Ripple (10 page)

I close my eyes and concentrate on the feeling of his hand on my knee, remember what it felt like when he hugged me. When he sat by my side and let me cry. And I know I can’t resist him, not right now, not in this perfect moment. “Okay.”

The cell phone in Cole’s pocket chirps. I pull away from him, suddenly feeling sheepish.

“How about tomorrow? I can pick you up,” he says.

“No. Meet me at the theater. We can see a movie.” I get up, dusting the sand from my pants. “See you then,” I call over my shoulder, the soles of my shoes sinking into the sand as I rush away, fear and hope churning together in equal measure. I just agreed to a date. My first formal date, ever. I always dreamed it would be Steven, but instead it’s going to be Cole. What am I doing? All he had to do was
ask,
and I waved the white flag.

When I’m far enough down the coast that he won’t be able to see me, I wade into the surf, letting it lap at my calves. It’s cold. Too cold to be wading. But dusk is still an hour and a half away, and I never get this far into the ocean anymore. I avoid looking at it, being around it.

Too many people died in this ocean.

Steven’s not the only one. An hour down the coast, not far from our old home, is the marina where they found my mom’s body. And now, despite the risks, I’m letting Cole in, inch by inch.

And the scary thing is, this time I know what could happen.

T
he rain has returned. It’s sprinkling, darkening the sidewalks and streets. I stand under the overhang at the movie theater in town, my hands crammed into the small pockets of my fleece jacket.

I almost didn’t show up. But I just . . . couldn’t seem to force myself to stay home. So, here I am, wearing my best-fitting jeans and a soft cream-colored turtleneck beneath my fleece. I even left my hair down today, falling in waves around my shoulders.

When a familiar black Range Rover pulls into the lot, all sparkle and shine, my nerves begin to dissipate. To my surprise, I calm down as I see him emerge from his car. And by the time he’s walking up to me, I feel my lips curl upward into a grin.

He smiles back at me and reaches out for my hand. “Ah. See, you always did have a devastating smile,” he says.

My cheeks flush, and I break eye contact, looking down at the toe of my scuffed black flats. He gives my hand a squeeze, and then we walk toward the entrance, where he buys two tickets to the comedy playing on the only screen in the place. He orders a huge tub of popcorn and some M&M’s and a soda, and we find a pair of seats in the darkened back corner of the theater. It’s nearly empty, except an older couple toward the front and two girls on the opposite corner.

I settle into my chair near the curtained walls and lean back. Our shoulders bump as the previews roll on-screen. Cole sets the big Coke in the cup holder between us.

“Thanks for showing up,” Cole says, leaning on an elbow as I sink further into my seat.

I nod. “Of course,” I say, as if I hadn’t even considered the idea of standing him up.

“I have to admit, I thought you’d be a no-show.” He grins, and there’s a tinge of nervousness to it.

I turn to him and raise an eyebrow as if I’m surprised, but I don’t think he buys it. “Okay, fine. Maybe I almost stayed home.”

He tips his head to the side, the faintest of smiles playing at the corners of his lips. “I’ll try to pretend that doesn’t kill my ego.”

And then I’m grinning again. Every logical shred of me knows this will never end with a happily ever after, but I can’t bring myself to acknowledge that when all I want to do is sit here forever under the heat of his gaze.

Pop music blasts from the speakers, and I tear my eyes away from Cole to see an overarching shot of the Hollywood Hills. The camera slowly zooms in on a blue convertible with a pretty blonde at the wheel, her hair flying out around her.

Cole reaches out and takes my hand. He seems so confident, and I wonder if I should be, too.

I smile again and sink even further into my chair, silencing the doubts screaming in the back of my mind. I nestle closer to him, wondering how I ever could have thought of missing this.

 

The movie is longer than I expected. It’s past seven by the time we walk out. I picked an early showing so that I could be up at my lake in time to swim.

Cole reaches out, links his pinky with mine. It’s good that he does, because I think I might float away without him to anchor me.

It’s almost dusk. It’s not sprinkling anymore, and the clouds have lifted a little bit, but the concrete still gleams with rain. Cole pulls me in the opposite direction of the parking lot. “Let’s go for a walk.”

I guess he doesn’t want this evening to end either. I meet his eyes and smile. I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy, this content. I’d follow him anywhere.

But I go about five steps before I realize where we’re heading. The ocean. My heart plummets. It’s so close to night—the sun is nearly touching the horizon. I can’t possibly be anywhere near the ocean with him. I jerk to a stop, but he’s still holding my pinky, so I end up sort of shuffling and tripping, until he stops, too.

“Something wrong?”

“I have to go home,” I say. “I can’t—I can’t leave my grandmother for too long.” I don’t look at him. He’ll know something is going on if I meet his eyes. Instead, I stare at my brown Toyota, raindrops sparkling under the streetlamp.

“Are you sure? I thought we could go for a walk on the beach. . . ”

“No,” I say, too loud, too short. I hate this, hate that tonight can’t be a simple high school date like it would be for anyone else. I want what he is trying to give me: a beautiful date that will live forever in my heart, the closest thing I’ll ever get to a real romance.

Cole narrows his eyes. “Everything okay? We don’t have to . . .”

I realize I’m giving him a total panicked-animal sort of expression and try to act as if everything is okay. “I just need to go home,” I say.

“No biggie. Let me walk you to your car.”

I nod, and he trails me as I walk, too quickly, to the rusted-out brown Toyota. The contented feeling has been replaced with melancholy. This is my reality. Why did I think, even for a moment, that I could change it? “Thanks for the movie,” I say, yanking the door open with a loud screech. I’m about to fling myself into the seat when I feel his arm on mine. I turn to face him.

