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And just before the end of the day, I got my chance.
I found her in a small lounge area, writing something in her journal with robotic, bloodless focus.
I looked around. There was no one in the hall, but I didn’t want to be too loud. I kept my voice low. “Why’d you do it?” I asked her.
She looked up at me, all innocence. “Do what?”
“You wrote the note, Phoebe.”
“I didn’t.”
“Really,” I said, my temper flaring. “You’re really not going to cop to this? I don’t even care—God knows you have enough problems—I just want to hear you say it.”
“I didn’t write it,” she said robotically.
I grabbed the door frame with one hand and squeezed it. I had to go or I’d lose it.
“I didn’t write it,” Phoebe said again. But her tone had changed; it made me face her. She was staring directly at me, now, her eyes focused and clear.
“I heard you.”
Phoebe dropped her eyes back to her journal. A smile inched across her lips. “But I did put it there.”
34
MY BLOOD RAN COLD. “ WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?”
Phoebe began to hum.
I walked right up next to her and crouched so that I could look her in the eye. “Tell me what you said. Right now. Or I’m going to tell Dr. Kells. Right. Now.”
“My boyfriend gave it to me,” she said in a singsong voice.
“Who’s your boyfriend, Phoebe?”
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are gray,” she sang, and then reverted back to her humming.
I wanted to smack her head off of her spine. My hands curled into fists. It took everything I had right then not to hit her.
I almost, almost wanted to kill her.
I closed my eyes. After a minute of paralysis, I turned around and walked away. Let’s call it progress.
I was very ready for the pointless day to be over. When I got home, I wanted to try and decipher New Theories in Genetics, and also see if Noah had any luck scouring Calle Ocho on his own. But Joseph roped me into a video game war before I made it to my room, and when I called Noah after I lost thrice, he sounded strange.
He asked if I was all right. I said yes, and then immediately attacked him with questions. But he cut me off quickly, saying we’d talk tomorrow.
I hung up feeling a bit uneasy and I hated myself for it, for feeling insecure. We’d been spending nearly every moment together and I was even the one who suggested he spend more time at his house, more time apart. But his voice sounded so off and we were dealing with so much—I was dealing with so much—that part of me couldn’t help but wonder if my baggage might be getting too heavy for him to want to carry anymore.
When the last day of my first week at Horizons arrived, I found myself about to unpack some of said baggage in front of my older brother. It was Family Therapy Day and I was completely unenthused about having Daniel bear witness to the whole psycho-sister scenario in full color. We were greeted by Counselor Wayne, who led us to the common area where we were divided into mini-groups. Most people brought parents, but a select few, like me, brought older or younger siblings. And when they sorted us into smaller rooms, and Jamie walked in followed closely by an older, freckled, very chill-looking girl I didn’t recognize, my mouth fell open when I realized Jamie was one of them.
The girl behind him must be the infamous sister. The one Jamie said Noah defiled in some kind of twisted revenge game.
This could be interesting.
Jamie sat down in a plastic chair, his newly long legs stretched out in front of him. His sister sat beside him with an identical posture. I smiled even though Jamie kept glancing at the door.
Because of the way they split us up, there was a chance we’d end up with Wayne or someone else to “facilitate” today, and I hoped we did. Brooke was ditzy but relentless.
“Hi, everyone!” Brooke waltzed in.
Alas, no luck.
“Horizons students—what a wonderful morning! Family members, thanks so much for being here. Let’s all go around in a circle and introduce ourselves—sound good? Because we’re all family here.”
I glanced over at Daniel. He seemed to be giving Brooke the side-eye. I loved him so much.
She pointed at Jamie first. “Why don’t you start us off?”
“Hi, I’m Jamie!” he said, mocking her enthusiasm.
“Hi, Jamie!” Brooke said, not realizing it.
His sister—if that’s indeed who she was—sucked in her lips in what I assumed was an attempt not to laugh.
“Who have you brought with you today, Jamie?”
