This is WAR (22 page)

“Madge, how are the girls?” Carol repeated, her voice sharpening. “I miss seeing them now that …” Her stepmother trailed off. They did that a lot now. Let their voices fade to nothing.

“They’re dealing.” It was a lie. They both knew it. Besides, Madge wasn’t even sure what the truth really was, only that Lina and Sloane were operating with a broken compass. Willa had been their true North, and now that she was gone, neither had known where to go or whom to follow. Madge had no choice but to take action. She’d begun the War with the sole purpose of ruining the Gregorys’ lives the same way that they’d ruined hers, but the reality was that it gave the girls a purpose, a sense of direction. It also brought out their worst, which Willa had never done. Lina was even more prone to cruelty and Sloane had retreated even further into herself. Every once in a while, Madge still caught flashes of her old friends. The spark of pleasure in Lina’s eyes after they had orchestrated the hand off of the Gregorys’ watches. The quiet pride in Sloane’s voice when she’d come up with the watch idea in the first place. Brief moments that reminded Madge that though her best friends now seemed like strangers, the girls she remembered were in there somewhere.

And then, of course, there was Rose.

Madge didn’t know her at all before she’d barged into the attic on that first day. She’d seen her around with Willa, of course, but that never meant much to Madge. Willa was nice to everyone, plucked rejects like some girls gathered shoes off the sales rack at Nordstrom. All of them were eligible, even the ones that had spent far too long on the shelf. Madge always thought it was dangerous letting people in,
particularly Rose with her sneaky mother who was always pushing her daughter in front of the members at Club events. The social climber never fell far from the ladder.

But Rose wasn’t like that. She turned out to be a living, breathing reminder of why Willa’s philosophy sometimes paid off. To Rose, Willa’s friendship was nothing more than friendship, and the War was an opportunity to seek justice. Besides, in a way, Madge’s response to Carol was actually the truth depending on how you looked at it. Like so many other things in life, “dealing” existed on a spectrum. Her remaining friends were all still speaking to one another. And they’d live to fight another day. If that wasn’t dealing, she wasn’t sure what was.

“I’m going to take a shower.” Madge marched up to her room. After flinging her sweaty clothes across the floor, she turned the water on so cold that the spray felt like tiny needles across her bare skin. She refused to arch her back away from the stream or even let herself gasp beneath the freezing water. Each icy drop made her a little stronger, adding a little numbness to the sadness that always lingered around the edges. The pain cleared Madge’s head of the uncertainty that had crept in since the girls’ most recent failure.

A new plan formed. And with it, steely resolve.

She quickly dried herself off, dressed, and sent a text.

War meeting tonight at 9
P.M.
Same place.

She included their newest recruits, even though Kira and Nadia still made Madge uncomfortable. If she was being honest with herself, she’d ignored the staff the same way the Gregorys ignored them. She never knew their names or bothered to say “please” or “thank you.” She left that up to Willa.
But when Kira and Nadia had appeared, devastated with the story of their own sister, her whole world shifted a little on its axis. And now when she saw the girl behind the bar with her cheap vanilla lotion, she wondered what her parents were like. If she had dreams. A scholarship. A sister. But the discomfort of being around Kira and Nadia also sparked ideas of something bigger than what she’d begun plotting the moment her sister was pulled from the lake. Kira and Nadia represented what could be a revolution, something that could change Hawthorne Lake forever, long after the Gregorys were gone.

The first reply didn’t
come until 7:12
P.M.
Fewer than two hours before they were supposed to meet. Madge was in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Sorry, fam dinner before parents leave.

Lina.

Madge drew air into her lungs, holding it long enough to feel it burn. Her dad liked to remind her how she used to throw epic tantrums as a toddler, holding her breath until she turned blue. So much for evolution.

Sloane’s response came ten minutes later.

Mandatory hospital hang out. Rain check.

Madge ground her teeth and ran her finger over Willa’s initials engraved in her key.

And finally Rose’s.

Let’s do breakfast instead. Ivy room at the Club. Kira, Nadia wrking. Will catch up ltr.

No meeting. No attic. No maids. No War. Rose’s text smelled an awful lot like an intervention. Madge’s pulse quickened. She jumped up and shut the blackout blinds on her windows, bathing her room in blackness. Only in the dark would she call a truce; only when she could barely see her hand in front of her face would she quit the game. Instead of biting back tears, she’d finally let them slip down her cheeks.

Chapter 25

Madge must have fallen asleep because the next time she opened her eyes, the clock read 8:42
P.M.
Night leaked beneath the edges of her blinds. Her head felt achy, her room hot and cramped. She needed fresh air and a sip of water. But when she crept downstairs, she found the lights blazing in her father’s office.

“So everything is in order? The first installment processed?” He was whispering, hunched over his desk. She didn’t need to see her father’s face to know that his forehead was crinkled with worry. She could tell by the slump in his shoulders that he wasn’t as optimistic as he was trying to sound. “Well, great. That’s good news.” He raked a hand through his wiry grey hair. He was lying.

Money had never been an issue for the Ames-Rowan family. Private school, country clubs, exotic vacations, and cars that cost more than houses: that was pretty much the norm in their household. At least it had been until her father invested his entire inheritance in some doomed hedge fund.

“Yes, I believe the payments will be arriving on a semiannual basis in accordance with our agreement.” Her father swiveled around in his desk chair and saw Madge standing there hanging on his every word. His face went pale beneath his perma golf tan. He seemed to instantly age another ten years. “I’m sorry; I’ll have to call you back.” He placed the phone in the cradle.

Neither spoke.

