Truth or Dare (17 page)

She pulled out her phone.
Staying out for a bit!
she texted her mom. Crossing the street, she went into Pat-a-Pancake and collapsed at her favorite table in the back. She loved the inside of Pat-a-Pancake. Everything was worn in and colorful and mismatched, blue-and-green-striped pillows smushed into black-and-white booths with chipped yellow plates and pink Formica napkin holders.

Halfway through her meal of pancake fries and ketchup—a dish her mom ardently claimed was revolting—Caitlin was actually starting to feel almost relaxed. It was kind of nice to know that Tenley would be at school tomorrow. She could be a lot to keep up with, but when it came down to it, Caitlin could always count on her.

She pulled her phone back out, opening up a text to Tenley.
Hope you’re surviving family hour! Maybe getting a little brotherly love?? xoxo

“Caitlin Thomas.” At the sound of her name, Caitlin looked up. Tim Holland was standing in front of her table, grinning down at her.
He was wearing dark blue board shorts that matched his eyes and a
LIVE TO SURF, SURF TO LIVE
T-shirt, his shaggy blond hair still damp from the water. “Eating all alone?” he asked.

“It was that or family time,” Caitlin replied.

Tim laughed. “Good choice, then. Want to come join us?” He nodded toward a table up front where Tray Macintyre and Sam Spencer had just sat down. The surfketeers, Emerson called the three of them. “I can guarantee we’re better company than parents. Though,” he added, shaking his head ruefully, “Sam does chew with his mouth open no matter how many times I tell him not to.”

“As tempting as that sounds”—Caitlin laughed—“I’m good, thanks.” She gestured at her half-eaten pile of pancake fries. “I’m almost done anyway.”

“Okay.” Tim smiled at her and Caitlin had to admit he
was
good-looking. If you liked that messy surfer type. “See you tomorrow then,” Tim said. “Oh, and don’t worry,” he added as he backed away toward his friends. “I told Tray and Sam you were planning to permanently cancel first period for surfers, so you’ve got their vote next week.” He held a finger to his lips. “Just don’t mention the words
first period
to them till after the election,” he added in a loud whisper.

Caitlin laughed. “I’ll keep it a secret.”

As she ate her way through the rest of her meal, snippets of their conversation drifted back to her. At one point Tray burst out laughing. “In your dreams, Holland,” he said. As Tim shushed him and Sam glanced back at her, she got the very distinct feeling that they were talking about her. That, she decided, was her cue. Tim waved to her as she headed out the door, and she waved back, wondering what, exactly, she’d be doing in his dreams.

It was crowded out on Echo Boulevard. Everyone was squeezing in
last-minute errands before summer officially ended tomorrow. Down the street, Caitlin caught sight of Delancey Crane walking into the Crooked Cat Diner with her mom. Next door at the Gadget Shack, a woman was hanging up a poster in the window. The same poster hung in the window of Echo Bay Books, and Caitlin walked over to take a look at it. It was for the Fall Festival.
FALL INTO FALL WITH ECHO BAY’S
FEST
IVITIES
, the poster read in bright orange letters.
WITH EVENTS SATURDAY TO MONDAY!

Caitlin felt a burst of excitement. The Fall Festival was an Echo Bay tradition older than she was. Until it was canceled, five years ago, the huge festival always took place at the beginning of the school year, in the hope of drawing tourists back after the summer season. The festival had everything a small fishing town could want: fish-themed food and music and carnival games and an outdoor bar that served a drink called a Fish-tini that Caitlin’s friends used to love trying—and failing—to get their hands on. There was even a fish-themed carousel, brought in just for the day, so kids could ride round and round on whales and sharks and oversized goldfish.

Caitlin smiled to herself as she started toward her car. It was fitting, really, that the Festival should start up again the year Tenley moved back. It had always been Tenley’s favorite weekend growing up. She used to drag Caitlin on that carousel again and again and again.

Caitlin had parked at the corner of Art Walk, and as she headed toward her car, she looked out at the winding, gallery-lined street. Seaborne, her mom’s gallery, was the first one on the street, and as Caitlin neared it, something caught her eye. An outline of a face, peering out through the window. Her breath caught in her throat. Was someone in there? But when she hurried closer, she saw nothing. It had just been a
reflection. Her breathing returned to normal. This whole dare thing was seriously messing with her head.

