Frayed Page 8

  I answered, asking him to meet me at the local park and saying that we needed to talk. Then I switched off my phone without waiting for his response.

  The park was empty. Completely, utterly empty. Not even any children were there. The sun was hidden by the surrounding trees, casting most of the park in deep shadows. It was nearing late afternoon, and no parent would want their child out in a park just before nightfall. Not with a killer on the loose.

  The park screamed of neglect. Weeds fought through the cracks in the pavement, rust lingered stubbornly on the play equipment, and the scent of loneliness seemed to cling to the air. A lamp flickered on almost above me, casting a golden sheen of light across the springy grass. A few wooden benches were scattered around the park, but I was too anxious to sit down. Nerves hummed through me, mixed with dread and the slightest bit of hope—which I squashed down instantly.

  A shadow stepped into the light. “Jackson,” I whispered.

  He reached forward and pressed a kiss to my right cheek, not giving me time to pull away. “Hey, babe—”

  “Were you…with my sister?” The words came out quick and sharp, a tumble of unidentified emotions. I was glad I hadn’t stalled. If this were heading where I thought it was, I wanted it done quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid. Silence followed, broken only by birds that chirped in the nearby trees.

  “Ava,” Jackson said slowly.

  “Just answer the question.”

  Most of his face was in the shadow cast by the lengthening night, so it was hard to read his face properly. “It was a long time ago,” he said.

  “So it’s true? It’s true you and Kesley were—”

  “A long time ago—”

  “—together behind my back…” I let my voice trail off into nothing, let it drift onto the wind as another breeze encircled the park. “Oh.”

  My mind felt frozen, confused, unable to digest what he had just told me. I’d expected him to deny it. To laugh it off and tell me that it wasn’t true, that he loved me. But no, he’d told me the truth. And that truth hurt like hell. What was that expression? Ignorance was indeed bliss.

  I did the only rational thing my mind could conjure up.

  I burst into tears.

  Jackson didn’t come any closer or wrap his arms around me. He didn’t tell me everything was going to be okay. In fact, when I had cried as much as I could, I looked up. He was nowhere to be seen.

  • • •

  I wasn’t sure which scared me most: finding out that Kesley was part of Circling Pines’s most infamous gang, my mother yelling at me when she discovered I’d cut school for the day, or unraveling the secret of Kesley’s and my boyfriend’s relationship. Right now, halfway through my mother’s furious lecture, all three choices were running pretty close.

  “You had me worried sick,” Diana was saying, slamming down the chopping board on the counter. “I was literally minutes away from calling the police!”

  “Sorry,” I whispered. How many times did someone have to apologize before their meaning became true? I fell into a chair and stared at the marble countertop. Half a minute of painful silence followed.

  “Are you okay, dear?” I glanced up to see her looking at me as if she’d just noticed my red and puffy eyes. When I didn’t say anything, she sighed. “I’m sorry if I made you upset, but—”

  “It wasn’t you,” I said, wiping my face. That proved pointless because the tears had already dried, leaving nothing but a stinging residue behind.

  “Oh, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Her hostile tone melted as concern overrode it. She edged around the countertop and sat down next to me, pushing away some of the strands of hair to see me better.

  “Is this about Kesley again?” she asked softly.

  I just nodded, letting the hair fall over my face to create a comfortable curtain between us. “I think you should talk to someone,” she suggested.

  “It’s not because she’s dead,” I whispered. “It’s because of what she did.”

  There was a beat of silence. “What did she do?”

  “She—” I coughed, clearing my throat, and started again. “She was in a relationship with Jackson.”

  “While he was with you?”

  I nodded, sniffing.

  My mother wrapped her arms around me. “She made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes. You know that. But she’s gone now, Ava, and…I’m sure some part of her regretted what she’d done.”

  “She never told me,” I said, tears leaking out the corner of my eyes.

  “She was probably afraid,” my mother said gently. “She knew telling you would have hurt you more.” A pause. And then, “Does Jackson know you know?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Do you think you could forgive him? Do you think you should forgive him?”

  “I hope so.” I did, didn’t I?

  She drew back to look at me, her fingers lingering on my roughened, scarred cheek. “I’m not going to tell you what you should do. That’s entirely up to you. But if he can’t see how truly amazing you are, then he’s not worth your time.” Typical mother line, but all the same, it did make me feel better.

  My mother looked at me, eyes gleaming. Was she crying?

  “We’ll get through this, Ava,” she said. “One day at a time.”

  Part of me wished I could have told her something more, something about the things I had learned today and the turmoil lashing against my insides. I didn’t though. Despite the fact I loved Diana, she was not my mother. There had always been a chasm that couldn’t be bridged. She tried, she really did, but the hours she spent at work had taken their toll, long before she realized it was happening.

  So did that make it my fault too?

  I hadn’t really known my birth mother. But that had never stopped me from clinging to her memory.

  I closed my eyes briefly, breathing out a slow sigh and pulling myself together enough to help with dinner, pretending, pretending, pretending everything was okay when it was not.

  I don’t think Diana noticed.

