Lies I Told (22 page)

I moved through Friday in a kind of overstimulated haze. Everything felt both immediate and further away, like I'd already left it behind. When Rachel sat next to me in AP Euro, looking perfect as usual, I didn't even have the energy to check my own hair, to worry about whether I was in character, whether I looked the part. I wasn't even sure what that was anymore.

Or if I cared.

“Here's the essay,” she said, handing me a stack of papers.

“Thanks. I have the board game, too.” I pulled it out of my bag and handed it to her. I scanned the essay while she looked over my part of the project.

“Looks good,” she said.

“Thanks. This too. Do you want to hand it in or should I?”

She shrugged. “Whatever.”

If I'd had a nickel for every time Rachel had said
whatever
, we wouldn't have had to steal Warren Fairchild's gold.

“You can do it,” I said, handing the essay back to her.

She stacked the essay on top of the cardboard I'd used to create our board game on the Reformation. Then she turned around and faced forward like I wasn't even there.

At least there wouldn't be any sappy good-byes with Rachel Mercer.

About halfway through lunch in the cafeteria, I made a show of taking off my sweater.

“Why is it so hot in here?” I complained.

“Um, probably because of the two hundred sweaty, hormone-ridden teenage bodies crammed together like sardines,” Selena said.

I laughed. It was more difficult than usual. “Good point. Think I can keep this in your locker until Monday?”

It wasn't an unusual request. Selena's locker was one hall over from the cafeteria. Mine—assigned later because I'd transferred in after the start of the school year—was halfway across campus and nowhere near the rest of my classes.

“Sure. Want me to take it so you can walk with Logan?”

“Nah, I'm seeing him tonight. I'll walk with you.”

A few minutes later the bell rang, and Logan walked with Selena and me out into the hallway. He leaned down to give me a quick kiss.

“I can't wait to see you tonight,” he whispered.

His breath near my ear sent a shiver up my spine. “Me too.”

He walked backward a few steps, still smiling, before he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Selena grinned wickedly. “Things must be heating up between you and Mr. Perfect.”

I tried to smile. “You could say that.”

“I'll trade you details with Logan for details with David,” she said.

“That, my friend, is a deal.”

We turned the corner, and I slipped Selena's bracelet off my wrist and dropped it into the pocket of my sweater. By the time she found it, she'd probably hate my guts like everyone else. But at least she'd have her mother's bracelet.

“Let's have it,” she said when we reached her locker.

I handed her the sweater. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Just don't forget to get it before Wednesday.”

It took me a minute to realize what she meant: winter break started Thursday. I imagined everyone waking up Christmas morning, opening presents in their pajamas, texting friends to compare gifts. I had no idea where I would be, what I would be doing. And while our next stop was always a little vague for obvious reasons, this was different. We'd be in another country. And we'd probably never be able to come back.

She shut her locker. “Want to do something tomorrow?”

I nodded. “Sure.”

“Great! Text me.” She turned to go.

“Selena?”

“Yeah?”

People were milling around us, rushing to class before the late bell. There was so much I wanted to say. So much I wanted to tell her.

“I just . . .” I swallowed hard, trying to keep it together. “I'm not sure if I ever told you how much your friendship has meant—how much it means—to me.”

She smiled. “I feel the same way. I don't know what I ever did before you came here.”

“You did just fine,” I told her. “You're better than all of these people put together. Don't ever forget it.”

Her smile faltered a little. “Grace . . . is everything okay?”

I forced a laugh. “Yeah! Sure! It's the holidays.” I shrugged, rolling my eyes. “I guess it makes me a little sappy. I just wanted you to know how much I love you.”

She threw her arms around me. “I love you, too, girl! Now stop. Before you make me cry and stuff.”

“Deal!” I held out my hand. “We're all business from here on out.”

She slapped my hand away before turning to go. “You're ridiculous.”

“Takes one to know one,” I called after her.

I was still standing in the empty hall when the late bell rang.

I packed up my things and left them in my room. It was time to go to Logan's.

