Second Nature (3 page)

“You know what they say
about assuming things.”

Her brow knit. “No,
what?”

“Nothing.” I rolled my
eyes. “I’m just not taking chances. I want to solve this so we can move on. I
don't want to always feel like I need to look over my shoulder or check behind
the shower curtain, you know? Like what if the killer is watching us and
waiting for that perfect moment, like he did with Rachel? What if there are
traps being set, and we can’t see them until it’s too late? He did say that
there was a pattern to the deaths. We need to find the link between Rach and
Mr. Henning.” Plus, I wanted Ashton back at school.

“What do you mean?”
Sierra’s cheeks flushed again as she shook her head. “I hadn’t really thought
about it like that.” The way her bright-blue eyes widened made me feel bad. I
was scaring her more than any of the events we had lived through.

That didn't even make
sense to me. The events of the summer had shown me the capability of the
killer. I saw it as a bar: the level at which he would go to exact his revenge
for whatever Rachel had done. I was prepared for that level to be maintained or
exceeded for the rest of us.

Sierra wasn't like that.
Seeing and living through everything hadn’t scared her as badly as I had with
the what-ifs. Obviously, she had never experienced being unsafe in her own
mind.

She was the girl who used
her imagination for fun things, whereas I worried. It was why Lindsey and I got
on so well. We both worried. Of course Lindsey also went off the deep end with
her worrying. Her imagination was better than mine and her self-control was
fairly weak.

“You really think we
should be looking over our shoulders, even if nothing has happened in a month?”
She had lost the confident tone and was glancing about the busy hallway.

“Yes and no. Be cautious
but leave the worrying up to me.” I sighed and pulled her to where our five
lockers had always been. There wasn't any point in stressing her out. She
wasn’t going to help solve the mess so why make her worry about it?

“I will. We both know
you’re going to worry even if I do too, so why let this bother both of us?” She
shrugged and laughed it off, but the look was still in her eyes.

When we rounded the corner
we both came to a dead stop. Sage was standing next to our lockers with
Rachel’s open. It felt wrong, dirty even, to open someone else’s locker.
Something only Lindsey would do, what with her enjoying snooping so much.

But I realized it wasn't
Sage with it open, it was Rita. She was looking in—in at the giant mirror
Rachel had installed in the back. Rita combed her fingers through her silky
dark hair as she admired herself. Sage looked forlorn or lost as she twirled a
thick chunk of her blonde hair. Her lips moved like she was blathering on about
something Rita was oblivious to.

I stepped back, still
gripping Sierra’s thin arm. “What the hell?”

“Guess they gave her
locker away. Already,” Sierra’s voice dropped off again, losing the laugh she
had had a moment ago. She tightened and walked forward, dragging me with her.
“Hey, girls.” She sounded fine, but I knew she wasn't. “They’re so hard up for
lockers they’re giving away this one already?”

Rita’s gray eyes widened,
but Sage’s back straightened. “It was my idea. I figured we should all be
together.” Her bright-blue eyes darted around the busy hallway. She glanced
about nervously the same way I did. “In case, ya know?”

I did, but Sierra wasn't
buying it. “No. I don't. Did you
guys
junk out
Rachel’s shit?”

Rita narrowed her gaze,
stepping in front of Sage and facing off against Sierra. “Actually, the locker
was empty. The police had already taken everything.”

I gulped but Sierra
pulled us forward, looking in. Even the mirror was different.

“That’s Rachel’s mirror.
They didn't want to take that?” Sierra snapped.

“No, it’s not. Rach had
an oval mirror with a kiss mark on the top right.” I pointed.

Sierra stared into the
rectangular-shaped mirror. Her eyes narrowed but she didn't give up. Her
stubborn redhead traits were too strong to relent.

“I can change lockers,
Sierra,” Rita sighed and gave in, losing that New Yorker ‘tude she normally
sported.

“No.” Sierra breathed two
breaths before she nodded. “She would want us all together. If she were here,
she would have forced someone to move so you could be next to us.”

Sage sighed in relief
with me. Her eyes darted to mine. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” I lied. I didn't
know Rita yet so telling her how miserable my life was didn't seem like the
right choice.

