Brynna’s heart started to pound even as she managed to keep her face neutral. “Secrets?”
“I can read you like a book. There’s something wicked in there.” He waved his entire hand now, indicating her as a whole.
Brynna’s breath hitched. She stared at Evan, studying him. There’s something wicked in there… His eyes were bright, his lips twitching up into a wry smile.
Did he know?
A cold sheen of sweat broke out all over her, and suddenly, the round collar of her T-shirt felt like it was strangling her. Brynna knew it would happen. She knew it was only a matter of time before someone at Hawthorne High figured out who she was, and the whispers would start all over again.
Everything Dr. Rother said, every breathing technique or calming technique that she had taught her, swirled in Brynna’s head, rolling and tumbling in a gnarled mess. She didn’t want to figure them out. She didn’t want to calm down and “live through the moment” like Dr. Rother said. She wanted darkness. She wanted oblivion.
“It’s not like it’s going to kill you,” Campbell said, his eyes half-hidden by the scruff of sand-blond hair that rolled over his forehead. “They’ll just calm you down a little bit. You know, sand away the rough edges.”
That’s what Brynna’s entire life was now: rough edges. Erica was gone. She couldn’t say her best friend was dead; she wouldn’t say it. It had only been eleven days and they hadn’t found Erica, and somewhere inside, Brynna knew that Erica could still be alive. She had to be. Fifteen-year-olds didn’t die.
“Just sands away the rough edges, huh?”
Campbell nodded and smiled. “You’ll have a break for a couple hours. No big deal.”
Brynna’s mind still churned, that night, that dare flashing in front of her mind’s eye. Every moment, she heard the splash of the water, the heavy silence as she and Erica went down, down. Every night, she dreamed of Erica, of the way she must have looked as all the air left her body.
“Do you have anything that lasts longer?”
“It’s nothing,” Brynna said, trying her best to shrug off Evan’s questioning stare. “There’s nothing…wicked…about me.”
Evan digested that and narrowed his eyes. “You know you can talk to me. You know you can tell me anything.”
Brynna watched Evan’s eyes as they went to the tablet. Instinctively, she reached out and grabbed it, slipping the thing into her top drawer. “I know, Evan, and vice versa.”
“You can even tell me what freaked you out so badly on the tablet.”
She let out a shock of air and wagged her head. “It was nothing. Like you said, old boyfriend. I was just…surprised to hear from him is all.”
“It’s not always the worst thing in the world,” Evan said, brushing a hand through his hair, “if someone from your past wants to come back to you.”
Her heart did a little double thump and her stomach went to liquid. Evan must have noticed her face go pale, because he cocked his head. “Bad guy? Bad influence?”
“We should probably go.” She pushed herself to her feet, but Evan didn’t budge.
“Come on, B. You can talk to me. Tell me one thing—one thing that’s bothering you—and I can worry about it, okay?” He offered her a small smile.
Before Brynna could stop herself, she nodded. It was as if someone took over her body and bobbled her head, and her heart wedged in her throat as she thought of just one secret to tell Evan. The problem was, there wasn’t just one. Brynna’s cheeks singed as she listed them off.
I killed my best friend.
I got addicted to drugs.
I drank and drove.
I got arrested.
I’m not a normal girl.
I should have been the one to die.
“You know when I said I came here because there was a crazy drug problem at my old school?”
She swallowed when Evan nodded.
“I was the crazy drug problem. I had a problem.” Brynna looked at her hands in her lap. “A really big problem.”
Evan blew out a long sigh, his eyes steady on Brynna’s. He reached out and squeezed her hand. “And the guy—he was part of that?”
She briefly thought of Michael, her boyfriend back at Lincoln, and the reason he became just as addicted as she was: because there was no other way to reach her. He stood by her and then hung by her until they were both oblivious shadows of their former selves, drunk, high, numb.
Brynna swallowed over the lump in her throat. “Yeah.”
There was a silent, pregnant pause, and then Evan smiled. “I still love you.”
“Thanks.”
“And seriously, you had me thinking you were some kind of ax murderer or something.” He batted at the air. “Drugs? Nothing. Half the student body is addicted to something, and the other half just wants everyone to think they are.” Evan’s eyes shifted. “Not me, of course. I’m not stupid or a lemming.”