“I’m sorry,” I say. “It’s not that I wouldn’t want to be your friend otherwise. You’re great. I—I can see why Charlie cared about you. I only meant that I want to figure out what was going on with Charlie,” I say. “What he wanted to tell me that day. And I want to find my journal.”
“Okay. Thanks for the compliments, I guess, but seriously, spare me. He clearly wanted to tell you about me, that day you had that conversation. It must have been the big secret. Maybe he tried to tell you and got scared, so this was the big way of doing it. Disappear. Vamoose. Gone in a puff. Laugh from afar when ex-girlfriends collide. Sounds about right for Charlie.”
“That sounds nothing like Charlie,” I tell her, my voice uncharacteristically hard. “You’ve got to stop saying stuff like this. He didn’t have the guts to stage something so elaborate.”
“Holy hell, Aubrey,” Lena says, lying back on her cot. “I think you have some anger management issues. You seem all nice, and then you say the craziest stuff.”
I press my lips together and turn over on my side. It’s only night one. If I’m going to make this work with Lena for even another day, I’ve got to fake things a little. It’ll be no good if she’s already sensing the truth.
“Anyway,” Lena goes on, her voice softer now—almost like she’s afraid of what she’s about to say. “Charlie used to talk to me about disappearing all the time. He used to fantasize about it.”
“What are you talking about?” My words are clipped, my jaw tense.
“He never said anything to you?” I shake my head, even though Lena can’t see it.
“He talked a lot about how he’d disappear if he could. Start over, leave everything behind. And I’d always be like, ‘You do that anyway. You move around, you get to make new friends and try new schools. It’s always a new beginning for you.’ Because it was; that was kind of his thing. The exhilaration he’d feel every time he moved or went somewhere new. I used to think it was sexy. I used to think he liked adventure. But later I got it. He just liked running away.”
“You really think he could be alive,” I say. It’s not a question; I can tell what she thinks from the conviction in her tone.
“I do. I think he did this shitty thing to us and told us in his own way, and disappeared. How did you find out he was missing, Aubrey?”
“There was a news blast. An email with headlines. ‘Oxford University student missing since Sunday,’ or something like that. Then I Googled around.”
“Ever think he wanted you to know? Did you get that news blast regularly? Charlie was a freaking genius with computers. He could have pushed it into your inbox.”
I pause, thinking. Yeah, I had signed up for Oxford’s student paper, the Cherwell, but only after Charlie had encouraged me to. To expand your cultural horizons and learn more about Oxford, he’d said. I’d liked it because it made me feel closer to his world. “It’s possible,” I admit. “But not likely. He’s dead, Lena. They found his jacket.”
“Yeah,” she says. “And that’s the only thing they found. But I’m just saying . . . maybe he brought us together for a reason.”
“Are you here looking for answers or looking for him?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she says, her words cold. “Him, I guess. If I’m completely honest. And when I find him, I’m going to tear him apart. You and me both, Aubrey. I’m not letting him get away with this. I’m not going to be some joke to him, wherever he is.” I’m surprised by the heat now in her voice.
“He’s dead,” I try again. He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead. I repeat it until I realize how desperately I want it to be true. I need it to be true.
“But maybe not.”
“He has to be!” I shout it this time. There’s a silence so long and deep that I think it’ll never end. I’ve done it. I’ve given myself away.
“I’m angry too,” she says finally. “Just a different kind of angry.”
Only then can I breathe a sigh of relief. She doesn’t know my secret. How could she? But soon maybe she’ll figure it out, if I’m not careful.
“New list,” she says into the silence, her voice falsely bright. “Ten things you hated about Charlie.” When I don’t answer right away, she says, “Go.” I rack my brain, thinking of things that are safe to say.
“I hated how he always walked on the outside of the sidewalk,” I start. “And took the side of the bed closest to the door. I hated how he always tried to be chivalrous.”
Lena is silent for a minute. “Go on.”
“I hated how he brushed his teeth.”