black-and-white movie. It was sort of sinister, actually. She had a laugh like a ninety-year-old smoker, Tina had said. He didn’t know why the thought popped into his head just then, but it made him totally uncomfortable.
It wasn’t possible. . . . It wasn’t at all possible that Ty had been the older girl Tina was talking about, the one who had dated Chase briefly and driven him almost to madness. The one who had led him on.
But then again, Ty had mentioned that Chase died with a lipstick mark on his face. Why would she have known that? Again, the detail haunted him. He wanted to bring it up again, but how?
Trying to shake off the eerie feeling in his gut, he set to work slicing the apple, and they settled onto the floor, munching on bits of fruit and cheese. Everything felt slick and heavy in his mouth, and even as he started to feel full, he felt like he couldn’t stop eating. She poured the wine into clear plastic cups and he sipped his freely, enjoying the way it loosened his tongue and calmed him down a little.
“So, do you see Ali often?” he asked. He figured he’d start by finding out how much time Ty even spent in Ascension, and go from there.
“Oh, we spend a lot of time together. The three of us travel everywhere.” She reached into her bag and dug out a strip of photo-booth snapshots. The picture was black-and-white, timeless. “That’s us,” she said. “Me, Ali, and Meg.”
JD was startled to see that the third girl in the picture was the same Meg he’d met at Drea’s memorial service, the one with the red ribbon around her neck. She was wearing it in the photograph.
And he’d seen her with Crow, too.
“We’re inseparable,” Ty said. “Or at least we used to be. I actually think we’re growing apart. We want different things.” Her eyes drifted back to the window, where the sunset had turned dusky, pinkish, like a faded rose.
“Really? That’s too bad.” JD took another sip of wine. He didn’t usually drink, but he was starting to feel warm and more relaxed. It had just really hit him that he was on a date with a girl who could have passed for a supermodel. He still couldn’t quite believe it.
“It happens.” Ty shrugged and fiddled with the hem of her shirt. For a minute, she was quiet. Then she blurted: “It’s been happening for a while. I want . . . I want to live my own life, I guess. To have a life. And she and Meg don’t really understand that. So I’m taking matters into my own hands.” She looked vulnerable then, more like Em than ever. The impression was so strong he almost reached out and kissed her. He almost couldn’t stop herself. But then she smiled again and the resemblance faded. “People change, you know? And I’m changing. I know I am.” The thought seemed to please her.
Ty’s words made something stick inside of him. Change. Would he, JD Fount, ever change? Had he ever taken matters into his own hands, or fought to have a life? Even his younger sister thought he was lame. When was the last time he’d really been proactive about anything, anything that mattered? He kept letting himself get jerked around . . . but maybe he deserved better.
“Hey, are you all right?” Ty reached out and touched JD’s arm. He hadn’t realized it, but he’d been balling his fists.
“Oh, yeah . . . ” he said sheepishly, stretching his fingers. “You just got me thinking. I’ve been growing apart from someone too.”
Ty raised her eyebrows. “Wanna talk about it?”
Maybe it was the wine, or the way that Ty was looking at him so sympathetically. Or maybe it was the weirdness of the place, the space high up in an abandoned building with the sun smoldering pink outside their window, but JD suddenly felt compelled to share everything. “This girl I’ve known . . . forever. My friend Em.”
Ty looked at him, wide-eyed. “Not Em Winters?”
He immediately regretting being so open. Ty now probably thought he was pathetic too. “Do you know her?”
“Kind of. Just a little. We have a mutual friend. She came up in conversation the other day.” She shook her head. “Life is so weird like that.”
“Who’s the mutual friend?” JD asked.
“Oh, I’m not sure if you know him—he doesn’t go to Ascension,” Ty said, plucking a grape from its stem and popping it into her mouth. “His name is Colin. He�
�s a musician—”
“I know who Crow—who Colin is,” JD said, feeling the familiar burn of resentment in his chest whenever he thought of Crow. “What was he saying about Em?”
Ty cocked her head to one side and gave him a smile that indicated she knew more than she was letting on. “He just mentioned he knows her, that they’ve been hanging out, that’s all. . . . ”
JD tightened his hands into fists again. He desperately wanted to pump Ty for information, but he refused to embarrass himself so blatantly.
