Chapter
Thirty-One
“I’m so glad you made it today,” I tell the Larks—all five of them, plus me. We’re sitting in conference room three at the library and not a one of them was late. “I appreciate your promptness.”
They nod and smile, visibly squirming in their seats. They’re clearly uncomfortable and I suppose I can’t blame them, but I’m not here to coddle them. It’s business as usual today, though I have a feeling we’re going to shut down business—on a temporary basis. I don’t have the heart to close the Larks permanently.
But I might not have a choice.
“How are you feeling, Penelope?” asks Jessica, another one of our quiet junior Larks. I bet you didn’t even know she existed, huh?
Well, she does. And while I appreciate her question, I don’t want to look weak in front of these girls, either.
I’m running on pure adrenaline, fear, and anger. Cass and I haven’t talked about—or made up from—our earlier conversation in the hall before first period. I’m still angry, and he knows it. He’s keeping his distance.
Whatever.
He’s just like everyone else at this school. They’ve all kept their distance. Brogan Pearson wasn’t here today, and his fellow “bros” stared at me in the caf during lunch like I was going to come after them with a machete and chop them to bits. Courtney wasn’t at school, either, and I’m guessing she’s the one they really fear. Since she’s not here, though…
They’re focused on me.
I was called into Mrs. Adney’s office yet again after lunch, and she offered me grief counseling.
“We’re worried about you,” Mrs. Adney said, her expression as soft as her voice, which was unusual. “Especially after what happened to Danielle. I know you two were exceptionally close.”
“She was my best friend.” I was so proud my voice didn’t shake.
“I know she was. You and Dani were very close. Everything that’s happened these last few weeks has taken a toll on you, I’m sure.” Her gaze met mine. “We’ll understand if you might need a break from school.”
“I don’t want a break,” I told her. “What I need is for things to return to normal. If I stay away and hide at home, then nothing’s fixed. I need to get back to my routine.”
Mrs. Adney nodded, but she didn’t look convinced. “Just know my door is open to you, always. If you need to talk, if you need advice, want me to introduce you to the grief counselor, whatever. I’m here for you, Penelope.”
Her words meant a lot. I could tell she really was worried about me.
But I need to soldier on, not wallow in my sadness. Courtney isn’t here. They’ll figure out soon enough she’s the one who did it.
“We took it upon ourselves to organize another candlelight vigil,” Alyssa says, breaking through my thoughts. “This time to honor all three girls, but especially Dani, since we just lost her.”
I’m stunned. “You planned it without me?”
“Well, we figured you were torn up over Dani’s death. We wanted to be there for you and help out in any way we could,” Alyssa explains.
“We’re not trying to take anything away from you, since you’re the Larks president,” Maggie adds, ever the diplomat. “We just wanted to help.”
“I…appreciate it. Thank you.” I’m not used to the juniors taking initiative and making decisions. I didn’t do it when I was a junior. Yes, I was groomed to become the president, but when I was a junior, I never challenged the seniors. What they said was truth. What they told us to do, we did without question. They were the leaders, grooming us to take over. We went along with their decisions, never once challenging them.
Circumstances have changed. Our seniors are gone, and I need the help. I appreciate that they’re taking the lead.
They both look pleased by my approval. Alyssa is practically bouncing in her seat. “The candlelight vigil is tomorrow night at seven here at the school. We have everything arranged, and Mrs. Adney wants to speak. Maybe—if you’re feeling up to it—you could talk about Dani and the girls, too.”
“Maybe.” I’m surprised Mrs. Adney wants to talk, but this is her school and she’s been quiet these last few weeks, letting Mr. Rose do all the official talking. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to talk about Dani without crying.”
The sympathetic looks on all the girls’ faces make me feel better—and also push me to the verge of tears.
“If you don’t want to do it, that’s okay,” Grace says, and the other girls nod. “We’ll be here for you. We’ll all stand around you tomorrow night when you talk, if you want our support.”
“That would be great,” I say softly. My anger has deflated, and I can’t believe it, but I’ve actually got the warm fuzzies for my fellow Larks. Most of the time we treat one another like the competition—and not the friendly kind. We’re all fighting to be the top girl, the leader, the one who gets the most college acceptances, the most votes at homecoming, the most…everything. The only one I got along consistently with was Dani, and only because we’ve been best friends since the sixth grade.
I wipe away the tears that try to fall, sniffing discreetly. I miss Dani so much it hurts.
“We’ve got your back, Penelope,” Maggie says with a smile.
I’m tempted to hug them all. So I do, quickly and quietly, stepping away from them before we all collapse into a flood of tears.
“Okay.” I clear my throat. “Now that we have that handled, we should move on to other business. Is there anything else one of you would like to discuss?” I look around the table, but no one is raising their hand or nodding. They all look at one another, like they’re unsure, and so I decide to go for it. “I think we should seriously consider putting a temporary halt to the Larks activities.”
“Are you sure?” Grace asks, her voice hushed.
