Deception (9 page)

I’d been hoping for “amazing” or “sexy,” but maybe he was talking about the change in music. “Yeah.”

“It’s getting late,” he said. “You better go to bed.”

“With you? I mean, are you staying with me tonight
—
I mean,
here
. In the house
—
in your room.” Ugh.

“Have you been lonely?” he teased. “I’m sorry I’ve been gone so much.”

“What’ve you been doing?”

“Trying to take care of some …” The warmth faded from his eyes. “Some family business.”

“Well, I need to talk to you.”

A sudden stillness took him. “Are you okay?”

No, I’m not okay. Where have you been? Why did you come for me in San Francisco? Why did you bring me here? What’s happening to me? Am I losing my mind?

But he looked so tired and spent that I didn’t press it. Well, I also hesitated to ruin the brilliant moment we’d just shared, when all I wanted to do was laze in bed and dream. “I’m fine. We can talk tomorrow.”

He turned off the stereo while I shoved my books and laptop into my backpack. We walked up the grand staircase together, and I cursed my dowdy flannel pj’s that made me look ten years old. I wasn’t sure how far I wanted things to go between us
—
at least not right
now
—
but I definitely wanted
him
to want things to go pretty far.

“Where’s your room?” I asked at the top of the stairs. I’d snooped around and found his parents’ room
—
he’d said they were in southern France
—
but I hadn’t found Bennett’s.

“The door at the end of the hall,” he told me.

“Isn’t that the attic?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “It’s peaceful up there.”

“This is
literally
a museum,” I said. “It doesn’t get much quieter.”

“Well, when my sister lived here …” He shook his head, smiling softly. “Never a moment’s peace.”

“You have a sister?”

“I did,” he said.

We’d stopped outside my door, and I guess I’d been hoping for a good-night kiss. But now I didn’t know what to say. He
did
have a sister? So … he didn’t anymore? Was she gone? Disappeared like my family? Dead?

Before I could respond, he kissed me.

On the forehead.

“Good night,” he said, and walked away.

12

I woke early the next morning and went through my daily ritual. My parents were still out of their calling zone
—
you can imagine my surprise
—
and I sent Max an SOS message in an e-mail.

For the first time in ages, I texted Abby.

I need u!!!!

I waited a moment, but didn’t get a response, probably because it was only 3:00 a.m. her time.

Chk ur eml.

And I started to write. I told her about everything, from Natalie to Bennett, from the ashes to the death mask, from San Francisco to Echo Point, from visions to nightmares, to what I really thought was happening to me.

I was seeing ghosts.

Crazy, right? But lying in bed last night, still feeling like I was twirling in the ballroom with Bennett, I’d pieced it together. My imaginary friends when I was a child were too real, too complex for a seven-year-old to make up. Plus, my parents pretended not to notice, but the ones in the house moved things, started showers, and made cups of tea no one asked for.

And everything else that had happened: the smoke and ashes at home, the death mask, the flashbacks from someone else’s life I’d been having since I’d come to Echo Point, the man in the brown suit who cast no shadow. They all led back to one thing.

Dead people. I saw ghosts.

It felt right, the pieces all clicked, but it was
insane
. That’s why I e-mailed Abby. She knew me better than anyone
—
better than myself, sometimes. She’d know what to think about all this. Maybe she still blamed me for the breakup with Max, but when she read the e-mail, she’d respond. As I clicked Send, I heard stirring downstairs: definitely Bennett this time.

I couldn’t face him in my plaid pajamas, so I slipped from bed and warmed myself by the fire for a moment before dashing into the bathroom.

I started the shower and braced myself for the icy coldness
—
and a cloud of steam enveloped me. Warm water!

I laughed in pleasure and showered for twenty minutes. A total luxury. And having finally revealed the truth to myself, I felt the tension that had accumulated over the last few weeks begin to loosen.

After the shower, I did the best I could with my hair and makeup, then made a face at myself in the mirror. If only I looked more like Sara
—
or even Brittle Britta. Back in the bedroom, I dressed in my uniform, adding black tights and, of course, my black boots. Harry had openly wondered if I owned other shoes, or I was just hiding cankles.

For the record, I did own other shoes, but didn’t like any of them. And my ankles were fine, thank you very much.

I stomped downstairs into the kitchen and found Bennett in the breakfast nook. He was reading a book while eating scrambled eggs and toast. I may have been spotting ghosts on every street corner, but the hot shower and the sight of Bennett first thing in the a.m. did wonders for my mood.

“Good morning!” I said.

He stopped cold, toast halfway to his lips. “Good
lord
.”

“What?”

He gestured with his toast at my skimpy uniform. “
That
.”

“You have no one to blame but yourself. Anyway”
—
I pirouetted, allowing him to see just how short the skirt actually was
—
“I’m already known as the school slut.”

“You don’t look slutty,” he said, repressively. “You look juvenile.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, but he went back to his book. Evil.

I poured myself some coffee. Took a sip and made a face, then set the mug down. I reached into a high cabinet for a breakfast plate and in the reflection in the glass door, caught Bennett checking me out.

Ha!

When I turned back, he was innocently reading his book. I hummed a little tune as I filled my plate and sat down beside him. I pronged a few forkfuls then looked at the title of his book:
Integrative Research Methods in Criminology
.

“You’re studying criminology?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

“You’re grumpy in the morning.”

He looked at me. “I find you distracting.”

“Good,” I said. “Now put the book down, we need to talk.”

“Sounds ominous,” he said, setting his book aside.