“Are you and Em, like, a thing?” Ty asked.
“We’re—no,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “She lives next door to me. I’ve known her forever.”
“And you love her,” Ty said matter-of-factly, as though daring him to correct her.
JD looked away. Was it that obvious? Heat crept into his neck. There was no point in denying it. So he just said: “I’ve just . . . I’ve seen her get hurt. She has terrible taste in guys.”
“She must, if she’s not into you,” Ty said playfully, but the compliment only made him feel worse. Because Em wasn’t into him, and that was the point.
He could feel Ty watching him closely. “Last year, Em fell for the world’s biggest d-bag. He cheated on Em’s best friend—with Em. I warned her about him, but she ignored me.”
“Sounds like she made a pretty bad mistake,” Ty said, popping a grape’s skin with her teeth. “Did she pay for it?”
“Did she . . . what?” JD looked confused. “What do you mean?”
Ty shrugged. “I just mean, did she learn from her mistake?”
JD shook his head. “I don’t know. I think so.” Had she? He didn’t know. “What about you?” he asked pointedly. If Ty was going to put him on the spot, he should be allowed to do the same to her.
“What about me what?” she asked.
“Any unrequited love of your own?” What he wanted to ask was, Who are you really? What are your secrets? Did you know Chase Singer more than you’re letting on? Did you date him?
Ty shrugged, pulling a strand of hair around in front of her shoulder and tugging at it as she talked. “Not really,” she said. “I’ve never really been able to date someone seriously. Every time I try, it ends badly.” Her voice was less musical than usual.
Suddenly JD felt terrible. Here he was, suspecting this girl—who was basically a stranger to him—of lying, of knowing Chase, of maybe even having seduced Chase on the night of his death. It was absurd, and now he’d gone and made her feel sad. He really had a way with the chicks.
The light was quickly waning, and the magic of the evening felt drained. “I think we should start heading back,” he said. He placed his cup back in the basket, along with the remaining food items.
“And miss the rest of the sunset?” Ty pouted. “Some urban explorer you are. . . . ”
“I’ve got homework,” he said, unable to come up with a clever response. When he stood, JD felt dazed, unsettled with the turn this conversation had taken.
She led the way back down to the main level, but as JD was descending the narrow staircase, one of the boards broke loose under his foot, and he felt himself falling forward.
Ty reached out and he grabbed her hand, steadying himself.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “The ground just completely came out from under me.”
“I saved you,” Ty responded, laughing in that same husky way that she had at the pizza parlor. “Looks like you owe me one.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“W . . . T . . . F ,” Gabby said as she slid into the red vinyl diner booth. She drew out every letter. “You better tell me more about this Crow sitch. Especially if I’m going to be expected to cover for you. Thank god your mom fell for the I-was-having-a-boy-crisis-and-needed-Em-please-don’t-ask-any-more-questions bit.”
Em cringed, imagining what could have happened if Gabby hadn’t thought so quickly on her feet. “You saved my ass, Gabs,” she said. “I’m definitely buying your meal.”
The past forty-eight hours had been hell. Though she’d slept well in Crow’s bed, she’d basically been awake ever since. She’d lain wide awake in her bed the last couple of nights, staring at the ceiling and getting up periodically to peer out from behind her curtains. The feeling of being stalked was constant. And she’d woken up with a hot, black anger flowing inside of her, like a physical force.
It was undeniable now. Ever since that night with Crow, she’d gained a horrible clarity—that the transformation was definitely happening, and quickly. She had no idea how to reverse it.
She would lose her life, her family. Her soul.
Which was why she was desperate to talk to Skylar McVoy in private. But all day at school, Em had been unable to corner her; the one time their eyes met across the hall, Skylar pivoted and scurried away, almost as if she were deliberately avoiding a confrontation.
Now it was nearly six o’clock, and Skylar’s rehearsal would be ending soon. But first, Em had to deal with someone she’d been desperately putting off: Gabby.
She had never intended to fall asleep in Crow’s bed two nights earlier, and was mortified—and panicked—when she woke up with her face mashed into his pillow, a little spot of drool next to her mouth, her shoes discarded on top of his sheets. She must have kicked them off in her sleep. The truth was, she hadn’t slept so well, so soundly, in forever.
But while she was dreaming in Crow’s bed, her parents had called Gabby early that morning.
