But she was right. We kept things from each other. The fragile things. The intangible things. We always kept them to ourselves. I caught up to Colleen, fell into stride right behind her. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell her—it’s just that I didn’t know how.
We drove around some more after that but didn’t really speak.
“I’m coming back home after this is over,” I said. “If it’s ever over.”
Colleen nodded. “You should see Marci Schafer. She went all goth.”
“Marci? But she’s too . . . light. And pretty.”
“And now she’s dark. And hot.”
“What about you, Coll?” Because it had always been just me and her.
She shrugged. “I’m in a few classes with The Ls.” The Ls being Lindsey, Laura, and Lainey. The type of girls that giggled and whispered and seemed to share one brain. The type of girls we used to make fun of.
“Coll, really? The Ls?”
“Really, Mallory? You’re not there.”
She pressed her lips together, which is what she always did to keep from crying. It was the only thing she ever tried to hold in. She never bit her tongue, and she never held back a smile. And I realized that when I left home, I left her too.
“I don’t know who I’m supposed to be now that you’re gone,” she said. But I always thought it was the other way around. Funny how you can be so tied up in another person and not even know it until she’s gone. I wanted to say something to her—tell her something true. But I still didn’t really know how. The words were lodged inside, so instead I said something that I hoped would make her understand.
“I want to go home,” I whispered. But she didn’t understand what I meant. She swung a U-turn in the middle of the street and pulled back into the hotel parking lot a few minutes later. I couldn’t find the words to tell her that this wasn’t what I meant by home.
Colleen was helping Mom clean up the boxes of leftover Chinese food. She was tying up a giant garbage bag to bring outside, but I was frozen on the couch, which is where we’d all eaten.
“Do you want me to make up the sofa bed, Colleen? Or will you be bunking with Mallory tonight?”
Colleen mouthed the word “bunking” to me, and smiled like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. “I choose bunking,” she said, all chipper. “Are there bunk beds? I call top.”
“Ha-ha. It’s a queen bed. I call right side.”
“Get a good rest,” Mom said. “You need to get on the road early.”
Colleen groaned and Mom took the trash bag from her to bring out to the Dumpster.
We watched a few shows with Mom while the sky turned dark, but I’m pretty sure none of us were paying attention. Just passing the time until night.
Colleen stood and stretched and said, “I’m ready to get my bunk on.”
After I finished getting ready in the bathroom, I found her on my side of the bed. “I know you called right and all, but I’m the guest.” And I guess this was her way of saying we were done with the previous discussion, done with the accusations.
“Hope you don’t have to get up to pee in the middle of the night.” I slid under the sheets on the left side and turned out the light. The outside street lamp cut through the blinds, leaving a streak across the center of our bed.
“Okay,” Colleen said. “What’s the rest?”
“What?”
“The later stuff. It’s later. I’m leaving tomorrow. So let’s hear it.”
I took a deep breath. “Dylan was here yesterday.”
Colleen bolted upright in bed. “Dylan? Your Dylan?”
Not my Dylan. But I sat up and nodded anyway.
“Crap, I didn’t know. I mean, he moved. You knew that, right? His mom, she’s . . . sick. And he lives with his dad. I don’t know where. I was going to tell you . . . eventually. I didn’t know he was up here.”
Really, it wasn’t her job to know. It seemed ridiculous that she would know. But I told her the rest, about how he blamed me, how he hated me. And then I told her the truth, the one I’d just discovered. “He came home with me that night, Colleen.”
“What?”
“After the party. He came home with me. We were . . . well, Brian found out. And that’s why he broke in. Dylan left. He ran away. And Brian broke in. And I . . .”
She made that argh noise again, like she was beyond frustrated. Then she added, “I am so, so sorry.”
And I said, annoyed, like always, “Not your fault.”
“Stop it. Please. Stop saying that.” She was pressing her lips together again, trying not to cry. And finally, I got it.
She snuck out of her house, even though she was grounded. She went to that party so I could see Brian, even though she didn’t think I should be with Brian. She went because she knew I wouldn’t go without her. Because I didn’t do anything without her.
Which she knew.
And she still knew.
And that was why Colleen felt guilty about that night. It wasn’t that she thought she left me. It wasn’t that she went off with Cody. It was that she went at all.
Colleen thought it was all her fault. Colleen, who found me under the boardwalk that night. Colleen, who was willing to run away with me. Colleen, who packed up a bag and came here. For me. And this feeling started in my chest, like something rising up inside of me.
I needed to say something: I needed to make sure she understood. I needed to make sure she knew. It was mostly dark in the room, and she was almost crying, and she was here in the middle of nowhere, with an overnight bag and a toothbrush. So before I could lose my nerve I said, “You know I love you, Colleen Dabner.”
She poked my leg with her big toe and said, “Yeah, I know it.”
The slant of light from the gap in the curtains cut between us on the bed until Colleen leaned forward and pushed her face into the light beam. And then she whispered, “Now tell me again about this Krista chick.”
So I did. I lay back on the pillow and spoke to the ceiling. “Jason is—was—the only one who knew about her, really. And she did whatever he wanted. Is that bribery?”
“Blackmail?”
“Either way, it’s messed up. For one thing, I know she convinced Taryn not to tell that Jason hit her. And I guess she must’ve convinced Bree not to report something too. But I don’t know what. And I don’t know why. Jason must’ve had something big on her. And I seriously don’t get why they pretended to be cousins.” All I knew for certain was that Krista wanted him dead. And now that he was, the secret was dead too.
Colleen listened and didn’t say a word until I ran out of things to say, and there was nothing but breathing. The last thing I remembered was her left leg laying on top of my right leg. Her left hand in my hair.
And in the morning, when I woke, I rolled over to the right side of the bed, and it was empty.
Her bag was gone, the oversized purse that she also used as luggage. The spot next to my shoes was empty, where hers had been. I pulled the curtains apart and my heart dropped as I saw the empty parking spot. No purple hatchback.
I barged out into the common room and ignored Mom’s greeting as she ate a bowl of cereal on the couch. I checked the bathroom and let out a sigh of relief—her toothbrush was still sitting on the side of the sink.
“Where’d Colleen go?”
She paused with the spoon halfway to her mouth. “What do you mean?”
I felt this weird buzz in the room, like when you know something’s off—kind of like when I knew, but didn’t know, that Dylan had been in my dorm room. “Colleen. Her car is gone.” She probably went to get some real breakfast. She’d probably walk through the door in a few minutes with a tray of coffee in one hand and a box of donuts balanced on her other hip.
Mom slurped the milk off her spoon. “She must’ve left for home.”
“No, her toothbrush is here.”
Mom put her spoon in the bowl and placed them all on the coffee table. “I’m sure she just forgot it. Mallory, honey, I’ve been up for the last hour. She hasn’t been here. I’m sure she wanted to get an early start and didn’t want to wake us.”
“No,” I said, feeling frantic. “She wouldn’t leave without telling me. She wouldn’t.”
“It’s after ten. She probably left first thing. She wouldn’t necessarily wake you up.”