by Tijan
A heavy silence. I was becoming so used to them; they were my real friends in this room. I smiled and leaned forward. “We fucked.”
That nice smile-that-was-not-really-my-friend vanished. “What?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mallory Lockhart was thirty-seven. Her relationship was complicated, and she was an ads manager at West Coarse Technology. She had brown hair, a heart-shaped face, hazel eyes set a little too close together behind wire-rimmed glasses, perfectly trimmed and arched eyebrows, and a petite and compact body.
Her bachelor’s degree was from West Scottridge University.
She’d shared five puppy memes over the last day, three sarcastic quote memes over the last week, and she had more than two thousand social media friends.
She’d recently gotten a golden retriever named Bugsy, and she was “excited to have her new pup for a new chapter in her life.”
I leaned forward to see the timestamp on that last post. It was four days ago, posted at 7:03 in the evening. I scrolled through the comments.
“Love you!! So proud of you.”
“Big hugs, babe xoxo”
“Can’t wait to meet Bugsy!”
“Adorable! Yay!” (insert a gif of a puppy tearing up a pillow and then falling backward off of a couch.)
Heart emoticon heart emoticon heart emoticon heart emoticon
“Wonderful to hear. So happy for you.”
I stopped reading them. Apparently, all her friends were ecstatic for her. I wanted to piss on each one of them.
Fuck them. Fuck her. Fuck my dad. Fuck them all.
That “new chapter” wasn’t just about a dog. I bet they didn’t know that. Maybe I should educate each one.
“Are you still cyberstalking her?” Cora asked as she dropped into the seat next to me in our school library.
Still. I almost laughed at that, but rage had been a firm friend since last night.
I hadn’t slept after Ryan and I went back to my room. He had, but I couldn’t. I went right to the computer and got all the information on my dad’s mistress. I knew her mailing address and her birthday. I had figured out her family members. I knew where she had gone to high school and college. And Google had helped me guess at her annual income.
But none of that told me why.
Why my dad? Did she pursue him? Did he seek her out? How did they meet in the first place? A joint project? Did she work with him on projects? Had they started flirting at the water fountain? Coffee hut, maybe?
I hated her.
I didn’t know her, but I hated her.
I looked over at Cora. I’d given Ryan the task of questioning his parents about Mallory Homewrecker Lockhart, but I needed someone as crazy as I was with the stalking skills.
“I want to drive to her house and slice her tires,” I told her. “No, no, I want to drive to her house, ring the doorbell, and make her as uncomfortable as she’s made my family hell.” Which would be a lot.
I didn’t need Willow to call me out. I was projecting everything onto this mistress, and I knew it.
I didn’t care.
My dad was grieving. He was supposed to go to my mom for that.
Pot meet kettle.
Okay. I heard Willow there. Our family sucked all around at comforting each other, except that my mom had actually decided to be a mother. She went above and beyond. I got a text saying the visit to Robbie had been postponed and she knew I’d talked to my father. She promised to speak to me later because she knew I would have questions. And if all that wasn’t enough, she’d called Ryan’s mom.
I was supposed to stay at the Jensens’ for the rest of the week and weekend, but not in Ryan’s bed. I was to go home after school, pack a bag, and Ryan would drive me to his house.
I rolled my eyes when I read that last text. Such a silly (or delusional) mother, acting like I was in third grade and she’d arranged a weeklong sleepover. I’d go over to Ryan’s, but probably not in time for after-school snacks. I’d go when I wanted to go. Sometimes she forgot I’d actually turned eighteen.
I rolled my eyes and clicked on the mad icon under one of Mallory’s posts.
Cora leaned forward and laughed under her breath. “You’re in your sister’s Facebook account. That’s creepy and hilarious at the same time.”
I felt Willow’s pride and shrugged. “She’d think it was awesome.”
Cora looked at me, her gaze lingering, but I ignored it. I kept scrolling through more of Mallory’s posts to put the mad icon on all of them.
“She’ll know it’s you. You know that, right?”
She would, and I grinned. “She can prove it.”
Cora shifted back. “Dude. You look evil right now.”
If she only knew what went on in your head.
I ignored Willow and clicked the mad icon under another post.
“That’s a Pinterest meme on DIY Halloween decorations.”
I kept scrolling. “My dad hates Halloween. She should know that.”
Cora laughed again, but the sound was becoming less amused and more cautious.
I couldn’t be bothered with any of it. I was a madwoman on a mission. If my mom wasn’t going to rage about this whole situation, I was. Willow would’ve been going nuts. She would’ve screamed, demanding answers. She would’ve been on the phone, calling the mistress and our mom at the same time.
She would’ve burned our house down—figuratively . . . I think?
I waited to see if Willow had anything to say, but she was quiet. Come to think of it, she’d been quiet more and more lately.
I’m taking on her personality.
That was why. Willow was living through me, so she didn’t need to—and the bell rang.
Thank the gods. That stopped me from having a whole conversation in my head about why my dead sister wasn’t talking to me anymore . . . in my head.
Cora grabbed her bag and stood. She hugged it against her chest as I clicked out of everything on my computer. “Everyone is going to Patty’s for lunch. Are you going too?”
