B00B9FX0F2 EBOK (14 page)

J
ason watched as Luke issued a swift kick to Rakesh’s gut, and Rakesh curled up on the ground, his face contorted in pain. Neither could speak or move as Luke bent over them and wrapped a hand around Jason’s throat, pinning him down.

“Who are you?” He pushed down on Jason’s neck. Hard. “Why are you digging up my sister’s grave?” he bellowed. Jason’s eyes rolled back in his head as he struggled to breathe.

“Can’t we all just get along?” Rakesh wheezed, and Luke momentarily released his hold on Jason’s windpipe to kick Rakesh in the stomach again, this time rendering him silent, save for a groan.

“I’m talking to your friend,” Luke said, resuming his choke hold on Jason. Up close his skin was smooth and his features were almost childlike, but years of beating other guys with a lacrosse stick had conditioned him to twist his boyish face into menacing expressions of cruelty. He rested a knee on Jason’s chest, and Jason hoped desperately the passerby he’d dreaded being caught by would come to his rescue. “I asked you, what are you doing here?”

Jason was still trying to draw breath into his lungs when he was blinded by Luke’s fist smashing into his eye socket. He’d never been punched in the face before. It hurt. A lot. It felt like fireworks were exploding in his skull. He tried to muster the strength for a response before Luke could hit him again.

“What do you want from my sister?” Luke shoved him deeper into the dirt.

If he didn’t break free, Luke was going to pummel him until he was dead, he was sure of it. He pulled his wrist back to swing again. “Answer me!”

“Friend,” Jason gasped. “I’m a friend.”

“Why are you digging up the past? Why can’t you let her stay buried?” There was something wild in his voice, like he would do anything.
Look deeper.
Had Jason had it all wrong? Was Luke the killer?

“It’s not what you think,” Jason managed hoarsely.

The next thing he knew, the pressure was gone from his chest, and Rakesh, doubled over from the effort of pulling Luke away, stood above him. Luke sprinted away. “This isn’t over,” he shouted over his shoulder. “If I see you again, you’re a dead man.”

Jason wobbled unsteadily to his feet. He blinked back the flashing lights, and a wave of nausea crashed over him. He stumbled a few paces away and spat, blood-tinted saliva dripping onto the well-manicured grass. The pink color was making him woozy, and he dropped to the ground, lying on his back as the sky spun above him. When he tilted his head, he saw Rakesh lying a few feet away. For a moment, there was no other sound than their chests rising and falling.

Jason spoke first. “What just happened?” Talking hurt worse than he’d predicted.

“You just got your butt kicked by a psycho lacrosse player in a cemetery. Well, we both did, but yours got kicked worse. You’re welcome for saving your life, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Jason said. He thought his head might split open.

After a minute, Rakesh helped him to his feet.

“Come on, we have to get out of here in case he calls the cops or something.”

Jason nodded, hoping the feeling that he was going to vomit would pass when he started moving. He spotted his glasses; by some miracle, they were neither broken nor bent.

They both limped back to the Subaru, brushing the dirt and grass from their clothes and straightening their hair. When they got to the road, an elderly woman with a bouquet looked at them askance, and Jason wondered just how disheveled Luke had left them. His plaid shirt was caked in dust, and clumps of moist dirt clung to his jeans. Above the neck, Rakesh could have flaunted his perfect bone structure and wavy hair in a shampoo commercial, but his white T-shirt was streaked and torn. When they arrived at the car, Jason saw the purplish hues of a bruise beginning to bloom around his eye in his reflection in the car window.

Rakesh caught him checking himself out. “Looking good,” he said sarcastically. “When you’re done admiring your battle scars, can you get me out of this god-awful town?”

They didn’t even discuss going to school, instead agreeing to go straight to Michael’s. As the searing pain in his skull subsided, Jason’s mind drifted to the necklace — where had it gone?

“Dude, forget about the necklace,” Rakesh said when he voiced his concern. “Can we talk about why Luke Gray wants to kill us?”

“Well, I don’t think it helps that we were digging up his sister’s grave. I mean, obviously we weren’t, but, you know.”
Talking hurt more than Jason wanted it to. Thinking did, too, for that matter.

The waitress barely raised an eyebrow at the two hobbling teenagers who arrived just before the lunch rush. She seated them at a comfy booth in the back room, and they took turns going to the men’s room to get cleaned up. While Rakesh was gone, Jason sipped at his water, hoping it would help to revive him. He felt like crap.

As soon as he returned, the waitress came by to take their orders. After she was out of earshot, Rakesh asked Jason what he was going to tell his parents about his face.

“Is it bad?” Jason touched the pads of his fingertips to the crease next to his eyelid. Even with next to no pressure, he winced in pain.

“Uh, yeah, you should go look at yourself in the mirror.”

