It’s not exactly a stretch to believe Bailey knew her killer—after all, Cliff was the last person to see her alive. Still, my stomach drops. “You said I knew where Bailey was, and I wasn’t saying. I think…it’s because deep down, I know she was murdered. And I didn’t want to say that in front of Jade.”
Amber studies me. “Did you come here to see if I can pull any clues to what happened to her? Because nothing is one hundred percent accurate.”
I hesitate, then nod. Of course it’s not going to be accurate—it’s going to be mostly bullshit—but I can’t help thinking of the way Amber pinned down how Jade was feeling, that day we came to hang Bailey’s poster. You think that if you were with her the other night, she wouldn’t have disappeared.
Amber was right. Jade was beating herself up over leaving Bailey alone. How could she possibly have known that?
“A reading with a full set of cards is forty dollars,” Amber says.
I have twenty-five bucks in my wristlet. I want to cry.
Amber’s face softens. “But if you would like insight as to your friend’s situation, there’s no charge.”
I feel myself thaw a bit toward Amber. “Why would you do that?”
“I contacted the police offering my services. They politely declined.” Amber smiles. “I understand why.”
Because this is all crap and a waste of the bus fare it took me to get here.
“But why not try to make money off me?” I ask. “No offense, but isn’t that why you do this?”
Amber gets up; I think I’ve offended her and she’s about to ask me to leave. Instead, she shuffles around the credenza by the reading room door. She returns holding three cards.
“I already pulled your friend’s cards. Her past, present, and future.” Amber sets down three worn cards. I can’t tell what any of them are. I point to the first one, which kind of looks like people falling off a giant penis.
“What does it mean?”
“That’s the Tower. I pulled it seeking answers about Bailey’s past.” Amber takes a sip from her tea. “The Tower means there was a sudden change in Bailey’s life. Chaos. Something that made her question who she was.”
I rack my brain. Cathy had said Bailey asked for help, a therapist. “How far back in this past are you talking about? Like, did this sudden change happen before she went missing?”
“That, I couldn’t tell you. But her present card was interesting. It’s the Seven of Swords.”
I stare at Amber blankly. She points to a card with a man dressed like a clown, absconding into the night with swords in his arms.
“This card suggests betrayal, sneakiness,” she says. “Deception.”
“That doesn’t tell us anything new,” I say. “Obviously whoever took her deceived her somehow.”
“Not necessarily.” Amber puts a lacquered fingernail to her lip. “Taken together with the Tower, I’d have to say that whoever deceived your friend knew her well.”
I feel sick. It all means nothing. It’s all bullshit. “What about her future card?”
Amber flips over the third card. “This could potentially tell us where to find Bailey. As you can see, the Empress is in a field.”
My mouth goes dry. I’m not looking at the background, or picturing Bailey lying in a field. I can’t tear my eyes from the woman on the card. The Empress.
She’s wearing a white nightgown, spotted with red roses that almost look like blood.
—
Amber is screwing with me. She picked that last card on purpose because I told her I suspect Bailey’s disappearance is tied to the Red Woman. She’s sick—coming here was sick.
“I need to go,” I mumble. The blood rushes from my head, and when I stand, my knees nearly buckle. I feel like I’ve been poisoned, but I didn’t even touch the tea Amber made.
“Wait!” Amber calls out to me as I push my way through the curtain dividing off the back room. “Sweetheart. You forgot your wallet.”
I turn. Amber is behind me, a pitying look on her face, hand extended with my wristlet in it. Beyond her, there’s a glass case that catches my attention.
I pause. In the glass case, on display, is the pendulum. The one Bailey brought to the barn. But it can’t be, because that pendulum is still buried beneath the underwear in my nightstand.
I come to a full stop, aware that Amber is following me. I point to the pendulum. “Where did you get that?”
“It’s a new style, one hundred percent angelite,” Amber says, ready to unlock the case. “It just came out this year.”
My toes curl. “No—my friend has the same exact one. She said it was her mom’s. That it’s vintage.”
Amber laughs. “The manufacturer bills it as a vintage style, but between you and me, it was made in China.”
I can’t tear my eyes away from the display case. That shade of teal—the design on the chain—it’s the same one.
“Would you like to see it?” Amber asks.
I shake my head. “Is that the only one you carry?”
“It’s the only one left,” she says. “My associate sold the other one not long ago, I believe.”
A funny taste comes to my tongue. “When did she sell it?”
“Hold on,” Amber says. “I’ll get the sale log.”
The back of my neck is clammy and cold. The blood is returning to my head. Amber dips behind the counter and emerges with a marbled notebook. She thumbs back a few pages before pausing. “Ah! Two weeks ago.”
“Does it say anything about who bought it?”
“No, just that it was a cash transaction. I could call my associate and see if she remembers, if you’d like?”
There’s no point. I know it was Bailey—it’s the same exact pendulum she’d said she found in her mother’s old things.
So she lied about where she got it. Just like she lied about why she was leaving the party.
There’s only one thing I’m sure of anymore, and it’s that Bailey Hammond, alive or dead, is a liar.
And I want to know what else she lied about.
Junior Year
June
Have you ever had a secret so big it would destroy you if it got out? Spoiler alert: I do. And it’s so bad I almost don’t want to write it here, even though not even my nosy-ass mom could find my hiding spot for this notebook. (Spoiler alert: a nifty slit cut in the underside of my mattress.)
My secret is that I have a problem, and it’s a boy. Not Cliff Grosso, although he’s a royal thorn in my ass, telling everyone we did things in Tyrell’s house that we didn’t. This boy is different. He’s the nicest person I’ve ever met. The type of nice where if you even think about making fun of someone, this boy’s face pops into your mind and starts judging you. He’s funny without being mean, something the other boys in Broken Falls can never achieve with their lesbian jokes and bad impersonations of Mrs. Gonzalo, the vice principal. Everyone calls her Gonzo because of her nose, and that’s always made me sad.
This boy’s beautiful in a way that is absolutely devastating, with a smile that makes you feel like you’re the only person he sees.