Chapter
Twenty-Eight
It’s Sunday afternoon and I’m still in bed when I get a text from Cass.
Cass: Are you home?
I reply quickly, thankful someone actually reached out.
Me: Yeah. I’ve been in bed pretty much the entire weekend. I don’t think I ever want to get out of my bed again.
It hit me this morning when I first woke up that Dani was gone, and I couldn’t stop crying. My best friend in the whole world is gone. All my friends are dead—except for the last one, and she’s a suspect in our friends’ deaths. The junior Larks are probably terrified they’re on the list, too, and not a one of them has contacted me since Friday night. Not a one of them has really reached out to me ever. I guess I can’t blame them. I was never that friendly toward them, and they knew it.
I have no real friends left.
And then I realized quickly I was being pathetic and I needed to get over myself. At least I’m still alive. Dani, Lex, and Gretchen are dead. Their lives are over. At least I’m still here.
My phone buzzes with a text from Cass.
Cass: Not even to see me?
I smile a little. That was definitely a flirtatious text, and I like it. If Dani were here, I’d ask her what she thought and she’d confirm my suspicions—Cass likes me. I haven’t felt this giddy about a boy since my freshman year.
My heart aches just thinking about her. The guilt comes, too, that I can be happy and flirty with Cass while Dani is dead and so are Gretchen and Lex. The contradictory emotions are wearing me out.
Cass sends me another text.
Cass: Did you talk to the cops yet?
Me: They questioned me yesterday morning. What about you?
Cass: I spent three hours this afternoon at the station. I just left.
Me: Are you serious????
Cass: Totally. It sucked.
Me: What did they ask you?
Cass: All sorts of things, I’ll tell you when I see you.
Cass: So.
Cass: Do you mind if I come by?
My parents might mind. Dad has been super protective the entire weekend. Mom’s been hovering, too, even Peyton. She went back to college earlier this afternoon, having left the house about an hour ago, once we came back from going out to lunch, like she wanted to do yesterday. I got out of bed for that event, but otherwise, I’ve hardly left my room this weekend. It’s become my sanctuary.
I don’t want to face reality. Real life sucks right now.
Me: I look awful.
Cass: I don’t care.
Me: My parents won’t let me leave the house.
I don’t know if that’s true, but I bet it is.
Cass: If they’ll let me stay, I’ll stay. We can talk outside, in the living room, in front of your parents, whatever. I just
He leaves it at that and so of course I have to ask.
Me: You just what?
Cass: I want to see you.
I want to see him, too.
Climbing out of bed, I go in search of my mom, and I find her in the kitchen.
“Can Cass come over?”
Mom turns away from the stove, a frown on her face. “Right now?”
“Yeah, right now.” I nod.
“You, um…don’t look your best.” She waves a hand at me. Leave it to Mom to be brutally honest.
I’m wearing holiday themed red-and-white pajama pants and an old black and orange San Francisco Giants hoodie that used to belong to my brother, Peter. He gave it to me when he moved out. I never even took a shower today. So yeah. Me not looking my best is an understatement.
“So?” I shrug. “He just wants to come over and talk.”
“I don’t know…”
“Mom.” I approach her, my expression serious. “Cass and I experienced something awful together. We…bonded after what happened Friday night. I want to see him. He wants to see me. I think he needs to talk and I need to talk to him, too. So please? It’s not like we want to go out or anything like that.”
She sighs and turns back to the stove, stirring whatever she’s got cooking in a giant pot. “Fine. He can come over. Do you want him to stay for dinner? I’ve made enough.”
“I’ll see what he wants to do, but yeah. Probably.” I walk up to her and kiss her on the cheek. She rarely wanted Robby over for dinner, and we were together for nine months. Not that I was interested in having him around my parents, either. “Thank you for letting Cass come over.”
Mom looks at me, and I notice the frown lines in her forehead. Were those there before? Or did I just never notice them? “I understand that you feel close to him, but be careful with this boy, Penelope. We don’t know much about him. And what we do know…”
“Is not much, I get it. We can talk about him later. Right now, I just need someone I can hang out with. Feel normal with.” I kiss her cheek again and then bound out of the kitchen, in a hurry to put some regular pants on. I quickly text Cass to let him know he can come over, along with my street address, and then I go about fixing myself up.
By the time he’s knocking on the door, I’m wearing jeans but still in the hoodie, and I tamed my hair so it’s now in a normal ponytail versus a sloppy bun. Plus, I put a little makeup on. Face brightener cream stuff and mascara, plus some tinted lip balm. I want to look nice for Cass. I want to pretend just for a little while that this is a normal day, even though I know it’s not.
I answer the door and smile at him. “Hi.”
