“Hey, Mom, do you want to watch a movie tonight?” I ask. “I miss just hanging out.”
“Oh,” she says, clearly surprised. “I was going to deal with rental car stuff, but…I can do that later.” Her whole face brightens. “And that reminds me. We got something in the mail today from your dad. He says hello. Sent us a bit of cash too. Isn’t that nice? Couldn’t have come at a better time.” She beams.
“Really? Can I see it?” Jenny asks excitedly.
I work to rearrange my face into a happy expression. It was the only way I could think of to give Mom the money from that first night at the warehouse without raising a bunch of alarms. Now I feel bad about how excited she seems at the contact from Dad. How excited Jenny seems.
“Sure,” Mom says, getting up from the table and returning a moment later. “I thought he was in New York, but it was a Louisiana stamp. Maybe he’s going to stop by soon?” She passes her the envelope I picked up from a convenience store a few days ago.
Jenny takes it, her eyes traveling over my sloppy attempt to forge Dad’s handwriting, and understanding slowly dawns on her face. She glances up at me, and I look away sharply, clearing my throat.
“So, Jenny, you wanna join our movie date?” I ask, changing subjects.
There’s a long pause.
“Nah, you guys do your thing. I’ve got stuff.” She tosses the envelope at me so that the sharp edge hits me in the chest, pops up from the table, and disappears to her room.
“Don’t mind her,” Mom says. “You know she just misses her father.”
I nod and try to force a smile.
“So, what movie?” Mom asks brightly.
Lyla is waiting for me promptly at quarter to twelve. She’s tense at the wheel, staring resolutely at the cracked parking lot while I climb into the passenger seat and drag my purse into my lap. Her blond hair is pulled into a high ponytail that looks moderately painful.
“Did something happen?” I ask.
She forces a smile and shifts into drive, pulling out of the parking lot. “No, nothing new. I’ve just been thinking about our conversation in the library today.”
“And?”
“And I really think it’s best if we just keep our heads down and do what they say.”
“But I think we can still figure out who’s behind this.” I swivel to face her with my whole body. The Quarter whirs by outside the window, a flash of color and light. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but that first night, at the warehouse, everyone got weird when I asked them what the Society had on them….”
Lyla looks away.
“If it can help us figure out who’s behind this, please tell me. I won’t say anything to the other girls if you don’t want me to. I just…feel like I need to know.”
Lyla works her jaw, fingers gripped so tightly on the wheel that her knuckles turn white. Just when I think she’s going to refuse, she speaks.
“She died.” Her voice is hoarse and gritty. “My sister. She was depressed, I knew that, but I didn’t really know how bad it was. The week before, I asked her if I could borrow her sweater and she told me I could keep it. It was weird—I mean, she loved that sweater. But I didn’t realize…They say it’s a warning sign. When people start giving away their stuff. It was a warning, and I missed it.”
She swallows hard.
“That night she had her music on really loud. We got in a big fight about it, and I said some things I regret. You know, when you’re in the heat of the moment and you say the one thing you know will push the other person’s buttons just to see them react?” She shakes her head, the ends of her ponytail grazing her shoulder. “I had an awards banquet that night, and when I got home, there was an ambulance in the driveway. Mom went crazy after. I never told her what happened—that I’d said the thing that made her do it.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I say gently, horror and sorrow filling every bit of me. “You can’t think that way.”
Lyla shrugs. “Anyway, that’s what the Society threatened me with. Telling Mom I was behind my sister’s death.”
“But you aren’t!”
“Doesn’t matter. My mom’s so fragile. She had to be hospitalized when it happened. She spent over a month in the Pavilion, and she’s only just starting to get better. Even now she sometimes stares off into space, and I get so worried….Something like this could send her over the edge. I can’t lose her. She’s all I have left. My dad’s a total write-off now. After my sister died, he started putting in all these crazy hours at work. He’s just checked out.”
“I’m sorry,” I say after a long beat. There’s nothing else to say.
It all makes sense now. Why Lyla left school and a promising basketball career last year, why she’s back now.
“Who else knew?” I ask.
“See, that’s the thing,” Lyla says. “No one. I never told a soul.”