Choker (14 page)

“Never mind,” Cara finished lamely. She swept away the hay square with one palm. Zoe rolled something between her fingers.

“What’s that?” Cara peered at it. It was a small pearl, almost glowing in the gloomy light.

“This?” Zoe held it up and examined it as if she were a jeweler. “Just something from my mom. Took it before I left.” She suddenly sat up on her knees and peered through the window.

“Isn’t this fun?” she said, turning to Cara with a big smile. “It’s just like old times.” She reached over to hug Cara. Her bare arms were soft. The faint scent of underarms wafted to Cara’s nose. “So did Ethan try anything last night?”

Cara resisted the urge to push her away. “No, of course not. He’s with Alexis! He’s too much of a gentleman to do anything like that.”

“I bet she won’t be a problem anymore.” Zoe laughed. Her teeth were slightly yellowed, as if she hadn’t brushed them in a while. “Are you sure you didn’t get a chance to use your practice lessons? Come on, tell me.”

Her breath smelled awful. Cara casually shifted back a few inches. “No, nothing like that, I swear. You know I’d tell you right away if anything happened.” God, it was awful that Zoe was letting herself go like this. Maybe she was depressed just staying in the bedroom all the time, never having any excuse to get dressed up. Cara put her hand on Zoe’s. “Zo . . . I wish you could just come to school with me, and hang out, like normal. I hate that you’re trapped in my room all the time.”

Zoe looked surprised. “I don’t.”

Cara blinked. “You don’t?”

“Nope. Why would I want to go to school? I have everything I need in your room . . . food, stuff to read, music—and you!” Her lips were stretched back from her teeth in a rictuslike parody of a grin.

Cara cut her eyes away. “Come on,” she said suddenly, getting to her feet and hoisting the backpack onto her shoulders. “Let’s get out of here. I’m freezing.”

Zoe leaped to her feet, all trace of her earlier sluggishness gone. She pranced out of the barn and did a little skip, like a wood sprite, among the sodden golden grasses. Cara followed her dancing form up the hill toward home.

Chapter 15

A
FTER THEY RETURNED FROM THE HIKE, CARA WENT INTO
the bathroom and slowly stripped off her clothes. In one slow movement, her hand went out and turned the lock on the door. She didn’t let herself think about why. Instead, she turned on the hot water and let the steam fill the tiny room. Her shoulders slumped, and her feet felt heavy. She climbed into the shower, noting the deep scratches up both legs and on her forearms. The brambles must have been sharper than she thought. The scratches stung as the soap cascaded over them.

Cara stood under the shower a long time, until the hot water turned tepid. She started to shiver again, but she didn’t want to get out. She wanted to stay hidden in the tiny bathroom forever. At last, when the gooseflesh was pimpling her arms, she shut the water off and wrapped herself in her warmest bathrobe. She pulled on a pair of wool socks and her slippers and wrung the water out of her hair. But she couldn’t stop shivering, not even after she aimed the blow-dryer at her face.

When she finally crept from the bathroom, the room was dark gray with early-evening shadows. Zoe was facedown on the bed, fast asleep, still wearing her dirty jeans and boots. Cara tiptoed over and stared down at her friend. Dirt and bits of leaves littered the sheet, Cara noted with a faint sense of disgust. She could’ve at least taken off her boots. Her breathing was deep and regular. Zoe should rest, Cara told herself. She slipped on some clothes and snuck out of the room with a faint sense of guilty relief.

Downstairs, the house blazed with light. The gas fireplace was lit, and Dad was just coming in the door with a fragrant pizza box. Cara inhaled deeply. Her mouth was watering. Mom came into the living room with plates and napkins. Oh my God, she’d even made a salad. Cara resisted the urge to make a snarky remark about Betty Crocker night. “That looks amazing,” she said instead. “Anyone else want a Diet Coke?”

Her father shook his head. “We’re fine, thanks.”

Cara grabbed a frosty can from the kitchen and threw herself on the living room sofa, loading her plate with three slices of pizza. The lamps glowed against the tightly drawn curtains, and the TV chattered in the background. Cara took a giant bite of hot cheese and dough, closing her eyes as she chewed. Even Samson wasn’t mewing for once. He sat in his place on top of the couch, licking his side before lying down and staring into the fire.

