Chapter SEVENTEEN
Em couldn’t get through to Gabby. She’d tried chat messag-ing. She’d tried texting. She’d tried calling—her cell and her house. Nothing. Well, nothing except a thinly veiled lie from Gabby’s mom, who seemed more confused than anything else by Gabby’s obvious refusal to come to the phone. Gabby and Em never fought.
She was desperate to get in touch with Gabby, to explain herself. To make things better. To assure her that it had all been a big mistake, and to vow to do whatever it took to make Gabby trust her again. Maybe she would even tell Gabby about the other stuff—there were other girls, it wasn’t just her—if she thought Gabby would believe her. But every mode of communication was failing her.
So she’d made a decision: She was going to pull Gabby aside tonight, at the Feast, when Gabby couldn’t avoid her. She would make her see that their friendship was more important than any boy. Even a boy like Zach McCord. Even that boy, who had just broken her heart . . .
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It wasn’t going to be easy.
To steel herself for the task at hand, there was one last thing she had to do: burn Cordy.
Em was ready. She had the charcoal, check. The lighter fluid, the matches, the barbecue tongs, her warmest winter hat and gloves. And of course, she had Cordy. She held him up, this lump of fluff and fake zebra fur. She hugged him, breathing in his stuffed-animal smell, part like carnival, part like Em’s bedroom, and part something else. Her heart hurt looking at his stupid black plastic eyes and the unraveling threads around his tufted mane.
This was it. Her feelings for Zach, and this whole mess, would go up in smoke with the stuffed zebra. They had to. Em had never believed much in talismans, but one thing was for sure: She didn’t want Cordy anywhere near her pillows. She knew that somewhere in Cordy’s ashes, she’d be able to resurrect her friendship with Gabby, her old self, her life before she ever kissed Zach.
Her parents would be home around dinnertime, and she needed time to get ready before the Feast, so she had to get started. Em sighed. All she wanted to do was camp out in the basement with JD, some rum-and-Pepper floats, and Scattergories. But no, she had to put on a dress—she was going for simple, black, classic—for a fake date with Chase, of all people. Em had to admit she was a little worried about him.
After he’d gotten that text message this morning—he’d looked so spooked, Em was sure it was from the girl, Ty—she hadn’t seen him for the rest of the day. Not that she’d been looking 225
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hard. Em’s day was spent avoiding eye contact with pretty much everyone. She had no idea what, or how much, Gabby had told.
A cold wind picked up as Em stood there shivering in her alpaca mittens on the Winters’ back porch, cuddling Cordy to her chest and fiddling with her fire-making supplies. It was scary not knowing what people were saying about you. Em realized how many times she and Gabby had whispered about other people behind their backs. Nothing really malicious, but outfit appraisals and mean nicknames and I-can’t-believe-he’s-with-her’s all the same. She’d never stopped to think about how terrible it felt to be on the other side of the whisper-shielding hand.
With determination, Em prepared her dad’s grill for the offering. She poured out the charcoal, spritzed it with lighter fluid, and set the grill screen back on top of the black stones. She lit a match, dropped it in, and watched as the blue-orange flame whooshed from stone to stone. It was nice to feel warm even in her frigid backyard—maybe, once all this was sorted out, she and Gabby could host a winter bonfire, complete with roasted marshmallows and campfire songs. If it ever got sorted out.
Then, slowly, staring into the flames, Em leaned closer, holding Cordy over the grill. At the count of three, she would let him go. One. Two . . . three. It was easier than she expected.
The acrid smell of burnt synthetic fibers quickly replaced the familiar smell of the grill, and she backed away with a wrinkled nose, watching as Cordy’s extremities shriveled in the heat.
There was a noise, something off in the back of the yard.
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Em’s heart skipped. An animal? JD? She peered over the grill, trying to see beyond the flames and smoke.
All of a sudden, her scarf, too, was ablaze. Em shrieked, grabbing at it. She could feel the heat gobbling up the wool, closer and closer to her chin. She screamed, unraveling the scarf as quickly as she could, flames lashing at her hands. With a final twist, it came loose; she threw it to the ground, watching as it fizzled in the snow, releasing a plume of black smoke.
She doubled over, catching her breath and checking her neck for burns. Holy crap.
When her heart had returned to its normal rhythm, she took Cordy’s charred remains from the grill and used the tongs to shove the sizzling mess into a snowbank. Steam drew upward as the snow softened around it. Once again, the eerie note she’d read at the playground rushed into her head— Sometimes sorry isn’t enough— as she kicked more snow over the ashes, completely burying them in a blanket of pure, clean white.
As Em drove to the community center downtown, she pulled at the hem of her dress, hoping it screamed Not a Slut as loudly as a dress could. Her hair was pulled back in a neat bun and she was wearing flats. She wanted to look as saintly as possible. And she went a few minutes late, hoping Chase would be waiting just inside the double doors of the lobby, as they’d arranged.
