The Lies That Bind (17 page)

Bradley pried my fingers off his neck, one by one. He wasn’t even breathing heavily. Apparently, the nickname Kate “the Strangler” Lowry wasn’t in my future.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” The note of genuine concern in his voice only stoked the anger burning in my gut.

“Just tell me where she is. I know everything. There’s no point in lying.” I was practically begging. So much for maintaining control of the situation.

“Are you off your meds or something?” Bradley leaned in close to examine my pupils, and his warm breath lapped at my cheek. He grabbed my hand. “You should sit down. You don’t look so good.”

When his words finally sank in, I jerked my arm away from his. Unbelievable. Who did he think he was fooling?

“I’m fine.” I wanted to take a few steps back. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs and let out all the frustration, let it echo through the empty hallways. But I couldn’t let him see that I was rattled. I had to hold my ground. “I just want answers.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

I shook my head. “I know you guys have her. Just tell me where she is.”

“You really think I
kidnapped
Bethany?”

“I saw the texts you were sending her. I found her phone.” I sort of wished I’d brought it with me now, but I couldn’t risk Bradley taking the only evidence I’d been able to find so far. Been there, done that. I’d locked the bedazzled phone in the small safe under my bed at home. No one knew the code to that safe except me and Grace, and even if she was still haunting the halls of Pemberly Brown, I was pretty sure she wouldn’t be helping out the Brotherhood anytime soon.

Bradley shook his head and swore under his breath. “I know you have absolutely no reason to trust me, but someone is setting me up.”

I snorted. I couldn’t help it. How stupid did he think I was?

“Bradley?” A deep voice called out from down the hall and we both jumped a little.

Bradley narrowed his eyes as he peered down the hall. “Oh, um…hey, Dad.”

Mr. Farrow walked toward us with a tight smile on his face. He was handsome in the most intimidating way possible, all ebony skin and taut cheekbones. It should have been reassuring to have an adult present, but the knot that formed in my stomach when Mr. Farrow towered over me was anything but.

“Did you get what you needed?” Mr. Farrow shot his son a meaningful look.

“Uh, yeah. I got it.” Bradley’s cool confidence completely disappeared in front of his father. Not that I blamed him. I think if I’d had a full bladder I probably would have peed myself.

Mr. Farrow turned his sharp eyes on me.

“Hello, Kate. What’s keeping you here so late?” I was pretty sure Mr. Farrow’s question could be loosely translated as: “What the hell are you doing snooping around in my son’s business?” and I didn’t exactly have an answer on the tip of my tongue. Thankfully, Bradley beat me to the punch.

“Kate just forgot one of her books. She didn’t see…I mean, I just ran into her on my way out to my car.”

Mr. Farrow did not look convinced. Not even close.

“Are you sure there isn’t something you want to tell me, Bradley?”

I opened my mouth to speak. The hell with this. Mr. Farrow should know what his son and his friends have been up to. It was time to lay all my cards out on the table. Now or never. “The truth is…”

“We’re dating,” Bradley interrupted.

“Huh?” I looked over at Bradley. “Are you on…”

“It’s okay, Kate,” Bradley interrupted, gently placing his fingers over my mouth. “I was going to tell him anyway. I don’t want you to get
hurt
.” Bradley had a strange look in his eyes, and his emphasis on the word “hurt” convinced me that it might be in my best interest to nod along with his scheme, as opposed to biting his fingers, which would have been my next move.

I ducked away from Bradley’s fingers. “Well, I’ve always liked Bradley. I’m not sure if he told you that.” I fluttered my eyelashes in Bradley’s direction and swallowed the bile in my throat. “It’s embarrassing but true!”

Mr. Farrow stiffened. And Bradley started talking fast to cover up my social ineptitude.

“Right. It’s just one of those things. You know…love at first sight. Or maybe first barf.” Bradley gave me an awkward half hug and smiled winningly, but the look faded as soon as he met his dad’s eyes. Anger flashed across Mr. Farrow’s face, and I was reminded at once of his power.

“You’ll forgive me for being a little shocked. Bradley seems to think most everything is a joke. He forgets how quickly things can become serious.”

“Actually, I’m reminded every day,” Bradley mumbled under his breath.

Somehow I got the feeling we weren’t talking relationships anymore.

“Sometimes when you’ve had everything handed to you on a silver platter, you need a reminder of what it means to actually have to work for something.” Mr. Farrow winked at Bradley, mocking his son. It reminded me of that song about fathers, sons, and (randomly) a cat in a cradle that always made my dad cry. Dr. Prozac would have a field day with this little display.