“Hey.” Cass looks good in jeans and a gray-and-black plaid button-down shirt, the faded black Converse on his feet. He’s wearing a black beanie that hides most of his hair, which is a total shame. His hair is one of my favorite things about him. “Can I come in?”
“Let’s sit outside.” It’s not that I don’t want my parents to see him. I just want to get some fresh air. I’ve treated my bed like a refuge, but now that I’m out of it, I realize how cooped up I’ve been.
He shrugs. “Okay.”
I pull the door shut behind me, and we go to sit on the front porch steps. He sits close to me, his thigh pressed against mine, and I lean into him, absorbing his strength, his warmth.
It’s funny, how I went from thinking he was totally weird and not knowing him at all to wanting to get as close to him as possible. And that’s because I feel close to him. What happened Friday night brought us closer together.
Despite everything that happened, I can at least hold on to this. Hold on to Cass.
“You don’t look awful,” he says after we’ve been quiet for a few minutes. His gaze meets mine, and I can see the sincerity shining in his eyes. “I think you look pretty great.”
I lean my head on his shoulder, then push away from him. “You say the nicest things.”
“I mean it.” His gaze meets mine once more. “I’ve been worried about you.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about you, too,” I admit, my voice soft. “I’m sorry I didn’t reach out yesterday. It was…a hard day.”
“I understand.” And I know he does. I can tell. “It was hard for me, too. What happened Friday brought back a lot of old memories I’d rather forget.”
“About your mom and dad?” I probably shouldn’t have asked, but I want to be there for him. I want him to know he can say anything to me, and that I get it. I won’t judge. I won’t gossip. I just want to be his friend.
And maybe something more…
“Yeah.” He spreads his legs and rests his arms on his thighs, his clasped hands hanging between his knees. “I found him, you know.”
My heart trips over itself at the sound of his voice. “You found who?”
“My dad.” He turns to look at me. “I came home from school and I thought no one was there. My mom was always there. Sometimes I’d come home and she’d still be in bed, but she was there, you know? I could count on her.” His expression is harrowed, like he’s back in that moment, reliving it. “I called for my mom, but she didn’t answer. I looked in every room, saving their bedroom for last. The door was shut, and that never happened. So when I opened the door, I did it real slow. Like I knew something bad was waiting for me. And I was right. There he was, sprawled across their bed, blood everywhere. I didn’t even recognize him at first. I thought it was a stranger. I thought it was fake.”
I blink, unable to form words. All I can do is reach out and rest my hand on his forearm.
“She stabbed him.” He takes a deep breath and exhales shakily. “Thirty-two times, once for every year he stole from her. She claimed he stole all her years, because she was thirty-two when she did it. Thirty-three when she went to trial. Almost thirty-four by the time she was sentenced to life in prison with no possibility of parole.”
“How old were you?”
“When I found him? Ten.”
I press my lips together, overcome. The tears are there. I can feel them, desperate to burst out of me, and I give in and let them flow. They streak down my cheeks, drip from my jaw to fall onto my hoodie, and when Cass sees them, his expression turns pained. He reaches out, catching each tear with his thumb.
“Don’t cry for me,” he whispers, his thumb still stroking my cheek, trying to capture every tear. But they keep falling, faster and faster, and then he pulls me into his arms, crushing me to him.
“I can cry for you if I want,” I murmur, making him chuckle. He strokes my hair. Strokes my back. Holds me close and offers me comfort when I’m the one who should be offering him comfort. He just told me the most horrific thing I’ve ever heard, and he ends up consoling me.
“I’m all right, I promise. I’ve spent many years in therapy,” he says against my hair. “I still do.”
“You see a shrink?”
“Yeah.” His voice turns hard. “Those asshole detectives were real interested in that, too.”
I pull away from him so I can look into his eyes. “Tell me what happened. What did they ask you?”
“The usual. Where was I, what were we doing before we went up the stairs and found Courtney and Dani.” Despite what happened, he manages to smile faintly. “Glad you came clean with them, because I did too. Thankfully, our stories matched up.”
“You told them about being in Courtney’s room, then?” I’m so glad I told the truth.
“Yeah. About her bringing Brogan to her room and us hiding in the closet. How we, uh—kissed in the closet and heard them do a lot more in her bed.” His cheeks turn the faintest red.
“I told them that, too. The only thing I left out was about us searching Courtney’s room. I didn’t think they needed to know about it. I was afraid that would open us up to even more questions.” I feel bad keeping something from the cops, but what does it matter? We only found that letter and I’d bet money it was from Brogan.
“Same.” He holds up his hand and I give him a gentle high five. “Thought it was best if I didn’t mention it, and they never brought it up, either, so I figured we were off the hook.”
“They seemed very interested in Brogan.”