  So I excused myself after barely touching my dinner and shut myself in my room. Sleep sounded like a brilliant idea, confirmed by the aching in my temples, but too many thoughts were rattling around in my head. It felt like a tornado of emotions tangled together so tightly that it was difficult to tell them apart. Anger. Frustration. Guilt. Sadness.

  Anger at the lies I’d been fed. Lies I knew I’d believed.

  Frustration at not seeing Kesley for who she was.

  Guilt at the ever-growing distance between Diana and me.

  And sadness for all the things I had thought were true.

  I stared at the ceiling. Glow-in-the-dark stars shone there, casting a wan light over the room and making my skin look pallid. I curled my hands into fists, my breathing becoming tighter and tighter. Hot tears strained to be released behind my eyes. “I hate you, Kesley,” I whispered.

  And then I cried myself to sleep.

  Not only have you tarnished so many beautiful recollections I had of you, but the choices you made twisted them, turning them into something ugly.

  Each memory I had of you was gilded with gold, something I’ve learned was only a guise. And peeling that facade away, strip by aching strip, revealed a new, more accurate image. Gone was the sister I had looked up to so adoringly. And in her place stood a crueler, heartless sister. One who hadn’t been afraid to hurt, steal, and lay blame on others. Were there any signs that should have warned me about the colder girl lying just beneath your skin? Because sometimes, it was just easier to believe the beautiful lie rather than the truth.

  So, congratulations, Kesley, you had me fooled from the beginning. But you know what the worst part was?

  I didn’t hate you. Couldn’t.

  Not even after I found out about KARMA. Not even after I found out ab
out Jackson.

  And even now as I’m writing this, after everything that has happened, I can’t hate you. I can’t. You’re not supposed to think ill of the dead, because how are they supposed to defend themselves? But what if they’d done something so bad, so awful that you had to think ill of them? That you needed to.

  What if…

  Chapter Eight

  It was impossible to escape my thoughts, no matter how hard I tried. As soon as I reached school the next day and saw Rafe standing at the gates, I walked right up to him. “Jackson told me the truth,” I said by way of greeting.

  Rafe turned, his eyes widening in surprise. Whether from seeing me there or Jackson telling the truth, I didn’t know. “Which was what?” he asked, running a hand through his hair and rumpling it.

  “I was right,” I said softly. This time, admitting the truth didn’t make me feel like crying.

  Rafe held my gaze. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Don’t be, I wanted to tell him. It’s not your fault. But then whose fault was it? Mine? Jackson’s? Maybe we were all to blame.

  Perhaps something of my thoughts showed on my face, because Rafe asked, “Are you going to talk to him?”

  “Who? Jackson?” I considered it for a moment.

  “Well, yes.” His eyes glinted. “There’s always more than one side to a story, you know.”

  I don’t know if he was talking about more than Jackson or if I was imagining that. Maybe I was just connecting everything I heard to Kesley.

  But maybe Rafe was right. Maybe I should talk to Jackson. After all, I hadn’t given him much of a chance to talk. I nodded, scarcely paying attention.

  I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t the vaguest bit of hope in Rafe’s expression.

  And I had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

  • • •

  I found Jackson not ten minutes later.

  He was waiting for me under the ancient maple tree, its roots cracking the concrete as they rose from the ground. Jackson was pacing—back and forth, back and forth—his brows narrowed, his lips pinched in an expression of deep thought. As I watched, a leaf fluttered to the ground.

  He looked genuinely upset, but what did that mean? Was he sorry for what he had done or just sorry because I’d caught him?

  “Hey,” I called.

  Jackson turned, the agitation that had sharpened his features melting into a smile. But his smile faded when I didn’t return it.

  “Hey, Ava.” Jackson chose to go with the nonchalant approach. You know, hands in his pockets, blank expression. Not that it mattered; I’d gotten a glimpse of what he really felt a moment before. “Let me explain,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

  “Go on,” I said harshly. “Explain.”

  “I would’ve last night,” he started, “but you wouldn’t have listened.”

  “So, what? You just left me there instead?”

  “You didn’t look to be in a forgiving mood,” he tried, his voice almost pleading.

  “I’m not now either.”

  He grimaced and ran his hands through his hair, which was gleaming gold in the early morning sunlight. Then he took my hand without asking and tugged me deeper into the shade of the trees, the darkness making it harder to see his face. I couldn’t help wondering if he’d done that on purpose. But people were hovering around the tree, so maybe he just wanted privacy.

  I pulled my hand away from his grip.

  “Fine,” I said. “I’m listening.”

  “I was with Kesley when you and I started dating,” he said flatly. No emotion, no feeling—just stating the facts.

  “Oh, why didn’t you say so?” I said. “I guess that makes it all right then.”

  “No, babe,” he said, reaching for my hands again but halting when I flinched, “that’s not what I’m saying at all.”

  “Then what are you saying, Jackson? Because I don’t understand.”