“Oh, me too.” Sage smiled
wide. “Tom’s been a real dick since Ash left, but he’s going on a business trip
this week, thank God. I can’t look at my mom without wanting to choke her out.
Sierra’s parents came over last night, and it was
all normal
.
Her dad and Tom had a drink. Our moms hung out.” Her eyes flickered at Sierra.
“Emily is bummed out, super worried about Ash. Tom is extra mean, with Ash not
there to be the buffer. My mom is disappointed in me for losing my boyfriend.
Best summer ever.” The way her voice cracked at the end as her bright-blue eyes
filled with tears made my heart break.

“I hear ya.” I didn't
need to add more.

“Me too.” Rita nodded.

“Me three.” Sierra’s
voice finally sounded the way I thought it should. “Best summer ever.”

The four of us stood
paused as the sea of kids, high off of the new school year vibe, frothed around
us.

I suspected the only
vibing we would be doing would involve running and screaming. I just hoped I
wasn’t alone in this fear.

Pumpkin spice girl

As we strolled out of our
last classroom orientation, I checked my phone to see the selfie Mazy had sent
me of herself and Emily at their friend Rosie’s house. I tapped Sage on the arm
and showed her the picture.

“Oh good. I was going to
ask if Em could come to your house. Tom has to pack for the trip, and he
becomes even more fun when he’s annoyed and everything is lost or missing.
Somehow his shit not being where he last saw it is my fault.”

“Is it wrong that I don't
even know him, and yet I want to smash him in the face with a wine bottle?”
Rita asked with absolutely no humor in her tone.

“No. Everyone hates him.”
Sierra shook her head, evidently missing the necessary humor one needs when
discussing smashing bottles into faces. “There’s a reason Sage’s mom and my dad
are butt buddies.”

“I feel like we don't
need butt buddies as a descriptive on this.” I wrinkled my nose.

“If I could get away with
one thing on this planet, Tom would be my choice.” Lindsey scoffed. Sage smiled
weakly, not adding anything. I hoped it was because of the butt buddy comment
and not because of Vincent.

“Mine too,” Sierra added.
“But I want our parents to be free to be together. I think they’d be happy
together. I know my mom’s happy with my uncle. She hardly even comes home now.”

Sage’s smile faded. She
obviously didn't feel the same way. Or the whole thing still made her
uncomfortable. Sierra had known about the affair a lot longer. She’d been able
to digest it, whereas Sage was still fresh in her hurt.

“Wanna go get a coffee?”
Lindsey asked as she sent a text, likely to Vincent. He was avoiding our circle
at Lindsey’s request, which meant all the guys were with him and not us. It was
weird.

But Lindsey didn't want
to rub it in Sage’s face that they were dating. She didn't even let us call
Vincent her boyfriend or say dating. He was just Vincent and they were hanging
out.

Sage wrinkled her nose,
but Rita saved her the awkward lie of avoiding Vince and Lindsey. “Me and Sage
can’t. We have to meet our moms.” She glanced at her phone. “In eleven
minutes.”

“I have shit to do too
and coffee this late makes me tired, super counterproductive,” Sierra muttered
as her eyes darted down the hall, following one of the seniors
;
Jenson. He glanced back as he rounded a corner. Mischief
was dripping from his sly grin. She lifted a hand. “Text later, bitches.”

Sage followed Sierra’s
sashaying backside with her gaze. “I hate how she has sex at school. It’s
uncivilized.”

“And it could be on any
one of our desks,” I added, not impressed either.

Sage’s nose wrinkled.
“Gross.” It was quickly swept away by the pleasant smile she always wore in
public. “See you girls later.” She leaned in for a kiss and a hug.

Rita smiled wide. “Don't
forget that I’m having people over tonight—it’s a welcome-back-to-school
party combined with welcoming me to town.” She blew a kiss and backed up. “My
place tonight at 8:00.”

“If you want to come
early, you can help set up.” Sage pointed. “But don't be late.” They linked
arms and strutted off, skirts swaying and boots clicking down the hallway.

“Why do I feel like
Rachel didn't die but somehow transformed herself into the body of a marginally
prettier girl?” Lindsey whispered.

“Because that totally
happened.”