I grabbed my bag and began walking out of the library. “Who’s everyone?” I asked as we got to the door.
She ducked out behind me. “The guys. Ryan, I think. Erin. Her group.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. The popular people.”
Ah. Popularity.
The stuff normal teenagers cared about.
I glanced over at her, but she wasn’t looking at me. “I’m not popular.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. Trust me. You are, even if you don’t know it. You’re with Ryan, and the other girls are scared of you.”
They should be. There were two of me, and one of us could haunt their asses. I snickered at that but didn’t reply. I wasn’t popular, and I didn’t care. I hadn’t cared in Arizona, and that hadn’t changed. Ryan was the only benefit of moving.
I stopped in the middle of the hallway. Some students protested behind us. I ignored them.
Cora had taken a step forward, but she stopped and looked back.
“Is that why you wanted to be with him?” I asked.
Her eyes enlarged, and her mouth made a popping sound. “Uh, what?” She adjusted the bag in front of her, hugging it tighter.
“You want to be popular?” I shook my head. “But aren’t you? You’re friends with those guys. Shouldn’t that make you popular too?”
A strangled squeak left her throat. “This is so embarrassing.”
“Why?”
People were trying to press around us. One guy cursed at us, then saw me and coughed to cover it up. “Sorry. Hey, Mackenzie.” He was gone before I could say anything, but I could see the back of his neck turning red.
“See? DJ Reynolds has no idea who I am. That would not have happened with me.” She pointed in the direction he went.
“No, I’m not. I’m . . .” Damaged. Broken. Half-dead. Having sex—make that I had sex. Once. I was sexually expe
rienced, kind of. “This is not normal me. Trust me. Normal me is not popular. Normal me . . .” I hesitated, but normal me was like Cora. Somewhat.
Everyone likes you, Mac. Get over yourself. You never have to try for anything.
Willow had said to me the day we found out we were moving. I flinched when I remembered.
She had been so wrong. She was the one everyone liked. Even my two best friends had dropped me because they missed her so much. Didn’t she get that? Had she really not gotten that? She was the star.
I looked away. “Normal me was invisible. Trust me.”
I was wrong. I hadn’t been like Cora. She cared the way Willow cared, but Willow had succeeded. She’d thrived with the social hierarchy stuff.
I needed to stop thinking about Willow.
I felt her snort and thought to her, Sorry, but you make me slightly deranged.
Only slightly?
Cora and I needed to get moving. The next bell would ring soon, and I clamped on to her arm. She was watching me with her head tilted to the side, but I wanted to make sure she heard me.
“I lost my sister. My brother moved to a different school, and I found out last night that my dad is leaving our family. If I could switch places with you, I would. I’m not saying you don’t have problems or struggles. Everyone does, but I’m saying rethink what you want. If you want to be popular so much, forget it. It isn’t worth it.”
She looked down, but I heard her say, “It isn’t worth it to you.”
“It isn’t worth it to anyone.”
That would be utopia. If everyone was kind, if everyone was worthy. If there were no hatred, pain, or suffering. If people couldn’t see someone’s skin color, quality of their clothes, where they lived. If nothing mattered except the heart and mind.
I wanted to live in a world like that. I could almost taste it, I wanted it so bad.
I gentled my tone, “If I’m popular, then trust me. I’m miserable. You aren’t. I’ve seen you with the guys.”
The second bell rang.
I was late, but as I turned down the empty hallway, which was thankfully empty, I looked back. Cora hadn’t moved, her back toward me.
Hope fluttered in my chest. It was small, but it was there.
A fourth piece inside me found the other three. They fit the right way.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cora acted differently the rest of the day. I don’t know why it made me feel good, but it did. We went to lunch with everyone else, taking seats in the booth next to the guys. When Erin and her friends came over, Cora didn’t react like she normally did. She didn’t get all nervous. She didn’t start fidgeting. She didn’t jump when Erin said hello.
She was cool. There was a confidence radiating from her, and I knew the guys took note. Erin too, with a slight frown as she went back to her table of friends. The guys kept sneaking looks at Cora on the way back, and for the rest of the day.
I wasn’t sure if Ryan noticed anything. He was more perceptive than people realized. He just hid it better.
Kirk nudged my shoulder in our seventh period.
“What?”
He pointed his pencil at Cora, who was filling out the worksheet we’d all gotten. “What’s going on with her?”
As if hearing him—and she might’ve—she straightened, holding her head high. If she’d been wearing a crown, it would have remained firmly in place, not like the other times when she’d duck her head or hunch her shoulders.
I almost smiled with pride, but I shrugged instead. “I don’t know. She looks sexier than normal, doesn’t she?”
Ryan glanced at me, a strange look on his face.
But Kirk was studying Cora, and he nodded. “Yeah. She does.” A mystified expression flitted over his face. He nodded again. “Yeah.”
He grabbed his worksheet and bag and left our table. Sliding into the seat next to Cora, he nudged her arm.
I felt Ryan’s gaze on me, but I bent over to finish my worksheet.
