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"My pleasure," she says with a genuine smile. "What were your three wishes?"
Ashton declared that I get three wishes, because that's how it should always be. To which, Brendan snidely remarked, "Be careful what you wish for. You may not be able to handle three of me." He received an elbow in the ribs from both me and Ashton.
My first wish was for Allie. That she fully recover and be avenged.
The second was for my mother. That her heart and body be healthy and she find peace. (I blame Jasmine for the last part.)
And the third wish was for me. I paused before making it, looking around the room at the people surrounding me, smiling and laughing. Then I proceeded to blow out every lit candle, wishing that I always know who are my true friends.
"If I tell you, they won't come true." I stuff a mound of cake into my mouth.
Lily releases a small tinkling laugh. "Do you believe that?"
"Do you believe they'll come true at all, whether I say them out loud or not?"
"I think we always receive what we deserve, and belief has very little to do with it. It has more to do with our character and how that balances out on the scales of good and evil. Can't have one without the other, right?"
I study her curiously. "But isn't good always supposed to win in the end?" I can barely function, forget about contemplate karmic balance. And we're going down a strange and windy path right now. Because I know good doesn't always win.
"I think so," she answers, her lips smiling around the glass as she tips it back. "At least I hope it will."
Lily drops me off at the country club for my afternoon shift. Being on the bev cart with Ashton for the afternoon is both a blessing and a curse. It's easy. But her erratic driving makes my head splinter in half and my stomach turn, so I'm pretty miserable most of the shift. When we get back to the school, I skip dinner to take a nap. I set an alarm since I still have to go to the library to pick out a book for the American government report.
When I wake, I'm feeling better, but not great. The last thing I want to do is go to the library. I dump out my overnight bag on the bed, in search of my Blackwood phone that I dropped into it after I arrived. An envelope slips out from within the box Joey used for my headband. It seems too big to be a birthday card.
Inside is a black and white photo of a group of people sitting on a sloping lawn. Behind them, I can make out a fraction of a wrap-around porch attached to a large white house that's too big to fit in the frame. The group appears to be having a picnic; a platter of food and glasses are spread out on several blankets. And as much as it initially appears to be a posed group photo, there's a sense of movement, like the picture was taken before anyone was ready. Two younger women, maybe teenagers, are sitting close, laughing with open mouths. Another woman is facing away; her face obscured by dark hair. A smiling man is bent down, scooping up a small laughing boy, and a visibly pregnant woman is watching them adoringly. Another woman is smiling for the camera, but appears distracted, looking sidelong at a man who seems to be the only one ready, posing with a tight-lipped smile. I absorb the entire scene at once. My attention narrows in on the blonde with the ponytail who's laughing beside the girl with an Audrey Hepburn inspired pixie. She looks just like me.
"Omigod," I breathe out. It's my mother.
I flip the photo over to find the familiar red ink and the linear lettering.
What the hell? I hate these cryptic messages! Just tell me what you want already! Whoever it is must be getting some sadistic thrill out of pissing me off. What does this have to do with Allie, or me, or my mother and the Harrisons?
Maybe it's time to get answers to the questions I've avoided asking. I have to talk to my mother ... in person. That's the only way I'll know if she's telling the truth.
I examine each face again. I only recognize one other. Niall Harrison. He's the man picking up the boy, who has to be ... Parker. The woman behind Niall and Parker, must be Mrs. Harrison, pregnant with Joey.
On the bottom right corner, "Nantucket, Labor Day Weekend" is scrawled in black ink. I do a quick calculation. This is right around the time my mother found out she was pregnant with me. I know this because my grandmother told me how my mother was afraid she would go into labor on graduation weekend, when she was due. But instead, there are pictures of her in a cap and gown, that looks like a tent because of her protruding stomach. I arrived two weeks later.
Did she meet my father on Nantucket? And what is she doing with the Harrisons? Who are the rest of these people? Especially the girl sitting next to her--they look like they're friends.
Endless questions rush through my head the more I study the image. I know it's useless. I can pose all the questions I want to myself. The only way I'll get answers is to ask the right questions to the right people.
I flip the photo over and read the message again. For the first time I consider maybe it's not a threat, but a warning.
Stay away from him. It could easily be a warning as much a threat.
I know. That was a stupid message, probably just to get my attention, because it could mean anything.
This is so frustrating!
I have to talk to Joey about the pictures he found in the attic. Maybe he'll recognize this one too. In the meantime, I'm going to have to talk to the person who unnervingly knows more secrets than he should, and hope that he's not the guy I'm being warned to stay away from.
I tie a red ribbon on the post of the small wooden bridge that passes over the koi pond leading to the guys' dorm. Then I leave a note in the tree, telling Brendan to meet me at the library.
I wait at the library long after I find my stupid book for American government. And I keep waiting, not knowing if Brendan saw the ribbon or checked the tree. I miss the instant gratification of texting. Even when someone didn't text back right away, at least I knew they received the message. The librarian eventually kicks me out a half hour before curfew.
When I exit, the Court is dark.