Cass nods. “I thought so, too. Not that I think he did it.”
“I don’t think he did, either,” I agree. “They didn’t tell me anything about Courtney. Nothing.”
“Same. I think she’s a suspect.”
“I think she did it,” I say firmly.
“Do you?” The skepticism is in his voice. I can hear it. “Why do you say that?”
“They’re all linked to her. Court hated Gretchen. She hated Lex, too. The Larks, how Courtney has said so many awful things about all of them, and she was cheating with Dani’s crush. Who’s to say Dani didn’t confront her and Court got so mad, she killed her? I know we said she was too obvious, but…”
“I don’t know, Pen. That sounds so crazy. Do you really think Courtney would kill Dani because she’s having sex with Dani’s possible boyfriend? More like Dani should’ve been mad at Court,” Cass points out.
“So what made you change your mind? You’re the one who told me you thought she was capable. Courtney has a temper. Plus, she’s been irritated with or hated every single one of us at some point or another. She was really mad at me this week. I’m surprised she didn’t come after me.”
“You’re damn lucky she didn’t come after you, if she’s the murderer.” He shakes his head. “But I don’t think it’s her.”
“Why not?”
“Too cut and dry. I think it’s someone else. Someone more devious who’s trying to pin it on Court.”
“That’s saying a lot. Courtney is pretty devious.”
“I know. I believe whoever’s doing this is smarter than Court, maybe smarter than all of us. He’s trying to frame her.”
“Who’s to say it’s a he?”
Cass shrugs. “Maybe it’s a she, then.”
“So you think it’s someone we go to school with?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure. But I’m not going for that random stranger bit the news keeps trying to make us believe,” he says. “It’s all they can say. No one wants to hear it could be one of our own.”
They don’t want to tarnish the town’s reputation. Cape Bonita has always been known as a safe haven. I don’t remember any murders happening here while I’ve been alive—with the exception of Cass’s mom stabbing his dad to death, though that had always been just a rumor floating around.
“I don’t believe it, either. I think it’s someone we know. It could be anyone from the staff. They have access to all the students.” An idea sparks in my brain. “Maybe it’s Coach Smith. She’s been inconsolable since Gretchen died. What if she killed her by accident and now she’s going after all the Larks?”
“Come on. That makes no damn sense and you know it. Sally Smith may have had a strange fascination with Gretchen Nelson, but she didn’t murder her. She didn’t murder the other girls, either.” Cass nudges me in the side with his shoulder. “Think, Pen. Could it be someone you’re close to?”
“What do you mean?” Who could he be referring to?
“I don’t know.” He shrugs, but I can tell by the look on his face that he has someone in mind. “It feels like it’s someone who could be closer than you think. Maybe someone who’s jealous of all of you.”
“Like who?” That could be anyone at school. “Are you thinking of someone specific?”
“Maybe it could be one of the junior Larks?” I part my lips, ready to speak, but Cass rushes on. “You never know. I’m just pulling theories out of the sky. But have you ever thought it could be one of them?”
“No freaking way.” I make a face. “Have you seen those girls? They’re all scared of their own shadows. I can’t imagine one of them taking down Gretchen. She would’ve kicked their ass. Or Lex. Or even Dani. I can’t wrap my head around all five of them getting together and taking down one of us, let alone one of them acting on her own. They’re that timid.”
“They might not be as timid as you think.”
There’s no way any of those girls could be a killer. “It must be Courtney then,” I say firmly. “All roads lead to her.”
“I don’t think so,” he says, leaning in close. “So don’t be disappointed if you’re wrong.”
I press my forehead to his, our gazes locking. “Don’t be disappointed if I’m right either, okay?”
He touches my cheek, a faint smile curling his lips. “Okay.” He tilts his head to the side and kisses me, and I’m lightheaded the moment his lips touch mine. The kiss is far too brief. “Can I confess something to you?”
I nod, hoping he’ll kiss me again.
“Promise you won’t make fun?”
“I promise,” I whisper.
Cass smiles. “I can’t believe I’m with you right now, kissing you. I’m with Penelope Malone, the head cheerleader, one of the most popular girls in our class. It blows my mind.”
I smile and kiss him this time around, my lips lingering on his as I slip my hand around the back of his neck, my fingers playing with the ends of his hair. “Can you stay for dinner?” I murmur against his lips. “My mom said it was okay.”
“I need to ask Grams, but I’m sure she won’t mind.” His mouth settles on mine, warm and firm, and I close my eyes. Lose myself to the sensation of his persistent lips, his wandering hands, the beat of his heart, the sound of his breath.
I don’t want to forget this moment. Though I can’t tell Cass why.
Deep down, I’m afraid it might be one of the last good moments I’ll ever have.