I looked around the house as I made my way down the stairs. I would miss the high ceilings, the tile floors that were always cool underfoot, the way the sunlight streamed in through the west-facing windows in the late afternoon. I wondered what the next house would look like. If it would be cold or warm there. If it would have an ocean or lake nearby.

I walked out without looking back. Looking back only made things worse.

Parker was sitting on the porch when I stepped outside. He looked up at me, eyes hidden behind the lenses of his sunglasses.

“All set?” he asked.

I nodded and headed for the car.

We didn't want the Saab sitting in the Fairchilds' driveway in the morning, and we'd have our hands full with the truck and dummy car we would use to meet up with my mom when it was all over. Parker would drop me off at Logan's and my dad would deal with the Saab.

I realized suddenly that I wasn't quite sure what that meant, how it all worked. In fact, there was a lot I didn't know. I'd put too much power in the hands of my parents. If I decided to stay—if I decided not to leave with Parker—that would have to change. I needed to start asking questions. To start making decisions for myself.

I looked up at the house next door as I slid into the passenger seat.

“You okay?” Parker asked as he started up the car.

“Peachy,” I said.

He put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. He didn't speak again until we were on the main road leading to Logan's house.

“I'm sorry, Grace.”

I kept my eyes on the ocean, the familiar strip of shimmering blue satin that seemed to go on and on. “For what?”

He sighed. “I know I've been a pain in the ass. But I also know you really liked him. Logan, I mean.”

“I really liked all of them.” We were both speaking in the past tense. Like Playa Hermosa was already behind us.

“Even Rachel Mercer?” he asked.

“At least she's real.”

“Grace . . .”

I glanced over at him, struck by the sadness in his voice. “What?”

“You're real, too. Don't let Cormac and Renee and the way we've been taught to live make you think otherwise. You did what you had to. We both did.”

“I could have said no,” I said softly. “I could have refused.”

“When you were thirteen? Fourteen?” He shook his head. “This has been such a huge mind fuck, you don't even realize it yet. But someday you will. Someday you'll look back and see who the real villains were.”

I turned to the window. I didn't want to have the same fight with Parker. Not now. I had to get my head in the game. Had to be ready to execute my part of the plan. If one of us screwed up, it could mean failure for the whole job. And failure meant jail. Or worse.

I took a deep breath as Parker turned onto the Fairchilds' street. The property came into view, and I spotted Logan on the other side of the iron gate.

Parker turned to me as we approached. “Everything will be okay, Grace. I'm going to get us out of this for good, I promise.”

“I can't think about that now,” I said as the car came to a stop. “Just be careful. Whatever happens, we'll figure it out together.”

“Promise?”

I tried to smile. “I promise.”

He nodded. “You have the Valium?”

I touched the vial in my pocket. “Yeah.”

“See you on the flip side.”

The gates were already swinging open when I stepped outside the car with my bag.

“Hello, you,” Logan said, walking toward me.

I smiled. “Hello.”

He looked over my shoulder and stepped around the car, extending a hand to Parker. “Hey, man. Wanna catch some waves Sunday morning?”

Parker took his hand. “Sure.”

“Cool.” Logan retreated. “See you at the Cove.”

“Sounds good.” Parker met my eyes. “See you later, Grace.”

Logan waited for Parker to go before hitting a button on the keypad at the head of the driveway. The gates swung shut with a quiet hum.

I looked over at him. “You didn't have to come to the gate.”

“It wasn't a problem,” he said. “I couldn't wait to see you.”

“Same.” My stomach twisted with regret.

He took my hand. “You hungry?”

“Sure.”

We walked in silence, the setting sun casting dappled shade through the trees alongside the driveway. The sky was a watercolor painting, streaked with orange and pink and violet as twilight took hold of the day.

Logan armed the alarm as soon as we entered the foyer and then shut the door behind us.

“How do you feel about pasta?” he asked, leading me
into the kitchen. Fresh garlands hung over the cabinets, and a minitree sat on the counter, lights winking against the encroaching darkness.

“Who doesn't like pasta?”

He pulled me into his arms. “I knew there was a reason I loved you,” he said before giving me a quick kiss.

I swatted playfully at his chest, swallowing the lump of emotion that had risen in my throat at his use of the
L
word. Stupid. It was just a figure of speech.

