CHAPTER Fourteen
I awake with my face in the dirt, my head pounding. It takes a moment for me to remember exactly what happened, but then it all comes rushing back. I push myself into a sitting position and look around. The headlights from the car illuminate the night. I don’t see Scotch anywhere. Did he run away? I find it hard to believe he’d just leave his car behind.
My mind swims. What the hell just happened? One minute I’m ordering Regina to get out of the car so I can execute our plan of leaving Scotch stranded here naked, and the next minute I’m in a wrestling match with myself.
Struggling to my feet, I peer into the car.
There’s no one.
“Scotch?” I call out, my voice unsure. I’m not really certain I want to find him. He isn’t the smartest guy around, but he’s intelligent enough to realize it’s not a coincidence that I showed up the same night he brought Regina here. Still, the fact that he’s disappeared into thin air gives me the creeps. I don’t feel right leaving without knowing what happened to him.
A terrible thought pops into my head. I eye the edge of the cliff uneasily. Is it possible that, during our scuffle, Scotch fell over the precipice?
No. Please, no.
Moving slowly, as if in a dream, I approach the edge.
I don’t want to look.
But I have to.
I stare down into the darkness.
There’s something there.
A bit of white T-shirt.
A leg bent at an odd angle.
It’s like my brain refuses to put all the pieces together. But they’re all there. A puzzle of Scotch lying at the bottom of the cliff.
Broken.
Maybe dead.
Probably dead.
Minutes or hours later, I find myself wandering down the road in a daze. I almost walk past a car without noticing it before the driver starts blinking her headlights and honking. The window rolls down, and a familiar face materializes.
“What took you so long?” Samantha hisses. “Hurry up and get in the car.” She stabs her thumb in the direction of the backseat. I follow her directions, opening the door and climbing inside. As soon as the door closes, she makes a U-turn and drives away.
Regina is sitting in the passenger seat. “You guys, I feel really bad for doing this to Scotch. Did you know his mother has lung cancer? He was really opening up to me.”
Lung cancer. Is that what he was talking about in the car? That’s why he was feeling so fragile? Maybe it wasn’t just a line. God, I am such an a*shole.
“Just because his mother has cancer doesn’t make him any less of a douche,” Samantha says. She glances at me in the rearview mirror. “How did it go?”
I look dully at her. The image of Scotch’s mangled body looms before me. Suddenly, I become manic. “Stop the car! Stop the car! We have to go back!”
Samantha slams on the brakes. “Jesus, Vee. What’s wrong with you?”
“We have to go back,” I say. “Scotch is hurt. Maybe dead. We have to call 911. We have to get help.”
Samantha stretches around to look at me. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I cradle my head in my hands. Samantha and Regina don’t know about my sliding. How do I explain what happened? I end up telling half the truth, as it would have occurred if I were in my own body.
“I don’t know,” I say. “It’s all kind of a blur. I was standing at the edge of the cliff, and Scotch came at me. And then . . . the next thing I remember is waking up on the ground. He must have fallen . . .”
“He fell?” Regina asks, her eyes wide. “How could Scotch just fall off a cliff?”
I stare at her in horror. She’s right. It’s very unlikely that Scotch, an athlete, would accidentally fall over the side. So what does this mean? Could whoever slid into me have pushed him? The thought makes me feel like puking.
Regina starts rocking back and forth and crying. I search for my phone and start to dial 911. Samantha reaches over the seat and grabs the phone out of my hand.
“You can’t call the police,” she says. “How are we going to explain what we were doing? If Scotch is dead, it’s our fault. . . .” Her voice trails off, but the accusatory look she gives me makes her thoughts clear. If Scotch is dead, it’s my fault.
Regina sobs even harder.
“But we have to get help,” I say weakly.
Samantha’s right, though. If we call the cops, they’ll want to know what happened. What if they try to pin Scotch’s fall on me? I cover my face with my hands.
