Ten (21 page)

T.J. turned the page.

It’s all the same. Nothing changes.

He asked someone else to Homecoming. I’ve been trying for days to catch him alone. Waited for him outside the boys’ locker room after practice. Sat next to his car after a game. But he was always with someone.

Today I was hiding in the copy room, waiting. He always comes on Thursdays at the beginning of third period. But as usual, he had someone with him. That stupid friend of his. They didn’t see me but I heard what he said. “I’ve got a date for Homecoming.”

His friend laughed. “That stringy-haired freak that’s always following you around? Dude, something’s wrong with her.”

“Um, no.”

“Good. I’d rather shoot myself in the head than get stuck taking that chick to Homecoming.”

Stringy-haired freak? That’s me. That’s me his friend was talking about! Sabotaging me. Now he’ll never even think of me as anything more than some crazy girl that follows him around. IT’S NOT FAIR!!!!!!

Now I have to confront them. They’ll probably go to one of the bonfires at the beach after the dance. I’ll find them and I’ll confront them.

T.J. gasped. “Oh my God.”

“What?”

He gripped her hand. “You said you knew who the killer was. Back at the house.”

“Yeah.”

“You think it’s the person who wrote this journal?”

Meg cringed. “Or someone who knew about it.”

“Meg.” T.J. pulled her hand close to his chest. “Meg, I know who wrote this.”

She wasn’t expecting that. She hadn’t told T.J. about the photo. “How do you know?”

“The copy room. That was me. I go every Thursday at the beginning of third period and make weekend itineraries for Leadership. The week of Homecoming Gunner came with me. I was telling him that I asked you to the dance.”

“Oh, no.”

“She must have been there. I mean, I’d noticed her hanging around my car and stuff, but after what happened to Bobby and Tiffany it’s generally safer just to stay the hell away from her, you know?”

“Oh God.” The realization hit her. If T.J. had been the guy Claire was talking about, that meant the girl she was going to confront, the girl she was going to make pay … was her.

“But it’s impossible,” he said, running a hand over his bare head. “It couldn’t possibly be her …”

“Because she’s dead,” Meg said.

T.J.’s head flicked up. “You know who it is?”

Meg nodded. She flipped the journal back a few pages to the photo. “Claire Hicks.”

TWENTY NINE

T.J. SAT BOLT UPRIGHT. “IF CLAIRE’S ON THE
island, we need to get back to the house to warn the others.”

“Okay, let’s not get crazy,” Meg said, fighting back the fear. “It can’t be Claire.”

“Why not?”

“Come on! What, you think this is her ghost back from the grave or something?”

“Uh, no,” T.J. said. “But how do we know she’s really dead?”

“Obituary. Funeral. The usual.”

“But that’s all circumstantial. Did you
go
to the funeral? Did you
see
the body?”

Meg looked at him. “You think her death was faked.”

“I’m just saying it’s possible.”

Meg squinted into the darkness and tried to get a read on T.J. Was he messing with her? Suggesting that Claire Hicks somehow faked her own suicide and was now getting revenge on people who wronged her in life was a bit much even for a writer to believe. But as she watched T.J. rubbing his forehead with his index finger as he stared at the discarded diary, she was convinced that he really believed Claire might be behind it all.

Meg? Not so much.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s pretend for a minute that it
is
Claire.”

“Okay.”

“Lori, Vivian, Ben, Nathan, and Kenny knew her from Mariner. The five of them. And she was obviously in love with you, so I get why she might hate me but … I don’t know. Why would she want revenge on you? Or Minnie and Gunner?”

T.J. rubbed his mouth but didn’t say anything.

“Did she confront you like she said she was going to? Did she show up at Homecoming?”

T.J. averted his eyes. “Kinda.”

“Kinda?” Homecoming night. Everyone was always dancing around it, and Meg always let it go because the thought of that night made her physically ill. But suddenly she wanted to know more than anything what happened.

There was still one entry left. Maybe it would have the answers. Meg picked up the journal and flipped to the last entry.

