Frayed (15 page)

A comfortable silence fell, and Rafe cast me a sidelong glance. “You know,” he said, “the last time we were here, you tried to kiss me.” A teasing smile played around the corners of his mouth.

“Oh” was my ingenious response. I looked at my interlocked fingers. He touched my arm, an indication he wanted me to look up at him. But that would be a mistake, I told myself. A mistake I would never be able to come back from. Still, the lingering warmth of his hand on my arm made me lift my head. And so I did the only thing that felt right at that moment: I kissed him.

At first, it was nothing but a soft brush of our lips. I wasn’t sure whether I intended it to be anything more than that. I wasn’t even sure Rafe wanted more than that. But kissing Rafe was different from kissing Jackson. With Jackson it had felt normal, routine almost, just like getting out of bed and brushing my teeth was.

This was different—wonderfully, surprisingly different. Before I could tell what was happening, Rafe had pulled me to the ground, and my back was pressed against the springy grass. His fingers traced trails of heat up and down my arms in mesmerizing patterns, drawing a sigh of content from me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer until every part of our bodies touched.

My body relaxed into his as the butterflies I’d been feeling just moments before faded, until there were just the two of us, his soft lips caressing my own, tasting of mint gum that barely disguised the bitter taste of cigarettes.

A moment later, I drew back, breathing in a lungful of air.

He kept his arms around me, almost protective, and watched me. He did that a lot—watching me. Examining my expression, seeming to dissect every emotion that passed over my face. At that moment, I didn’t care because I was here with Rafe, and although it had taken me a long time to get to this point, this was something I’d wanted for longer than I really knew. With his lips still brushing mine, he whispered, “Ava…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t,” I whispered, curling my hand around the collar of his shirt. “Please…don’t. For the first time since Kesley died, I feel alive.”

That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. Rafe groaned and pulled me closer until every part of us touched. His hand snuck underneath my shirt, tracing intricate patterns on the skin there, making me sigh and arch closer. His fingers teased the edge of my bra but went no farther than a brush of his hands across my breasts.

“That was unexpected,” he murmured, lips still close to mine. I flickered my eyes up to his and saw that they were crinkled into a smile. “What do you think Kesley would have thought about that?” I brought my hand up to touch his face, warm under my fingers, rough with stubble.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

And it was strange she wasn’t here anymore to dictate who I dated. I remembered in eighth grade when Lia told me Thom Gate had a crush on me, and Kesley said I couldn’t date him. She’d had this steely look in her eyes, a warning that was only second to our mother’s. But like the stubborn eighth grader I had been, I’d gone out on a movie date with him anyway. I realized she was right when afterward he’d tried to stick his hands down my pants. I’d come home crying. That was one of the things that irked me so much about Kesley—she was often right.

I thought back to Lia and Jackson and remembered how my mother had commented on how happy she thought he looked—

Lia.

That elusive thought that had slipped through me for the past few days clicked into place. I snapped up into a sitting position with dizzying speed, closing my eyes as the world spun around me, as the blood rushed back up to my face all at once. It had only been when I thought of Kesley and Lia at the same time that it made sense. A cold feeling sunk through my skin, chilling me to my core.

“Ava?” Rafe’s hand was suddenly at my shoulder, his lips at my ear.

When I spoke, my voice was calm and measured.

“KARMA pulled a stunt on Lia not that long before Kesley died. Rafe, what if—” My breathing became jagged and sharp, and I couldn’t even finish the sentence. The thought that Lia could have done something like that…

But why not?

Rafe was silent for a moment. Birds chirped above in the trees, but everything apart from Rafe and my mind seemed far away, as if I’d been transported into an alternate universe, somewhere where my worst nightmares seemed to be coming true at an alarming rate.

Desperately, I tried to reason. Of course, it couldn’t be Lia—that was impossible. Lia was Lia. Obnoxious, selfish, but not a killer.
Right?
Then I thought of the way she’d been oddly silent during the weeks after the incident had happened—and then, miraculously, just after Kesley had died, she’d gone back to normal. She’d seemed happier somehow. Was it because my sister was dead?

“Did Lia somehow found out about Kesley’s involvement in KARMA?” I said. A shiver ran down my spine.

“I think you’re overreacting,” Rafe said slowly. “How would she even know about Kesley and KARMA?”

I swallowed. “Lia can be persuasive. She might have asked around. Kesley couldn’t have kept
every
tiny detail hidden.”

Rafe still seemed unconvinced. He placed a hand on the small of my back, and I liked the warm weight there. It made me feel protected. Still, I couldn’t ignore the fluttering of fear in my stomach. It was the same feeling as with Jackson: the fear that someone so close to me could have done something so cold-blooded. Would it have been worth it? Were fake test results worth getting her hands so dirty with blood? Would Lia have descended to such a low—all for a little payback? And Rafe was right. I had no answers to any of the questions that swirled around in my head, seemingly endlessly.

