Choker (18 page)

Slowly, Cara opened the door to her room. Flickering red light came pouring out, and for one confused moment, she thought the room was on fire. She pushed opened the door the rest of the way and saw that Zoe had lit candles everywhere. The shades were drawn, and the lights were out.

The fetid air assaulted Cara in a wave as she stepped into the room. It smelled of stale breath and old food and unwashed laundry. Every inch of the floor was littered with Cara’s clothes. Her closet door hung open at a crazy angle—it had been partially pulled off its hinges. The empty hangers twisted on the clothes rod. The dresser top and desk were covered with food-caked dishes. Glasses cloudy with fingerprints cluttered the bedside table. When had it gotten this bad? Had it always been like this? Cara couldn’t remember. She felt dizzy, disoriented.

Zoe was squatting on the floor, a paper spread in front of her. She looked up as Cara came in, her eyes glassy bright. “Hi.” She smiled. “I’ve been waiting for you.” She was wearing Cara’s mother’s black silk bathrobe.

Cara focused on the bathrobe. “Where did you get that?”

Zoe shrugged. “From your mom’s closet.”

“Zoe, you can’t just go snooping around during the day when no one’s here,” Cara started to say. Then she saw what Zoe had in front of her. It was the missing person poster, and Zoe was coloring it in with markers. Cara watched, frozen, as Zoe carefully traced Alexis’s eyes with blue, humming a little tune in her throat.

Zoe looked up and saw Cara staring at her. She smiled sweetly. “I always thought she’d be prettier with blue eyes.”

Bile filled Cara’s mouth and she swallowed hard, shuddering at the taste. “What the hell are you doing?” She leaned over and ripped the poster from Zoe’s hands. “Don’t you have any respect?”

Zoe didn’t protest. She just watched, her eyes following Cara’s every move. Cara stared at the poster in her hands. It was the first time she’d examined one this closely. Alexis was standing outside somewhere, wearing a plaid shirt. Her face was caught in a half-smile, and her hair was blown back from her face in the wind. Her eyes looked huge and dark, haunted.
What have you done, Cara
? she seemed to be asking.

Cara shook her head so violently her teeth clacked together. Nothing. She hadn’t done anything!
But you know who did, Cara
.

“No!” Cara shouted aloud. Heat filled her body, and without thinking, she ripped the paper into shreds, scattering them over the bed. From her perch, Zoe watched attentively, her head to one side, alert as a little bird.

Cara stared down at the scraps, her chest rising and falling. Alexis’s face was reduced to meaningless black marks on the twisted pieces of white paper. But from one scrap, her eye shone out. Cara stared at it, and Alexis’s eye stared back at her.
Your fault, Cara,
the eye said.

“Stop it!” Cara screamed. She grabbed double handfuls of the paper scraps and ran into the bathroom, dumping them into the sink. Hands shaking, breath whistling in and out of her throat in half-sobs, she scrabbled frantically in the bathroom drawers. Finally, she found it—an old lighter. She flicked the stiff wheel once, twice—nothing. “Come on,” she half-sobbed. Again—it lit. Cara lowered her hand into the sink and touched the scraps with the flame. She stood with her hands gripping the counter, the warmth of the fire bathing her face, the pounding of her heart finally slowing. The flames petered out. All that was left of Alexis was a heap of gray ashes.

Cara lifted her head just as a knock came at the door. She whirled around, her heart seizing up again. The knock came again. “Cara?”

It was Mom. Her voice was insistent, and worried.

“Cara!”

Before Cara could say anything, she heard the door open. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for Mom’s scream as she saw Zoe. But there was no scream. Just silence. Cara opened her eyes and cautiously peered around the bathroom door.

Mom was standing there, still in her gray suit, her briefcase dangling from one hand. The back of the other hand was pressed against her mouth. She turned to look at her daughter, and Cara started. Mom looked as if she was about to cry.

“Cara,” she half-whispered. “Your room . . .”

Cara darted a quick glance around. Zoe was nowhere to be seen. She must be under the bed. Mom’s gaze took in the destroyed closet, the dirty dishes, the bed with its unwashed sheets.

Carefully, Mom set her briefcase by the door and stepped over the heaped clothes on the rug. She perched at the edge of the bed. It was odd seeing her sitting there, instead of Zoe. “Honey, tell me what’s wrong,” Mom said. Her mouth was taut. She knotted her hands together in her lap, as if bracing herself, her eyes searching Cara’s face.

