B00B9FX0MA EBOK (9 page)

I
shivered as I walked through the split-post fence gate and around to the barn. Even from a distance, I could see that this party was far more crowded than the one last week. The speakers seemed to echo through the damp ground, and the tiki torches that lit the path to the barn made me feel like I was entering into a tribal ritual.

I threw my shoulders back and walked into the barn, which was lit only by large white candles held in hurricane lanterns. The flickering flames cast shadows across the wall, and I had to squint to make out individual faces in the crowd. I saw Keely, Ingrid, and Emily huddled by the ladder to the hayloft and was about to head over to them when someone lumbered over to me.

“Hayley!” Matt flung his arms around me, catching me off guard. I took a step back and he let go.

“You need a drink!” He took an uneven step toward the cooler set up in the corner of the barn.

“No, that’s fine.” I wanted to redo the hug.
That
had been where I’d felt safe. But he’d already unsteadily lurched away.

I was about to follow him when Alyssa grabbed my arm.

I whirled around, ready to explain that I wasn’t crashing her party, at least, not really, but she had a huge smile on her face. “Thanks for coming!” she squeaked in her high-pitched voice.

“Oh, thanks for inviting me!” I said hurriedly.

“It’s just … you were
so
stuck-up and annoying for so long, and now you’re actually becoming fun! Like, normal fun,” Alyssa explained, her eyes widening. “It’s nice.”

Keely, Ingrid, and Emily glanced in our direction. Keely looked at me, then at them, then at me again, before heading over, like a lioness stalking her prey.

“Hayley, you
beast
!” Keely called by way of greeting, her voice ensuring that everyone was now looking at us.

“Hey!” I called uncertainly. Was
beast
a term of hatred or one of endearment? It was impossible to tell. I felt like I’d fallen into an alternate universe where nothing was what it seemed. What would be next? Would I not get the Ainsworth but win Homecoming queen? Would I discover that my subconscious actually had been posting the status updates, give up on excellence, and find satisfaction in some random skill like cake decorating or basket weaving? I hugged my arms tightly around my body, as if preparing for an attack from Keely.

“Hiiiiii!” Keely drew the word into six syllables. Clearly,
beast
=friend. I mentally filed away the information. “It’s, like, so awesome to see you. Except why are you wearing
that
?” She wrinkled her nose at my still-Ainsworth outfit, which included a pair of pantyhose that were digging into my waist.

“Because …” I was about to explain the Ainsworth, Geofferson, how freaked I’d felt alone in my house, but I’d stopped myself. What good would that do?

“Well, whatever. You should change. Will’s been asking about you
all night
.” She rolled her large gray eyes conspiratorially, as though she were sharing inside info.

“Will?” I repeated.

“Yeah. I guess he’s looking for a repeat performance from last night. He’s over there if you want to say hi, or … you know.” She burst into giggles while I blinked curiously at her. I glanced over her shoulder at Will Thorn. A hulking junior, Will was a goalie on the hockey team. He’d had a full beard since seventh grade, around the same time that he probably read his last chapter book. He was funny, loud, and had once hosted an impromptu barbecue in the parking lot by wiring a George Foreman grill under the hood of his car. He and I had nothing in common. I didn’t even think he knew who I was. There was
no way
any interaction between us — an
excuse me
in the hallway or accidental eye contact across the cafeteria — could ever be construed as a sign we were
together
.

I blinked. “I think you’re confused,” I said carefully.

Keely shook her head adamantly, her blond hair whipping across her thin shoulders. “No! You and he were, like, intense last night. You guys are kinda cute together, actually.”

“Wait. So, you mean, you saw Will and me together last night?” I’d been asleep.
Hadn’t I?
I remembered the woozy, out-of-it feeling I’d had when I’d woken up. The way it had felt like I’d been walking through a fog. Could I have sleepwalked to a party and hung out with Will? It didn’t seem likely. And yet when nothing made sense, this seemed to at least be a hypothesis that
could
work.

Keely laughed, a single snort.

“What?” I asked.

“You and Will.”

“What about us? I mean, what are you talking about?”

“Nothing. Just that you guys looked like you were having a good time. Look, it’s cool. It’s just … weird.”

