ROSALIE
THURSDAY, JANUARY 18
Paulina says she found a new spot, somewhere safe we can go. Auditions for the musical are this week, so the theater’s crawling with Greater Logansville’s triple threats after school, but the scene shop is empty. Pau and I both do the fall plays, and I’ll do the monologue contest in March, but musicals are definitely not my thing.
An empty scene shop, on the other hand, has promise. After school, I take the little staircase leading to the backstage area and walk toward the shop. The hallway is empty, but my stomach is still in knots. The clearing was far enough off school grounds to feel untouchable. Until it wasn’t. Here, the voices of the cast warming up bounce off the walls around me. I take in a deep breath and press through the scene shop door.
Pau’s perched on a stool, elbows resting on the worktable. The warm-up sounds are even louder, the cast’s combined voice rising to a slightly off-key pitch.
“They’re right there,” I whisper. “Are you sure no one’s going to come in?”
“No one’s ever here until we’re actually building sets. That’ll be weeks.” Pau smiles, and I relax a bit. I slip off my coat and drape it across the table. It is nice to be inside.
Pau reaches into her backpack. “I brought Smart Pop.”
For a few minutes, it feels like old times. Like everything is going to be fine. We tear into the bag and shovel handfuls of popcorn into our mouths. I dig into my backpack and produce a bag of Twizzlers.
“Amanda emailed me,” I say finally.
Pau’s eyes get wide. “When?”
“Last night. She wants to meet, tomorrow, at her house.”
“Can you get away?”
I nod. “I’ll say I’m going to see Carter again. My parents won’t question it.”
Paulina peels a Twizzler from the package and starts to nibble. “What do you think Princess Amanda wants?”
“Not sure, but something changed. Maybe she finally realized she’s not going to solve this on her own.”
Paulina’s face gets serious. “I have an idea.”
“Okay.”
“You should definitely talk to her, find out what she knows. But I think you should also do what Private’s asking. Get them off your back.”
“Hear me out. You know the audio recording? What if you made a fake one? Ramon could pretend to be Carter. You’d ‘confess’ to him about us, and we’d tape it. We can do it on Tuesday; we’re going to an all-ages Latin Night in Logansville. You’ll come along, we’ll record in the car.” Her face is pleading, and it’s not just about making the tape. Come out with me, Rosalie. I want to say yes, screw it, I’m already on the verge of getting caught, but something is nagging at me, something aside from the usual reasons. . . .
“Then we’ll password-protect that shit,” Paulina is saying, “and send it off to Private. Think about it: Private gets what they want, and Carter wouldn’t tell anyone, because he’d never know.”
It clicks, and suddenly there are two different trains of thought fighting for control in my brain. The first goes: That would never work. Even if Private bought the recording, they’d figure out the truth soon enough.
The second says: I never told Pau about making a recording.
“How do you know about that?” I ask. “The audio?”
Pau’s face drops and my gut twists, hard.
“You told me?” she says, but it’s more of a question.
“I don’t think so.” My mind races back to our conversation on Tuesday night. Pau wouldn’t intentionally try to get me Extradited. Right? Her voice echoes in my ears. I swear to Pussy Riot and David Bowie and all that is holy that I will do everything in my power to make sure the FOC doesn’t get its hands on you. Even if it means kidnapping you until you turn eighteen. Extradition would mean no more FOC, because I’d just be out. Disowned. It would also mean no more Lily, no more family at all. In the wrong hands, the audio file would ensure that happened, and fast. But Pau would never make that decision for me. . . .
I glare, forcing her to meet my eyes.
“I looked through your phone,” she admits. “I’m sorry. You left your backpack on the table at lunch, and I looked. I’m worried about you. I had to see the messages for myself.”
“You could have asked. You need to trust me.”
“I’m sorry.”
I let her words hang in the air between us. I believe her, almost.
“Since you’ve read all my texts—”
“I said I’m sorry. I really am.”
“Fine. I’m not ready to forgive you.”
“Fine.”
“But since you’ve read them, there’s something else I’ve been thinking about.” I pull out my phone and open the conversation with Private. The latest string of texts came in last night. “Look at these.”
Just a friendly check-in, Sweetheart.
You’ve avoided Mercy long enough. Time to pay the patient a visit.
There’s no better birthday gift than the truth. Tick-Tock.
“Yeah?” Pau hands my phone back to me.
“How would Private know that Carter’s been asking me to visit? And that I haven’t gone.”
Paulina is quiet for a minute. She chews the left corner of her bottom lip. “Good guess?” she says finally. “Private found the clearing, and they showed up at your house. Those probably aren’t the only times they’ve been following you.”
I shiver. She has a point, but it’s not one I really want to think about.
“So if Private’s been watching you, they know you haven’t gone to the hospital. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that Carter’s asked you to visit. They made an educated guess.”
My voice drops to a whisper. “Do you think they’re watching us now?”
“No way.” Paulina reaches out and takes my hands in hers. “We’re safe here. But Lee-Lee, this person is not messing around. You know I don’t give ten shits about Carter Shaw, but someone put him in the hospital over this. Let me help you make the recording. Let’s end this.”
I swallow. The recording. Even if I thought it would work, which I don’t, I wouldn’t let Pau anywhere near that audio file. For the first time in the almost four years she’s been in my life, I’m not sure I can trust her.
She sees the panic on my face and squeezes my hands tighter. “Think about the future. In four and a half months, we’re going to graduate and move into our apartment. And then school will start, and our whole lives are ahead of us.” Her voice gets cold. “We’ll finally be free of your parents and the church. Don’t let some pervert jeopardize all that.”
Her eyes flash with something that looks like rage. When she kisses me, I have to make myself kiss her back.
I leave the scene shop first and walk toward the bus. Five minutes later, Pau climbs in and heads for the back row. All the way home, I think about how Private knew about Carter’s pleas to go see him in the hospital. Pau could be right; it could have been a smart guess. But I told Paulina about Carter’s texts on Tuesday. She’s the only person who knows that Carter’s been asking me to visit, and that I’ve been pushing him away. I follow her with my eyes as she gets off at her stop.
When she’s on the sidewalk, she turns around and waves. I give her a small smile in return, then wrap my arms around my stomach. It aches. I probably ate too much junk food, but it’s not just that. None of this feels right. When I get off the bus, I have to run to make it to the bushes in time. The panic pours out of me hot and sour along with the contents of my stomach and a flood of bitter bile.