The girl answered and lifted her hand in a wave. “Stephanie Roth. I’m Jamie’s very lucky sister.”
“Hi, Stephanie,” we all said.
And so it went until we all introduced ourselves and our people. Brooke had us each read from our lists of things we wished our present family members knew about us but didn’t. Mine was pretty much crap, which is why I was so surprised when Daniel began to read his. Apparently, our family people had been tasked without our knowledge with creating an identical list.
“I wish Mara knew that I’m jealous of her.”
I whipped around to face him. “You can’t be serious.”
Brooke shook her finger. “No interruptions, Mara.”
My brother cleared his throat. “I wish she knew that I think she’s the most hilarious person on Earth. And that whenever she’s not home, I feel like I’m missing my partner in crime.”
My throat tightened. Do not cry. Do not cry.
“I wish she knew that she’s really Mom’s favorite—”
I shook my head here.
“—the princess she always wanted. That Mom used to dress her up like a little doll and parade her around like Mara was her greatest achievement. I wish Mara knew that I never minded, because she’s my favorite too.”
A chin quiver. Damn.
“I wish she knew that I’ve always had acquaintances instead of friends because I’ve spent every second I’m not in school studying or practicing piano. I wish she knew that she is literally as smart as I am—her IQ is ONE POINT lower,” he said, raising his eyes to meet mine. “Mom had us tested. And that she could get the same grades if she weren’t so lazy.”
I slouched in my seat, and may or may not have crossed my arms over my chest defensively.
“I wish she knew that I am really proud of her, and that I always will be, no matter what.”
“Tissues?” Brooke handed me a box.
Nooooooo. I furiously blinked back the tears that blurred my vision and shook my head. “I’m fine,” I said hoarsely.
Oh, yeah. Just fine.
“That was wonderful, Daniel,” Brooke said. “Why don’t we all clap for Mara and Daniel?”
Insert scattered applause here.
“And we can take a short break to give us a sec to catch up with our feelings.”
SO AWFUL. I bolted for the bathroom. I splashed some water on my face and when I dried it, Stephanie Roth was leaning against the counter.
She smiled. “Hey,” she said. “I’m—”
“I know who you are,” I said. My voice was still hoarse. I cleared my throat. “I know.”
“Right, the intros.”
Not exactly. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” I said instead, realizing after the fact that a) it wasn’t true and b) what I had heard wasn’t necessarily flattering.
“And I you, Mara Dyer,” she said, flashing a cryptic smile. “Jamie told me you’re Noah Shaw’s girlfriend.”
I raised my eyebrows. “He said that?”
“Actually, his exact words were ‘Noah’s new piece.’”
I grinned and threw the paper towel away. “Sounds more like him.”
“Good for you.”
Uh-oh. “Um . . .”
“I mean, about Noah.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Is that sarcasm I detect?”
She shook her head. Her expression was serious. “No.”
“Because Jamie, like, hates him.”
She tied her blond hair back into a ponytail. “I know.”
I wondered how far I could push this, because I sure as hell was curious. “He hates him because of what Noah . . . did to you,” I finally said.
And then her expression changed. Stephanie looked wary, all of a sudden. Her posture straightened and she said, “Did Noah tell you what happened?”
“Jamie did.”
“But not Noah?”
“I asked him if I should believe Jamie, and he said yes.”
Stephanie gave me a slow, lingering look. “But you didn’t.” Stephanie crossed her athletic arms as she considered me. I was completely unsure of what to say next.
So I tried to flee. “See you in there, I guess,” I said as I headed for the door.
But Stephanie held out her arm to stop me. “I had an abortion.”
“Um.” I was positive I was giving off that deer-in-headlights look. I glanced desperately at the door. “I’m not really qualified to—”
“Noah came with me.”
I froze. “Was he—”
Stephanie shook her head vehemently. “No. It wasn’t him. But that’s kind of . . .” She paused, glancing up at the ceiling. “That’s kind of what started it.”