“What are you doing?” T.J. asked. He sounded alarmed.

“There’s one more,” Meg said, holding the journal down by the light. “I need to know what happened.”

“Meg …,” T.J. started.

“Yeah?”

His eyes met hers for a moment. His face was tight, almost as if he was in pain.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “Read it out loud.”

This is the end.

And I’m ready now.

I can deal with their ridicule, their snobbery, their cliques. I can deal with being the outsider. I never wanted their friendship. I was only at the bonfire to stake my claim on T.J. Meg Pritchard needs to understand that.

I never even saw her there. She must have been hiding, because she sent her blonde pit bull to attack me. She humiliated me in front of him and he

Meg turned the page, but there was nothing else. No more words. Only a jagged fringe near the spine.

The last page of Claire’s diary had been torn out.

“Dammit!” Meg said.

T.J. slumped his head against his hands. “We don’t need it. I can tell you exactly what happened.”

Meg’s hands shook as she flipped back a page and reread the last line.
Blonde pit bull.
It could only be one person.

“That was Minnie, wasn’t it?”

T.J. nodded. “She’d basically had a whole six-pack by that point. And you know how she gets when she drinks.”

“Tell me about it.”

“But …” T.J. stood suddenly. He paced back and forth in front of the wall of gas cans. “Look, it’s not Minnie’s fault. We were all pretty drunk, Minnie, Gunner, and me for sure. I was really pissed off, trying to forget you. And Minnie, after the first three or four beers, started hitting on me again. Right in front of Gunner.”

Meg winced. She wasn’t sure who she felt more sorry for, Minnie or Gunner.

“And I’d told her off. Kind of dragged her away from the crowd so no one heard, but I told her I was never going to date her and whatever the hell she thought was going on between us was all in her head.”

“You told her that?”

“Yeah.” T.J. stopped pacing. “Only I think that made it worse.”

Meg could almost see Minnie’s face as T.J. informed her that they would never, ever be a couple. A mix of disbelief and defiance.

“That’s when Claire showed up. She marched right across the beach to me and everything got real quiet. She looked like a ghost or something, with her black hair flying in the wind. I don’t even think she saw Minnie there with me. Just walked right up and said ‘I want you to know I love you and I think you feel the same way.’”

Meg groaned. She knew what was coming next. When Minnie was hurt she lashed out at whoever and whatever was within arm’s reach. “And Minnie went after her.”

“Like those lions in the zoo at feeding time. It was ugly. Minnie laughed, then told Claire what a freak she was and how no one would ever love her. Gunner and I pulled her away, but it was too late. And everyone stood around watching. I think half the school was there. Claire’s face turned bright red. I was going to say something, try and calm her down, but she just turned and ran.” T.J. swallowed. “She was dead the next morning.”

“Shit.”

“But, Meg.” T.J. knelt down next to her. “I’m the one to blame. I should have stopped her. Gone after her. But I didn’t. I just stood there and stared like everyone else.” T.J. hung his head. “So this, all of this, is my fault.”

“It’s not your fault.” Meg reached up and caressed his cheek. “It’s not your fault,” she repeated. “Claire was depressed, and what happened to make her that way started long before she met you. This journal proves that. If it wasn’t you, it would have been someone else.”

“You think?”

“She fell in love with Nathan first. That alone would make me question her sanity.”

T.J. laughed and grasped her hand. “No, I mean, do you think it could have been anyone?”

“Yeah. It was because you were nice to her. You noticed her. That’s just …” Meg paused, searching for the right word. “Human. You didn’t know she was going to make Prince Charming out of you.”

“I guess not.” T.J. fell silent for a moment, then took a sharp breath. “I can’t believe it’s one of us.”

“I know.” Meg had been mulling the list of survivors over in her mind. Five people, four of whom she’d known for years. It just didn’t seem possible.

“I mean,” T.J. continued. “I wouldn’t have been surprised if it was Nathan. I know you’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but the dude was an asshole.”

