“For what?” Twig asks.
“Your stories.”
“It’s not a story,” I say. “It’s the truth.”
She glares at me, actually glares.
I don’t think Kate has ever glared at me in her life.
“Kate,” Twig says, gathering her attention. “Consider the evidence. An earthquake at the ball that wasn’t an earthquake. Everything that happened at the cemetery.” He lifts his foot, which is still in a boot. “Lainey’s suspicious return after not contacting you even once?”
Kate’s mouth tightens.
In all my years of knowing Mrs. Calloway, I’ve only seen her angry one time, at the Phoenix Parade five years ago when she overheard a group of mean girls teasing Twig for being adopted. Right now, Kate’s resemblance tothatMrs. Calloway is uncanny.
“Griffin’s in trouble,” I say. “For all we know, he might be dead.”
But Kate isn’t listening.
Shaking her head, she types furiously into her phone.
“What are you doing?” Twig comes out of his chair. “Who are you texting?”
“Griffin,” she retorts.
“Kate, he isn’t going to text back,” I say. “He’s?—”
A sharp ding pings through the room.
And the thing I said wouldn’t happen does.
She turns her phone around and thrusts it forward.
The message is from Griffin.
In Okie for college visits remember? Riverhawks all the way baby!
I blink at the screen.
Kate comes to her feet, the legs of her chair scraping against the linoleum. “Lainey probably went with him. The two have been joined at the hip ever since she came back.” She grabs her backpack off the table. “Look, I know the two of you like to believe in this sort of stuff and everyone processes grief differently, but this is seriously crossing the line.”
Twig looks up at her, visibly distraught. “We’re telling you this for your safety.”
“Ivy drowned in the river, Spence. I hate that it happened just as much as you. But it’s over now. Lainey’s back. And what happened to Ivy was an accident. A terrible accident. Trying toturn it into something podcast worthy? That’s beneath you.”
“Kate—”
But she doesn’t stay. She whips her backpack over her shoulder and marches out the door.
It slams shut behind her.
The noise reverberates through the room.
Twig looks like he might cry.
Which makes me want to hug him. “Lainey must have taken Griffin’s phone. That’s the only thing that makes any sense. She’s pretending to be him. And if everyone believes he’s on a college visit, then nobody is going to know that our town has another missing teen on its hands.”
“Have the three of you gone crazy?”