Cara swallowed. She could almost see Zoe’s eyes glowing from under the dust ruffle. But when she blinked, the eyes were gone.

“Cara!” Mom’s voice was sharp.

Cara jumped. “Huh?”

“Your room, honey, we’re talking about your room.” Mom’s voice cracked. She controlled herself with a visible effort. “Focus, okay? What’s been going on in here?” She swept her hand around.

Cara took a deep breath. When she spoke, she was surprised to hear her voice coming out calm and strong. “I know it’s a little messy, Mom. Sorry about that. I’ve just been really busy with track and school, and I haven’t had much time to clean. I’ll take care of it, I promise.”

Mom shook her head. “I just want to know that you’re okay. This doesn’t look like okay to me.”

“I’m fine!” The eyes under the dust ruffle were back. Cara controlled her voice. “I’m fine,” she said, lower.

Her mother sighed and stood up. “I’ll believe you’re fine when I see you’re fine. For now, I’m going to have to talk to your father.” She picked up her briefcase. “I’m worried, Cara. I’m very worried.” She opened the door, and Cara closed it with exquisite care behind her.

Chapter 21

A
TTENDING CLASSES ON FRIDAY WAS A SHAM. SHE COULDN’T
concentrate on anything. They were closing in on her. Mom would try to talk to her again today after school, she just knew it. Dad would get involved. After that, it was only a matter of time before they discovered Zoe.

It wasn’t until track practice that Cara was able to think about something else. The sun shone on her hair, and the fresh autumn breeze made it possible for her to believe her world wasn’t about to crumble around her.

“Come on, hup, hup!” Coach Sanders called. He clapped his huge, meaty hands, and Cara winced. Every sound seemed to pierce her eardrums. She stood grouped on the track with the rest of the girls. She’d forgotten her cozy warm-ups, and now she stood, cold and exposed, waiting for Coach to give them instructions.

“Four by four hundred relays, everyone,” he ordered. “Count off.” Cara was a three, along with Sarit and Julie. She didn’t know when she’d felt less like running. And her eye was watering like crazy. Cara swiped at it and looked at her fingers. A crust of black mascara was smeared there. What the hell? She never wore makeup. Maybe it had come off of Zoe’s face while she slept and gotten smeared onto Cara’s. Or maybe Zoe was putting makeup on her while she slept. Anything seemed possible these days. Cara shivered and wiped her fingers on her shorts.

She had to do something about Zoe. Something was wrong with her. She couldn’t deny it anymore.
Today,
Cara resolved. Today when she got home, she’d talk to Zoe about picking up the room. And she’d tell her . . . she’d have to leave soon. Cara’s stomach curled at the thought of Zoe’s reaction to this news. But she didn’t have any choice. Zoe would have to leave as soon as she could find somewhere to go. It was for her own safety, anyway, now that Mom and Dad were closing in. No matter what she’d done back at her own home.

A loud blast on Coach’s whistle right by her ear made Cara jump. She looked around. She was standing alone on the track. The rest of the team was already jogging to the other end to begin the relay drill. “Come on, Cara!” Coach pushed his face next to hers. “Move!”

Rage suddenly welled up in her, and she felt the overwhelming urge to leap on him, tearing his skin with her fingernails and biting . . . Cara shook herself.
Oh my God, you are really losing it
. She jogged after the team, not looking back for fear that the rage would return. Cara reached the other end of the track and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. It was Zoe causing her so much stress. She just had to talk to Zoe.

The girls arranged themselves around the track for the relay. Cara stood near the bleachers. Julie was behind her and Sarit in front. She waited dully for the blast of Coach’s whistle. When it came, she watched Julie running toward her as if she were running in a dream. Julie got larger and larger, the shiny orange baton grasped in her hand. Cara stood, watching her, not really thinking about anything.

Julie approached. She was close enough now that Cara could see her sweaty bangs flattened on her forehead. She was making motions with her hands, shouting something, but Cara couldn’t make out what she was saying. Her lips moved, a fact Cara observed with detached interest. Then all the sound rushed back into the world, as if someone had turned the volume up. “Go, Cara, go!” Julie was shouting.

With a start, Cara realized she was supposed to be running. She turned and poised herself toward Sarit on the track, running a few steps until she felt the baton
thwack
solidly into her palm. She could hear the other girls cheering for their teams. She forced her feet down the track, but Sarit looked impossibly far away. The baton felt like a stick of iron in her hand, pulling down her entire shoulder and back. She felt one foot catch behind the other and watched the gritty asphalt of the track rise up toward her slowly.
I’m falling,
she realized. But she didn’t really care.

