TWENTY-SIX
The night drenches us in heavy rain.
Aaron drives through the wet streets as carefully as he can. Visibility is low. I’m shivering from the cold air lashing my face. The smell of brine lies everywhere. This might be another mistake, another delusion. One that will give me pneumonia, if I survive at all.
Thunder rolls. I lower my head, try to get a break from the rain smacking against my cheeks. Yeah, this could be a mistake. But what if I’m right? What if there’s something left to find? I don’t know what that will mean. Maybe I’m just desperate to redeem myself.
The dark sky and the screen of rainfall block my vision. Even with the lights on Aaron’s motorcycle, we can’t see more than a foot or two in front of us. We’re cut off from the rest of the world. I squint, try to focus.
There’s something out there.
Between the raindrops, each falling at a slant.
A pair of eyes.
Glowing. Floating.
Glaring.
Impossibly long lashes. Just like Joy’s.
Because these are Joy’s eyes.
Could the duppy be showing this to me? Maybe. But there’s no honeysuckle scent, no rush of heat. So this might just be me.
This might just be my mind unspooling. The angry gaze of my closest friend. The girl I envied. The girl who trusted me and paid her life for it.
You’re just a greedy, shady slut.
Even now, the guilt could kill me. For I don’t know how long, I wished it would. Because how could I have done all that to her? And so boldly. That hate I see makes sense. I hated me too.
I can’t believe you’d do this to me.
I’d do anything to make up for what I did.
But how long can I keep tearing myself apart?
Will that finally be enough?
For the first time, I wonder: How much of that night rests solely on my shoulders?
Simone was right. Some shame is good. I know the mistakes I made, the crappy choices I committed to. No matter how I justified it, I shouldn’t have fooled around with Sean. I shouldn’t have lied to Joy. I definitely shouldn’t have deceived the Halls in order to work in Blackbead House.
But shame should be a moment I pass through. Not a home I live in.
The glow around the eyes dims.
Months ago, I made a decision. I chose to betray my best friend. And I’ll have to live with that forever.
But Sean chose to cheat on his girlfriend. Repeatedly.
And Joy chose to get in her car when she wasn’t sober. It wasn’t the first time. But it was the last.
Joy holds her stare. Then, finally, she goes.
Her eyes vanish.
Something deep in my core settles. None of this matters to anyone but me. To a lot of people, I’m an evil, dishonest bitch, totally unforgivable. I’ll be scum forever.
But I know what I did. I know who I am now.
How I’ve tried so hard to change and do better.
And I will keep trying. As me, Carina Marshall.
I tighten my grip around Aaron’s waist. Blackbead House looms on the horizon, lights on.
I will try.
“You distract Ian,” I shout over the roar of the motorcycle, “and I’ll follow the light.” I don’t know where the lightning touched down, but I know the duppy is trying to show me something around here. It wouldn’t lead me back to this hellhole if it weren’t.
“Hope I don’t find him,” Aaron yells back.
“If you do, punch him.”
Aaron parks the bike and we both hop off. The rain’s slowed to a trickle, a break in the downpour. Aaron walks toward the staff entrance.
“Wait, Aaron.”
He turns. I didn’t think of something to say. I don’t know what I should say. But anything’s better than nothing. “I really—”
He raises a finger to his lips. Quiet. “Later,” he says. “Let’s get it done.”
Bet.
I run to the backyard. And there’s a trail of smoke, potent even in the light rain. Under the scent of grass and earth, honeysuckle is there. By now, I’d know it anywhere. But there’s something else too. It’s familiar but I can’t place it. I pace a little farther, try to follow where the fumes are wafting from.
And then I see it.
The Halls’ enormous mango tree. Struck by lightning and split down the trunk, straight to the roots. The bark smolders. Mangoes burn on the ground.
I race to it, fall to my knees.
That magazine photo, with the X burned into the base of the tree. The duppy was always leading me here. Whatever I’m supposed to find, this must be it. I shove my fingers into the soil and claw and dig.
Go. Go. Go.
My hands are raw. But I have to find it. My nails begin to bleed. All I hear is my own heartbeat.
I hit something. I try to clear out more dirt so I can see.
Saliva pools in my mouth.
Bones.
Ivory bones.
A skull. Cracked. A necklace with a pendant in the shape of a flute.
I pitch to one side and vomit.
This is Kelly.
These are Kelly’s bones.
She’s been here, buried, a secret—for years. Under the goddamn mango tree.
“You.”
I jump at the sound and spin around.
Mrs. Hall, unmoving beneath the outdoor sconces, her hair smashed to her bleached forehead from the rain. Her white blouse is soaked and see-through. She’s a whole ghoul.
I don’t know this woman.
“I knew there was something about you, Carina,” she hisses, a slight tremble as she speaks. “I saw your face, those eyes, and I knew something was wrong.”
“Stay away from me,” I shriek.
“But Ian fought me. He said I was being paranoid. So every night, I watched him be so kind to you. He was so welcoming. And it killed me.”
Mrs. Hall slowly steps toward me. I clamber backward on all fours. Where can I go?
“It killed me because I was right,” she says. “It’s a burden to always be right.” Her voice travels through the cold night. I search the ground for a stick, one of Aaron’s gardening tools, anything I can use as a weapon. “You came to ruin what my family has fought so hard for. You want revenge.”
Behind me, I feel something. Some pruning shears, I think. I grasp them tight in my fist. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Do not lie to me,” she screams. Her whole body shakes. “You come into my home, and you cannot even look at me. You wear her face and lie. But I know you. Kelly’s whore child.”
I drop the shears.
“That’s not me.” My mother and I have the same eyes. Large and angry and brown as cinnamon. My legs twitch.
Go.
Run.
I need to go. I need to run. “Just let me leave.”
“So you can bring my family to its knees? Like she wants?” she asks. “No. I will not allow it.”
Mrs. Hall lifts her arm. In her hand?
A brick from the jerk pit.
I scramble, sliding through mud. The shears cut the side of my palm. I scream.
Pain jolts through my head.
The night’s darkness seeps into me.