Vengeance (8 page)

The front door creaked open. “Decker? Hello?”

She must be kidding.

“Seriously?” I tossed my duffel bag down the stairs and saw it land at her feet. Delaney stood in the open doorway, blocking the sun.

I noticed Maya standing behind her. “Whoa,” Maya said. Delaney sent her a look. And then Maya looked past her, at me. “She’s just
helping
,” she said.

Delaney rolled her eyes at Maya, and I kind of wanted to smile. “I’m helping
your mom
,” she added.

Delaney held out the key ring on her hand—my mom’s—and said, “My mom sent me over to let in the cleaning crew. The door was already open.” She was already backing away. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“You can’t be in here.” A man pushed past both Maya and Delaney into the foyer of my house. One man—so much for a crew. He wore thick black boots and rubber gloves, like the
kind my mom used to clean the bathrooms, and he was pulling an industrial-looking vacuum behind him. He had a hospital mask hanging around his neck, and he pulled it up over his mouth as he stepped inside, like this place was contagious.

“I’ll just be a sec,” I said, backing down the hall to my dad’s office.

The office was rancid. Mildewed. The water had come through the ceiling fan, saturating everything. I felt like I should take something. Save something. Do something.

All of it just things. The man watched me rummage around. There was probably some rule against this. My mom said we couldn’t go in until it was declared safe. Something about insurance. “I live here,” I said, just so he knew I wasn’t some thief, and he nodded at me.

Nothing left to save.

“I’m done anyway,” I said as I walked out the front door of what used to be my home.

Maya was standing on my porch—I looked around for Delaney, but it looked like it was just us. She eyed my bag. “What’s that?”

None of her business.

“Clothes,” I said.

“Planning on going somewhere?” She asked it like it was so out of the realm of possibility. Like people didn’t head out on vacation every day. She asked it like she had any right to know about my life. She stepped closer, leaned closer, smiled closer. “Running away?” she asked.

Which implied there was something worth running from.
“Uh, no. I need the clothes. And I need a suitcase. I’m going to Boston. On that college trip,” I said.

Our school offered it every year—a bunch of seniors flew to Boston with a few teachers and we toured all the colleges. Delaney had signed up back in June.

“You want to go to school in Boston?” I had asked her as she held the permission form out to me.

“I want
us
to go to Boston,” she had said. I knew what she was thinking—I wouldn’t get into the same schools as her, there was no way. But there were a lot of schools in Boston. We could still be close.

It was the first time she had talked about something that far away. That she’d want to plan something that far in the future. I kissed her while she was still talking about the form and the cost. I kissed her until we heard her mom walking down the hall.

“There’s a lot of people in Boston,” I said, my voice low as her mom passed the open door (which was a new rule).

She knew exactly what I was worried about. Lots of people meant more people dying, statistically speaking. I knew what it did to her, the way she couldn’t quite focus on anything else. The way she constantly wondered if there was something more she should be doing.

We listened to her mom’s footsteps walk down the stairs, and she leaned closer to me. An inch, maybe less, from my face. “That many people, it’s hard to tell who it is,” she said, and her lips brushed mine. She hated knowing. I didn’t realize how much until that moment. But then she was kissing me,
and I was thinking of only that, and then Boston, and then her and Boston, and the future stretching out before me, like the vision in her head transferred to my own until I wanted it as much as I wanted to close the door to her bedroom.

I had filled out that form and asked my dad for a check the second I’d walked into my house.

Boston was Delaney’s dream, and I wasn’t sure if I had one separate from hers. But Kevin and Justin were going, and we got excused from classes, so I was going.

“You overpacked,” Maya said, almost like she was trying to be cute—it was something she would say to Kevin, tossing her hair over her shoulder, leaning into him. But with me, she didn’t move. Didn’t smile. Didn’t blink. So unlike the girl who hugged me in the parking lot.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be? Kevin’s, maybe?”

“You’re being a dick,” she said.

I stared at her. “Yeah, you don’t get to talk to me like that.”