Standing up, his body felt creaky and sore. His blood had pumped with adrenaline during the attack, but his energy was waning. The clock above the cash register said it was 11:15 in the morning, which seemed impossibly early with all that had happened since he’d woken up a few hours before. In the bathroom he surveyed himself in the mirror. It was like someone had spread the skin of an eggplant around his eye, attaching it to his face with silver eye makeup. The color was oddly beautiful, and Jason would have marveled at it for much longer if one of the line cooks had not entered the men’s room and caught him. He nodded curtly, rinsed his face with cold water, straightened his hair, and headed back to the table.

“So seriously, what story are you going to give Karen?”

“My mom and Mark are going away this weekend.”

“What?! Why aren’t we having a party?”

“Because we’re trying to figure out what happened to Lacey.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t have a party.”

“I’m not having a party. The point is, I have until Monday to come up with a story.”

“Why don’t I invite some people over to your place tonight, and they can help you come up with a decent cover.”

“Don’t you get it? Sooner or later my mom is going to catch on to the fact that I have not been disappearing to work on some chemistry project, and when she does, I am not going to be able to get within five feet of my laptop without her looking over my shoulder. I need to find out the truth, and I need to do it
now
.”

“So what’s your plan for your open house? Are you just going to sit around with Jenna and Max and talk the possibilities to death? Challenge Luke Gray to a duel? Accuse Troy of attempted murder? I probably have internal bleeding from what your precious Lacey’s mental case of a brother just did to me, we’ve made no progress, and all I’m asking is that we have a little fun while we play mission impossible.”

Ironic that it was the exact same thing his mother had told him the night before — especially since he was fairly certain his mom would be horrified at the idea of opening up her own house to half of Roosevelt High. He thought of Jenna, too, accusing him of looking down on kids who had a good time. But how was he supposed to enjoy himself like a normal teenager when Lacey would never enjoy herself again? That was the part no one could explain to him. Everybody was so convinced high school was this big party, but if that was the case, then Jason was pretty sure his invitation had been lost in the mail.

He glowered angrily at Rakesh, but Rakesh ignored him. “You could invite Jenna,” he said in a singsong.

“Oh, god.” Jenna. Last night it had been so easy to talk to her, but now, between his own lack of clarity and her loyalty to Luke, the idea of explaining what had happened seemed too daunting. The only thing that didn’t seem too daunting was crawling into bed and pulling the covers over his head. His cheekbones were throbbing and his insides felt like they’d had a few whirls in a salad spinner, and he knew he’d have to make an appearance at school this afternoon unless he wanted to risk someone in the office calling his house to check up on him.

“No one’s coming to my house until I figure out what happened to Lacey,” he said as firmly as he could. “We’re close. I can feel it.”

“Pretty sure the only thing you’re feeling is the aftereffects of Luke’s fist in your face,” Rakesh grumbled before letting the subject of the party drop.

I
t didn’t hurt when he didn’t touch it. It took Jason a little while to get it through his head; every time he caught his reflection, his fingers immediately went to the dark and shiny swollen skin around his left eye. And each time, he would wince, and then adjust his glasses, which only made the pain worse. He’d tried putting in his contacts, but his eyelid was too misshapen. He made every effort to stop checking himself out, but the only upside to the beating he’d taken was that he was kind of into what the bruise was doing for his face.

He’d fallen asleep in front of the TV, and woken up in the middle of the night to find his eye socket throbbing, his torso sore. Bathed in the strange blue glow of the television screen, he fumbled for the lamp, and then blinked rapidly against the harsh light. His eyelashes were like anvils against his cheeks, sending searing pains shooting through his head. When his sight had adjusted, he hunted for his phone in the couch cushions. No missed calls. After he’d left school, there’d been nothing more from the anonymous number. His text to Jenna had been simple, suggesting they meet up the next day, and she’d agreed. He’d wanted to write Lacey, but he couldn’t figure out what to say. Still, on a whim he checked Facebook to see if she had written him.

She had.

Maybe it was the fact that he was awake in the early hours of the morning for the third night that week. Maybe it was the soreness he felt all over. Maybe it was just good old-fashioned intuition. Whatever it was, something told Jason he didn’t want to see the message. So he sat disoriented on the couch for a few more minutes. Jason had woken up in the middle of the night feeling unsettled plenty of times before, like his whole existence was off-kilter or the wrong shape, but Lacey had changed that. Or at least he’d thought she had. She had righted him, made him feel like he fit. But now everything hurt — literally — and nothing made sense. The day before, he’d been so full of hope, but now, after another confusing series of events, he wondered if he was further from the truth than he had been when he started.

When he’d first discovered the obituary, he’d thought maybe he could walk away. Yes, Lacey was the best thing that ever happened to him, but maybe she wasn’t worth all of the trouble. And then he’d gambled, something he didn’t do terribly often and didn’t have too much experience with. He’d decided she was worth a whole world of trouble, and he bet on her. And now he was scared he’d lost, but it was too late to walk away from the table.

