When my cell phone rang, I jumped so forcefully that my head hit the roof of Noah’s car. “Whatthef—!”
The phone continued to ring, ignorant of my pain. The lyrics of Tupac’s “Dear Mama” that Joseph had programmed for my ringtone indicated the culprit.
“I’m sorry, I have to—”
“Wait—” Noah started.
My heart galloped in my chest and only partly from surprise. Noah’s lips were inches away from my face, my phone was protesting in my hand, and I was in trouble.
15
I MUSTERED UP EVERY OUNCE OF FREE WILL I HAD and extracted myself from his car. I gave him a halfhearted wave as I shut the door behind me. I answered the phone.
“Hello?”
“Mara! Where are you?” My mother sounded frantic.
I turned the key in the ignition of Daniel’s car and glanced at the clock. I was seriously late. Not good.
“I’m driving home now.” My tires squealed as I reversed out of the spot, and almost hit a parked black Mercedes in the spot behind me.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
She was counting every nanosecond I hesitated, so I went with the truth. “I found a starving dog near the school and she was in really bad shape so I had to take her to the vet.” There.
There was silence on her end before she finally asked, “Where is it now?”
Some jerk honked behind me as I turned onto the expressway. “Where is what?”
“The dog, Mara.”
“Still at the vet.”
“How did you pay for it?”
“I didn’t—a classmate saw me and he took me to his mom, a vet, and she treated her for free.”
“That’s convenient,” she said.
There it was; that edge to her voice. I was in it, and deep. I didn’t respond.
“I’ll see you when you get home,” my mother said. Abruptly.
I was not looking forward to it, but I slammed on the gas at the first opportunity anyway. I dared the cops to pull me over, pushing ninety when I could. I wove in and out of lanes at every opportunity. I ignored the irritated honking. Miami was infecting me.
It wasn’t long before I pulled into the driveway at home. I crept into the house like a criminal, hoping to be able to sneak into my room without being seen, but my mother was perched on the arm of the sofa in the sunken living room. She’d been waiting for me. Neither of my brothers was within sight or hearing. Curse them.
“Let’s talk.” Her expression was unnaturally calm. I braced myself for the onslaught.
“You have to answer the phone when I call. Every time.”
“I didn’t realize it was you calling before. I didn’t recognize the number.”
“It’s my office number, Mara. I told you to program it in as soon as we moved, and left you a voice mail.”
“I didn’t have time to listen to it. Sorry.”
My mother leaned forward, and her eyes searched my face. “Is there really a dog?”
I stared straight back into them, defiant. “Yes.”
“So if I call the vet’s office tomorrow morning and ask about it, they’ll confirm?”
“You don’t trust me?”
My mother didn’t respond. She just sat there, eyebrows raised, waiting for me to say something.
I gritted my teeth, then spoke. “The vet’s name is Dr. Shaw, and her office near school,” I said. “I don’t remember the street address.”
Her expression didn’t change.
I was sick of this. “I’m going to my room,” I said. When I turned around, she let me go.
I closed the door a bit too forcefully. Trapped in my room, I couldn’t delay thinking about what happened today any longer. Noah. Mabel. Her owner. His death.
Things were changing. Sweat pebbled my skin, even though I knew it wasn’t possible. It wasn’t possible. I was in class at nine this morning, when that bastard died. He had to have died earlier. The coroner, or whoever he was, was wrong. Even he’d said he was just guessing.
That was it. I imagined my conversation with him. I’d thought he snuck up on me too quietly, but he didn’t sneak up on me at all. He was already dead. The whole thing was just another hallucination—par for the course, really, considering my PTSD.
But still. Today felt … different. Confirmation that I was now crazier than I’d known it was possible for me to be. My mother worked with only the mildly disturbed. I was full on delusional. Abnormal. Psychotic.