We worked together in the kitchen, Logan preparing his mother's homemade tomato sauce while I chopped greens and vegetables for a salad. I'd never cooked with anyone other than my family, and I was surprised how comfortable and easy it was, the two of us moving around each other like we'd done it a thousand times before.

Logan went to the media room, and a couple of minutes later music streamed from the speakers hidden above the kitchen cupboards. We sang along, and every now and then Logan would take my hand and spin me around the kitchen.

When the food was done, we sat side by side at the island, talking about the holidays. Logan told me about his traditions, about Christmas Eves by the fireplace, sugar cookies left out for Santa and carrots for his reindeer, trees with the lights left on all night. When he asked me what I remembered, I took bits and pieces and tried to weave them together into something that resembled a normal childhood.

We loaded our dishes into the dishwasher and wiped off the counters. We were getting ready to go to the media room
for a movie when Logan asked if I wanted some wine.

I fingered the vial of crushed Valium in my pocket. “Sure.”

He pulled a bottle from the wine cooler and studied the label. “I have no idea if this is any good. Do you know anything about wine?”

“Not a thing,” I laughed. “I'm sure it's fine.”

He poured two glasses, handing me one of them, and we headed upstairs.

The media room was dark, lit only by the colored lights on the massive tree in the corner. Logan used the dimmer switch to turn the lights on low.

“Want a fire?” he asked. “It's getting cold.”

“That sounds nice.”

He crossed the room to the big stone fireplace. “Why don't you look for a movie while I get this going?” he suggested. “If you can't find anything, we can stream something.”

I set my wineglass on the coffee table and opened the armoire's massive double doors. I tried to focus on the titles in the Fairchilds' DVD library, but my mind was all over the place. I was acutely aware of Logan a few feet behind me, of how easy it would be to turn around and walk into his arms. Give him everything. Then I remembered what I was about to do. How much it would hurt him and his family. And not just in the obvious ways. Not just because we would steal from him, but because it would shake his faith in himself. In the goodness he thought lived in everyone because it was so absolute in him.

I didn't want to cross that line. Not yet.

I blinked back tears as I turned around. Logan was bent over the fireplace, placing a large log on top of a couple of smaller ones. He reached for a match, struck it on the stone, and lit the newspaper. The fire crackled to life.

He stood. “Did you find something?”

I couldn't speak. Could only stand there, looking at him.

“Grace? Are you okay?”

I closed the distance between us slowly, stopping when I was right in front of him. “I don't want to watch a movie,” I said softly.

His eyes were locked with mine. “You don't?”

I shook my head, lifting my hands to his shoulders, letting them run down his chest, feeling the muscle under my palms. I moved my fingers to the top button of his shirt and undid it.

“Grace . . .” His voice was hoarse.

He kept his hands at his sides, like he was afraid to touch me, as I undid the buttons of his shirt. I leaned forward, pressing my lips to the warm skin of his chest.

“I want to be with you, Logan.”

I heard the intake of his breath. “We don't have to . . . I'm happy just to hold you.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and looked up at him. “I want to.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes burned into mine.

It would make saying good-bye harder. It would mean leaving a bigger part of myself in Playa Hermosa. But on the
eve of my betrayal, I wanted to give him something that was real. Something that might make him doubt all the things he would hear about me in the weeks ahead. Something that might make him believe in me despite what I would do.

I didn't answer. Instead I took the blanket from the couch and laid it on the floor with some of the throw pillows. Then I took his hands and pulled him down next to me.

He held my face in his hands as his mouth found mine. And then his hands were in my hair, lifting my T-shirt over my head, burning into my skin like a brand. There was nothing but him: his lips on mine, his hands exploring my body in the flickering firelight. I was lost, and I shut out everything, made him the center of my universe, if only for a couple of hours.

Afterward, I lay in the crook of his arm, the lights from the Christmas tree playing across his face.

He kissed the top of my head. “I love you, Grace. I think I've loved you since you first looked into my eyes in the hallway, the day you dropped your schedule. Remember?”

I nodded. “I love you, too.”

It was true. And it was all I had to give.