I shifted uncomfortably on my feet and stumbled into the locker behind me. Mr. Farrow jerked his head in my direction and gave me a long, hard look starting at the tips of my beat-up riding boots and going all the way up to my blue hair. “Kate, you’ll be happy to know that we’ve teamed up with the Lees to contribute to the new wing in Grace’s name. I know you’ve been doing everything in your power to keep her memory alive.”

My stomach clenched when he said her name, his words sounding more like a challenge than idle small talk. Sweat ran down into the small of my back. The mere mention of Grace and a subtle hint at my failed investigation were enough to put a crack in my performance as Kate Lowry, perfect girlfriend.

“Grace was my best friend. I can’t let anyone forget her. I’m sure you understand.”

Mr. Farrow smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course, it’s easy to rewrite history when we lose a loved one, isn’t it? Sometimes we only remember the things we want to remember.”

The truth of his words felt like a knife in my heart. That was the story of my life, wasn’t it? Everyone remembering the stuff that they wanted to remember, ignoring the facts, fudging the truth.

Bradley slung his arm around my shoulders and gave me a quick squeeze. I shrugged his arm off in disgust before I remembered we were supposed to be dating. Or something.

“Well, the good news is that I remember everything. All of it.” I grabbed my bag from the floor and swung it over my shoulders. “It was kind of my job to know her secrets.”

Mr. Farrow cleared his throat and looked a little shocked. The expression that flickered over his handsome face somehow made him look even more like Bradley.

“You’ve chosen well for once, Bradley. At least this one seems loyal.”

Our strained conversation officially fell into awkward territory as Bradley and I stared at our feet, the hallway completely silent except for the low hiss of the heat kicking on.

I leaned my head against the locker next to me, and that’s when I heard the voice.

“She’s as good as dead. It’s all over for the Sisterhood.”

I froze, Mr. Farrow stiffened, and Bradley jerked to attention. Guess Bradley and I weren’t the only ones who decided to stay late tonight. There was someone else in the passageway, and they were talking about Bethany. They had her in there. I was sure of it. If only I could figure out how to get to her.

“Well, this place still has the strangest echoes, doesn’t it, Kate?” Mr. Farrow wrapped his strong fingers around my elbow and started to drag me toward the main doors of the school.

I nodded mutely. Unable to think of anything except the words I’d heard behind the lockers.

“Some people even say it’s haunted. What do you think, Kate? Do you think the school is haunted?”

“Maybe.” I finally found my voice. “But something tells me there are scarier things than ghosts at this school.”

Mr. Farrow laughed and Bradley joined in, but his voice was an octave higher than it normally was.

“Ah, well, you might be right, Kate.” Mr. Farrow patted me fondly on the back. “After all, ghosts can’t tell secrets.”

To: [email protected]

Sent: Fri 1/16 7:11 PM

From: [email protected]

Subject: (no subject)

Grace,

I’m so sorry. I feel like I’m letting you down all over again. Our slam book showed up in History. It was like opening a time machine. All I could talk about then was Bradley freaking Farrow. Yeah, the same guy who distracted me from saving your life and kidnapped Bethany. What a charmer. And now I’ve somehow managed to become his beard or whatever it is they call fake girlfriends for guys who have an unhealthy amount of fear for their fathers.

Bradley is like this walking, talking reminder of the Kate I used to be. The girl who followed boys around school and doodled their names in her notebooks. And I hate that girl. Or maybe I just want to hate her because I can’t. Not totally. I mean, that was the girl who was your best friend. She couldn’t have been all bad, right?

As a result of my unfortunate encounter with the Farrows, I was in no position to be spending my evening anywhere but in my room, where I could work through everything that had gone down. I had a hate hangover. I couldn’t stop thinking about Bradley texting Bethany those horrible things and then turning around and trying to save me (or himself) from his father. And then there were the notes from Grace and her belongings slowly finding their way back into my life. Something just wasn’t adding up.

Maybe that’s why I kept screening Liam’s calls. I’m not sure why I didn’t feel like talking. It’s not like Liam did anything. Things had been almost normal between us the other night, but I just couldn’t bring myself to answer.

Instead, I lingered over the email I’d just written to Grace, deleting and retyping lines, watching the cursor eat letter after letter and then resurrecting each word, one by one. It was therapeutic somehow, filling the space and then emptying it, addicting. I considered who I’d be in ten years if the strange obsession continued, possibly featured on some messed-up documentary with girls who ate their own hair or guys who collected toenail clippings. Kate: the girl who typed and deleted the same one hundred words around the clock. Just another head case.

