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“Do you think he’d help you do some research for your best friend in the entire world?”
“Possibly. What will we be researching?”
“Peaceful Valley Asylum.”
Marc blinks a few times, no doubt wondering if he’s heard me correctly. “I guess camp’s not going so well.”
I quickly tell him about Vivian, her diary of cryptic clues, the fact that an insane asylum, of all things, might be involved. “I think Vivian might have found something before she disappeared, Marc. Something that someone else didn’t want her to know.”
“About an asylum?”
“Maybe,” I say. “In order to be sure, I need to know more about that asylum.”
Marc pulls his phone closer to his face until all I can see is one large, squinting eye. “Where are you?”
“The local library.”
“Well, someone there is watching you.” Marc moves the phone even closer. “Ahotsomeone.”
My eyes dart to the lower corner of my screen, where my ownimage rests in a tiny rectangle. A man stands roughly ten feet behind me, his arms folded across his chest.
Theo.
“I need to go,” I tell Marc before ending the call. As his image cuts out, I get a one-second glimpse of his face, which is stony with concern. It’s the opposite of Theo’s expression. When I finally turn around to face him, his face is a placid surface, unreadable.
“Are you ready to go?” he says, his voice as blank as his features. “Or do you need more time?”
“Nope,” I reply. “All done.”
I gather my things, leaving the book where it is. Its contents are stamped on my memory.
On our way out of the library, I pull the sunglasses over my eyes, shielding them not only from the midafternoon glare but from Theo’s inquisitive gaze. The expression on his face hasn’t wavered once since he caught me talking to Marc. The least I can do is match him in opaqueness.
“Nice sunglasses,” he says once we’re in the truck.
“Thanks,” I reply, even though it didn’t sound like a compliment.
Then we’re off, heading back to camp in a fresh cocoon of silence. I’m not sure what it means. Nothing good, I assume. Gregariousness is second nature to Theo. Or I could simply be projecting, letting Vivian’s diary entries seep into my psyche and make me paranoid. Then again, considering what happened to her, Natalie, and Allison, maybe a little paranoia isn’t such a bad thing.
It’s only when the camp’s gate slides into view that Theo says, “I need to ask you something. About that summer.”
I already know he’s going to bring up my false accusation against him. It’s like barbed wire that’s been stretched between us—invisible yet keenly felt whenever one of us nudges against it. Rather than respond, I roll down the window and turn my face toward the breeze, letting it tangle my hair just like Vivian’s.
“It’s about that day we drove into town,” he continues.
I exhale into the rush of warm air hitting my face, relieved to not have to talk about why I had accused him. At least for now.
“What about it?”
“Well, we had lunch at that diner and—”
“I kissed you.”
Theo chuckles at the memory. I don’t. It’s hard to laugh at one of the most humiliating moments of your adolescence.
“Yes, that. Were you lying then? About it being a joke?”
Rather than continue the lie, dragging it into a second decade, I say, “Why?”