So even though dread had gathered into a pit in his stomach, he opened Lacey’s message. And his insides lurched when he saw what she had sent. It was a photo of her. Her lips were curled into a coy smile, and her eyes were turned upward to the camera, as if she were batting her eyelashes just for Jason. In the background, he could see the narrow buds of leaves coiled up, waiting to bloom. The photo was taken on a
beautiful spring day. Like today had been. And between Lacey’s fingers, she held a familiar delicate gold chain.

Come and find me, her message read.

Using his thumb and forefinger, he enlarged the photo as much as he could. There was no question about it. She was wearing the necklace.

Jason was supposed to be overjoyed. Finally, after all of his waiting, here was the long-sought-after invitation to meet. Lacey was alive and well. She was
happy
. So why did he feel queasy and hollow, as if he’d gobbled up bags and bags of month-old Halloween candy and was dealing with the aftereffects?

The problem was that Lacey was playing games. Sending him to a cemetery in the middle of the night, only to reclaim the item he’d been chasing. Directing him to her parents’ house so she could show off the prize she’d stolen from him. It was like she was taunting him. He’d fallen for Lacey because she was so straightforward and honest, and now that person was splitting open at the seams, and it scared Jason more than any of his midnight forays to Brighton had.

He stared down at the photo. She was so beautiful.
Come and find me
. The picture had been taken outside. The tree behind her was about to blossom, but that narrowed it down to just about every tree Jason had seen in the last week. In addition to the necklace, Lacey was wearing a purple T-shirt, which didn’t seem out of the ordinary. There had to be some sort of clue he was missing, but he was too tired to see it. The clock read 3:42. There was nothing he was going to be able to do about it now. He would ask Jenna if she had any idea where it was taken — or who it was taken by — tomorrow.

Wearily, he turned off the light and dragged himself upstairs and into bed. When he lowered his heavy eyelids, the fatigue overtook his anxiety, and the next thing he knew, the sun was streaming into his bedroom and it was close to noon on Saturday morning.

The bruises were still fresh and sore, and his rib cage ached as he fastened his seat belt across it, but the night of sleep had been good for his spirits. Lacey’s mysterious message seemed less sinister now — she was only trying to protect herself — and she was within reach. Jenna was going to help him find her. Jason was loath to admit it, but he was looking forward to Jenna’s reaction to his battle wounds.

When he arrived at her front door, he was not disappointed. Concern took over her face and she hugged him tightly before asking, “Oh my god, Jason, what
happened
?”

He looked around nervously for her mother. As cool as he thought he looked, meeting someone else’s parents with a black eye couldn’t be a good idea. As if thinking the same thing, she quickly added, “Come on, let’s go up to my room.”

Once he was seated on her bed, Jason started where they’d left off together: with him dropping her off on Thursday night.

“I was on my way home. I mean, you were in that cemetery with me, it was not the type of place anyone sane would go sneaking around in alone at night. But then Lacey messaged me.”

Jenna was scrolling through her iPod for music; at the mention of Lacey’s message, Jason watched her shoulders tense. “What did she say?”

“‘Look deeper,’” Jason said. “I don’t know how she knew what we’d seen, but I went back. And you were right. Troy
did
bury something. He left a necklace there. It was engraved with their initials, and the letters
K
and
C
.”

“
K
and
C
? What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure, but when you say it, it’s KC. Casey. Like the call Max saw her get.”

“Can I see the necklace?” She had put on Fleetwood Max’s
Rumours
, and now her attention was fully on Jason.

“Well, you can’t take something …” At first he started to repeat Rakesh’s arbitrary rules for removing objects from cemeteries, and then thought better of it. “I left it there. And I even went back for it, because I thought it might be evidence or whatever. But it was gone.”

“Gone?”

“Yeah. Totally gone. But then, I got this.” He handed over his phone, and Jenna gasped, covering her mouth in shock.

“Who sent this to you?” she demanded.

“Lacey,” Jason answered. He thought it was obvious. “Look at the blue sky — the flowers. It has to have been taken recently. Like, yesterday. Do you have any idea where?”

She shook her head. “It’s so small on the phone. I’d need to see it on a bigger screen. But wait, what happened to your face?”

“Oh, right.” He sheepishly explained about how Luke had caught him and Rakesh back at Lacey’s grave. How angry he’d been. “I mean, on the one hand, it made sense. We were digging something up at the place where he thinks his sister is buried. But also, that guy has a rage problem. He’s dangerous.”

“What are you saying?” Her voice was small, and Jason
wasn’t sure whether the current he heard running beneath it was fear or anger.

“Jenna, Luke did this.” He pointed to his eye. “He seemed capable of doing a lot worse. Rakesh was there. He saw it, too. Don’t you think it’s at least possible that he had something to do with Lacey’s disappearance?”