Rafe moved his hand from the small of my back to wrap around my waist.

“I’m afraid,” I whispered, turning in to him.

“I know, I know. But nothing is going to hurt you while I’m here, okay?”

“Promise?”

His arms tightened around me. “I promise.”

• • •

I woke that night to my door creaking open.

Moonlight filtered through the thin curtains, sending a ribbon of silver light falling across the carpet and to the door, where a pair of feet stood. I recognized the fluffy, pink slippers. I yanked myself up in bed, heart slamming into my rib cage. Icy fear slithered through my veins as I shook the last remnants of sleep from my eyes, preparing for the worse.

“What happened?” I said, my voice dry.

No reply. The door just creaked open farther, revealing my mother’s slender figure against the bright-yellow light issuing from the hall. She said nothing for a brief moment, but as she tilted her head slightly, the moonlight washed over her face. My stomach swooped; mascara ran down her cheeks like she’d been crying, and her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen.

I sat up straighter. “Are you okay? Mom, what happened?”

“Sorry, sweetie,” she said, almost whispering. She sounded strained. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” And that was when my mother laughed: a shaky laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. She hadn’t laughed since before the funeral.

“Nothing’s wrong, Ava, nothing at all. Someone’s been arrested for Kesley’s murder.”

Suddenly, I was wide awake. “W-who?” I could barely choke the words out.

“That girl…Riley Stone.”

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. The world closed up around me, and all I could see was darkness. The police wouldn’t make an arrest like that without damning evidence, would they? An image of Riley this morning crossed my mind. Looking at her, it wasn’t hard to believe she was the killer.

“Ava? Ava, did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah, I’m just… I mean, that’s great!” I felt ill just thinking those words, let alone saying them. Once my mother had left, I sank back into my pillow, wide-eyed. Could Riley have killed my sister? I hadn’t known Riley very well. But like Amanda, she seemed fiercely loyal to Kesley, so why would she kill her?

Everything changes after a tragedy. From the way you look at life to the way you act and the things you say and do.

Since you died, Kesley, I’m not the only one who’s changed.

Your closest friends—Amanda, Riley, Abbey, May—would have remained on the outskirts of my life as girls I couldn’t, wouldn’t understand. I’m not saying we became friends—I don’t think I could ever be friends with them—but neither are who I thought they were. They aren’t just girls who liked to break rules.

They were loyal to you. They loved you, Kesley.

They cared about what happened to you and are determined to uncover the truth. If you hadn’t died, what would my life be like? Where would Rafe and I be? Would I still be with Jackson, unable to see that what we had wasn’t what I truly wanted?

And although it’s a terrible idea to entertain, good things sometimes come from tragedies, don’t they…

People were staring at us.

And by us, I meant me, Rafe, May, Abbey, and Amanda—a group of people I never would have thought I’d be sitting at a lunch table with, but I was. Last night’s news hadn’t given us a choice.

A buzz escalated around the cafeteria where everyone ate their lunches. People seemed to feel safe now that Riley Stone was in custody. The tension that had pressed down on Circling Pines had eased, though the four people sitting around me were feeling the exact opposite.

Only scarce details had been released about Riley’s arrest, but it was still all over the news this morning. I’d switched on the TV the moment I got up, and my mother and I had sat on the couch, steaming mugs of coffee clutched in our hands. No matter which channel I switched to, Riley’s face was there—twisted smirk, cropped red hair, and narrowed eyes.

This is all over
, I told myself.
Riley is the killer. My sister’s murderer has been caught.

Yet I still felt a flicker of uncertainty. And the more I thought about it, the more I doubted she was the killer.

The police had been granted a warrant to search her house for drugs but instead found a piece of rope smeared with blood under a loose floorboard.

But something wasn’t adding up. Surely if Riley had murdered my sister, she wouldn’t have left evidence underneath a floorboard. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to burn it, bury it, or throw it in the lake? Why hide it underneath the floorboards?

No, everything seemed too perfect, too orchestrated.

Our table had been quiet for the past few minutes. I don’t think any of us knew what to say. We were such a mismatched group that none of us had much in common, apart from Kesley. We were all linked to her on this fruitless journey to solve her murder.

I was beginning to lose my faith in the police, and I could now understand why Amanda said we needed to take things into our own hands.

“We need to go,” she said as we sat there. “
Now.
This waiting is unbearable.”

“No.” It was May who spoke. She angled her gaze toward Amanda, fierce and determined. “We can’t just go wandering around the crime scene now. That’s an incredibly stupid idea, Amanda.”

“So what? You have a better one?” Amanda’s gaze was sharp.

“What can we do?” May asked, her voice rising with frustration.

“I don’t know—
anything
! Riley didn’t kill Kesley. She was framed, and she’s relying on us to get her out of there.”

“Look.” May turned to Amanda, almost blocking Rafe and me and keeping us out of the conversation. “Don’t you think that’s going to look suspicious? Riley just got arrested for murder. What do you think is going to happen if people find out we’re missing the next day? Don’t you think that makes us look guilty?”

