In the Arms of Stone Angels (6 page)

But there was something I had to know. Did my mom put Chloe up to this visit, or had she come for another reason?

Chloe Seaver standing in Grams's living room was a sight I never thought I'd see again. We used to be friends before she became a part of Heather Madsen's crew of popular kids, the “it” girls that every boy in school had fantasized about and every girl envied—every girl except me.

Call me strange, but I always felt sorry for all of them, especially Heather. She demanded attention like a drug addict needed that next fix and that made her high maintenance. And she got a perverse kick out of preying on outsiders and loners, the weak ones in “the herd.” The less someone had, the more she wanted to take. I guess that made her feel superior.

Being envied for having it all was the air that she breathed.

“Your mom says you're here for the summer, to fix up your grandmother's house.” Chloe smiled again, but it didn't cover up her shaky voice.

“Yeah, we just got here. How did you know I was back…and here at Grams's?”

“Oh, guess a little birdie told me.”

Vultures, more like it. Either the rumor mill in Shawano was in fine form or my mom had something to do with Chloe's visit. Either way wasn't good for me.

It was ironic that Chloe had talked about a little birdie telling her I was back. White Bird had told me once that she reminded him of the little bird with the busted wing. She thrashed around, all wounded, not realizing what she was doing to herself. Guess he felt sorry for her, too.

That image of her was perfect. Because we'd been friends, I felt sorry for the person she could have been if she had the guts to find her own way.

“Well, I'll leave you two alone to talk.” Mom grinned and gave an awkward hug to the Hobbit Princess. “It was good to see you again, Chloe.”

“Yes, ma'am. Thanks for letting me wait for Brenna.”

Once it was just the two of us, the normal thing to do would have been to sit, but I didn't do that. Being alone with Chloe didn't feel natural to me anymore. And I could tell she felt the same. In another lifetime, we'd been friends, but after she'd fallen so easily under Heather's spell, I'd lost my respect for her.

And she hadn't changed much. Chloe chewed her nails, even though she hid it with black nail polish. And she had a nervous edginess that had made me want to protect her, until Heather came into her life and sucked the personality out of her. Chloe became a devoted follower to her much more intimidating BFF. And since every diva had the blind obedience of her faithful inner circle, that made me wonder about the real purpose of Chloe's visit.

Either the Queen of Hearts had sent an emissary through the rabbit hole to entice me to Wonderland or someone else
was pulling the strings of the pixie drone with Heather gone. Jade Deluca was a likely candidate since she had been number two in line for Heather's throne. At least, that's what her Facebook page had declared.

“Why are you here, Chloe? It's just the two of us. Talk to me.” I crossed my arms and waited for what she'd say. “Who sent you?”

Chloe slumped into the chair behind her and looked at me with her baby blues.

“I heard you were in town.” She shrugged. “And I wanted to see for myself, that's all.” Okay, that
so
wasn't the truth. The girl had more on her mind and I wouldn't let her off the hook. I decided to make her squirm, with silence being my weapon of choice. And apparently, honesty was now a real showstopper in Chloe's world.

She clammed up and wrung her hands like I'd asked her to scoop cat shit with her bare fingers. I was afraid she'd break one of the “little bird” bones in her hands. I knew it wasn't nice to think so little of someone as fragile as Chloe, but the girl had inflicted the damage on herself. She didn't have the strength to stand on her own two feet and “safety in numbers” determined her self-worth.

Like I said, I felt sorry for all of them. And my cynicism showed.

But the biggest difference between someone from Heather's crowd and me was that I never shared my opinions. Heather and her peeps thrived on passing rumors as if hurting people somehow inflated their status. And if they didn't have anything real, they made shit up. That was why I kept my damned opinions to myself. I carried on whole conversations in my head, like I was doing now, but my thoughts rarely saw the
light of day. They were strictly for my own amusement, like my “screw you” toes.

And who the hell would I talk to anyway?

“Actually, I'm having a party at my house tonight, the first one this summer. I was hoping you'd come.” She looked at me, trying to appear casual. When I cocked my head and glared, she added, “You'll know some of the kids. I swear. It'll be…nice.”