I nod, pressing my lips together so I don’t break out in a sob. “All the seniors are gone except me. Courtney probably won’t come back to school, and I don’t want to find replacements. I don’t have the strength to go out and recruit new Larks members. We usually reserve that until spring. So I’m thinking…”
My voice is shaking, and I close my eyes to ward off another round of tears. I hate that this is happening. My entire high school career I strove toward this moment, and now that I have to close down the Larks, a group that meant everything to me for more than a year, it’s heartbreaking.
“Wait until the spring?” Alyssa adds when I don’t say anything else.
“But that’s months away!” Maggie looks crushed.
“I know, and I’m sorry. I know you girls wanted the full Larks experience. But we aren’t full Larks right now. We’ve been cut down. And I think we need to take some time off to regroup, and recuperate. I believe it’s for the best,” I tell them. “So let’s vote on it. All in favor to temporarily retire the Larks for the next six months?”
They all reluctantly raise their hands, even me.
“Then it’s settled.” I rest my laced hands on the table. “We’ll be back in business in March. Until then, let’s stay in touch, take care of one another when someone is in need, and please, think about who you’d like to recruit to become a Lark for next year.”
Alyssa’s gaze meets mine. I can see it in her more and more every time we’re together. She’s going to make a perfect Larks president. “Thank you for everything, Penelope. You’ve been a great leader.”
“So sorry this has all happened on your watch,” Maggie adds.
“We’ll be there for you tomorrow, too. Don’t forget,” Alyssa continues, a reassuring smile on her face.
We wrap up plans for tomorrow’s candlelight vigil and then one by one, each girl files out of the conference room, until I’m the last one left. I gather my things, grab my backpack, and leave the room, walking through the mostly empty library and waving at the librarian before I exit the building.
Outside, it’s cloudy, the air cold and bringing with it the possibility of rain. I head toward the senior lot on the other side of campus and tug my sweater closer, walking briskly through the school grounds.
No one is around, not even for after school practice, which is odd. But things have been canceled or postponed, just like the Larks, so it’s not too surprising. Everyone’s in mourning, they’re all afraid to have a good time or admit that they weren’t affected by the girls’ deaths. But eventually life goes on.
Even if we don’t want it to.
I hear a noise, like a snapped twig or a kicked rock, and I glance over my shoulder, seeing no one. I walk faster, looking around, hyperaware of my surroundings.
And then it hits me.
I didn’t drive my car to school.
My dad brought me.
My shoulders sag and I blow out a harsh breath. Cass said he’d take me home, but he’s nowhere to be found, considering we got into that stupid fight. He totally brushed me off.
That hurts.
I stop in front of the main office and pull out my phone, trying to call my dad. He never responds to texts, and he rarely answers his cell if he’s working.
No surprise, the call goes straight to voicemail.
I try my mom next, which is an even bigger shot in the dark. She’s the worst with her phone. Dad says she only uses it for outgoing calls, and he’s not too far off the mark. She doesn’t really text. She rarely carries her phone with her—like she legitimately forgets it at home most of the time. She claims she’d rather live “a real life,” versus being glued to her phone twenty-four-seven.
Like a miracle, though, she answers on the fourth ring. “Penny, are you all right?” Mom sounds breathless.
“Can you come pick me up at school? I forgot I didn’t have a ride home.”
“I’ll be there in ten.” She ends the call before I can even say anything and I glance around, hating how quiet campus is. How desolate it feels.
I’m stuck here for the next ten minutes. All alone.
And I don’t like it. At all.
“Hey.”
I turn at the sound of the familiar voice to find Maggie standing about ten feet away, a weird look on her face. “Oh hey, Maggie.”
She’s frowning. “What are you doing here?”
“My dad brought me to school this morning, and I don’t have my car.” I smile weakly, but her expression doesn’t change. “My mom is coming to get me, though.”
“Oh.” She takes a few steps toward me, tilting her head to the side. “Do you want me to wait with you?”
Relief floods me and I nod, curling my fingers around my backpack strap. “That would be great.”
A car engine suddenly sounds, and I whirl around to see a silver Lexus SUV suddenly pull up to the curb. The passenger-side window rolls down, revealing Cass behind the wheel with a grim look on his face. “You thought I’d ditched you, huh?” His voice is flat. “You didn’t even text me.”
I shrug, hating that he’s right.
“I saw you head toward the library right after school, so I figured you had a Larks meeting.” I nod my answer as I start to approach the SUV. “I’ve been waiting around for the past thirty minutes for you to appear. Just noticed you, so I thought I’d come over here and get you. If you still want a ride, that is.”
“You don’t mind?”
The look Cass sends me is part annoyance, part affectionate. “Of course I don’t mind, Penelope. Get in the car.”
Remembering Maggie, I turn to tell her I don’t need a ride after all, but she’s gone.
Huh. Maybe she got the hint and decided to take off.
I open the door and climb in, dropping my backpack on the floorboard. He puts the SUV in drive and off we go, tearing out of the parking lot so fast, his tires squeal when he turns onto the street.
I’m hunched over my phone texting my mom that she doesn’t need to come get me after all because I’m with Cass, when he asks me a question.
“Who was that you were talking to?”
“Maggie. She’s one of the junior Larks.” I don’t want to talk about the Larks anymore. It hurts my heart, what I just did. So I change the subject. “Driving your grandma’s car again?”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t even look my way.
