I opened the door for her. “I think you should talk to your uncle about the locket. He might know more than you think.”
“Trust me, he doesn’t.” I slammed the door. As much as I wanted her to stay, a part of me was relieved she was going home. I was going to have enough to deal with today.
“Do you want me to turn that in for you?” I pointed at the notebook lying on the passenger seat.
“No, it’s not homework.” She flipped open the glove compartment and shoved the notebook inside.
“It’s nothing.” Nothing she was going to tell me about, anyway.
“You’d better go before Fatty starts scouting the lot.” She started the car before I could say anything else, and waved as she pulled away from the curb.
I heard a bark. I turned to see the enormous black dog from Ravenwood, only a few feet away, and who it was barking at.
Mrs. Lincoln smiled at me. The dog growled, the hair along its back standing on end. Mrs. Lincoln looked down at it with such revulsion, you would’ve thought she was looking at Macon Ravenwood himself. In a fight, I wasn’t sure which one of them would come out on top.
“Wild dogs carry rabies. Someone should notify the county.” Yeah, someone.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Who was that I just saw drivin’ off in that strange black car? You seemed to be havin’ quite a conversation.” She already knew the answer. It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation.
“Ma’am.”
“Speakin’ a strange, Principal Harper was just tellin’ me he’s plannin’ on offerin’ that Ravenwood girl an occupational transfer. She can take her pick, any school in three counties. As long as it’s not Jackson.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t even look at her.
“It’s our responsibility, Ethan. Principal Harper’s, mine—every parent in Gatlin’s. We have to be sure to keep the young people in this town outta harm’s way. And away from the wrong sorta people.”
Which meant anyone who wasn’t like her.
She reached out her hand and touched me on the shoulder, just as she had done to Emily, not ten minutes ago. “I’m sure you understand my meanin’. After all, you’re one of us. Your daddy was born here and your mamma was buried here. You belong here. Not everyone does.”
I stared back at her. She was in her van before I could say another word.
This time, Mrs. Lincoln was after more than burning a few books.
Once I got to class, the day became abnormally normal, weirdly normal. I didn’t see any more parents, though I suspected they were there loitering around the office. At lunch, I ate three bowls of chocolate pudding with the guys, as usual, though it was clear what and who we weren’t talking about. Even the sight of Emily madly texting all through English and chemistry seemed like some kind of reassuring universal truth. Except for the feeling that I knew what, or rather who, she was texting about. Like I said, abnormally normal.
Until Link dropped me off after basketball practice and I decided to do something completely insane.
Amma was standing on the front porch—a sure sign of trouble. “Did you see her?” I should’ve expected this.
“She wasn’t in school today.” Technically that was true.
“Maybe that’s for the best. Trouble follows that girl around like Macon Ravenwood’s dog. I don’t want it followin’ you into this house.”
“I’m going to take a shower. Will dinner be ready soon? Link and I have a project to do tonight.” I called from the stairs, trying to sound normal.
“Project? What kinda project?”
“History.”
“Where are you goin’ and when are you fixin’ to get back?”
I let the bathroom door slam before I answered that one. I had a plan, but I needed a story, and it had to be good.
Ten minutes later, sitting at the kitchen table, I had it. It wasn’t airtight, but it was the best I could do without a little time. Now I just had to pull it off. I wasn’t the best liar, and Amma was no fool. “Link is picking me up after dinner and we’re gonna be at the library until it closes. I think it’s sometime around nine or ten.” I glopped Carolina Gold onto my pulled pork. Carolina Gold, a sticky mess of mustard barbeque sauce, was the one thing Gatlin County was famous for that had nothing to do with the Civil War.
“The library?”
Lying to Amma always made me nervous, so I tried not to do it that often. And tonight I was really feeling it, mostly in my stomach. The last thing I wanted to do was eat three plates of pulled pork, but I had no choice. She knew exactly how much I could put away. Two plates, and I would rouse suspicion.
One plate, and she would send me to my room with a thermometer and ginger ale. I nodded and set to work clearing my second plate.
“You haven’t set foot in the library since…”