I stare out the window at the passing houses, but they're a blur. The radio is on low, and it plays an old song Dad likes to sing to, if you call it singing. It reminds me of Long Island, which reminds me of Dad's kooky family and how every time they see me, they give big hugs and say how much I've grown. I think I've stopped growing now. What will they say next holiday? They'll never stop with the hugs. That's how big Italian families are, I think.
I glance to Shayla. She watches the road. When was the last time she was hugged? I'm not sure why I care. She's hateful, but she also lives in a home where she's had to compete. That's awful.
She puts on her blinker. "You're quiet."
I shrug, not wanting to get into it with her. Besides, I'm sure she doesn't want to hear about mine and Kinley's drama.
She points up ahead. "That's the high school."
The most important place Troy forgot to show me. It's a two-story, brick building that looks like every other school I've been to. The parking lot is empty, of course, and a huge field sits across from it.
"Is that where they play sports?" There are no bleachers or any markings.
"No, there's another huge field in back. That space isn't really used."
"Seems like a waste." Who wants to sit in class and stare at grass? Well, I guess we're supposed to be watching the teacher, but who does that all the time?
Now that I see the school, I'm not quite as nervous about starting. But that'll probably change the night before the first day. I never get used to being the new girl. I put way too much pressure on myself to wear the right outfit, to act the right way—totally casual but mysterious too. It's a tricky balance.
Shayla pulls into a driveway a block from the school.
April's a walker. How convenient. It must stink in the rain and snow, but it has to beat taking the bus. That's always been a bad ordeal no matter what state I've lived in. Or maybe I just get sucky drivers who pretend they don't hear the bullying. I'm not sure what's worse. Kids who act like rejects or adults who allow it.
Shayla and I step out of her car and walk to the front door of the two-story, dark green home. A turned-over tricycle and a multi-colored beach ball sit on the front lawn.
The door opens, and we're greeted by a woman in navy shorts and a white top. A gold chain accents her left ankle, and her toenails are colored in a shimmery gold polish. She looks old enough to be a mom, but she doesn't dress like most of the ones I've met.
"Shayla," she says and pulls her into a hug.
"Hi, Mrs. Winston." Shayla pulls back with a slight frown.
"I'm so sorry for you and your family, dear." She sounds like the woman who answered the phone when I called their store last week.
"Thank you. Is April home? I wanted to chat."
Mrs. Winston steps back, allowing us to enter. "Of course, she's in the living room."
As I pass her, she cocks her head to the side. "Aren't you the girl that snuck…"
Shayla throws an arm around my shoulders. "This is Piper. She's a friend of mine."
I offer a smile, but it doesn't seem to soften the mother's suspicions.
Mrs. Winston nods but keeps an eye on me as Shayla pulls me into the living room.
The TV is on, and three heads are seen from the back of the couch.
"Hi," Shayla says.
They turn toward us. April jumps up and frowns. "What are you doing here?"
"We'd like to talk."
April glances to the two little boys she was watching Spongebob with and grabs the remote to pause the show. "You guys go finish watching this upstairs."
"But April…" one whines.
She widens her eyes and gets serious. "Go."
They get up and stomp past us. The younger one sticks out his tongue.
Shayla and I circle the couch and sit down.
April sits on the coffee table. She glances at me but faces Shayla. "What do you want?"
"Look, I know you and my sister were best friends. You two go back to elementary school. You know everything about each other."
Gosh, that must be so cool. To be able to just be yourself around someone else, to not worry about sounding stupid or like accidentally farting or something. Okay, so maybe I'll always worry about that.
"And I know you guys have had problems," Shayla continues. "You were fighting before she died. But I know despite that you'd want to help if you can. I mean, you loved her, right?"
April nods.
"Then please tell us why you and Linzy were fighting."
At least Shayla doesn't make it sound like she's accusing April of foul play. I make a mental note to take a page from Shayla's book and work on my tactic. And yes, I'm completely aware she's the polite and nice one this time around.
April looks to the carpet for a moment.
Shayla glances at me and raises her brows.
I have my fingers crossed, pleading with the gods of secrets that this will work, that we'll get the answers we need.
Finally, April says, "She got mad at me for something I didn't do."