“I don’t
care
,” Amanda bit out, her jaw clenched. “I just want Riley out of there.”

“You
should
care,” May said, her voice sharp.

For a moment, I thought Amanda was going to argue back. The lines around her mouth were tight, and her eyes sparked. But perhaps she understood the logic in what May was saying. She cast me a swift sidelong look and said, “Fine.” But the slight twist to her mouth told us she wasn’t happy with the decision.

I stared off into the distance, thinking. I still hadn’t gathered the courage to tell Diana the truth about where I would be this weekend. Instead, I had patched together a lie about trying to work things out with Lia.

She seemed to believe me, for which I was grateful. With the recent turn of events, she was pretty preoccupied and hadn’t questioned me too much. I hated lying to her though. It scared me I could do it so easily. With a few sentences, I could form a story that would lead her to believe something that wasn’t true. But lying to her was unavoidable. She’d have forbidden me to go back to the lake, even though the supposed killer was in custody, insisting it would bring back unpleasant memories.

I couldn’t help but feel she was right about that.

• • •

“Hey, Ava!”

I turned when I heard the sound of my name, and to my surprise, I saw a flash of brown-and-gold curls. I stopped at the end of the cafeteria, where the long corridor led back to the classrooms. Amanda neared, watching me with those hawk-like eyes of hers, but her expression was different. Slightly more open, more unsure, than I was used to.

I stood there awkwardly for a moment. “Can I…help you?”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “No. Well, I wanted to talk about the other night.”

“Oh.” Surprise colored my voice.
Now
she wanted to talk about it? I shoved my hands into my pockets, staring at a point just over her shoulder. “Okay,” I said.

“I’ve never told anyone about my family before,” she said, “apart from Kesley.”

I lowered my eyes, unsure of what to tell her. What was I supposed to say to that? “I won’t tell anyone, I promise,” I told her, realizing what she was getting at. Something seemed to loosen in her face as if relieved, but I didn’t think having an alcoholic mother and an absent father was something to be ashamed of.

“Why haven’t you told any of the other girls, besides Kesley?” I asked her.

A smile quirked her mouth. “I didn’t really want to tell her. She dragged it out of me eventually.”

“She does—
did
—that, didn’t she?” I said. “She could make you talk about things even when you didn’t want to.” I felt a surge of emotion well up inside me, a nostalgic feeling that was hard to stem.

Amanda stared at me, her face hard, her jaw tight. Her eyes softened, just slightly, but I still saw it. “Whatever happened to Kesley,” she said, “we’ll find out.”

She said nothing more, just turned and walked away. But as I headed in the direction of my next class, I was smiling.

• • •

I sat in Rafe’s car parked across from my house and stared down the street.

A family of three was crossing the road, two small girls hanging off their mother’s arm. The sight sent a pang of longing through me. It reminded me of the times our foster mother took us to the park when we were younger. She would make sure we all held hands and looked right and then left before crossing. The family of three rounded a bend at the end of the street and disappeared.

“What are you thinking about?”

I turned to look at Rafe. “Kesley,” I said honestly. He smiled sadly but didn’t say anything. “Do you believe in heaven?” I asked him. “Kesley didn’t. She hated that sort of stuff.”

“I can’t have faith in something I can’t see.”

I felt a small smile tug at the corners of my mouth. “That’s why it’s called faith.”

He grimaced in response.

“Do you think she would go there?” I asked. “If there was one?”

Rafe looked away from me out the window. “If anyone deserved to go to heaven, it was Kesley.”

He leaned over and pressed his lips against my forehead before dropping them lower against the flesh marred by the acid so long ago. I turned to him, feeling those stupid tears sting my eyes. I felt Rafe’s fingers brush against my cheek, pushing back the hair that obscured me from his view. I glanced at him. He arched his brows in concern but didn’t say anything.

“He’d never touch me there,” I whispered.

He smiled a little and said, “I can’t imagine why. It’s an imperfection. Imperfections make you beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, turning away again so he wouldn’t see my tears.

When I let myself into the house a few minutes later, my mother was already standing at the door, eyes pinned on Rafe’s receding car. Her eyes were narrowed. Her mouth was pressed into a thin line. Suppressed anger.

“Were you
watching
us?” I whispered, face heating.

“No, of course not,” she said, but she couldn’t look at me.

“Then I guess you already know,” I said, seeing through her lie.

My mother turned to look at me, and behind the sadness in her eyes there was something else—suspicion?—that I couldn’t place. “Just don’t let him hurt you, okay?”

I thought back to the promise he’d made me. “He makes me happy, Mom.”

My mother stopped in the motion of closing the door on the cold breeze. She sighed a very motherly sort of sigh and looked at me. “All right, Ava,” she said. “But you’ve been hurt too much in your life already.”

I couldn’t argue with that.