I said nothing. I mean, what can you say?
“Noah asked me out,” she started. “He was only fifteen, even though he didn’t look it, and I thought it was kind of hilarious, so I went even though I’d been dating this other guy at another school for a while. Once we were together, Noah totally admitted that he asked me because he thought Jamie was messing with his sister. You screw with my family, I screw with yours; that kind of thing.”
I nodded cautiously. That fit with what I knew.
“And, I don’t know, I thought Jamie shouldn’t really be making out publicly with an eighth grader—they were the same age, but still. So I went along with the game, which didn’t actually involve anything but pretending to fawn over Noah to Jamie over dinner and stuff. But I was with this other guy. Let’s call him Kyle,” she said, and her voice turned sharp. “We’d been dating for, like, six months in total secret. My parents would’ve hated him,” she said, almost under her breath. “And we were having sex. Which my parents also would’ve hated.” She glanced at the bathroom door. “Long story short, at some point I probably missed a pill, then I was late, then boom, two pink lines. I told Kyle, who said it wasn’t his problem—I was easy, and must have been ‘sleeping around.’” She rolled her eyes. “A winner, clearly.”
“Sounds like it,” I said quietly.
She half-smiled. “I knew I wasn’t ready for a baby and that adoption wasn’t for me; I knew what I wanted, I was sure, but I just felt—alone.” She leaned back against the wall and stared at me. “I didn’t trust my friends to keep the secret, my parents would have lost it if they found out, and the idea of going to Planned Parenthood by myself was excruciating. Holding it all in just made me feel—I felt screwed up.” Her eyes hardened and she looked at the floor. “Noah saw me crying by the vending machines at school—I was such a mess that I just blurted everything out to the poor kid.” She smiled at the memory. “But he was really great. He used his connections and had an appointment made with a private ob-gyn and he went with me. Anyway, I cried a lot after—I hated feeling like it was this ugly secret even though it was what I wanted and I was relieved.” Her lips thinned into a hard line. “Noah saw me on the way to lunch a few days later and asked how I was and I just burst into tears. Jamie walked by, Noah walked away, Jamie drew his own conclusions and thought Noah dumped me, and I was too upset to correct him.”
I couldn’t stay quiet anymore. “So you just let everyone think he screwed you over? After he helped you?”
Stephanie shook her head. “I called Noah as soon as I got home that night, telling him I’d tell Jamie something else, make up a different lie, but he said he didn’t care and the way he said it? I believed him. It’s funny,” she said, though she didn’t smile. “I think part of him actually wants to be hated. He only ever shows you what he wants you to see. He’s so closed off—it made me feel like he’d never tell.”
“He never did tell,” I said slowly. “But why are you telling me?” Not that I didn’t appreciate it, because I did.
Her Mona Lisa smile appeared again. “Sometimes the biggest secrets you can only tell a stranger.” She leaned against the painted gray wall and tilted her head. Considered me. “I don’t care what you think of me—I made the right choice for my life and I don’t regret it. If you think I’m a horrible person and a murderer and that I’m going to hell, we never have to see each other again. But it would hurt my parents if they knew, and Jamie—he’s awesome, and the most loyal person I’ve ever known. But he’s a little . . .” She scratched her nose, “He’s judgmental. Self-righteous. I love him to death, but he has this black-and-white worldview. Like, he likes you a lot, but he was ragging on you earlier for being with Noah even knowing you’re going to have your heart broken—he holds onto stuff forever. Noah definitely has his assaholic moments, and there’s a lot of darkness there; I’ve heard he’s done some seriously f**ked-up shit. Maybe he will break your heart, I’m no oracle.” She shrugged. “But in the fallacious case of Noah Shaw vs. Stephanie Roth? He’s not guilty,” she said, heading for the door. She put her hand on the handle. “I just—watching you out there, with your brother—” she started. Dropped a shrug. “I just wanted you to know.”