Sounds just like Linzy.
Shayla scoffs. "She did that to me all the time. It was like she felt entitled, and everything was about her."
April's eyes widen. "As if she was the center of the universe."
"Exactly."
They laugh together, and this seems to loosen April's lips. She leans forward and taps Shayla's knee. "I always felt like I had to watch what I said in case she took it wrong and blew up at me."
Shayla rolls her eyes. "She made everyone feel that way. So what happened this last time?"
I press myself into the corner of the couch, holding my breath and trying to not make a sound. I don't want to distract April and have her clam up again.
"She saw a message on my phone from Eli. She thought we were secret lovers, conspiring against her. I knew how much she liked him. I never would've done that to her, but she didn't believe me." Her voice cracks.
"Were you messaging each other?" Shayla asks.
April bows her head a bit. "Yeah, but I only wanted to know if he liked her. She went on and on about him every time we were together, and with the soap, that wasn't much anymore. I wanted to hang like we used to, but all she cared about was him."
Shayla clicks her tongue. "That stinks. Linzy couldn't see how lucky she was."
While I'm pretty sure Shayla means what she's saying, it's also coming off scripted, like something an adult would say to calm down a child.
"I couldn't tell her why I messaged Eli. I was afraid she'd get pissed. And then we had the huge fight and didn't speak for days. I figured when she got home from New York, I'd just go over and apologize. But then she was gone."
None of us say anything for a while.
If I add everything April said to all the rest, I'm still at zero. "Do you know who she was secretly meeting that last night?" I ask. I can't help it. Shayla seems to have fallen into her own thoughts, and we need more answers.
April looks startled, as if she forgot I was in the room. She shakes her head. "No. But she'd been different the last few months. She hinted at knowing something big. I assumed it had to do with her show. There were always little things she told me, like the actor who plays her father comes onto set smelling of alcohol."
That's little? I'm gonna have to find a way to talk to her co-stars.
"What about money?" Shayla asks. "Did she mention it?"
April crinkles her brows. "No. She always complained that your mom was stealing from her."
Shayla rolls her eyes. "Yes, welcome to Linzy's deranged world."
It's nice to know Shayla doesn't believe their mother is the Wicked Witch of the Northeast.
Shayla looks to me, as if to ask if there's anything more we need to know. I can't think of anything, so we stand. "Thanks for helping, April."
She nods then turns to me. "Sorry I was such a bitch the other day."
"No problem. I'm a stranger and kinda threw myself at you. I would've been one, too."
She smiles but then frowns just as quickly. To Shayla, she says, "I'm sorry. I know Linzy was difficult, and you and she fought way more than we did, but…I miss her."
Shayla looks away.
On our way to the car, Shayla whispers, "me too."
* * *
When Shayla drops me off, Dad's still not home. I glance over at Bridget's. Her car isn't there either. Are they out for a late dinner or did they sneak away to a motel? Eww. Why do I torture myself with these thoughts?
I unlock the front door and gasp when I step inside.
It looks as if King Kong picked up our house and shook it until all its contents spilled into the center. The coat closet door is open, and the few items inside are now on the floor in the hall. Dad's office is open, and, as I step forward, I'm afraid to peek inside. Sure enough, there are papers all over the floor, his desk and file cabinet doors are open.
I step into the kitchen. The cabinets and drawers are open, but luckily everything is still contained within them. I hurry upstairs and stare at the mess of what was once my room. Everything I own is on the floor, even my clothes in my closet. Is this payback for going through her things, or some child-like tantrum? Either way, I hate her right now.
"Linzy," I scream.
She appears in my doorway and laughs at my room. "What happened here?"
"Don't play dumb. You know what you did. Why?"
She places a hand on her hip. "Something isn't perfect, and you blame me?"
"You did it earlier."
"So it must be my fault now too? Maybe you have another ghost?" Then she disappears.
That's not possible, right? I mean, yeah, I've wondered if Cameron's been hanging around, but I was joking. Sorta. Why would he do this? No, it had to be Linzy. But she seemed surprised.
"Don't come back until you're ready to apologize," I scream.
Then it dawns on me. I just accused her based on circumstantial crap, the same way she had April. Does this mean I'm no better than my dead friend?