So it was no wonder I didn’t feel his presence until too late. By the time I turned around, he was hunched over a few inches behind me, his eyes narrowed, taking in every letter I’d typed to Grace. Every private Bradley-doused letter.

“Oh my God, you scared me!” I threw my hand over my heart to demonstrate, but the action was wasted as Liam continued to stare at my computer, his face all scrunched up. I quickly minimized the email. If I didn’t look guilty before, that action pretty much sealed the deal.

Liam stood straighter then, his lips pinched together in a line. I wished he would talk, because the longer the silence lingered, the more time I had to think about my course of action—and at a time like this, thinking was the enemy. I determined the need to take one of two possible avenues: get pissed at Liam for snooping in my private business or play dumb.

“Are you hungry? I’m starving. We have no food in the house. Let’s go out!” If that wasn’t dumb, I’m not sure what is. The smile I’d managed to swipe across my face threatened to consume the rest of my features in one gigantic bite.

“When were you planning on telling me that you are now dating Bradley Farrow?”

I briefly considered playing super-dumb and suggesting a restaurant, but the hurt in Liam’s eyes stopped me in my tracks. “It’s not what you think.”

“Which part? That you used to be obsessed with him or that you’re talking to him again?” Liam flinched as though the words burned coming out. If only he knew how much they hurt on my end too. The worst part was that in these types of situations, no amount of explaining could ever fix things. Everything was out there, displayed on some billboard situated right where the only person I’d ever want to hide it from was standing. I was screwed.

I opened my mouth to say something, even though I wasn’t quite sure what it was going to be yet, and the Amicus private-message tone sounded on my computer. I squeezed my eyes shut as Liam looked beyond me, intercepting the message before I could do a thing about it. I spun around and opened one eye, praying, “Please be from Seth, please be from Seth, please be from Seth,” and saw Bradley’s name in the message box. Naturally.

Meet me at the club in 30. We need to talk.

“I’m out of here.” Four words. It only took four words from Liam to break my heart. It was official. Bradley Farrow was destroying my life for the second time.

“Liam. Wait! I swear I can explain. I hate him! He’s awful and I hate him.” Tears welled in my eyes as I said the words to Liam’s back.

“I thought something was wrong. You weren’t answering your phone. But it makes sense now.”

“Liam, it’s not like that. I ran into Bradley at school and…”

“Oh, when you were supposed to be with Seth? Yeah, I saw him at the McDonald’s drive-through. Without you.”

“Just let me explain. I heard him talking…from a locker.” I said this as though it would explain everything, defend my email to Grace, and justify Bradley’s private message about the country club.

But Liam was already halfway out the door.

“Liam!” I jumped up, cursing my computer, the message, Bradley, Taylor, even Bethany. “Liam, wait!” I ran to the top of the stairs.

Liam opened the front door and then, without turning around, said, “I’m not going to watch you self-destruct. I just won’t do it. You want to hang out with assholes who kidnap girls in the name of some lame-ass secret society, go for it. But don’t expect me to be there for you when everything falls apart.” He turned around then and met my eyes, his own a steel gray. “Grace is dead, Kate. She’s gone. You’re not keeping her memory alive. You’re following in her footsteps.”

The door slammed and my mom’s voice trailed up the stairs. “Kate?”

She was the absolute last person I wanted to talk to right now. We didn’t exactly have the sort of mother-daughter relationship where she knocked quietly on my bedroom door wielding a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and offering a soft, understanding smile.

I stood at the top of the stairs, Liam’s words hanging in the air like black smoke, burning my lungs and stinging my eyes. Maybe it was clear that he cared about me, that he couldn’t handle the risk, but in that moment the only thing that made any sense was my anger. I might have even hated him a little bit for what he said about Grace, because hating him was so much easier than understanding him. He obviously felt the same way.

I wasn’t going to apologize for confronting Bradley on my own. As much as Liam and Seth loved our whole
Mod
Squad
routine, did they honestly think that Bradley Farrow would tell them anything? It was up to me to get him talking. And I definitely wasn’t going to apologize for working out my feelings through an email to Grace. It was practically prescribed by Dr. Prozac, and Liam had no right to take that away from me. Even if he didn’t like what I had to say.

When my phone vibrated on my duvet, I cursed myself for hoping to see Liam’s name on the screen. He didn’t deserve that hope right now.

But instead of Liam it was a text from a number I didn’t recognize.

R u coming or what?

My powers of deductive reasoning led me to one name.

Bradley.

At this point, all the valued relationships in my life were total crap, so I might as well make it worth it. I wondered if blue hair was against the club’s dress code. Probably.

On my way.

The moment I sent the text, I regretted it. Then again, it’s not like I had anything to lose.