“Em left us a note that she was going to your place, but it wasn’t clear that she was sleeping over,” Susan Winters had said suspiciously. “It seemed strange for a Tuesday night. We tried her cell, but it’s off.”
Gabby had told them Em was in the shower—she wasn’t an idiot—but after hanging up with Mrs. Winters, she’d called Em in a frenzy. Are you okay? Are you even alive? Where are you? You better get home. All that stuff. Em had promised to explain everything later. But for two days, she’d been promising Gabby an explanation more detailed than the one she had given—which happened to be the truth. “I was with Crow,” Em had said. “He’s helping me with something.”
Obviously that hadn’t satisfied Gabby—in fact, she’d let out such a prolonged screech in the library yesterday that she’d nearly gotten them kicked out—and she’d finally guilted Em into an early dinner and a gossip session at the diner tonight, claiming she was craving a tuna melt. Em wasn’t thrilled about meeting at a diner with notoriously slow service; she looked at her watch, counting down the minutes until Skylar’s rehearsal got out—then scolded herself. Gabby, she thought. You’re spending time with your best friend, Gabby.
“Bribes don’t work, Winters,” Gabby said once they’d ordered (a tuna melt for Gabs, just a strawberry milk shake for Em), leaning forward. “Spill it—everything. How long has this been going on? How far have you gotten? What about JD? I thought you had a big thing for him?”
Em couldn’t help but be slightly amused by the rapid-fire questions. “It’s not what you think,” she said. “I didn’t mean to sleep over. It was an accident.” He’d been perfectly respectful, as he promised; Em had woken up to find him curled in a blanket on his floor next to the bed. It was weird to see how peaceful Crow looked in sleep—boyish, even. His mouth open ever so slightly, his scowl gone, his eyes fluttering lightly. She’d realized she was staring, and coughed loudly to wake him up.
“So,” Gabby said, not skipping a beat. “My best friend is sleeping with the Grim Creeper, a pot-smoking high school dropout. Should I call an intervention now, or wait until you become the new Teen Mom?”
Em dropped her head into her hands. “Nononononono,” she mumbled, half-laughing. “Gabby. Calm down. First of all, quit it with the nicknames—they’ve gotten me into enough trouble. And second, I am hanging out with Crow, and it is very unromantic.” She thought of his hand running through her hair and blushed; Gabby slapped her arm and gave her a look. “Okay, okay. We’ve kissed, like, once. But really,
I do not like him like that. Like you said yourself, I’m still head over heels for JD. Crow is just . . . a distraction.”
“You, Emily Winters, are completely out of your mind,” Gabby said, shaking her head and sounding a lot like Em’s mom had earlier this morning. “I can’t believe I lied for you so that you could hang out—no, I’m sorry, make out—with Crow.” She took a huffy bite of the sandwich that had been placed before her.
Em looked down, disappointed that her shake looked so thick. “We’re just . . . it’s because of Drea,” Em said, the excuse coming to her all at once. “You know he was friends with her too. He’s kind of . . . broken up about the whole thing. We just wanted to talk about her. So I went over, thinking I’d just be there for a little while, and I ended up falling asleep.”
The explanation seemed to placate Gabby slightly; it was like a tacit agreement between them that Drea and Em’s unlikely friendship was off-limits. Em felt bad lying to Gabby, but in this case a lie really was better (not to mention more believable) than the truth. She was scared to get Gabby mixed up in this mess.
“Are you in trouble?” Gabby asked. “Did your ’rents buy it?”
“They seemed to go for the fell-asleep-at-your-place thing,” Em said, knocking on the non-wood tabletop. “I mean, they made a big deal about being clearer next time . . . but I was already late for school, so they didn’t go on for too long. They haven’t mentioned it since.”
“It almost seems like you knew you were going to sleep there,” Gabby teased, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. Em could tell she wasn’t going to just let this one go.
“I promise, Gabs. Nothing is going on between me and Crow. Nothing.” More than anything, Em wanted that to be the truth.
“Whoa, that’s crazy,” Gabby said, suddenly transfixed by Em’s hands.
Em looked down and sprung her hands away from the glass. There was steam rising between them, condensation from the heat of her hands against the cold milk-shake glass. Like she’d been sizzling on a stove.
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