The message might go over better if she didn’t pour coffee into my Cheerios while she’s saying it. She doesn’t notice, and when she turns I grab milk off the island and top off the bowl. It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever eaten. Plus I got back from Officer Rodriguez’s an hour ago and didn’t bother trying to sleep. I could use the caffeine.
“I’m not going,” Katrin says flatly.
Mom eyes her nervously. Peter’s gone, already left for work, and she’s never been good at standing up to Katrin. “Your father would—”
“Understand,” Katrin says in the same monotone. She’s in the hoodie and athletic pants she wore last night, her hair pulled back into a low, messy ponytail. There’s a plate of strawberries in front of her, and she keeps cutting one into smaller and smaller pieces without putting any of it into her mouth. “Anyway, I’m sick. I threw up this morning.”
“Oh, well, if you’re sick.” My mother looks relieved at the excuse, and turns toward me with more confidence. “You, on the other hand, need to go.”
“Fine by me.” I’m good with being anywhere Katrin’s not. If she hadn’t played sick, I would have. There’s no way I can sit in a car with her this morning. Especially not her car. More and more, it’s sinking in that if Katrin did half the things we think she might have, chances are good she ran down Mr. Bowman and left him to die in the street. And that’s just for starters. I grip my cereal spoon more tightly as I watch her methodically start cutting up a second strawberry, and it’s all I can do not to reach out and smash everything on her plate into a pulp.
All this waiting is a nightmare. Especially when you know you’re going to hate whatever answer comes.
Mom smooths a hand over her bathrobe. “I’m going to take a shower, unless either of you need anything?”
“Can I take your car?” I ask.
She smiles distractedly on her way to the stairs. “Yes, of course.” And then she’s gone, leaving Katrin and me alone in the kitchen. There’s no sound except the clink of my spoon against the bowl and the loud ticking of the wall clock.
I can’t handle it for even five minutes. “I’m leaving early,” I say, getting up and dumping my half-finished coffee cereal in the garbage disposal. When I turn, Katrin is staring straight at me, and I’m struck silent by the cold blankness in her eyes.
“Why don’t you just walk to school?” she asks. “You like walking, don’t you?”
Fuck. She knows I followed her last night. I got too close on the way home.
“Who doesn’t,” I say tersely. I reach for Mom’s keys on the kitchen island, but before I can pick them up them Katrin lays a hand over them. She regards me with the same cool stare.
“You’re not as smart as you think you are.”
“And you’re not sick.” To your stomach, anyway. I pull the keys from beneath her hand and grab my backpack off the floor. I don’t want her to see how rattled I am, so I look away, even though I’d like one last chance to read her expression.
What do you know? What did you do?
I drive to school in a haze, almost missing the entrance. It’s so early that I have my pick of spots in the parking lot. I cut the engine but keep the radio on, searching for a news station. NPR is talking politics and all the local shows are breaking down the Patriots’ come-from-behind win yesterday, so I pull out my phone and search the Burlington Free Press site. There’s a blurb at the bottom of the Metro section: Police investigate human remains found on an abandoned property in upper Huntsburg.
Human remains. My stomach turns, and for a second I’m positive I’ll puke up every single coffee-soaked Cheerio that I was stupid enough to eat this morning. But it passes, and I recline my seat and close my eyes. I just want to rest for a few minutes, but the lack of sleep catches up with me and I’m dozing when a loud rap on my window startles me awake. I look groggily at the car clock—it’s two minutes past the final bell—then out the window.
Kyle and Theo are standing there, and they don’t look like they’re about to give me a friendly warning about being late. Viv is a few yards behind them, her arms crossed, a look of smug anticipation on her face. Like a kid at a birthday party who’s about to get that pony she’s always wanted.
I could drive away, I guess, but I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of chasing me off. So I get out of the car.
“You’re gonna be la—” is all I get out before Kyle drives his fist into my stomach. I fold in half, and he follows up with another punch, to my jaw, that sends me reeling against the car. My mouth fills with the coppery taste of blood as Kyle leans forward, his face inches from mine.
“You’re going down for this, Kelly,” he spits, and pulls back for another punch.
I duck and manage to land a blow to Kyle’s face before Theo steps in and pins my arms behind my back. I stomp on Theo’s foot, but I’m off balance and he only lets out a slight grunt before tightening his grip. Sharp pain shoots through my ribs, and the entire left side of my face feels like it’s on fire. Kyle wipes a trickle of blood from his mouth with a grim smile. “I should have done this years ago,” he says, and hauls his fist back for a punch that’ll break my face.
It doesn’t come, though. A bigger fist closes over his and yanks him backward. For a few seconds I don’t know what the hell is going on, until Declan steps forward and looms over Theo. “Let him go,” he says in a low, threatening tone. When Theo doesn’t, Declan wrenches one of his arms so hard that Theo squeals in pain and backs off, hands up. Once I’m released I see Kyle sprawled on the ground a few feet away, motionless.
“Is he gonna get up?” I ask, rubbing my aching jaw.
“Eventually,” Declan says. Theo doesn’t even check on Kyle, just sprints past him on his way to the back entrance. Viv is nowhere in sight. “Fucking cowards, going two on one.” Declan reaches for the Volvo’s door and pulls it open. “Come on, let’s get out of here. No point in you going to school today. I’ll drive.”
I slump in the passenger seat, nauseated and dizzy. I haven’t been punched since ninth grade, and it wasn’t anywhere near that hard. “Why are you here?” I ask.
Declan turns the keys I left in the ignition. “I was waiting for you.”
“Why?”
His jaw sets in a hard line. “I remember the first day of school after … news like this.”
I suck in a breath and wince. I wonder if my ribs are cracked. “What, you knew something like this was gonna happen?”
“It happened to me,” he says.
“I didn’t know that.” I didn’t know much back then, I guess. Too busy trying to pretend none of it was going on.