  This time, when he leaned forward to take my hand, I let him, feeling the warmth of his skin sink into mine. “Look, like I said, you and I had just gotten together. And it was just that you weren’t there one afternoon, and she was. It was one time, and—”

  I flinched. I did not need to hear that. I fought the childish desire to cover my ears. “Stop,” I said. “Just stop right there. You carved your names into a freaking chair! What was I supposed to think?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I found a chair in the detention room,” I said. “It had… It had Kesley’s and your names carved into its back. That’s how I found out.”

  Jackson’s hands tightened a little around mine. “I didn’t do that,” he promised. “Kesley must have…” He let his voice trail off.

  Of course. Why would I have thought it was Jackson? It didn’t seem like him to flaunt a relationship in front of me.

  “But I didn’t love her, Ava,” Jackson said after a silence. “I promise. It was always you. Always. If I could take it all back, I would. It was a mistake.”

  “Okay,” I said mechanically.

  “Okay?” Jackson echoed. “Does that mean we can…you know, start over?” He sounded hopeful. I didn’t have the heart to burst his bubble.

  Truth be told, I didn’t know what I felt. Every emotion inside me had been stretched to its limit last night, pulling my chest so tightly that I could barely breathe. Yet I felt lighter now than when I’d walked through the school gates this morning. Happier somehow.

  Did that mean I’d forgiven him?

  Jackson was looking at me, and I could almost imagine his pale-green eyes wide and pleading, much like his sister’s. For a moment, I was brought back to the cabin and the deal I’d struck with them. Looking at May then, you wouldn’t have thought she’d hurt a fly, but she’d done just as many awful things as Amanda had. So where did that leave Jackson? Was he as innocent as he looked and sounded?

  He had said it was a mistake. Fine. But I wouldn’t forget this, because every new piece of information I was uncovering about Kesley drew me closer to understanding why she was killed.

  Maybe, just maybe, the killer had had enough of her behavior too.

  • • •

  After detention, I met Lia for coffee.

  She eyed me over the rim of her coffee cup. “You’re insane, Ava. You know that, right? He, like, cheated on you, and you’re just taking him back? Just like that?” Lia snapped her fingers together for emphasis. She flipped her black, shiny hair, eyes narrowing.

  Okay, so maybe my best friend had a valid point, but I hadn’t forgiven Jackson completely. Our relationship still felt cracked, as if any small impact would shatter it entirely. But I wasn’t going to tell Lia that though.

  She raised a neatly sculpted eyebrow, waiting for a reply.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I love him.”

  We’d been together for so long that it was hard to imagine not loving Jackson. He was the comfortable choice. The one I would go back to, again and again. But was that sort of love worth staying for?

  Lia stared fixedly at me for a few more moments, and I felt my cheeks warm under her scrutiny. Was she trying to see if I was being honest with her? Suddenly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what she saw in my expression. Truth? Lies? Finally, she changed the subject, prattling on about something I was only half listening to. I was too distracted; Jackson still crowded my thoughts.

  A flurry of activity in the doorway made me straighten as a gentle chime rang through the coffee shop. Two familiar figures had stepped into the shop: Amanda, with her wild, golden curls, and May, who kept her head low and a hood pulled over her face. They turned to our table.

  Oh boy.

  Lia had realized my attention was focused somewhere else. She’d cut off midsentence and glanced over her shoulder. Her hand instinctively clenched into a fist. “
What are they doing?” she hissed. “And why are they coming here?”

  My heart pounded. I looked into the depths of my coffee cup, wishing I could drown in it. Why couldn’t they just leave me alone?

  “You can’t sit here,” Lia said boldly as they neared our table.

  Amanda ignored her entirely and slipped into the leather seat beside me. May sat opposite, blocking the street view.

  “We need to talk,” Amanda said.

  Lia was silent. She was just staring at Amanda and May with a slightly open mouth. My best friend could be outspoken sometimes, but she wasn’t stupid.

  “Later,” I said coldly. Not in front of Lia, was what I didn’t add.

  “No, now,” said Amanda. “You told us you’d help, so we expect you to follow through.”

  I closed my eyes but not before I saw confusion knot Lia’s forehead.

  Glee flickered across Amanda’s face before she said, voice drawling, “Oh. You haven’t told Lia, have you? Keeping her in the dark, are we?”

  I’d promised to help them, but oh no, that wasn’t enough for Amanda. She had to humiliate me in front of my best friend too.

  I stared at my cup again and said nothing.

  “Ava,” Lia said, “what are they talking about?”

  “Nothing,” I whispered, but it sounded false even to my ears.

  “Ava,” Amanda mimicked in a cruel imitation of Lia’s slightly whiny tone, “what are they talking about?” Her lip curled, and she focused her attention on me.

  If I involved Lia in Kesley’s twisted tale, there was no telling how much she would get hurt. I cared for her, and what if this thing with Kesley became too dangerous?

  I took a deep breath and turned to Lia. This was not going to be pleasant. “We’ll talk later, all right?”

  Lia’s face turned cold. Blank. Emotionless. Her flawless skin and wide eyes made her look like a porcelain doll—flat and lifeless. She grabbed her bag from the seat and stood up. “Don’t bother,” she said, then left.

  I closed my eyes, only opening them when I was sure Lia had gone.

  “You didn’t have to be so cruel, Amanda,” said May.