Nice?
I'd rather have a pinecone shoved up my nose.

“Look, Chloe—”

She didn't let me finish.

“I think this whole town is wrong about you. And maybe if they see you now, things will blow over.”

I hadn't expected her to say that and she looked as if she meant it. I wanted Chloe to be right, but I didn't need anyone to like me.

Or accept me.

Or tolerate me.

I shook my head and without hesitation, I said, “I've gotta help Mom. Sorry. We just got to town, like I said, and—”

“Brenna, I think you should go, honey.” Mom had been eavesdropping and hadn't seen the harm in stabbing me in the back. “It'll be good for you to reconnect with old friends. In fact, I insist that you go. You'll thank me later.”

I sure thought about showing her my appreciation now. A well-placed two-by-four to the head would do the trick.

“But, Mom, you had me buy like a hundred things of SaniWipes. I thought you'd need me. Those things dry out if you don't use them in like…three hours or something. I think I read that in the fine print while I was in line at the checkout.”

I couldn't believe I was arguing in favor of doing chores,
but seeing the look in my mom's eyes, I knew she'd give me no choice. I hated it when she thought she knew best about every aspect of my life, including my taste in friends. So much for democracy and free will.

And apparently my mom didn't think twice about spying on me. No civil liberties violation there. She didn't give a flip about me deciding what I wanted to do with my time. Mom had decreed that Chloe's invitation was a good thing and that would be that. Any argument against the idea was based on me not respecting Chloe and the people she hung out with, but I knew debating the point with my mother wouldn't be worth it.

She wouldn't take me seriously. And forget about her take on my judgment. Mom always saw me as strange for not having hordes of friends, like a good head count on a Facebook page of two thousand virtual strangers would solve all my problems. She had no idea that Chloe Seaver was only a Trojan horse for the rest of dead-Heather's posse. Any problems I had, coming back to Shawano, had only just begun.

And Mom would drive me to the slaughter.
Good times….

Hours Later

Mom had pulled into the Seavers' driveway and let the engine idle as I sat there staring at Chloe's house. Cars were parked down the street on both sides and I heard music thumping through my closed car window. A strobe light made everyone look as if they were moving in super slow-mo under eerie-colored lights. And kids were still arriving. A party with one of the “it” girls was the place to be seen.

All the hype made me want to puke. I had no business being here. All I wanted to do was shrink into the darkness of the cemetery with the stone angels, but that wasn't going
to happen. Mom would get her way again. And I knew less than nothing.

“That place is packed. She won't miss me if I don't show.”

I expected Mom to argue, but instead she surprised me by grabbing my hand.

“I want you to be happy, Bren. You're a great kid and you should have friends. Maybe Chloe can help you with that. I just wish—”

She didn't finish. A part of me didn't care what she wished for me, but I had to admit that a small fragment wanted her to blurt it out and mean it. I squeezed her hand and looked her in the eye. It was strange how our roles got reversed sometimes, like she needed the reassurance more than I did.

“I wish I could be happy, too, but there are things I've got to deal with first…on my own.”

Mom picked a fine time to have a heart-to-heart; parked outside the party she had coerced me to attend for my own good. Treating me like a child, she had trumped my objections with her parent card and made the decision without any input from me. And now she expected me to open up?

Well, it doesn't work that way, Mom.

Sitting in that car with her, I couldn't help but think about the morning my world crashed down on my head—when I knew my mother couldn't protect me. At fourteen, I didn't think much about my future. I blindly accepted stuff and I assumed my mother was in control and that nothing bad would happen.

I was wrong.
Dead wrong.

My mother had been as helpless as I was when Sheriff Logan questioned me for hours. And that scared the hell out of me. She told me later that she thought I'd be in and out, and that
she believed he'd only ask me about finding the body. That's why she gave him permission to do what he did to me, but Sheriff Logan had lied to her and she bought it. She'd waived my rights to have anyone present during my interrogation. Not a lawyer—not even her. When he got me alone, he accused me of being a part of Heather's murder and I freaked, but I had no one to help me. And my mom had let it happen. A kid didn't forget stuff like that.

