Page 143

Okay.

My dad’s body-shop. 10:30.

I hadn’t expected him to call the spot—but the time—it was good, late enough that my mom would be at work and Allie would be in bed so help me?—

A shadow crossed my desk. I looked up as Mrs. Goodman looked down.

“Jessica. Really?” Mrs. Goodman said, drawing out the ‘r’.

“Sorry,” I said, giving her a timid smile and putting my phone away in my bag. She cleared her throat, looked disdainfully at everyone, and continued.

And to think, chemistry used to be my favorite class.

It took me longer to gather up my notes than usual—I made sure to keep a firm hold on my bag the entire time—and stood, only to find Liam waiting nearby. He did a friend-check over both shoulders and out the door before talking to me.

“Saw your thing on ZB. Team’s pissed. Anyone respond?”

I shrugged one shoulder. “Some.”

“Who?”

“A) like I’d tell you, B) they’re all anonymous if they want to be. You know how ZB works.”

“How many?” he pressed.

“Some,” I said again. I couldn’t tell from the expression on his face if he genuinely cared or just needed to know how many times Colton’s shrine had been violated. I put each shoulder through the too small straps of my backpack. “Who’s pissed most?”

“Who do you think?” he said, and walked out.

CHAPTER 51

Imet Lacey at her car that afternoon and showed her Mason’s text. “That’s on the other side of town. What time do you want me to get you?”

I exhaled in relief—not at just at getting ride, but knowing I wouldn’t be alone. “Is ten-fifteen long enough?” I had to make sure Allie would really be sleeping.

“The way I drive? Oh yeah.”

Lacey dropped me off and I noticed the Buick had moved fractionally from where it’d been parked when I left this morning. My mom had been up and out at some point in time—probably to get more beer or smokes. Hopefully she’d gone right back to bed.

I unlocked the front door and tossed Lacey’s bag to where my backpack usually lived—I didn’t think my mother would notice the difference—and found my mother sitting on the couch, flipping idly through a People magazine.

“Hi, Mom,” I said, as innocuously as possible.

“Guess who I ran into at the gas station?” she asked, without looking up.

I bit the inside of my lip, trying to judge her current mood. Our dad? Our dad’s new wife? An old boss? A new bartender? “Who?”

“Guess.”

“Jenn…i…fer?” Dad’s new wife seemed the safest bet.

“Her?” My mom blew air through her lips, making a braying sound. “Why would you guess her? No. Sasha Lewis.”

Liam’s mom. I could feel the color drain from my face as all my blood, bones, and internal organs fell to my feet.

“So, do you have anything about this past weekend you’d like to tell me?” She flipped another page, and a reality TV star with fake boobs, fake teeth, and a fake life smiled out.

“I’m sorry.”