“
Ooomph
.” Cara caught herself with her palms, feeling a bolt of pain shoot through her knee. She remained that way for a long moment, hearing the pounding of feet running toward her, before a warm hand touched her back. Cara pushed herself to sit and look up into Sarit’s concerned brown eyes.

“Are you okay?” Sarit asked. Cara nodded and, with horror, felt a few tears squeeze out of the corners of her eyes. Jesus, what was the matter with her? Crying over a scraped knee like she was eight?

“All right, all right.” Coach pushed through the little knot that had gathered around Cara. “Let’s go, Lange, you okay?” He looked down at her dispassionately. “Damn it.” He saw her shredded knee. “Go fix that up in the locker room. First aid kit in my office.” He turned back to the rest of the runners. “Let’s do the relay again, folks!” he shouted.

Cara turned and trudged off the track, following the narrow concrete path back to the school. Her knee throbbed at every step. She could feel a trickle of blood make its way down her leg, staining the edge of her sock.

She had almost reached the gym door when she heard her name called. She turned around. Sarit was hurrying up the path toward her. “Hey,” she said breathlessly. “I told Coach I was getting my period. He can’t argue with that one. I thought you might want some company.”

Cara nodded, surprised. Sarit opened the door for her, and her little gesture of kindness almost made Cara start crying all over again. God, she was a mess.

The locker room was deserted, littered with open gym bags spilling shirts and shoes onto the floor. Here and there, a deodorant stick lay uncapped on the floor. Sarit gazed down at Cara’s knee. “Wow, it’s really bleeding,” she said. “Here, sit down. I’ll get the kit.”

Cara sank down on a bench and examined her knee, wincing. A good square inch of skin was torn away. She could see the bits of gravel ground into the raw, red flesh. Sarit came back into the room with the first aid kit. She knelt on the floor in front of Cara and opened it up. Cara hobbled over to the sinks and wet a few paper towels, gritting her teeth as she dabbed at the bloody wound. Sarit handed her a bottle of peroxide, and Cara poured it over her knee, watching as it foamed white. She dabbed on some antibiotic ointment, then covered the whole thing with a stiff white bandage.

Cara exhaled and sank down on the bench, her back slumped. Sarit perched next to her and patted her back. They were silent. Then Sarit said, “Hey, listen, a few of the other girls are coming over tonight to hang out. Do you want to come?”

Cara looked at her in surprise. “Sure . . . ,” she said slowly.

Sarit smiled. “Good. This is just a really hard time for all of us, with Sydney dead and Alexis missing. We have to support each other right now.”

Cara nodded. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Sarit stood up. “Seven, okay? We’ll get some pizza, just hang out.”

“Right.” Cara stood up too. Hanging out with the girls, relaxing, eating pizza sounded like absolute heaven. She couldn’t wait. But, she realized, she still had the talk with Zoe looming over her . . . and who knew what Zoe would do?

Chapter 22

T
HE FIRST THING SHE SAW WHEN SHE OPENED THE
door at home was Mom on the couch in the living room. She had a stack of legal briefs on her lap, but as soon as she saw Cara, she set them on the coffee table. Warily, Cara put her track bag down by the door. For a tense moment, they eyed each other. Mom’s face was tight. She cleared her throat.

“I’ve spoken with your father, Cara,” she started. “He’s very upset. I am too.” Her gaze was aimed somewhere over Cara’s shoulder. “We’ve been worried about you for some time now, and the state of your room yesterday just confirmed our concerns.” Mom’s face looked tired, her makeup smudged under her eyes and her lipstick faded to a dull pink.

Cara licked her lips. The air in the room was stagnant, stifling. Why didn’t someone open a window? “Mom, it’s like I told you yesterday. I’ve been really busy lately. But I’m fine! Actually, I’ve never been happier.” She tried a reassuring smile, but the beads of sweat were gathering at her hairline.

Mom shook her head. “Don’t lie to me, Cara.” Her voice rose slightly. “You’re not fine. Anyone who saw your room yesterday would see that.” Her hands trembled, and she wiped them on the side of her skirt. Little gray hairs stuck up from her bun, catching the light when she turned her head. “Your father and I think it’s time you started seeing Dr. Samuels again. I know we haven’t gone to him in a long time, but he can help you get back on track.”