She’d just made it to her car when her phone buzzed with a text. She pulled it out, expecting an I-hate-Lanson rant from Tenley. But the text was from Hunter.

Don’t forget what we talked about.

The text made Caitlin shift uneasily. It sounded almost like a threat. She stared at her phone for a minute, unsure if she should respond.
I won’t
, she typed back finally. At the last minute she added a smiley face.

With a sigh, she climbed into her car. If only she hadn’t followed that dare in the first place. Needles of pain began to prick at her temples. As she pulled out onto the road, she switched the radio to her favorite hip-hop station. But instead of the pounding music she was expecting, a man’s voice crackled through the speakers.

“Breaking news,” the voice announced. “An overturned truck on Ocean Drive caused a ten-car pileup less than five minutes ago. So far no casualties have been reported, but two people are being transported to United Hospital to treat injuries. The truck driver blamed a cloud of lights floating over the ocean for drawing his eyes away from the road. Ocean Drive will be closed until further notice, and the fire department reminds you to keep your eyes on the road at all times.”

As the music switched back on—a rap song, loud and angry—Caitlin felt her fingers tighten around the wheel. Less than five minutes ago? Ocean Drive was the road she usually took home. If Hunter hadn’t texted her, if she hadn’t stood there trying to decide how to respond… She squeezed the wheel tighter, her knuckles turning white. She could have been the one driving behind that truck.

An ambulance whizzed by, its siren wailing. All of a sudden she could feel her throat constricting, her breathing growing shallow. The road dimmed before her eyes, growing soft and fuzzy, as if the whole world were blurring together. Quickly she pulled her car over.

She tried her breathing, counting to ten as she breathed in and out, in and out, the way Dr. Filstone had taught her. But her throat just tightened more, her heart pounding in her chest. She tried the alphabet, too, reciting it forward and backward.

But none of it worked. The world was darkening at the edges, the air in the car suddenly much too thin. She reached for her purse, digging frantically through it. She found the pill bottle at the bottom. When she dumped the small pink pill into her palm, a slip of paper fell out along with it, but she barely noticed. She tossed the pill back, swallowing it dry.

Leaning back in her seat, she closed her eyes and waited. Just knowing the pill would kick in soon made her feel a little better. She counted to ten over and over again, breathing in and out, in and out. Slowly, the pounding in her head began to ease. She kept breathing, in and out, in and out. The tightness in her throat loosened. Her pulse slowed. One by one, her muscles relaxed. Finally, even her breathing returned to normal. She knew the pills had to be a last resort, but god, they really did the trick.

It was only when she opened her eyes again that she remembered the slip of paper that had fallen out of the bottle. She picked it up from where it had tumbled to the floor, wondering how she could have missed an instruction sheet.

But it wasn’t an instruction sheet. It was a note, written in the same old-fashioned typewriter font as the one she’d received at the Club.

I used to hate truth or dare, but it sure is fun to screw with you. And speaking of screwing, did you enjoy your front-row view last night? I won’t tell if you won’t--just as long as you take my next dare. We wouldn’t want Hunter to think it was you who let the cat out of the bag….

Monday, 8:15
PM

WE’RE GOING TO CABIN CRAB?” TENLEY LOOKED
down at the black wrap dress and red heels she’d rushed home to put on. “What happened to Chez Celine?”

“Our reservation was for yesterday, honey,” her mom said from the front seat of the car. “Normally Lanson could pull strings, but they’re closed for a private party tonight. So Cabin Crab it is!” Her mom sounded cheerful, but Tenley knew her better than that. Any restaurant that allowed patrons to don bathing suits and flip-flops indoors was not her mom’s idea of fine dining. Or even mediocre dining. “Lanson just loves their crab cakes, don’t you, darling?” Tenley tried not to gag as her mom reached across the front seat to stroke Lanson’s thinning gray hair.

“Well, I like the dress, Tiny,” Guinness offered.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling back at him.

“Here we are,” her mom sang out a few minutes later, as they pulled up to Cabin Crab. She flounced out of the car, revealing a short white
halter dress and white heels. Tenley sighed as she watched her mom thread a tanned arm through one of Lanson’s pale, wrinkled ones.

