Sure enough, she alters her path toward the courtyard, returning the grin until we approach the back doors. “Looks freezing out there,” she says, hesitating. “I don’t have my coat with me.”
“We won’t stay for long. I just need a little breather before third period.”
Outside, the air is biting and blustery. Emily shoots me an impatient look. She has a point. What is Gracie doing out here? I scan the courtyard, keeping my head facing Emily. I have to appear engaged in conversation.
Gideon’s seated on a bench, no sign of being affected in the slightest by the frigid air, staring at Gracie. She’s sitting on the low red brick wall bordering the courtyard, wiping her face. Her violent shivers are noticeable from a distance. As I watch, guilt and sorrow swell in my chest.
Gideon has been pulled out into the freezing cold by a familiar tug. It’s the tug that made him stay behind for theme park day in fourth grade, when Johnny Larson’s parents refused to sign the permission slip. That same tug made Gideon the only sophomore at the senior prom when he found Katie Shaw crying by the drinking fountain and asked if she would be his date. It’s the tug that made us friends in the first place, when he rescued me from the second graders and their Fire Girl jokes.
It tears him up to see someone this way—anyone really, but I bet he feels responsible for Gracie. And I know his mind is spinning, turning over and over, wondering if and how he can fix her.
The thought reaches into me like an invasive woodland vine. It coils around my brain, around my limbs. Filling. Squeezing. Immobilizing. I stand frozen as Emily’s pleas to go inside bounce off my ears on the back of the harsh, whistling wind.
18
Eventually I hear Emily’s pleading and follow her inside. I’ve watched long enough. Watched my best friend slip away.
I’ve got to get him back. Even if that means diving headfirst into whatever game Seth Greer is playing.
Emily said he still lives at home. It shouldn’t be too difficult to get inside his house and look for Melody’s necklace or phone or some proof he’s the guy. Maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll find that crumpled notebook while I’m at it. And I can burn those pages. This plan means breaking my promise to Asher about staying out of the Greer home. But I ignore the twinge of guilt and ask Emily if we can meet there for our project. She seems reluctant at first—which I attribute to her interest in Asher—but she agrees.
In the daytime, the Greer house is a faded tan, the paint peeling off in patches. One of the rotting porch posts buckles, causing the overhang to tilt. The lawn is an overgrown field of yellow weeds. Emily walks in front of me, ducking her head inside the front door before allowing me to pass.
“My room’s this way.” She squeezes by me in the tight hallway, knocking the poster board I carry. The poster was my excuse to ensure that—one way or another—I ran into Seth today. Since he wasn’t at the drugstore, I’m hopeful he’ll make an appearance here. Emily opens the first door and goes inside. I hang back, peering down the dark hall, which contains two more closed doors, before making a sharp turn.
“Is anyone else home?” I ask, attempting nonchalance as I follow her.
Once inside, I have to blink away the blinding pinkness of the place. Emily’s room looks like the venue of a four-year-old girl’s birthday party. There aren’t any actual balloons, but the number of heart-shaped pillows, Disney princess posters, and bubble gum–colored beads strung from wall to wall could fool anyone. “My parents are at work. Seth might be here. He hasn’t been sneaking off with”—her voice drops—“you know who much lately.”
Because that would mean hanging out with a corpse.
“Yeah,” continues Emily, “I don’t want to know what’s going on there.” She manages to wince without losing her smile.
“Why not?”
Emily balks. “Why don’t I want to know about my brother’s love life? Do you talk to Asher about that kind of stuff?”
I pause thoughtfully. “He doesn’t have a girlfriend. But I think he’d talk to me about it, if he did. We talk about everything.” Well, we used to, before I accused his best friend of murder.
“That must be so great.” Her face softens wistfully.
“I take it you and Seth aren’t very close.”
“I mean, I love him, but he hasn’t exactly made my life easy. Every time I go anywhere, it’s the same thing. Oh, you’re Seth’s sister. And then there’s the look.” She lets out a loud breath. “I know there’s never been an ounce of truth to the rumors about my brother, but still. It’s like…I resent him anyway. I know that sounds terrible.”
“No, I get what you mean. It can’t be easy getting teased for something that has nothing to do with you.” It’s not even easy getting teased for something that has everything to do with you.
“Yeah.” The curve of her lips finally wavers. The ripple of guilt comes back.
We hunker down on the carpet, poster and books sprawled out on our laps. I rest my back against the ruffled pink tulle bed skirt bordering Emily’s bed. I’m anxious to get this over with. I keep straining my ears for footsteps or some sound to give away Seth’s presence in the house.
I sit up, pushing my textbook off me. “Hey, can I use your restroom?”
“Sure.” Emily points toward the open door. “It’s the one on the right.”
“Thanks.” I creep down the hall to the bathroom, pausing by the door on the left side—probably Seth’s room. The wraparound part of the hall likely leads to the master. It’s quiet on the other side of Seth’s door, so I press my ear up against it. Heart pounding, I reach out to place a sweaty hand on the knob. I inhale and twist.
The door opens easily and I lean in, expecting to find the space where all the princesses from one room over come to be executed. Instead, I step inside to find something resembling Asher’s room. The walls are lined with classic rock posters, and a shelf is stocked with books I’ve never heard of. I get a quick flash of the first time I spoke to Seth, my sophomore year, in the school library. He wasn’t into wearing all black and stalking girls yet. He was reading a hardcover—something about ants—and I paused by his table to ask if it was good.
He smiled and lowered the book. “I’d say you were welcome to check it out after me, but it’s my own personal copy.”
I raised a brow. “You already read everything in here?”
He laughed, light and easy. “High school libraries don’t typically carry books of this nature.”
I brought a hand to my mouth and looked over my shoulder. “You’re not saying our school has something against insects, are you?”