Dad picked up the remote and flipped through the channels as Cara started on her second slice. It was amazing how hungry she was just from walking around in the woods. She reminded herself to set aside enough pizza for Zoe. Dad stopped at the local news.

“—the Eagles were down by three at halftime,” the blond anchor was saying. Cara wondered if her orangey tan was on purpose or if something went wrong in the makeup room.

“Up next, a girl missing from Sherman High School. Did she run away? Police are investigating.”

Cara sat up. The anchor disappeared, replaced by a dancing toilet brush. Cara set the pizza slice down on her plate and wiped her fingers with a napkin, concentrating on one finger at a time. The grease left translucent yellow spots on the white paper. Nothing ever happened in their little community—but first Sydney, and now this. Who could be missing? Maybe it was the goth girl who sat next to her in calc. She never, ever talked, not even when she was called on, and spent the whole class drawing pictures of bleeding daggers in her notebook. It was probably her—she seemed like the type to run away.

With this reassuring thought, Cara swallowed the bite of pizza she was chewing, tilted her can of soda up, and took a long slurp.

“Alexis Henning was reported missing last night after failing to return from a local party,” the anchor’s voice returned.

Cara spilled Diet Coke all over her lap.

Mom gasped. “Alexis? How terrible.” She stared at the screen. Dad was riveted too, his slice of pizza forgotten in his hand.

On the TV, a portly, balding man stood on the lawn in front of a massive white-clapboard house a few miles away that Cara recognized as Alexis’s. The man wore a green Windbreaker. A reporter who looked about twelve stood next to him. “Harold Salazar is Alexis Henning’s uncle and the spokesperson for the family.” He turned to the man. “Mr. Salazar, what would you like the public to know about this situation?”

Alexis’s uncle looked nervous. He kept looking first at the reporter, then at the camera. “This is a very distressing time for our family,” he said, reading from a sweaty piece of paper clutched in his hands. “Alexis’s parents ask that the media please respect their need for privacy in this distressing time”—Cara could see him realizing he’d repeated “distressing time”—“and anyone who has any information that could help find Alexis, would they please contact the police immediately. Thank you.” He dropped his paper and dis-appeared below the camera’s eye as he searched for it.

Cara’s lips were cold. She barely noticed the dampness from the spilled Coke seeping through her jeans. The orange-colored anchor was back on the screen, now wearing a somber expression. A little thumbnail picture of Alexis floated to the right of her head. “Authorities suspect suicide in the case of Alexis Henning’s disappearance,” the anchor intoned. “She has been distraught since the death of her best friend, Sydney Powers.” Alexis’s picture disappeared, replaced by one of Sydney. Cara cringed as she recognized it as the same one used at Sydney’s funeral.

The anchor went on. “Friends report that Alexis argued with her boyfriend soon before disappearing. Police are currently dredging Deer Fork River for her body.” A video of the river appeared. The sky was overcast, and rain spotted the camera lens. Police in bright yellow slickers circled the river in power boats, while a small crane attached to another boat worked up and down. Cara thought she spotted Alexis’s parents to the extreme right of the camera shot, clutching each other on the riverbank. She imagined she could hear Alexis’s mother sobbing.

“Oh, how terrible.” Mom was pale. She set her plate down on the coffee table. “Poor Kathy and Mike. I’ll call them in the morning. And so soon after Sydney’s death! Perhaps she ran away. A suicide would be just too terrible to think about.” She turned to Cara, still sitting motionless on the couch. “Had you heard that Alexis was missing, Cara?”

An image of Alexis’s purple-glossed lips taunting her in the lobby flashed through Cara’s mind. Alexis screaming at her at Sarit’s, her face twisted into a grimace of rage. Cara’s stomach roiled. She suddenly regretted that last slice of pepperoni. She shook her head. “No. I hadn’t heard,” she choked out.

Dad had gone back to his pizza. “Tragedy,” he managed to say through his mouthful of cheese. He shook his head.

The nausea clawed its way up her throat. “Ooh,” she moaned a little, shifting on the sofa. Mom looked over at her, sudden alarm in her eyes.

“Cara?” she asked sharply. “Are you feeling sick?”

No. It upset them when she was sick like this.
Say “no.”
She shook her head, sweat beading her forehead. She couldn’t even look at the greasy, cold pizza still sitting on the coffee table. She could feel it coming and bolted up the stairs to her room, leaving her parents in silence behind her.