“Just working out the details of a new deal.” He tried to smile, but the corners of his mouth stretched into a grimace instead. “I only wish … the timing.” His voice broke on the last word.

Madge just stared back at him. What could he possibly want her to say? That if he hadn’t lost all of their money then maybe his batshit crazy wife wouldn’t have tried to marry off his stepdaughter to a Gregory? Madge often wondered if her father was able to see the connection between their money problems, his wife, and the changes in Willa. But the new lines on his face told her everything she needed to know. Her father knew he had Willa’s blood on his hands.

He stood and stepped to her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Everything is better now. I promise.” His dry lips grazed her forehead. She wanted to scream and yell that nothing was ever going to be better. She wanted to tell her father that he’d ruined everything. But there was a tiny hole in the arm of his golf shirt and less hair on his head. There was no way that Madge could tell this stooped, broken man what he already knew.

“I’m gonna meet the girls at the Club.” It was another lie between them, but she had to get out of the house. She backed out of the office and made her way toward the garage.

“I can give you a ride. Just give me a minute,” her father called after her.

But Madge ignored him and jumped onto her bike, pedaling out the open garage door as fast as she could. Stars hung above her in the night sky, and she made up a wish for Willa. When the girls were little, Willa would squeeze her eyes shut, her lips moving, the sound trapped inside. Madge had a knack for guessing each of her sister’s wishes—a bright pink bike, a trampoline, horseback riding lessons. She’d taunt Willa with their closeness, Madge knew her like no one else, and Willa would pretend to get mad. In the end, though, they’d laugh until they cried. Tonight, Madge decided, Willa would wish for justice.

Droplets of water glittered on sprawling lawns beneath the moonlight giving the properties a sort of sparkle. Each of the houses looked so perfect from the sidewalk, amber light spilling from walls of windows. They looked like the kind of places where nothing bad could ever happen. But Madge had learned that houses, like people, did fine jobs of concealing the lies within them.

There would be no War meeting tonight, but still Madge found herself pedaling to Hawthorne Lake. She needed the comfort and privacy of the attic. It was the only place where she could think these days.

When she turned into the Club’s long and winding drive she thought again about when she and Willa had decided to ride their bikes to the Club for the first time. They had spent almost the entire summer trying to talk her dad and Carol into letting them go. Their parents were full of excuses.
“It’s too long. There aren’t streetlights. You’ll get tired and end up in a ditch on the side of the road.”
Until finally, on Labor Day weekend, Madge made the executive decision that
they should just do it. The girls waited until Carol was in the shower and Madge’s dad was dozing in front of some golf tournament on TV. They snuck into the garage and strapped on their pink bike helmets.

“Are you sure we should …” Madge saw fear in Willa’s blue eyes but she refused to let her finish. The less time they spent thinking about this the better.

“Race ya.” Madge stepped on the pedals of her baby blue Huffy and took off down the driveway.

She felt like she was flying.

Willa was in her shadow the whole way to the Club, and Madge spent most of her ride looking over her shoulder for her dad’s silver car. They were almost there. Home free. But just as they pulled their bikes onto the winding drive that led to the Club, Willa took the corner wrong and ended up sprawled across the concrete. Madge was off her bike and at her sister’s side in seconds. Willa sobbed. Her knees and elbows bled. Madge tried to help Willa to her feet, but she refused to budge.

“I’m not going anywhere. This was a terrible idea. Call your dad and have him pick me up.”

“But if we call, they’ll never let us ride together again. We have to do this. If we can ride to the Club we can go swimming whenever we want and play tennis and …”

But Willa already had her phone out, fat tears sliding down her cheeks. “I fell. Madge thought we should ride to the Club. I need you to come get me.”

Madge didn’t speak to her for days.

It was ridiculous in retrospect. A waste of valuable time with Willa. But seeing the Club sign and riding up the brick paved drive never failed to remind Madge of Willa lying on the ground. Crying. Weak. Unable to pick herself up. Madge always looked at the spot where Willa fell when she rode by,
even when Willa was alive. Until it rained, the bloodstains remained on the concrete, but they’d washed away long ago, and even if they hadn’t, it would be too dark to see them tonight. But as she came up on the turn, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

There in the bushes right next to the Club’s sign was Trip Gregory on top of some nondescript blonde.

Madge felt a fresh wave of rage roll through her body. Now she’d never be able to ride past the Club’s entrance and remember Willa and her stupid injury. Yet another memory of her sister stolen by a Gregory. She was barely conscious of tossing her bike aside and sneaking past the after-dinner guests, storming up the narrow stairwell to the attic. But she stopped short of the top step.

“I’m worried about her.” The high-pitched, soft-spoken voice belonged to Sloane.

Madge’s hand flew to the doorknob. What the hell did they think they were doing meeting without her?

“It almost seems like she’s in some kind of denial.”

Lina
. Madge’s hand dropped. Who was Lina to psychoanalyze her? Unfreakingbelievable. If anyone was in denial it was Lina, and it had absolutely nothing to do with what happened to Willa.

“Well, I’m just not sure we’re fighting the right people anymore.” Rose’s voice was louder and rang with a new authority. “I spoke to James and it turns out he doesn’t even remember what happened that night. I’m not sure he was even …”

Madge threw open the door before Rose could finish.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

The girls gaped at her, their faces stunned. She flashed an icy smile and closed the door calmly, as if she’d called the meeting herself. Which, for the record, she had.

“I’m so glad you guys were able to figure out a way to get here. I didn’t think you were going to make it.” Madge made a point of looking directly into each of their faces. None of them met her eyes. Not even Lina.

Rose shook her head, wringing her fingers together in knots. “It’s over,” she blurted.