For a long moment neither of us moves; he just stares right into my eyes, as if to prove that he can see the tears threatening. He
wants
me to know that I can’t hide this from him.

But instead of saying anything, instead of pushing for answers I’ll never give, he just leans in slowly until his lips brush against mine—a whisper of a kiss.

But it’s still a kiss.

A real, beautiful,
perfect
kiss. Everything inside me turns inside out, upside down.

And then he pulls away, his lips curling ever so slightly upward as he studies my reaction.

I smile a little, blush creeping up, and slide away from him, finally dipping into the car and plopping down onto my seat. I reach over and twist the key, and the car churns to life. My heart gallops in my chest.

“See you Monday?” I ask, staring down at my hands, suddenly shy.

“Yeah. See you then.”

He lets his fingers slip off the car door, then pushes it shut, and then the window is between us.

He waves, but doesn’t move as I start the car and reverse out of the parking spot.

I watch Cole in my rearview mirror until I turn a corner and he’s gone.

I
t’s grocery day today, so I’m standing next to the passenger door of the Toyota, holding my arm out to help my grandma to her feet. Today she’s wearing a blouse with some kind of bright goofy pattern that might have been cool in the ’70s. Maybe the ’60s.

“I got it, I got it,” she says, waving me away when I offer her my arm. I reach in through the back window and grab her cane, and we shuffle to the front steps. I grab us a cart. She likes to push it, so that she doesn’t have to use her cane.

She grips the handle, and we head through the second set of automatic doors. It’s warm inside, and the scent of the fried chicken from the deli makes my mouth water. “How is chemistry going these days?”

“Good. We haven’t gotten our grades from the last test, but I think I only missed maybe one or two questions. Easy A.”

“That’s good. You want to keep those grades up this year.” Gram waves at someone she recognizes, a smile lighting her face. Then she turns back to me. “They’re reviewing scholarship applications at this week’s rotary-club meeting,” she says, one gray eyebrow raised over her warm blue eyes.

I nod. If I have any hope of going to college, I need a few scholarships. Gram knows that college means leaving her behind, and yet she still wants me to apply to all these schools, even the ones across the country.

She pushes the cart into the produce section, where mounds and mounds of fruits and vegetables shine under the bright fluorescent lights. She stops next to the bananas, and I fight the urge to point out that the bunch she’s grabbing are clearly overripe. Instead I just turn away and move further into the section, my grandmother and the squeaking cart trailing behind me. I pause at a big pallet of tangerines and grab a bag.

When I look up from the tangerines, I glimpse Sienna, standing next to the bagged salads. Her hair is pulled back in a surprisingly casual low ponytail, and she’s got on jeans and a baby blue hoodie. She looks more relaxed than I’ve seen her in a long time.

Gram shuffles toward me, the wheels of her cart squeaking louder than ever. Sienna turns around and, in that moment, seems to freeze, no more certain of what she should do than I am.

We stand and stare at each other, the tangerines and a trough of potatoes stretch on between us. I grip the bag of tangerines even tighter in my hand. If Gram is paying attention, she’s going to see something’s not quite right between us.

Sienna takes a step away from the salads, and I think she’s just going to leave, but she doesn’t. She heads in my direction, and suddenly I wish I’d stuck with a glare or a scowl.

“Hey,” she says. Then Sienna turns to my grandma, who is behind me. “Hi, Mrs. Wentworth,” she adds.

“Sienna. So nice to see you, dear. You never come around anymore.” Gram reaches one of her pale lined hands out and pats Sienna’s shoulder as her eyes dart back at me. As if she wants me to leap forward, to prove that Sienna and I are still friends. “Did Lexi get around to inviting you to movie night?”

My grandma looks my way, accusingly, and I pray Sienna doesn’t give me away. I’m shocked when she just smiles sweetly, as if a movie night with her ex-BFF isn’t the most absurd thing she’s ever heard of. “She did—what night was it, again?”

Whoa.

“How about tomorrow? We can pick up some treats with the groceries,” Gram says.

“Sure! Until then, can I borrow Lexi this afternoon? I want to show her something.”

Why is she doing this? I can’t be friends with her again. I can’t have friends at all. It’s my number one rule for a reason.

“Oh, I mean, I’m—” I start to say, but my grandma looks expectantly at me, as though Sienna inviting me over is the best news she’s had in a month. Maybe if going to Sienna’s just for, like, a millisecond eases her stress, I should do it. And then maybe I can weasel my way out of this movie thing while I’m there.

“Okay, uh, sure. What time?”

Sienna fidgets, reaching up to play with her simple diamond pendant. Sienna never fidgets. “Three sound okay? You can just drop by for a bit. I have something of yours.”

I narrow my eyes. It’s been two years since I was last at her house. If she has anything of mine, it can’t be important, or I’d be missing it by now. And yet I can’t help but feel something shifting as we stare at each other.

I don’t know if we can be friends again. But I get the feeling that she’s not my enemy anymore.

I
drive past Cole’s house on my way to Sienna’s, and it’s almost impossible not to stop in the middle of the road and go say hello. I just want to see that dimpled smile for a minute, feel the way I relax around him. It’s more than twenty-four hours since our date, but I swear I can still feel his lips brushing against mine.

But instead of giving in to my impulse, I go right past the iron gates and turn down the slope of Sienna’s long, black driveway. I roll to a stop near her garage door. Her house isn’t quite as large as Cole’s, but it’s just as pretty. The architecture is more modern, all squares and harsh angles, but it’s coupled with small sections of clapboard accents and oversized windows. Sometime in the last two years, it’s been repainted from a bold red to a warm blue.

I sit in my car in the driveway, gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles turn white. It only takes a second for the car to cool.

Two years since I’ve been in that house. The last time was the night I killed Steven.