Zoe sat up in bed as Cara burst through the door and into the bathroom. She collapsed on her knees in front of the toilet and hung her head over the bowl. The floor tiles were cold under her knees. She waited.

Vaguely, she heard rustling in the bedroom, and then Zoe’s feet with their chipped red nail polish appeared near her head. The soles were filthy from their walk earlier in the day. Cara could feel Zoe gazing down at her.

“What is it?” Her voice sounded detachedly curious, as if examining an interesting scientific discovery.

Cara retched once, but nothing came up. She waited a minute more, panting, but her stomach slowly settled back. Cara lifted her head and reached for a tissue. “Alexis is missing. They think she might have committed suicide.” The words sounded surreal coming out of her mouth.

Zoe didn’t even blink. She shrugged. “Yeah. She was totally falling apart. What a nut job.” She turned, padding back to her lair of a bed.

Cara struggled to her feet and filled a cup with water at the sink. She drank some. Then she set the cup down and came to the doorway. Zoe was lying back on the bed, holding a copy of
Ferdinand the Bull
over her head. “I used to love this story,” she said dreamily.

“Wait, how did you know Alexis was falling apart?” Cara asked.

Zoe looked over. “You told me. Duh.”

“Oh, right, duh,” Cara echoed.

“Here.” Zoe handed her the book and patted the bed by her side. “Read to me.”

Cara sat down on the rumpled sheets, and Zoe pressed up against her like a child. She closed her eyes and laid her head on Cara’s shoulder.

“‘Once upon a time in Spain,’” Cara began. She read and read as darkness fell outside the windows.

Chapter 16

C
ARA WAS DROWNING. SOMETHING WAS HOLDING HER
down, and she couldn’t get away. She fought through cottony layers of sleep and forced her eyes open. The yellow numbers on her clock read 5:30. Zoe was curled up right against her, her arm draped over Cara’s. Her eyes were still closed, and she breathed with her mouth open. Cara winced at her stale breath. Zoe opened her eyes and looked right into Cara’s. She smiled.

“Good morning,” she said. She didn’t move. Cara tried to smile back. She edged an inch away from Zoe, teetering at the edge of the bed, then slid from under the covers and felt around on the floor for her slippers.

Zoe flopped an arm lazily across the bed and grabbed Cara’s vacated pillow. She stuffed it under her own cheek and, lying on her side, stared at Cara with her huge, sleep-ringed eyes. “What are you doing? It’s so early.”

Cara’s skin was still crawling from finding Zoe so close to her. She stuffed a T-shirt and her spikes into her running duffel. “I think I should get to the training room early this morning. I’ve been feeling really tight recently.” She slid her history text and two binders into her backpack and zipped it up.

Zoe’s face crumpled. “I thought we would have breakfast together this morning. I mean, I know I can’t cook it or anything, but I had a special surprise planned for you.” She rubbed a knuckle across her eyes like a little kid.

Guilt flooded Cara. Zoe was her best friend, and here she was, running away from her like she was some sort of pariah. She knelt beside the bed. “I’m sorry. What was the surprise?”

Zoe sat up. “I thought you could get us a breakfast sandwich somewhere and bring it back. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Cara blinked. “Oh. Um . . .” It’s not like she was expecting Zoe to produce a full pancake breakfast from under the table, but an Egg McMuffin that
she
had to drive out and get didn’t exactly sound like a special surprise. “I don’t really have time this morning. Maybe tomorrow?”

Zoe’s face closed down. She turned her back and shrugged. “Maybe.” She propped herself up on her elbow and reached for the magazine on the nightstand. Cara stood behind her uncertainly.

“I thought you had to go,” Zoe said without looking around.

“I do,” Cara said. She laid a tentative hand on Zoe’s back. “Hey, should I bring back some cookies from the bakery after school?”

Zoe shrugged her hand off. “If you want, Choker.”

Cara stood there for another long moment. Her hands and feet felt cold. “What did you call me?” she finally managed to say.

Zoe glanced up, a little smile curling the edges of her lips. For a minute, she looked like she was going to deny saying anything, but then her face changed. “Take a joke, can’t you, Cara?” She pronounced Cara’s name with exquisite care.

Cara forced a smile. “Of course I can.”

Zoe nodded and looked back at her magazine. After a long moment, Cara turned and trailed slowly out of the room, closing the door behind her.