Before she got together with Kevin, Maya was always around. It drove me crazy through the summer, when all I wanted was time alone with Delaney. But her mom was basically in some sort of hospice care, and her brother bounced back and forth between college and home. Delaney said it seemed like she just needed to get out of the house, so I was a jerk if I said anything. Honestly, I was thrilled when she hooked up with Kevin, because she hung out here a lot less.

She narrowed her eyes, scanned me slowly. “I don’t get what she sees, anyway,” she said. She shrugged, turned to go.

“Get off my porch,” I said, even though she was already on her way.

“Oh, poor Decker,” she said. She strode over to me, and I was completely taken aback. I’d never seen this side of her. She stood too close, way too close, and tilted her head to the side, like she was lining up to kiss me. “Your dad dies and that gives you free reign to be a complete ass?” Her breath smelled like cinnamon gum. She put her hand on my chin—I looked past her, wondering if anyone else was seeing this. “Grow up,” she said. Then she wandered back to Delaney’s.

Chapter 5

I drove up the winding road cut into the side of the mountain overlooking Falcon Lake. The only place you’d find enormous homes and fancy cars. The place you’d find Kevin’s house. His family had money for generations and generations, and half the original establishments carried his last name. All the money in the world, and he was still here with the rest of us.

I pulled into his circular driveway, but he was walking down the front steps. “Hey, Deck,” he said, “you coming with?”

My master plan was to stay here, bum a meal off him so I wouldn’t have to sit around the dinner table with Delaney and Maya.

Kevin continued, “I’m supposed to be in the dunk tank in thirty minutes.”

“For what?” The dunk tank was exactly what it sounded like—a plastic box that our school owned. Every group or club used it for fund-raisers. Kevin wasn’t in any clubs.

He looked at me like I was a moron. “That PTA barbecue. Favor to my mom.”

His mom was the head of the PTA. His mom was the head of everything. His family practically owned this town. This was another thing that happened every year, one of those things I could keep time with. Labor Day equals free pizza and fortunes and Justin’s lake house. First day of school equals PTA barbecue—
not
vandalizing school property and scouring what used to be my home for clothes.

Kevin was in jeans. Nice sneakers. A collared shirt that the rest of us would’ve looked ridiculous in. “Bathing suit?” I asked.

“No way. Then I’ll have no excuse to leave. Come on. Free food.”

Which was, after all, what I came for.

Half the school was here. There were grills set up in stations around the parking lot, and there were raffles, and, of course, there was the dunk tank. I got in line for a burger and saw Delaney’s mom when I reached the front. “Hi, honey,” she said. “Your mom is at the hot dog station.” She pointed her finger across the parking lot. “Have you seen Ron? He was supposed to come straight from work. His shift at the grill starts in ten.” God. Everyone was here. Even Delaney’s dad. I would’ve thought that my dad dying and our house being flooded might’ve changed my mom’s plans. But no.

“No, sorry,” I said as I walked toward the ketchup station.

Everyone was going through the motions of their normal lives. My mom was handing out hot dogs for a fund-raiser. Joanne was worried about scheduling.

Kevin was climbing into the dunk tank like he was genuinely looking forward to this.

“It’s supposed to be Carson.” I spun around in line, and Janna was holding a hamburger down at her side, watching as Kevin launched himself over the plastic wall of the dunk tank while people applauded. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot. “This was always his thing.”

It was true. Everyone wanted to take a shot at Carson, who was all too willing to go along with it. Saluting as the principal wound up to throw, taunting the guys, teasing the girls. But it had been eight months. Eight months.

I couldn’t hear Kevin from across the lot, but he was smiling, and he was yelling something at the guy with the ball in his hand. Even the way he was sitting reminded me of Carson. “Kev is doing the job just fine,” I said.

His whole act was like one big CARSON WAS HERE. You couldn’t look at him without seeing Carson. Without remembering. I couldn’t
not
remember, especially with her standing this close.

She tossed her barely eaten burger into the trash. “When I talk to you,” she said, “I feel like you’re not even hearing me.” She was staring me down, and I was staring back at her, and then Justin was walking toward us. “I thought you of all people would understand.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Me too,” she whispered. Then she wrinkled her nose at me. “Can we skip the hugging-it-out part?”

