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“Turn on you.” She was so calm, so certain of herself. “They would’ve hurt you. I couldn’t let them do that. Like Grace did.”
Mena kept spewing more craziness, but I started to tune her out. She wanted to talk. She wanted to spill this from her chest. A fog began to come over me, slowly fading everything away. Mena’s voice, so abnormally chipper, grew muffled. A word here and there slipped through the fog, but it was so dense, it was becoming a wall. It was closing around me, and all I could think about was, what the hell was I going to do?
Mena confessed.
Carolina was coming.
Carolina was in danger.
Stay in public. That’s what others would tell me. Mena wouldn’t hurt Carolina or me if there were around witnesses.
I looked over, and she was still talking. She was even smiling. She looked so happy.
I felt nauseous.
Then I heard myself saying, my voice sounding loud and distorted through my own fogged wall, “Let’s go to the room.”
She stopped. Concern flashed over her face, her forehead wrinkled together. “Are you okay?”
No. “Yes, wait. No. I feel a little sick. I should lie down.”
“Okay. Yes. That’s a good idea.”
We got up and when we got back to the room, I pressed a hand to my forehead. “You know, Mena, I feel kinda feverish. I think I’m going to lie down. Take a nap.”
“Oh.”
I saw the suspicion in her depths and reached out, squeezing her hand. “Can you come over tomorrow night? We can do movie night?”
“Oh.” The wrinkle in her forehead disappeared, but her mouth was still pointing downward. “You sure?”
I nodded. “Yes. Well, to be honest, I think the whole sister thing is a lot right now. You know?” I smiled, making sure I looked tired, peaked, and genuine. Smile, bitch. Smile until the psycho killer leaves.
“Okay.” Her head bobbed up and down and her shoulders rolled back. “That sounds good. Tomorrow can be sister movie night.”
“Yes. That sounds great.”
“Okay. I suppose I should grab my things and . . .”
The buzzer sounded from the door.
Mena’s frown appeared again and she glanced at me, finishing her sentence, “. . . go? Who—”
“Sheldon!” Carolina banged on the door again. “You said you’d have a glass of Merlot waiting for me, but guess what? You don’t. I checked the pool. There’s no you and more importantly, no Merlot for me. I know you’re in there.” She groaned, laughing at the same time. “Please tell me Corrigan didn’t come back for a quickie. You still have stitches. You can’t rip those suckers.” She snorted then. “Suckers. Oh, that word. Okay, come on.” Another bang on the door. “Seriously. Let me in. I need to get classy wasted right now. The damn sorority meeting has driven me to drinking so let me drink, woman.”
“You . . .” The betrayal appeared first in Mena’s eyes. They darkened, her eyebrows burrowing together. The sides of her mouth pinched downward, and she turned toward the door. As she was turning for the door, hurt replaced the betrayal, and right before she was completely facing to the door, I saw the anger. She sucked in a breath. Her shoulders lifted, becoming rigid, and her hands formed into tiny little fists.
“Mena, don’t.” I hurried to block her.
She stopped and clipped her head from side to side in a savage movement. “Get out of the way.”
“Carolina hasn’t done anything.”
“You did. You lied to me.”
“Mena—” I stopped. I had no idea what to say.
She continued to shake her head and her hand lifted, pinching the skin on her forehead. “Why? Why? WHY?”
