Senior Year
February
Do you believe in angels? I think I see why people buy into that shit, now. Kacey has an angel, that’s for sure, and her name is Lauren Markham.
Everything was in place, the plan was foolproof—and then Lauren showed up in Kacey’s room when we were supposed to pick Kacey up. Then everything was fucked. No one was supposed to see Kacey sneaking out with us.
When we were climbing up the hill, Jade whispered in my ear: “What if we got rid of both of them?”
My blood turned to ice. “That’s insane.”
“This is our only chance,” Jade hissed. “I’ll hold her down.”
I knew what she was asking me to do. She wanted to go through with it—to kill Kacey while Lauren watched.
“No.” I was firm. “She’s just a kid.”
Jade’s jaw set; I wanted to turn around, say the séance was a stupid idea, and take them home. We’d been so stupid, thinking we could get away with murder. No one gets away with murder.
I think Lauren even saw the knife; I dropped my bag when we were leaving the barn. I even lost the dumb pendulum. I made the mistake of telling Jade what Lauren saw while we were on our drive back to her house once we dropped Lauren and Kacey off.
“We’re so screwed,” she said. “What if she says something to Kacey?”
“I don’t think she will.” But still, I couldn’t stop the tremble working its way up my body. What if she was right—what if Lauren told Kacey Bailey had a hunting knife in her bag and Kacey got suspicious?
“I’ll talk to her,” Jade said.
“That’s a horrible idea.”
“Why?” Jade snapped. “Do you have a better one?”
“I just think we should forget about this. It was a really fucked-up, stupid idea.”
Jade’s voice was cool. “It was your idea.”
“I was never serious. And she’s not worth ruining our lives over.” I couldn’t look at Jade. “We would get caught. I know we would.”
“And you’re just realizing this?”
I knew she was pissed; it had been her idea to ask Cliff for the knife. I’d said I wanted Kacey gone, said I wished she were dead. Jade had been the one to say, Then why not just do it ourselves?
“Let’s just forget about it,” I said. “Get rid of all the stuff and never mention it again. Please.”
“Whatever you say, Bay.”
I dropped her off and decided to go home, even though I told my mom I was staying at Jade’s. I feel sick writing that down. Something has changed between us: a huge rift. It started when I decided to go away for college. She was mad at me for leaving her behind. She got madder when I made our friendship all about Kacey, and now she’s furious that I won’t go through with getting rid of her. The only way I can get her back is if I go through with it, and I can’t.
Here’s something I’ve never said out loud before: Jade scares me. I really think she would have killed Kacey and Lauren both if I’d let her.
When I got home, everyone was asleep and I snuck in fine, like I did all the other times I went out for a drive and came back undetected. But I couldn’t sleep; I was too freaked out by everything that happened tonight. Like it was all some sort of sign.
I wanted my mom. I found her sleeping alone in her bedroom, curled on her side. My dad banished to Ben’s old room because his snoring was so bad. I crawled into bed with her like I hadn’t since I was a kid and first heard of the Leeds family and worried something similar would happen to me, Ben, and my parents while I slept.
My mom stirred and turned over. Blinked and propped up on her elbow when she saw me. “Bailey? What’s wrong?”
The tears started, silent and hot. I couldn’t find the words. She would hate me if I told her everything I’d done: the thing with Lauren and the frat party, showing up outside Andrew’s house, the plan to get rid of Kacey. They say parents are able to forgive anything, but I know my mother would never look at me the same way again if she saw what a monster I am.
She brushed away my hair from my forehead with a bony hand. “Honey, did you have a fight with Jade?”
Yes. I couldn’t stop crying. I don’t want to be like this anymore. I hate myself. “I think I need help.”
“Help?” I could see the possibilities running through her head. Pregnant.
“Like, I need to talk to someone. A therapist.”
“Okay. All right. We’ll call one in the morning. Shh, sweetheart, it’s okay.” My mom continued to stroke my hair away from her face. “Why don’t you sleep in here tonight?”
So I did. Tomorrow night, when everyone is sleeping, I’m going to burn this journal. There’s too much in here that can fuck me over. There are things I said that are terrible, and there are things I want to hold on to, because the way I’ve poured myself onto these pages is more than I’ve ever been able to do with another person.
Maybe once it’s done, I’ll buy a new notebook. I’m thinking tomorrow, at work. There’s something sexy about a blank notebook anyway. Just think of all that possibility.