His foot went to the book rest underneath my seat, and he pulled my chair toward his. He drew me close enough that our legs pressed against each other’s. “What happened there?”
I shrugged. “Beats me.” But I was grinning. I almost felt silly.
Something felt right. For once.
Ryan didn’t push it. I knew he’d ask later, and I’d tell him. Cora was his friend. He’d be happy.
After a few more minutes, I stopped trying to fill out my worksheet. My concentration was useless, so I sat back and studied the way Cora and Kirk were half-flirting/half-studying each other. They both knew something new was happening, but neither fully understood what it was.
Ryan gave me the answers for the few problems I didn’t have done, and after class, I hurried to catch up with Cora.
I bumped into her arm, grinning.
She looked over and ducked her head, but I saw her smile.
“So.” I jerked a thumb toward Kirk, who was headed toward his locker. “What was that about?”
“You know.” She weaved over, deliberately bumping back into me. “I took your advice to heart.”
“That you aren’t miserable?”
She laughed, shaking her head. “No. Well, yes.” We veered toward her locker.
I went with her and Ryan passed us, moving toward his. But he looked back with the same questioning expression on his face.
Later, I mouthed, and he nodded, stopping at Kirk’s locker first.
“Do you like Kirk?”
She’d never talked about him, just about Ryan.
“I don’t know.” She opened her locker and began to put her books into her bag. “Maybe. I mean . . .” She paused, looking at him as he joked with Ryan. “After Ryan, he’s the hottest guy in school.”
She stared at him, really stared at him, and let out a sigh. “What am I doing? He made out with the Bellini twins last night. He’d never be interested in me.”
I frowned as I really looked at Cora.
She was a little smaller than me. Her brown hair was pulled back into a messy bun with some fraying ends framing her face. Aqua eyes. A fair complexion under a smattering of freckles. She wasn’t beautiful in the heavy-makeup kind of way. She was pretty in a natural way.
She was kind, shy, and loyal. I never heard her say anything negative about her friends. The only person she’d been negative about was Erin, but that made sense. She was terrified of the girl.
There was no reason Kirk wouldn’t want to be with her.
“He’d be nuts not to want you,” I told her.
She fixed me with a dark look. “Come on.”
“I’m serious. I mean, I’m taking inventory. If he doesn’t want to date you, the only reason would be because he wants to keep fooling around with people who aren’t girlfriend material. Sorry, Cora, but you’re dating material. And he was interested. He asked me what was different with you today.”
“What’d you say?” She was so still.
I leaned against her neighbor’s locker. “I told him I didn’t know, but you seemed sexier to me. He agreed.”
Her mouth almost fell open and color splashed across her cheeks. “He did?”
“Yeah. He did.”
She ducked her head again, sneaking a look at him.
Ryan and Kirk were both watching us.
Kirk was staring at Cora like he’d never seen her before. Ryan watched me with the same expression. It took me a second to place it, because it was different. His eyes were locked on me, his mystified expression from before mixing with a look of approval. Then it hit me, and I almost fell back against the locker behind me.
I was the old me.
This was something I would’ve done.
I would’ve helped a friend who needed a pep talk. There might’ve been a guy I helped steer in the right direction, and I would’ve been at that friend’s locker talking to her about the guy. This was the real me. It felt good. I mean, it felt weird, but it felt right.
Ryan was seeing this s
ide of me for the first time.
I pulled my gaze away and glanced down.
Willow was with me. I felt her, and I waited, expecting her to say something. She didn’t. She remained quiet, and I couldn’t help myself.
Really? I shot at her. You don’t say anything this time? And like she was really standing there, I heard a huff right before she turned and walked away.
She left me. I was struck speechless a second.
“You okay?”
Cora had shut her locker and had her bag over one shoulder. She was waiting for my response.
“Oh yeah.” I stood straight. “I’m good.”
My ghost of a sister left me, and I didn’t want her to go.
I’d gotten used to her haunting me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“What was up with you and Cora today?”
I knew this question was coming, and I looked over to Ryan in the driver’s seat. He’d asked me where we were heading after school, and he hadn’t flinched one bit when I said, “My dad’s mistress’s house.” He hadn’t questioned how I knew her address.
I rested my head back against the headrest and smiled. I hadn’t needed a PowerPoint presentation to get him to be a stalker with me.
But I did need to answer his question. I gazed at him as we drove down the highway, the wind whipping his hair back.
How could I explain that I’d only said a few words to Cora, but it seemed to have helped? Or how much that meant to me for some stupid reason?
How could I tell him Willow had left me today, and I ached at her absence?
How could I—Dude, stop. Talk to him.
I almost grinned, hearing my sister’s voice again. It settled me.
“I don’t really know,” I said aloud.
Ryan frowned as he rolled up his window. The wind noise faded, and it seemed intimate in his truck. “What’d you say?”
I cleared my throat, sitting straighter in my seat. “I don’t really know. That’s what I said.”
“What does that mean?”
I shook my head a little. “She was telling me that I’m popular, and I told her to go jump off a cliff.” Same sentiment. Different words. I shrugged. “I’m miserable—” Ryan turned to look at me for a second. “Being popular isn’t worth it.”