“What about the old Mercedes you were driving yesterday?”
“That’s my car. Well, it was my grandma’s, but she gave it to me when I was thirteen.”
I gape at him. “Thirteen?”
“I’ve been driving since I was thirteen, yeah.” He glances over at me, looking amused at my surprise. “My grandma doesn’t like to drive. I helped her out when I could.”
“By driving without a license.”
“Only to the store and stuff. It was no big deal.”
“You could’ve gotten in trouble.”
“I could’ve gotten in trouble for a lot of things. But I didn’t.”
“Does that make it right?”
We come to a stoplight, and he really looks at me. “I don’t think we’re just referring to me driving without a license here.”
“You’re right. We’re not.” I cross my arms, hating how confused I am. I don’t know how to feel about any of this, about him. My emotions are a confused jumble. I’m upset over shutting down the Larks. I’m still mad at Cass, but he’s all I have right now. I don’t really know or trust the Larks girls.
But I don’t really know or trust Cass, either. Not anymore.
When the light turns green, he turns right versus driving straight, and within minutes he pulls into the parking lot of a small city park. “We should talk,” he says the moment he turns the car’s engine off.
“So talk.”
“Pen.” I look up and our gazes lock. “Don’t act this way,” he says softly. “I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I don’t want us to fight.”
“I don’t want to fight, either, but I can’t trust Courtney right now. I don’t know how you can.”
“Court and I, we’ve been through a lot. Like I said, we were in rehab together. We got close in there. We were all each other had.” He sounds distant, like he’s remembering what it was like, being with Courtney in rehab.
It couldn’t have been that great.
“So you were close friends.”
He makes a face, one I can’t decipher. “I guess. We didn’t define what we had.”
My heart is racing. I don’t want to ask this question, but I must know. “Did you have sex with her?”
Now he looks away, remains quiet before he finally says, “No. I already told you that. But we did…kiss once. That’s it, though.”
My reaction is automatic. I climb out of the car. It’s like I have no control of myself. I’m out of the SUV, slamming the door behind me and running toward the kiddie playground, which is currently—thankfully—empty. I hear Cass call my name but I ignore him. I run until I’m standing next to the swing set and I clutch the pole with grasping hands, the cold metal seeping into my palms and making me shake.
Or maybe I’m shaking because I’m angry. Upset. Sad. Annoyed. It’s like Courtney touches what I want and leaves it a toxic, ugly mess. The Larks, the school, my friends, Cass.
I’m sick of it. I’m sick of her.
“Pen.” Cass is standing right behind me. He places his hands on my shoulders and I shrug them away, immediately full of regret. I wish he would try and touch me again.
But he doesn’t.
“Don’t be mad. What happened between Court and me was a long time ago.”
“How long?”
“Sophomore year. We were fifteen.” He takes a deep breath. Exhales slowly. “I was a total mess, she was a mess, too. We recognized each other from school. Well, she claims she didn’t know who I was, but I knew her. They put us together in counseling because we were the same age, and we got close pretty fast. We felt like we had no one else in there, only each other.”
I can relate. That’s exactly how I feel about Cass right now. I have no one else.
Just him.
“Once we got out of rehab, she pretended like she didn’t even know I existed when we were at school, and that fucking hurt. I can’t lie. It was such a slap in the face. I’m good enough to hang out with in rehab, but not where her friends could see her?” He smiles, but it looks more like a baring of teeth. My stomach sinks, because I’ve done that, too. Ignored him. Acted like he doesn’t exist.
But not anymore.
“So I got pissed,” he continues. “And she knew it, but she didn’t care. When I went to the addiction meetings, she’d be there sometimes. And then one day…Gretchen appeared. We were surprised and she was embarrassed, but she got over it pretty quickly. She was a mess, too, and her parents made her go whenever they caught her smoking weed or whatever. Her mom was very controlling of every aspect in her life. It made Gretchen lash out. The woman had no idea that if she would’ve eased up on Gretchen, she probably wouldn’t have done half the shit she did.”
“I remember that about her mom,” I murmur. “She fell completely apart at Gretchen’s funeral.”
“Yeah, it was sad.”
“Did you spend a lot of time with her, too? With Gretchen?”
“Sort of. At first, yeah. She was a lost soul like me, and we started to get closer. Though trust me, there was nothing between us, I was just trying to help her out, and once Courtney saw us together, she got jealous. She and Gretchen were very competitive. They always wanted to one up each other.”
He’s right. I remember that, too. I feel that way now with Courtney. Like she’s trying to outdo me all the time.
“But is Courtney a violent person? Would she kill her competition to end up on top?” He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Maybe she could.” We don’t really know what pushes a person to do terrible things. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”
“It makes no sense.” He shakes his head.
“You’d rather see the good in people, am I right?” He says nothing. “You were close to Courtney. You hung out with her during a vulnerable time in her life, and a vulnerable time in your life, too. Of course you’re going to get close to her. And you only want to believe she’s a good person.”
“You don’t think she is?”
“Not really.”
“Well, she doesn’t think you’re a good person, either.”