I never forgave her. I'm not sure I ever will.

So her reaching out to me now felt fake and way too easy. Sometimes her being nice made me feel like shit, but not bad enough to trust her again. And forcing me across the country—to face the aftermath of the worst days of my life—wasn't the way to earn my trust back. As far as I was concerned, I only had me. And I'd gotten used to that.

“Being a mom, it's hard to know when to let go, but I feel like you left me a long time ago. I see you drifting away and I'm scared for you, Bren.”

“I know you are, Mom.” I nodded. In truth I was scared, too, but admitting that would only make her feel worse. I leaned over and kissed her cheek instead. And when I pulled back, her eyes were watering. “I'll call you to pick me up…probably by the time you get back home.”

She'd given me a curfew, but I knew I wouldn't need it. I'd make an appearance at Chloe's, long enough to satisfy Mom, before I'd split. I got out of the car and slammed the door, not looking back. I knew Mom was watching me, but I pretended not to notice.

Why is it that the people who are supposed to love us most can hurt us so bad? I had a terrible feeling about coming here. It didn't feel right. And I really wanted my mother to see that. I wanted her to realize she'd been wrong and to stop me
before I went inside. I wanted her to foresee the future and warn me.

But that didn't happen.

I took a deep breath and headed for the front door. I didn't need a psychic and a crystal ball to know I would hate this.

 

“Brenna Nash just walked in.” Derek Bast sneered and took a gulp of beer as he slumped against a wall in the game room. “What do you want me to do?”

“Get her a drink. A strong one.” Jade DeLuca didn't hesitate. She knew what she wanted. “And keep 'em coming.” When he turned his back on her, she called out to him, “I want her messed up.”

“Wait a minute. What are you doing?” Chloe questioned. “I don't want any trouble at my house.”

With Chloe's parents gone for the weekend, Jade had twisted the girl's arm to throw a party, the first bash of the summer. Even though Chloe cringed at having to clean up before her parents got back, she didn't say no. She wouldn't dare.

But having Brenna at the party was an unexpected bonus Jade couldn't resist. That's why she had insisted Chloe invite her. Brenna Nash wouldn't have accepted the invitation from anyone else. And Chloe was the only one who could have pulled the invite off with a straight face.

“There won't be any trouble. Not really. And even if there was, we've got Derek. His uncle is the sheriff. You don't get any more bulletproof than that. Relax and have another drink on my dear old dad.”

Jade had used her dad's credit card to pay for the booze and munchies. And Derek's fake ID did the rest. The old man would never notice the charge. She'd done it before. And even if he did find out, she knew he wouldn't make a big deal about
it. He was a divorced dad trying to be a “friend” to his only daughter. Being a parent was something he had gotten good at faking.

“I gotta see her. Where is she?” Jade craned her neck to peer over the crowd to catch a glimpse of Brenna Nash. “Oh. My. God.” She dropped her jaw and exchanged looks with Chloe. “What has she got on? I swear I've seen homeless people look better than she does. I hope she took a bath, at least. If she reeks, I'm gonna tell her, to her face and in front of everyone.”

Brenna had on a red gingham sundress with a tattered jean jacket over it. Strands of long blond hair covered her face and hung down from a straw hat where she'd stuffed the rest of her hair. A ratty black scarf was tied around her neck and hung below her knees. And she wore bizarre white leggings, torn in several places, with clunky unlaced boots.

In Europe, she might have pulled the look off, but this was America, damn it. The girl had no appreciation for designer labels.

Chloe batted her blue eyes and didn't give an opinion on Brenna's party clothes. And that pissed Jade off. The idiot had her eyes on Lucas Quinn, who sat across the room with an acoustic guitar in his lap. The boy was in his own world, ignoring the music Chloe had playing. Lady Gaga and Buckcherry were bands too commercial for Lucas. He had his own gig going.

“You should do the guy and get it over with already.” Jade rolled her eyes at Chloe.