She had no idea how weird it was. And before I could ask any more questions, Kendra wandered over to us.

“Hey, honey!” she cooed. I stiffened as she grabbed my shoulders and kissed me on both cheeks. “So, you know the pictures from last night? I know there were a ton of inappropriate ones, but can you send me the kind of okay ones for
Spectrum
? It might be cool to intersperse them with the profesh ones. I mean, I guess? I should probably go to a meeting, right?” Kendra muttered to herself as she pulled a can of Red Bull from her bag and cracked it open.

“Pictures,” I repeated numbly, not even bothering to tell her that I wasn’t even the editor in chief anymore. I glanced over at Will, who now had two forty-ounce energy drinks taped to each of his hands.
Oh my God.
“There are pictures from last night?”

“Obvi.” Kendra shrugged and wandered into the barn.

“‘There are pictures from last night?’” Keely asked in a singsong voice, imitating me. “Hello, of course there are! You can ask her not to
share
them or show them but it’s just weird to totally pretend like they didn’t happen.” Her eyes flashed accusingly.

“Right …” I trailed off. “I’m sorry, it’s just …”

“That scholarship thing?” Keely asked knowledgeably. “Look, whatever. You can have fun and be smart. You don’t have to choose. You do know that, right?”

“I guess so.” The way I was interacting with Keely made
me
feel like an imposter. Why was I just going along with whatever she said as if it were true? The old Hayley, the real Hayley, would have done
something
by now. So why was I just going along with everything?

I remembered a movie we’d seen in Psych class last year. It was called
Sybil
, about a woman who had multiple personalities and literally didn’t remember who she was or what she’d done. Could
that
be what was happening to me? And if so, what did it mean that one of my personalities was attracted to Will?

Keely stared at me, unblinking. “Good. I’m glad you’ve learned your lesson.”

Learned your lesson.
The words tugged at my brain. But before I could ask what she’d meant, Matt lumbered toward both of us from the cooler in the corner, holding a bottle aloft as though it were a trophy.

“Look, Keely …” I said desperately as Matt stood in between us.

“You don’t need to, like, analyze!” Keely interrupted. “Just have fun. With whoever you want,” she added meaningfully, jutting her chin toward Matt as she wove her way through the crowd and toward the cooler in the back of the barn. Matt and I were alone. I shivered.

“You have a problem,” Matt said, interrupting my thoughts.

“What do you mean?” I asked sharply.

“Whoa!” He held up his hands and took two steps away. “You don’t need to attack. It’s not a bad problem.”

“Well, then what
is
it?” I asked.

“You look thirsty.” His voice sounded almost deflated as he pressed the cold bottle into my hands.

“Thanks.” I took the drink and held it against my forehead.

“You okay?” Matt asked.

“I guess. It’s just … long day.” It was ridiculous to try to
have a conversation when I felt I was only moments from throwing up, having a heart attack, or both. But what else could I do? My house was haunted. I was either possessed or sleepwalking or had an undiagnosed case of multiple personality disorder. At this point, maybe trying to act normal was crazy, but it was the only thing stopping me from snapping.

“Yeah.” Matt shifted from side to side. A whoop of laughter emerged from the barn. “This party’s kind of lame, isn’t it?” he asked finally.

Was it?
The conversations drifting from the barn were about school, TV, and Instagram filters — the same stuff that was discussed in the hallway at school. Everyone was wearing jeans and fleece pullovers. The scent of incense wafted through the air, mixing with the scent of burning leaves. I was surrounded by people I’d known since kindergarten. It felt
safe
, a word I’d never imagined using to describe being surrounded by Keely and her crew.

“I like it here,” I admitted quietly. I thought of my empty house. Booting up my laptop and not knowing what I’d find on the screen. The intermittent text messages from a blocked number, never threatening
enough
that I could go to the police.

“Are you sure? You seem kind of shaky.” Matt gazed down pointedly at the hand holding my drink. Drops of liquid were jetting from the top like a broken fountain.

He put his hand on top of mine to steady it. I placed the bottle down and wiped my hand on my skirt.

“Do you want to go somewhere to talk?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said quietly.

Matt glanced toward the barn. “Let’s go. You aren’t missing anything. I saw Keely giving you kind of a hard time. Girls are tough, right?”