“Yeah. Well.” Now that he was listening, I felt suddenly nervous. How do you tell someone that you think you see ghosts? “You’re gonna think I’m nuts.”

“Nuttier than dancing in the ballroom by yourself?”

“You’re so comforting.” I took a breath. “Okay. Do you ever …
see
things?”

“I see a girl in a uniform that’s too small.”

I shook my head. “No, I mean things that
aren’t
there. Things that couldn’t possibly be there
—
like … visions?”

“Gee, no,” he said, dripping sarcasm. “That
never
happens to me, but thanks for asking.”

“What? I only
—
you don’t have to be mean,” I said in a small voice.

“I’m not being mean, I just wonder when you’re going to start trusting me.”

What did he think I was trying to do? This was hard for me. He must know I had no one else to turn to, even if he didn’t know I was going to tell him I saw ghosts.

His iPhone rang and he pulled it from his pocket.

“Don’t answer it,” I said.

He glanced at the text message. “We’ll talk later.” He shoved his book into his cargo bag, and was out of the nook in a flash.

“Bennett!” I followed him into the front hall. “Don’t go. I’m not done.”

He slipped a black canvas jacket over his T-shirt. “This can’t wait.”

“When will you be back? Things are happening to me that I can’t explain. That
—
”

“What things?”

“I don’t know. Things that aren’t
—
that shouldn’t be
—
I don’t
know
, that’s the problem!”

“C’mere,” he said, and took my hand.

Now
he was going to kiss me? Probably just to shut me up
—
but I wasn’t complaining.

He pulled me in front of the hall mirror and stood behind me, my back against his chest. I held my breath and watched his reflection: the deep brown wave of hair, his impossibly blue eyes.

He slowly unwound the tie from my neck. “Like this,” he said.

He laid the tie over my shoulders and showed me an intricate loop and knot. There was something so sensual about him manipulating that slip of silk against my bare neck. The way he caught my eyes in the mirror. I leaned against him and just about swooned.

“Much better,” he said, straightening the knot. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

I nodded dumbly, and stood there as he left. I listened to the engine of his ancient Land Rover ignite and the wheels crush over the gravel drive. When I managed to collect myself, I returned to the kitchen for breakfast. I sat in the little nook contemplating what had just happened. First he’s sarcastic, then he’s flirtatious. Did Bennett have feelings for me? He was probably just trying to distract me. Anything to avoid actually talking to me.

“Well, it’s not going to work,” I said aloud. “He’ll see that sort of behavior gets him nowhere.” But I knew it was a lie before I’d even finished saying it.

I bit into my toast and poured a cup of tea from the little pot in the center of the table. Wait a minute. Scrambled eggs instead of soft-boiled? And tea, in addition to coffee?

At least
someone
was listening to me. “Thanks,” I told the empty kitchen, raising my teacup in a toast.

On the way to school, I passed through the campus gates and Harry fell into step beside me.

“Hey,” I said.

He eyed me critically. “Bedroom hair.”

“What? Shut up.” I furtively checked my hair. “Where’s Sara and Coby?”

“Why?”

Because I flirted with you yesterday in Latin and now I want a buffer. But you can’t possibly expect me to tell you that.

He grinned wickedly. He
did
expect me to tell him that.

“Never mind.” I hooked my arm through his. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Anything in particular?”

Anything to occupy my mind through the apple trees, because I’m not in the mood for an imaginary corset. “Just something interesting.”

“My dear Emma,” he said. “Could I be anything but? All right, you see the girl with the headband? She’s in love with Maddy
—
over there
—
no, the Amazon with the unfortunate bob. Maddy, sadly, is only in love with herself. And that’s Peter,” he finished, “the third side of the triangle …”

He kept up a murmured recitation all the way to Latin class, and I found that I couldn’t stop smiling. He’d even started looking less goofy and gangly. Maybe it was his voice, which was low and full of self-confidence, or maybe I was just getting used to good breeding.

“How come you know everything about everyone?” I asked, as we took our seats.

“Perhaps I’m lying.” He waved his hand airily. “Who tied your tie?” he asked, changing the subject.

I fingered the knot at my throat. “What, this?”

“You’re blushing.”

“No, I’m not.” I felt the blush turn three shades brighter. “How do you know I didn’t tie it?”

“That is an Oriental knot,” he said, managing somehow to lounge in his wooden chair. “Beyond your capabilities, I’m afraid.”

“There’s this thing called the Internet,” I bluffed. “Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

He pondered a moment. “I’m thinking Bennett Stern.”

“What? No. Well, yes. He helped me a little. How did you know?” Did Bennett make a habit of tying girls’ ties?

Harry arched an eyebrow significantly. “He used to date my sister.”

“And I suppose he tied
her
ties, too! I hate your sister.”

“Ah, so it’s like that.” Harry grinned at my jealous outburst. “I only asked because Bennett always wore his with an Oriental.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I said sourly. Great. Now he knew I liked Bennett.

“So, unrequited love, is it?”

“I’m not even going to pretend to know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you’re pretending, all right.”

My only recourse was to shush him fiercely as class started.

The man in the brown suit didn’t appear until after Trigonometry.

“Sorry I didn’t call you back last night,” I was saying to Sara, who’d left a message on my cell. We were standing in the hallway, chatting with Coby before he left for practice and we went to Fencing.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “Just wanted some girl talk
—
and Coby was busy.”

I giggled, and Coby spread his hands and looked skyward, as if appealing to a higher power for patience.