But Chase’s car wasn’t in the lot when she pulled up. Maybe his mom dropped him off? No. She got out and jogged to the lobby, the cold air driving straight through her nylons. He wasn’t in the doorway, either. And just as she was debating 227
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whether to go inside and look for him or stay put and pretend to be deeply involved in checking her text messages, she heard Gabby’s voice.
Em must have looked like a deer in headlights as Gabby sailed through the door on Zach’s arm. Em wondered which of them looked more stricken. She knew her face was horrified; Gabby looked enraged; Zach seemed to want to melt into the woodwork.
“What. Are you. Doing here.” Gabby’s words were like daggers, and Em could tell she was truly shocked to see her here.
“I’m . . . I’m . . . I’m meeting Chase.” Now was her chance.
Em struggled to find the words to speak to Gabby. This was what she’d come for and all of a sudden she was mute.
“No one wants you here,” Gabby said coldly, leaning into Zach’s arm, which was slung around her shoulders. He didn’t remove it. Em bit the insides of her cheeks.
People passed by them, coming now in twos and threes, and every time the door opened, a cold gust of air washed over them.
A surge of strength and power came through Em all of a sudden. Gabby was hers, not Zach’s. And Gabby deserved better. They both did. “I need to talk to you, Gabs.” Em looked at Zach, wondering if he would say something. Her skin was burning. She had never been so humiliated in her life. “I need to explain.”
“I don’t want to talk to you,” Gabby said icily. “I don’t want to talk to you ever again, in fact. I thought you were my friend.
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I thought you were my best friend.” Gabby’s voice broke then—
and it made Em’s heart hurt.
“Zach?” Em finally addressed him directly. She didn’t know what she wanted. Anything but the vacant stare he’d been wearing for the last three minutes.
That’s when Gabby reached out and pushed Em’s shoulder, hard. Em stumbled back into a coatrack. A hanger jabbed her in the shoulder. “Don’t you dare speak to him,” Gabby said too loudly, her voice getting shrill. “Why won’t you stop, Em?
Leave me alone. I don’t trust you. I don’t want you around me and Zach anymore. Period. Now please move.” She swept past Em, and Em could see that tears were spilling out of her eyes.
Zach trailed like a puppet in a daze.
Gabby pushed her. Her oldest friend; her best friend. Her almost-sister. For a second Em swayed, thinking she might faint.
Part of her wanted to flee the building, flee Ascension forever. Another part of her wanted to storm right back in and tell Zach to admit exactly what had happened over the break—
every last detail. Make him writhe. Make him say it. Make him admit he’d done as much wrong as her.
Her phone beeped—she had missed a call from Chase.
Probably explaining where he was.
“Hi, it’s me.” Chase’s voice sounded tinny and high in his message. “It’s Chase, I mean. Listen, I’m not going to go tonight. I’m sorry. I just can’t. Something’s come up. I’ve got to do this. I have to know, one way or the other, you know?
So . . . don’t go to the Feast. Or if you’re there already, leave.
Sorry, Em.” Click.
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Em listened to the message a second time, a feeling of anxiety starting to gnaw at her. Chase sounded wild—almost feverish. And scared.
Should she call him back? Go to his house and figure out what the hell was going on? Even through her own mortification—more football players were arriving now, with families and dates, everyone staring at her as she stood in her stupid dress outside the center—she couldn’t stop thinking about Chase. He sounded like he was losing his mind.
She had to make sure he was all right.
More snow was beginning to fall; a storm was in the forecast.
Em followed Main Street toward Route 4 and the highway. She crept along, windshield wipers moving at their fastest speed, feeling the slick ice beneath her tires. She couldn’t get Gabby’s wrathful voice out of her head. Or Zach’s detached stare. She tried to focus on Chase, on his stuttering, fractured message. She was heading toward Chase’s house, first, and if she didn’t find him there, she’d . . . well, she didn’t know where she’d go. She’d figure something out.
And then, just before the highway overpass, she thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye. Her car squealed to a stop and she peered out the windshield. All seemed still. Her headlights illuminated nothing more than five feet in front of the car and the steady drive of white flakes to the ground. She looked to the left and to the right.
“Help” she heard faintly through the glass. She still didn’t see anything. She turned off the wipers and rolled down the window, straining to hear more, but all she heard were rustling 230
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branches and snowy wind. She wished with all her might that another car would come down the road, but there were no lights in either direction. Nor from above, for that matter. Em finally understood why her dad always griped about Ascension’s lack of attention to “basic public-works maintenance”—she could really use a working streetlight right about now.
“Hello?” Em said into the night. And as she did, the streetlight above her suddenly sputtered to life with an electrical snap. Right below it, just ten feet from her car, lay a petite girl, around her age, wearing only a willowy gray dress with a tiny high-collared jacket over it. She was on the ground, one leg bent crookedly underneath her.
“Oh thank god,” the girl said, offering up a weak, elfish smile. “I thought no one would ever come.”