Meg laughed despite herself.

“Kenny had an angry side to him.”

Meg nodded. “And Vivian had the cold-bloodedness.”

“But they’re all …”

“Dead.”

“Yeah.” T.J. looked her straight in the eye. “So I guess all we really know is that
we’re
innocent. We’ve been together almost the whole time.”

Meg smiled, but something inside her twitched. Not quite the whole time. After Nathan and Kenny left, she hadn’t seen him until Minnie screamed.

T.J. squeezed her hand and smiled back. If there was one person on the island she could trust, it was T.J.

They sat on the floor of the boathouse, hand in hand, staring at the journal in the fading light of the lantern. Meg wanted to say something, a word of comfort or hope, but she didn’t really have either at her disposal. Instead she leaned her body into him. His arms crept around her waist and pulled her to his chest. She could hear the steady, strong beat of his heart as he held her, something normal, something alive. He rested his head against hers and they sat there, holding each other.

Meg closed her eyes and pretended they were somewhere else. A beach. Her bedroom. Smack dab on the fifty-yard line at the Kamiak High football field. Anywhere but the boathouse below White Rock House. She could almost imagine it all away. But not quite.

“They’ll be waiting for us,” she said.

T.J. took a deep breath. “I know.”

“Do we tell them?”

“We have to.”

“Then what?”

T.J. pulled away. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t. But whatever happens, I’m not leaving your side, okay? I’m going to be attached to you until the ferry arrives tomorrow.”

“Promise?” Meg asked, using one of Minnie’s favorite phrases.

He smiled. “You’ll have to shoot me to get rid of me.”

“Lucky for you I don’t have a gun,” Meg laughed.

“Isn’t it?”

She picked up the journal and handed the waning lantern to T.J. “Okay, Prince Charming. After you.”

THIRTY

“THE WAY I SEE IT,” T.J. SAID. HE SWALLOWED
hard and gripped Meg’s hand tightly under the table. “The way
we
see it, whoever wrote the diary is behind everything.”

They’d decided on the walk back up to the house not to mention that the journal might have belonged to a dead girl. Meg was worried that the news might put Minnie over the edge, but in the end, it wasn’t like it really mattered.

What they had to do now was figure out a way to survive until morning.

No one reacted, just continued to stare at the diary, which sat in the middle of the table. It was as if the shock of all the deaths had numbed their senses, slowed down their reactions. Meg felt it herself. When she and T.J. finally returned to the house, the two additional red slashes on the wall somehow didn’t hold the same terror they had earlier in the day. Meg distinctly remembered staring at them, marveling at the fifth slash with complete concentration, like it was a Picasso she needed to interpret. It perfectly cut through the other four on the diagonal, centered and without a single drip of red paint to mar its symmetry. It had been made carefully. Precisely. Whoever did it wasn’t concerned about getting caught. They’d taken their time.

T.J. called Gunner, Minnie, and Kumiko downstairs to the foyer and they each reacted much the same. No hysterics. No panic. Meg could see the same dull look in their eyes as they marched through the foyer. Acceptance.

Death was the new normal.

Kumiko was the first to break the silence. “Really?” She folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes. “Isn’t the most logical explanation that one of us is the killer?”

Meg flinched. Well, of course it was the logical explanation. The first thought that popped into everyone’s mind. But considering the five individuals who were currently huddled around a dining room table, lit only by a battery-operated lantern and a half-dozen candles, the idea sounded ludicrous.

T.J. remained calm. “We’ve been over this.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

“Who then?” T.J. asked. “My best friend? Meg’s best friend? You?”

Kumiko didn’t answer.

“I’ve known Gunner since I was ten. Meg, when did you and Minnie meet?”

“Seventh grade.” Meg smiled at Minnie, but she wasn’t looking.

Kumiko pursed her lips. She clearly wasn’t buying T.J’s argument. “Just for kicks, I want to point out that any of us could have committed these murders.” She glanced around the table, taking in each person. “
Any
of us.”