Samantha grabs my wrist. “Vee, you’ve got to pull yourself together. I know you didn’t mean for Scotch to fall, but that doesn’t mean the police will see it that way. I don’t want you to go to jail for this.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Regina says, and she pushes open her car door. I hear her retching into the weeds.
“What we need to do now is go home and act like nothing happened tonight. If anyone asks, we’ll say we hung out at my place and watched movies. Jake is at college, and my parents are on a cruise, so no one will know we’re lying.”
I feel myself nodding. What Samantha is saying makes sense. Her parents are nice enough, but they’re always going on some vacation and leaving her at home by herself. As long as the three of us vouch for one another, no one should get suspicious. It’s the perfect alibi.
I rub my temples, my head aching.
What’s wrong with me? I need an alibi?
“Regina. Did you hear what I just said?” Samantha demands.
Regina wipes her mouth. She doesn’t say anything.
“Regina,” Samantha repeats.
“We should call the police.”
“Regina, get real,” Samantha snaps. “Do you want Vee to go to prison?”
Regina cowers in her seat, not responding.
“I swear to God, Regina, if you say a word to anyone about what happened tonight, I will personally make your life a living hell.” Samantha is seething, and I know better than to cross her when she’s this angry.
Apparently Regina knows better, too, because she assents. “Okay, Samantha. I promise. I won’t say anything. Okay? Are you happy now?”
“Tell me where we were tonight,” Samantha orders.
“Your place. Watching movies.” Regina won’t look at either one of us. I wonder if she’s telling the truth. Will she really keep this quiet, or is she just trying to appease Samantha?
I want to do the right thing. I want to call the police and tell them to send an ambulance right away because, even though I loathe Scotch Becker, he doesn’t deserve to be lying in the dark. Dying. Or dead.
I always thought I was a strong person. A good person.
But, when it comes right down to it, I’m afraid this will be pinned on me. What if I go to prison for the rest of my life? For something I didn’t mean to do?
I’m a coward.
I don’t say anything.
“Okay, then.” Samantha puts the car into gear. “Let’s get out of here.”
When I get home, Mattie is sprawled on my bed, fully clothed and snoring. I stare at her for a minute, wishing I could put off breaking the terrible news to her. I don’t want to, but I have to tell Mattie. She’s part of this, too.
I sit down on the bed beside her and gently shake her shoulder. “Mattie. Pssssst, Mattie, wake up!”
She stirs, and when she sees me, she bolts upright. “Ohmigod, you’re back. Tell me everything. Don’t leave out a single detail.”
“Mattie,” I say, and my somber tone quells her excitement. “Something bad happened. Something really bad.”
She shakes her head. “What? Oh no. Did something happen to Regina?”
“Not to Regina,” I say. “Something happened to Scotch.”
I explain what happened. When I get to the part about him lying at the bottom of the cliff, Mattie puts her hand over her mouth. She looks like she’s going to be sick.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Mattie, you know I’d never joke about something like this.”
“Scotch is . . . dead?”
I think about Scotch, lying alone and cold at the bottom of the cliff, his limbs twisted in unnatural ways. He has to be dead. There’s no way someone could survive that fall. “I’m pretty sure he is.”
Thinking about Scotch, all alone in the middle of the night, his body turning stiff in the cold air, makes me feel ill. Suddenly, I don’t care what happens to me. I can’t just leave him there. I pull my phone out of my pocket.
“Wait, what are you doing?” Mattie asks.
“I’m calling the police.”
“Don’t,” Mattie says, panicked. “Don’t use your phone to call, Vee.”
“I have to.”
“Please,” she says. “What if the police find out about our prank? We’ll be in so much trouble. Let’s just wait until tomorrow. We’ll make an anonymous call. From somewhere it can’t be traced to us.”
I sigh. I can’t stand to see Mattie so scared. Finally, I give in.
“Let’s get some sleep.”
She nods and lies down, but I know she’ll be awake for the rest of the night.
Just like me.
We don’t talk after that, but we both toss and turn into the early morning hours. I know we’re both thinking about the body at the bottom of Lookout Point and wishing that we never, ever met Scotch Becker.