Em opened her car door and looked around. The girl was right—it was deserted. Just blankets of fresh, untouched snow in either direction. Not even a set of footprints.
Where had this girl come from?
“Are you okay?” Em got out and took a few steps forward.
“I think my leg is hurt,” the girl said, pointing to her left knee. “I was walking along and got hit by a car. It just drove off. I don’t know what to do. My phone fell into the snow and it’s not working.”
Something about this girl, her leg, the lights, the snow, was creepy. Em couldn’t shake the feeling of having met the girl before—not at Ascension High, but maybe around town, or in Portland? The girl’s grayish eyes felt familiar. Every fiber of Em’s being was urging her to run! Leave!
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But what was Em supposed to do? Abandon a stranger by the side of the road? That would be great for karma. First she hooks up with her best friend’s boyfriend, then she leaves a hit-and-run victim alone on a snowy night. That would look perfect on her ethical résumé.
“I’m going to call nine-one-one,” Em said, squatting beside her.
“Please,” the girl sat up, grimacing slightly. “I think I can get up. Can you—can you maybe just drop me at the hospital?”
Em hesitated for just a second. “Of course,” she said.
“Great.” The girl smiled at her. Her delicate features were calm and she seemed unfazed, despite the rather dramatic situation. She was acting as though Em were offering to do her laundry or let her cut in line at the grocery store.
“Do you want me to call someone for you? Your parents or a friend?”
A friend. She thought of Chase. But maybe she was being over-dramatic. He’d had a rough few weeks—no wonder he sounded weird. Just because they’d been friendly recently didn’t make them besties, and Chase might not appreciate that she was trying to barge into his personal business. And though she was heading toward his house, she had no idea whether he would even be home. She would call him later, after she stopped at the hospital.
“That’s all right,” the girl said, reaching up to take the hand Em offered her. “I’ll call someone from the hospital.” Her hands were freezing. She must have been waiting outside for a long time. Em was surprised she was the only one who had stopped to help. Maybe she wasn’t such a terrible person after all.
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Em helped the girl—whose name, she announced, was Meg—to the car. The girl seemed light, almost weightless.
Just before Em started the car, she sent Chase a quick text: worried about u. call me, ok?
“I hope I’m not keeping you from anything,” Meg said politely as they started driving toward the urgent-care center downtown. Em’s mom worked there sometimes.
“No, it’s fine. I was just on my way to meet a friend. . . .
He can wait.”
“I’m sure he’ll understand,” Meg said, smiling at Em in the dark. Em didn’t say anything else. She wasn’t feeling particularly chatty.
When they pulled up at the hospital, Em looked at Meg.
“Do you mind if I just drop you off? My mom is working the clinic tonight,” she lied. She knew it was rude, but she didn’t care. There was something off about the girl and Em wanted her out of the car. “I’m not in the mood to explain to her why I’m driving around in this weather.”
“Sure,” Meg said, smiling the same placid smile. “I totally understand. I think I can walk on it enough to get to the waiting room. Thank you so much. I’ll remember this.”
Em nodded as Meg got out of the car, limping a bit but able to move. “Good luck. Hope your leg is okay.”
As she backed out of the spot, Em looked in the rearview mirror but didn’t see Meg. She must be able to move pretty quickly if she’s already inside.
With one hand on the steering wheel, Em quickly checked her phone. Chase hadn’t called. Em tried him three times in a 233
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row; each time, his phone went straight to voice mail. Em’s car fishtailed a little in the parking lot and she held her breath. No way she was having an accident tonight. Her car had just come out of the shop. She squinted at the blinding snow ahead of her.
She had to just go home—clearly it was too dangerous to be out on the roads tonight. Hopefully Chase had realized the same thing and was lying low. She turned off her phone, not wanting any more distractions.
Before pulling out of the hospital driveway, Em looked out the window for Meg once more and noticed that she had left something behind—a red ribbon of some kind. She opened the door, hopped out, and picked it up. She gasped. A red ribbon . . . She let the ribbon fall back into the snow, where it lay like a thin stream of blood. Something about it made her heart stop. A red ribbon. It meant something, though she didn’t know what.
Then it hit her: Gabby had said the girl who told her about Zach had been wearing one. A red-ribbon-wearing fashion victim.
How could she have forgotten that description? Em knew that there was more than one red ribbon in Maine, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Meg was somehow connected to this whole mess.
Even after Em was home and safely tucked into her bed that night, her thick white down comforter pulled up to her chin, she was still shaking.
She watched snow fall outside her window, praying not to see anyone’s face reflected back at her. She couldn’t stop think-234
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ing about what Chase had said—sometimes there are things you can’t take back, no matter how much you wish you could.
They snowball, picking up speed, tailspinning beyond your control. Unstoppable.
She thought of what else he had said, about karma. Maybe it’s true that people get what they deserve.
Em shivered. She hoped not.
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