Cabin Crab didn’t take reservations, but somehow the best table in the restaurant—the one tucked into the bay window looking out over the beach—opened up for them immediately. Apparently that’s what happened when you were
the
Lanson Reed of Reed Park and Reed Dock and Reed Gallery.

“Thank you,” her mom gushed as the owner of the restaurant himself sat them at the table. Across the room, a family of five was shooting them dirty looks as they scrunched around a table meant for four.

“Apparently Reed trumps size,” Tenley whispered to Guinness as they sat down, nodding toward the unhappy family.

Guinness slung his arm around her shoulder. “Get used to it, little sis. Around here, Reed trumps everything.”

Normally Tenley would have bristled at the term
little sis
, but his arm was still around her shoulders, making everything else seem unimportant. She was suddenly aware of just how thin the fabric of her dress was.

“Guess I should be glad I’m a Reed then,” she said, smiling up at him.

But as Guinness dropped his arm to reach for a menu, and Tenley watched her mom plant a kiss on Lanson’s papery cheek, it wasn’t exactly gladness she felt. It was more like… distance. She kept waiting for this new life to feel like
hers
. It should. It was the type of life she was meant to live: big, luxurious, envy inducing. But every time she drove up to her new mansion, she found herself thinking about her old house in Echo Bay, the one she was born in, with its yellow walls and the window seat her dad had built himself.

Maybe it was all this dare stuff. The Tenley of Echo Bay was supposed to be the one giving the dares—the one in control. But ever since
she got that first mysterious note, control was the last thing she felt. Which was why she had to do something about this darer, no matter what it took. Caitlin had seemed unconvinced that Sydney could be the one sending them those notes. But if not her, then who?

She looked over at Guinness, who was carefully perusing the menu. Once she took care of the whole note situation, she was sure everything would finally fall into place, even him.

“I think we should order the family-style meal,” Guinness decided.

“A little bit of everything for the whole family to share,” Lanson read off the menu. He looked across the table, fixing his watery eyes on Tenley and Guinness. “That means you two kids will have to share,” he said, talking to them as if they were still in diapers. “You think you can do that?”

Guinness smiled slyly at Tenley. “Tenley and I are very good at sharing,” he said.

She smiled back, letting her leg slide closer to his under the table. Her pulse raced as her ankle grazed his. “We are,” she agreed.

The waitress came over to the table, a white-haired woman whose name tag said Sally. “What can I getcha?” she asked testily, pulling out her order pad. She for one clearly didn’t know, or care, who Lanson Reed was.

“We’ll have the family meal, Sally,” Lanson said. He gave her a wide, bright smile, and for a second Tenley could almost see the charming man he must have once been. Forty years ago.

“So, Tenley,” Lanson said when Sally left to put their order in. “Are you trying out for Winslow’s cheerleading team this year? You used to be a big-time cheerleader, right?”

“Gymnast,” Tenley corrected. She tried not to sound too annoyed, but she was pretty sure this was the tenth time Lanson had asked her
about cheerleading. Either his memory was shot or he really didn’t care. “But I’m retired,” she said.

“Ten Ten is focusing on the elite Susan K. Miller Scholarship Pageant now,” her mom jumped in. She fiddled with the huge diamond pendant Lanson had given her on their wedding day. “We already won the Miss Teen Nevada pageant last year, and so I’m sure we have this one in the bag, don’t we, Ten Ten?” she continued, making eyes at Lanson even as she talked to Tenley.

“We?” Tenley asked dryly. As far as she could remember, she was the one who’d practiced her butt off to win Miss Teen Nevada.

“And,” her mom went on, acting as if she hadn’t heard Tenley, “once we win this one, we’re going to go out for Miss Teen USA next!”

“Well, I for one can see
Ten Ten
as a cheerleader,” Guinness piped in. He looked in Tenley’s direction. “You definitely seem like a pep-rally kind of girl to me. I bet you don’t miss a single one of Winslow’s little football games this year.”

Tenley narrowed her eyes at him. “I have more important things to do than go to pep rallies,” she scoffed.

“Whatever you say, Ten Ten,” Guinness replied. She looked away, not wanting him to see the blush creeping onto her face. Every time she thought she was getting somewhere with him, he had to switch into teasing-brother mode.