I left her with Justin. Patted her on the head as I passed, messing up her curls, like I’d done for years.

One of the teachers was pulling a hose toward the dunk tank. He turned on the nozzle, spraying several unsuspecting seniors. Their screams turned to laughter, their clothes dripping wet, and I lost my appetite. Everyone here was acting like everything was normal.

I saw Justin near the dunk tank, with his elbow resting on Janna’s shoulder. She shrugged him off but didn’t resist when he hung an arm over her shoulder instead. I saw Kevin push himself out of the churning water, shaking his head, flinging the water on everyone nearby. They shrieked as they backed away. Except for Maya. She was close to the tank still, like she didn’t mind at all. And she had this smile—the kind that was meant for only him.

I wondered if Kevin ever saw the other side of her—the side that stood on my porch and turned cold. Or if I was even meant to see the smile she gave him now. If there are sides to everyone that you never know, that they save for different people.

The principal drew back his arm, winding up to pitch. He smiled as he said, “I’m going to enjoy this more than you know.” He threw a strike at the bull’s-eye, sending Kevin deep into the water again. You could hear him yelling, or maybe laughing, under the water, as bubbles rose to the surface. He stayed near the bottom, his hands pressed to the plastic, smiling at us all.

Delaney, dripping wet as I pulled her from the ice
.

My dad, staring at the lake water on his hand
.

The water pooling around the broken glass
.

Water, seeping across my floor
.

I felt nauseous, walked to the nearest trash can, and rested my forearms on the black plastic ledge. I dropped my burger inside and tried to think of anything else. Instead I pictured the trash can in 2B’s room as I righted it. As I stood. As she grabbed my wrist and dug her fingers to the bone.

Black pupils, growing wider
.

Listen
.

Footsteps. Laughter. A horn blaring somewhere on the other side of the parking lot. Water splashing.

Breathe
.

I pushed off the trash can and walked back toward the dunk tank. Kevin was climbing out, dripping wet. Maya leaned into him, like she didn’t even notice. They started walking away, back toward the parked cars, like the rest of us didn’t exist.

“Kevin!” His mother stood with her hands on her hips near the dunk tank, her high heels on a dry spot of pavement, like even the water knew enough to obey her. “Where are you going?”

He gestured toward his clothes. “To get a change of clothes.”

She looked at Maya beside him. Then at the rest of us. I wondered if she was about to ask one of us to strip. I bet someone would listen. But she just shook her head. “Straight there, straight back.”

He smiled wide. “Obviously.”

He took off across the parking lot, Maya chasing after him, so obviously not intending to return.

I scanned the parking lot. Janna and Justin were debating the merits of mayonnaise on burgers. My mom handed someone a hot dog. Tara raised her hand at me from across the way, surrounded by a group of girls. I raised my hand in return, started backing away before I could accidentally spot Delaney. I wished it was this easy to stop seeing someone. Tara and I had stopped seeing each other by just … stopping seeing each other. Though I guess we weren’t ever really together. Not seriously. I guess I wasn’t really together with anyone,
really
, until Delaney.

And then I heard her name. Someone asking for her. Coming closer. He was vaguely familiar but I couldn’t place him. He stopped in front of a group of freshman girls and asked, “Do you know a girl named Delaney?”

“What do you want with Delaney?” I asked, and he moved through their circle, a look of relief on his face.

“I’m looking for my sister,” he said. “She said she was coming with her friend Delaney, and I left her a message that I would meet her here, but she’s not answering her phone … and I’m not having much luck asking for Maya.” And then his features clicked into place. Maya’s eyes. Maya’s hair color. The shape of her face. The same slim build.

“Maya?” I asked. “You just missed her. She left with Kevin.”

“Who’s Kevin?” he asked slowly.

“Her boyfriend,” I answered, and from the look on his face, I knew I shouldn’t have.

“Her
boyfriend
?” he repeated.

Last thing I wanted was to get in the middle of someone else’s drama, so I started walking toward the parking lot. “Yeah. Sorry, I gotta go.”