“Yeah, it did. Rita and
Sage are way too much like Rachel and Sage.” Lindsey shook her head. “You want
coffee, right?”

“Always.” We turned and
walked out of the school, heading for our cars. “Is Vince meeting us?”

“No, he has something to
do for his dad.”

“What?”

“I don't know.” She lied in
her high-pitched “lying” voice and walked to her car. “Meet me at the Shack.”
She waved and climbed in before I could complain about the venue. She knew none
of us liked the little hipster crack Shack.

Immediately, my brain
pondered her lying about where Vincent was. She rarely lied to me.

The drive down the beach
in bright Crimson Cove was stunning, especially in the fall. The leaves were
just starting to turn, making the area more vibrant than it was normally. It
was my favorite season.

When I pulled up to the
Shack coffeehouse, I cringed at the hipsters sitting out front, taking selfies
with the ocean view and deep-red leaves. They were all wearing browns, tans,
and blues, blending in with each other like a form of elite camouflage.

The girls wore earthy
floral like it was my mom’s prom in the eighties again, and the guys had a
casual look to them, as if they were trying to be grungy even though everything
they wore cost a fortune.

The laid back “maybe I
camped on the beach” look was complimented by dark-colored beanies and
backpacks. The canvas backpacks were simple with leather straps and the odd
Canadian flag, hinting that each of them was well traveled.

It wasn't that I doubted
they were well traveled. I just doubted they backpacked alone.

They were likely all rich
kids. Not all of them were from my family’s level of wealth, but still very
upper middle class. Their trips were paid for by the same parents who bought
them their high-end cameras with which they took their #sociality
#authenticliving #adventure Instagram pictures.

The level of confused,
narcissistic, privileged youth was growing with every single waxed cotton
utility jacket sold by Burberry. Yes, the kids of my generation looked
comfortable and relaxed in their non-portentous outerwear, but each one of them
had used a family-paid credit card to purchase what was made to look secondhand
or even military issue.

They were plain, even
plaid, but it was
designer
.

#Authentic had become
something of an oxymoron for the morons I was being reared amongst.

If my family were upper
middle class my mother would have been the chairperson for #EastCoastliving and
#authenticity. Thankfully, I didn't have to try to blend in.

I was #elite and
#blueblood, and my mom always looked like she might be meeting #JackieO for
lunch.

Not that my life wasn't
just as phony. Behind the façade of perfection, my life was a mess. In every
corner there were arranged marriages and careers chosen to suit the family and
connections.

Even with all that, I was
glad to not be a hipster.

My best friend standing
outside the Shack could have blended easily. She was absolutely hipster
material.

She was like #NancyDrew
and #HarrietTheSpy, but looked like she was raised on the #WestCoast. In her
wildest dreams she was sporting a Polaroid camera and wearing canvas. She could
have easily fit in with grungy kids who had #coffeelove and
#originalideasbythemasses.

Lindsey would rock casual
comfort wear if she were allowed. Just the same as I would rock my pajamas and
glasses and never leave my room.

She was getting away with
it more and more since her dad and Louisa, the stepmonster, were quite close to
splitting up. Her dad was doting on everyone but his wife to make her feel like
an outcast, and Louisa was sucking up to Lindsey in hopes of getting her on her
side. She had gone from hardly being noticed to
smothered
.
The last month had been hard on her snooping. She hadn’t really had a moment
alone. But I wondered if she really minded or if she liked always having people
around, after being hunted by the killer in her own yard.

I stepped out of the car,
wrinkling my nose at the scent wafting from the little dive. I didn't mind
coffeehouses at all; I just didn't love this one. It was filled with people
trying a little too hard to be like Bob
Marley,
hence
it always smelled like weed.

It was exactly the sort
of place we shouldn't be. I hadn’t been forced here in awhile. Going back might
not be a bad idea though, what with it being the spot Lindsey had snapped her
photo of Skip, the illusive hipster Rachel had been seen making out with.

He was our best bet of
being the driver who took us to the party at Rachel’s, plus he was the valet at
the funeral.

He was one of the missing
pieces of the puzzle. For that I would suffer through the insufferable Shack.

