At first, terror freezes my knuckles on the steering wheel.
The Creepy Jack steps toward the VW with an avid smile that sends awful chills, prickling my arms into goose bumps. I don’t want to roll down the window; I don’t want to acknowledge that a person this bent even exists. You dated Morgan’s mother, you sick bastard. I lock the doors. When he taps the glass, I power down the window. Cold streams through me like my veins are filled with dry ice.
But I shake it off. Where the resolve comes from, I have no idea. In this moment I’m only sure that I can’t go on pretending to be Morgan. I made a promise to help her but I won’t continue with whatever the hell this is. In my dream, even she seemed to feel this was a huge mistake. And I’m done being afraid. This is my life now. Time to start living it.
“I need to get home,” I say.
Maybe he can take a hint.
“Come with me for a little while first,” he says with a smile that’s supposed to be charming.
I’ve seen this look on his campaign posters; it makes my stomach churn. “Let me be crystal clear. We’re done. And if you make it awkward, I’ll tell my father.”
He reacts like I’ve knifed him. The color drains from his face, leaving him haggard. His age is more apparent now, too, lines and hollows in sharp definition. For a few seconds his mouth moves but no sound comes out. Finally he whispers, “Don’t do this, Lucy.”
Bile surges up into my throat, so I can taste the acrid vomit. I choke it down. “My name is Morgan. And you are seriously disturbed.”
My fingers are trembling when I hit the power button, closing the gap between us. He doesn’t move away from the car, though, so I panic a little, afraid of what comes next. Somehow I manage to tap the opener so the gates swing open with excruciating slowness. Each second that ticks with me staring fixedly ahead, I’m waiting for his fist to pound through the glass. When that doesn’t happen, I step on the gas and the Beetle lurches forward, depositing me on the grounds of the Frost estate.
Creepy Jack was standing close enough that I might have run over his toes in getting away, and I so don’t care. Another touch and the gates close behind me. I settle down enough, somehow, to drive the rest of the way to the house. After I park in the garage, it takes another five minutes before I feel like my knees will hold my weight. Eventually I stumble out of the car and make it to the house, dark and cavernous. There is no food warming for me in the kitchen, which I’d mind if I hadn’t eaten at home. No light in Mr. Frost’s study either, so he must still be at the office.
That, or he has a secret girlfriend.
I can’t believe that didn’t occur to me before. Morgan would probably have thrown a shit fit if her dad brought another woman home. But it doesn’t make sense for a man to live like a hermit for more than ten years. He must have someone, right? While he can claim that he’s insanely busy due to some work stuff, I don’t believe that he has to work every single night until past ten. And he goes in on weekends, too.
Unless he’s seeing someone at Frost Tech?
Curiosity leads me to knock on the housekeeper’s door. When she answers, she looks tired and not very pleased to see me. “What’s up, Morgan?”
“How long has Dad been seeing her?”
The guilty flicker of her eyes tells me I’m right. But she tries to bluff. “Excuse me?”
“The girlfriend. How long?” Morgan’s icy tone comes out naturally, I’ve heard it so often, and it has the desired result.
“Almost a year.”
“She works at the company?”
Mrs. Rhodes nods, looking chastened. I’m sure she’s worried about the fallout. But I’m not Morgan beneath the skin, so I don’t have the same visceral reaction, and I have enough problems of my own. Deep down I’m afraid of what comes next; Creepy Jack doesn’t seem the type to accept rejection politely. And that scares the shit out of me.
But there’s no reason to trouble the housekeeper further. So I simply nod and retreat to my bedroom, turning this latest information over in my head. After the usual skin and oral hygiene ritual, I get in bed, but I can’t relax. The white room of doom is quieter than ever. It seems like hours, though a glance at the bedside clock tells me I’ve only been rolling around for forty-five minutes. With a sigh I give up and grab my phone. Normally I’d find something to read, but for some reason I’m texting Clay.
You asleep?
A minute later, I have a ping back. Not yet.
I should’ve stayed at your place, I send. Even the prospect of Nathan listening to us doesn’t bother me as much as it did. Plus, sleeping over doesn’t automatically mean sex. I wish I was in Clay’s bed, and I hate myself because Nathan is already fading. The longer I’m Morgan, the less I feel like Liv. I mean, I’m not Morgan, but I am, now. Which means Liv is gone. Each time I form that thought it hurts less.
Are you trying to keep me up all night? he sends back.
Before thinking better of it, I answer, Maybe, and put the phone down. Sleep comes quick after that, and the new determination sticks with me, even the next morning. I put on Morgan’s simplest clothes and only do light makeup. I no longer care about maintaining the perfect masquerade. While I can’t know if my second life is a bug or a feature, I have to make this life work for me. However long I have, I’m done faking it.
An hour later, I’m in the school office, using Morgan’s considerable charm to persuade the secretary to adjust my schedule. So far it’s not working.
“I understand,” she says patiently. “But you can’t just drop into advanced science courses. There are prereqs that you don’t meet.”
I smile. “According to the handbook, I have the option to test for class credit. Otherwise, you have no way to ascertain how much knowledge I may have gained independently.”
She hides a smirk behind her hand. “You think you can test into an AP science class on a whim?”
“Who does it hurt to let me try?” If I have to, I’ll threaten them with Mr. Frost. He’s made several donations over the years, enough to give his wrath some weight.
Earlier, I wouldn’t have dared try this. I was too afraid of getting caught, but … how can they prove I’m not Morgan? I suspect they’ll attribute behavioral changes to the accident and any similarities to Liv, well, wouldn’t they think Morgan is paying tribute in her own way? The truth is too crazy for anyone to stumble on. People change, right? I just have to take it slow and let everyone get used to the new me.
Luckily the principal steps out just then. “Can I help you, Morgan?”
I explain my request all over again, and Mr. Gallo doesn’t seem opposed. “It’s a little unusual, but we could use another girl in the science program. Talk to Mr. Finney. As long as he’s willing to let you take the finals for the prereq courses, I have no objection.”
“The time has passed for changing schedules,” the secretary protests.
“We can make an exception for Miss Frost.” His tone is final, so the woman gives me a resentful look but she fills out the request form, stamps it, and gives it to Gallo to sign.
The only issue with this plan is Morgan is a senior. Which means I have to test out of a class I haven’t taken yet to get back on the science track. This … is a problem. The art kids will probably feel betrayed, too. I hope we can still hang out; it was pretty fun the night they came over, even if I didn’t understand all of the foreign film references.
Thanks to Mr. Frost’s generosity, Gallo gives me an open pass that lets me wander the halls with impunity. I’m supposed to head straight to the science department to get the ball rolling, but instead I dodge out into the courtyard. The sun is bright overhead and, for once, there are no students tending to the garden. For five blissful minutes I just bask.
Until someone flicks me in the back of the head. I open my eyes with a frown. “What?”
It’s the one person I shouldn’t see, the boy whose heart I’m breaking with my silence.