“Yeah.” I nodded meekly.

“Look, where do you live? I’ll drive you home, then we can talk. If you want. Cool?”

I didn’t say anything. I was so tired of talking, of saying things that didn’t make sense. I just wanted someone to tell me what to do.

Matt set down his drink. “My car’s just up the road.”

I expected Matt to poke his head into the barn to say good-bye to everyone, but instead, he began walking, taking the gravel path that led around the house. This was happening, Matt and I were going home together. Two weeks ago, this would have only happened in a too-much-coffee dream. Unless
this
was a dream. I stopped midstep and held my hand in front of my face. I’d once read that hands never looked right in dreams. They’d either have extra fingers or be oddly shaped. I blinked, noticing my pale fingers and the thin ribbon of dirt crusted under my nails from when I’d fallen during my run over here. Definitely mine.

All of a sudden, Matt stopped and turned around.

I dropped my hands to my sides.

“What are you doing?”

Just making sure I’m not sleepwalking.

“Just … doing that thing. You know, how if you hold your thumb out, the moon looks like it’s the size of half your thumbnail? It’s a perspective thing,” I invented.

“Really?” Matt held his own large hockey-player hand over his eye and squinted. “That’s so weird. I knew you were smart,
but that’s, like, freaky smart. Did you learn that in, like,
Physics for Geniuses
?”

I shook my head. It had been a scene in some movie, but I couldn’t remember which one. I was sure that after the characters discussed the phenomenon, they kissed.

In the distance, a dog barked. The streetlights cast an amber glow onto the dry, dead leaves beneath our feet. I could see my breath and shivered.

Matt looped his arm around my shoulders and began walking. It had begun to rain, so lightly I barely noticed until I looked at Matt and saw his damp shirt clinging to his arms.

“You’re funny, Westin.”

“Thanks.” I wanted him to pull me into his arms, tilt my chin toward his face, lean down and … Instead, I fell back and allowed him to take the lead toward his car. He unlocked the doors and I slid in, directing him toward my house.

“Very … country,” Matt said as he stepped out of the driver’s side, taking in the sagging porch, the unfinished woodshed, and the random rockers and wheelbarrows and oversized farm tools that were randomly scattered around the lawn. Mom collected them because, in her words, she felt sorry for them. But in the darkness, they looked hulking and ominous.

“You were expecting a high-rise?” I asked, hurrying to unlock the back door. Immediately, Sadie emitted a low growl that changed into joyful yelps as I opened the door. As she jumped on me, I was accosted by the scent of gardenias and jasmine, a vaguely floral scent that was out of place in the cold fall night.

“No, it’s cool. I just didn’t know what type of place you lived in. It’s hard to picture you anywhere but school.” Matt blinked in the semidarkness before settling at the kitchen table.

“It smells nice,” he noted. Sadie sniffed him disinterestedly before turning back toward me and barking again.

“Sadie, girl, over here!” I called just as a crack of thunder sounded. The rain then started in earnest, drops hitting the porch and creating a steady beat against the roof.

Sadie barked again, then bounded toward me. The scent was cloying, and I wondered whether she’d somehow managed to tip over one of the perfumes in Mom’s room. That had to be it. Intruders didn’t wear perfume. Intruders didn’t rearrange pictures and leave everything else in place. And intruders certainly didn’t come into a house without the dog realizing something was up.

I reached down and scratched Sadie’s ears. She whined happily, her tail thumping loudly on the floor. Everything was
fine
.

“Have anything to drink?” Matt asked finally.

“Oh yeah. Sure. Sorry!” I headed toward the fridge, then stopped.

The photo was gone.

I blinked. The metal surface held the same collection of photos as always: Mom and me in New York City for my sixteenth birthday; me onstage at school, holding up an Academic Excellence in the Sciences trophy; a picture of me, age five, wearing a kangaroo costume, the headband ears perched atop a short, blunt haircut.

“Drinks!” I announced loudly, hoping Matt didn’t see my skin turning red and blotchy. “Coming right up!” I added, pushing past the carton of eggs and the container of soy milk until I found an ancient bottle of soda Mom had brought home from some Sound and the Story party. I grabbed two jam jars — what we always used instead of regular glassware — and poured for both of us.