But if my mom saw me here
I would have to go to all the events she demanded, while wearing whatever she
picked as punishment so she wouldn't tell my dad. I shuddered and remembered
the pain of the fat-sucking-in thing she made me wear last time I let her dress
me. It was something horrible called a Spanx, and it made me a double zero.
Mommy Dearest’s proudest day.
I went from a two to a double
zero. No wonder the girls my age were getting their calories from gum. A
flesh-colored girdle on a skinny girl was absolute insanity.

Lindsey smiled wide when
she saw my reaction to the cafe. “Not you too? I thought you didn't mind it
here.”

“I suspect what I mind
about it and what the others mind are very different.”

“You are such a snob.”
She laughed and led me inside. I wanted to argue that I was, in fact, the
opposite of a snob and much more of a realist and opposed to recreational drug
use. But I knew she would counter, saying I was judging these people for being
so
fake
and that made me a snob.

I sighed, realizing she
had a point, even if the argument was something I had conjured in my mind.

“The pumpkin spice latte
is out. It’s fall,” she spoke as if she were tempting me.

“And I am a white girl.”
I succumbed and walked to the counter where a girl with a nose ring and a lip
ring gave us a weird look—surprised maybe.

Her face took half a
second to register in my memory.

Emo Coffeehouse Whore.

The words Sage had
screamed echoed in my mind.

This was the girl in the
mist at Lindsey’s house the night Rachel had died. This was the girl who had
come over to hang out at midnight. It was weird she had shown up so late. We
were in the hot tub, soaking the leftover blood and DNA from our bodies. We
needed the chemicals to kill anything that was on us after we had found Rachel
and Sage in the woods. The memory actually hurt with physical pain as my eyes
lowered to my hands in a very Lady Macbeth fashion. I forced my gaze back up to
stop the memories from playing on repeat.

The feel of Rachel and
Sage as I shook them both, desperately screaming for them to wake up, was so
fresh the smells and sounds of the forest came with the memory.

“Hey, Linds.” The girl
smiled, looking awkward. As awkward as a girl as beautiful as her could. She
matched the coffeehouse with her grungy hipster clothes, but she was stunningly
beautiful. Her light skin was flawless, not weathered from hiking and skiing or
traveling the world. She had a dimple in her cheek when she smiled. Her
amazingly bright-blue eyes were mesmerizing. And her lush dark hair looked like
it was cared for by a top stylist in New York
. The
beachy waves were fabulous. She even had a streak of pale purple running
through, creating a contrast.

“Hey, Hailey. How’s it
going?” Lindsey sounded weird. Her voice was doing the high-pitched thing it
did when she lied.

Had Sage been right about
them? Were they a thing before she got together with Vincent?

“Great.” The girl’s blue
eyes darted about. “You guys want some coffees?”

It was impossible to hide
the discomfort so I nodded and looked down. “Two pumpkin spice lattes please.”
I couldn't imagine what else we would be here for.

“Soy for you still,
Lindsey?”

“Both of us please,” I
added, giving Lindsey a look.

She had some explaining
to do but instead, she gushed and leaned forward. “I love your hair.”

“Thanks. So this is my
last shift.” She started our coffees but chatted with Lindsey. “I go back to
school in the city tomorrow.”

“Oh bummer. School just
started here.” She said it so weirdly, like she was trying to fill the air.

“Right.” The barista
handed me my drink, but her eyes never left Lindsey’s. “I assumed it had
started earlier when you didn't come in.”

Lindsey’s cheeks flushed.
“I got super busy.”

“Cool. I was busy too.”
The girl looked miserable.

The tension was so thick
you could dollop it onto the lattes and no one would have known it wasn't foam.

The whole story started
making sense.

Sage was right.

That was why Coffee Shop
Girl showed up that night when we were all in the hot tub. That was also why
Lindsey was so upset after the girl left. She hadn’t wanted to hurt her
feelings and it looked like she’d bailed on plans. But she also had no a choice
at the time. We were all so shell shocked from the murder.

The whole scene made me
curious about Lindsey’s lesbian experimentations and how far they had gone. I’d
always assumed she wasn't gay. I didn't want to be too obvious as I leaned
against the counter and watched as they small talked themselves to near death.