“This is
Troy’s
fault,” Jenna answered stubbornly. Before Jason could protest, she switched her tack. “Let’s look at the photo on my computer. Will you send it to me?”

“Here, it’ll be easier if I just sign in.” He flinched as he rose to switch places with her, the shifted weight resting on his sore muscles.

“Ugh, does it hurt a lot?” Her eyes were full of sympathy.

“Ah, it’s not so bad.”

She didn’t buy his tough guy act. “Here, sit down, and I think there’s a bag of peas or something in the freezer you can put on your eye. Let me run and grab it.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“Jason, trust me, it’ll help.” He looked down at her hand, which was resting on his arm, and then back up. Their eyes met, and they both smiled shyly at the same time before she looked away. “I’ll be right back.”

He settled into the desk chair and waited for her computer to boot up, surveying the papers and knickknacks she had lying around as he did so. Some of her school notebooks were out, her handwriting small and neat and girlish. Her detailed outline for a European history class confirmed Jason’s suspicion that she was an excellent student. Behind them was a frame, showing her and Lacey, arms around each other’s shoulders, cheeks pressed together, twin huge grins illuminating their
faces. It must have been taken during their sophomore year, before everything got so complicated. What would it have been like to know them then? Would Lacey have been so friendly, sharing her dreams of playing with a real band to his face, accompanying him to concerts, cracking him up as they watched YouTube videos together? Would Jenna have looked at him with those big trusting eyes, opened up to him about her friendship with Lacey? Or would he have been invisible to these beautiful popular girls, another nobody guy with a beat-up car and a weirdo record collection? Judging from this photo, with a party roaring behind them, the second option seemed more likely. He wondered what had changed, what had allowed both of them to connect with him. Was it something about them or was it something about him?

Opening the browser, he typed in
f-a-c
and Facebook popped up automatically. The mouse was hovering over the log out button when he noticed his profile picture. And then he had the sensation of being on one of those amusement-park rides where you drop fifteen stories in an instant. His stomach was falling at high speed, leaving his racing heart behind, hovering somewhere high in the air. Jason was logged in to Lacey’s profile. Or rather
Jenna
was logged into Lacey’s profile. He stared at the screen. There he was, his thumbnail-size face lonely as Lacey’s only friend, the status updates that had been written specifically for him scrolling down the page. Had Lacey been here and used Jenna’s computer?

He clicked the messages tab, and suddenly he was looking at the full-size photo of Lacey holding the necklace. Below that the heartfelt note he’d sent after following her instructions to go back to the cemetery. Jason couldn’t breathe.
Me and J
Money have been friends practically since we were born — we’re family at this point.
He’d wondered why Lacey had come to him and not to Jenna, but Jenna had been in on it from the beginning. Except … the idea was too much to handle, but what if Jenna had been
behind
it from the beginning? His head was swimming in confusion, but the second he laid eyes on the sheet of loose leaf buried under a stack of textbooks, he felt such an intense jolt of certainty his breath caught. Pushing the books aside, he saw his own handwriting.

It dawned on him then. Jenna had been the person in his room. Jenna
was
Lacey. At least she was the Lacey he knew. And he didn’t want to think about the other Lacey or what had happened to her.

What kind of a sick person would do this?
You must think I’m crazy
. It was what Jenna had said the morning they’d first met. She kept repeating it at the coffee shop. He’d just assumed
she meant crazy in a garden variety “Oh, sometimes I suffer from verbal diarrhea” way. Not crazy, like “I’ve been manipulating a stranger and impersonating my best friend and I probably belong in a mental ward” crazy.

The door began to creak open, and Jason sprang up, knocking the chair over. He’d forgotten about his broken body, but the movement as he spun around reminded him. Jenna was standing in the doorway holding a bag of frozen vegetables.

“What’s wrong?” she asked innocently, and then her eyes went behind him to the computer screen, where Lacey’s profile was still open. Then they saw the paper in his hand. Her face clouded over, and the vegetables fell to the ground with a thud. “It’s not what you think,” she said quickly, stepping toward him and shutting the door.

“Oh, really?” he kept his voice as quiet as he could. He still had no idea whether her parents were home. “What do I think? You could start by explaining that to me.”

“Jason …”

“Have you been pretending to be Lacey this entire time? What kind of psycho would do that?”

“Please, just listen to me.” She was on the edge of tears, but Jason didn’t care.

“You’re not even denying it!”

“You don’t understand, it was the only way …”

“Is Lacey even
alive
?” He was shouting now. He couldn’t stop himself. When she didn’t answer, he pushed past her and charged down the stairs. “I have to get out of here.” He could hear her footsteps behind him, but he was bigger and faster, and he was in the car before the revelation had even fully sunk in.