The room was quiet for about ten seconds, and then Sonia set her fork down. “I’m so happy you’re here, Lina. And I want you to know that if you need anything, I’m just a stone’s throw away. Literally.”
“Thanks.” I trained my eyes on a spot just over her left shoulder. Adults were always trying too hard around me. They thought that if they were nice enough they could make up for the fact that I’d lost my mom. It was kind of sweet and horrible at the same time.
Sonia glanced toward the kitchen and then lowered her voice. “I wanted to ask you, would you mind stopping by my place sometime tomorrow? I have something I want to give you.”
“What?”
“We can talk about it then. Tonight you just focus on settling in.”
I just shook my head. I was going to do as little settling in as possible. I wasn’t even going to unpack my bag.
After dinner Howard insisted on carrying my suitcase upstairs. “I hope you like your room. I repainted and redecorated it a couple of weeks ago, and I think it turned out really nice. I keep most of the windows open in summer—it’s a lot cooler that way—but feel free to close yours if you’d prefer.” He spoke quickly, like he’d spent all afternoon rehearsing his welcome speech. He set my bag down in front of the first door.
“Bathroom is right across the hall, and I put some new soap and shampoo in there. Let me know what else you need and I’ll pick it up tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And like I said, the Internet’s been pretty spotty, but if you decide you want to try it out, our network is called ‘American Cemetery.’?”
Of course it was. “What’s the Wi-Fi password?”
“Wall of the Missing. One word.”
“?‘Wall of the Missing,’?” I repeated. “What does that mean?”
“It’s a part of the memorial. There are a bunch of stone tablets listing the names of soldiers whose bodies were never recovered. I can show you tomorrow if you’d like.”
Nooo, thank you. “Well, I’m pretty tired, so . . .” I edged toward the door.
He took the hint, handing me a cell phone along with a slip of paper. “I wrote down instructions for dialing the States. You have to put in a country code as well as an area code. Let me know if you have any trouble.”
“Thanks.” I put the paper in my pocket.
“Good night, Lina.”
“Good night.”
He turned and walked down the hall, and I opened the door and dragged my suitcase into the room, feeling my shoulders sag with the relief of finally being alone. Well, you’re really here, I thought, just you and your four thousand new friends. There was a lock on the door and I turned it with a satisfying click. Then I slowly turned around, steeling myself for whatever Howard had meant by “really nice.” But then my heart practically stopped, because wow.
The room was perfect. Soft light glowed from this adorable gold lamp on the nightstand, and the bed was antique-looking, with about a thousand decorative pillows. A painted desk and dresser sat on opposite sides of the room, and a large oval mirror hung on the wall next to the door. There were even a bunch of picture frames standing empty on the nightstand and dresser, like they were waiting for me to fill them up.
I stood there staring for a minute. It was just so me. How was it possible that someone who hadn’t even met me had managed to put together my perfect bedroom? Maybe things weren’t going to be so bad—
And then a gust of wind blew into the room, drawing my attention to the large open window. I’d ignored my own rule: If it seems too good to be true, it probably is. I walked over and stuck my head out. The headstones gleamed in the moonlight like rows of teeth, and everything was dark and eerily silent. No amount of pretty could make up for a view like that.
I pulled my head back in, then took the slip of paper out of my pocket. Time to start plotting my escape.
Chapter 2
SADIE DANES MAY BE ONE of the worst people on the planet, but she’ll always have a special place in my heart. After all, I owe her my best friend.
It was the beginning of seventh grade. Addie had just moved to Seattle from Los Angeles, and one day after gym class she’d overheard Sadie make a comment about how some of our classmates didn’t actually need bras. Which, be real—we were in seventh grade; only about one percent of us actually needed bras. It’s just that I was particularly less in need of one, and everyone knew she’d meant me. While I’d just ignored her (i.e., stuck my twelve-year-old head in my locker and blinked back tears), Addie had taken it upon herself to clothesline Sadie on her way out of the locker room. She’d stuck up for me that day and then never stopped.
“Go away. It might be Lina.” Addie’s voice sounded distant, like she was holding the phone away from her face. “Hello?” she said into the speaker.
“Addie, it’s me.”