Choker (19 page)

Cara felt claustrophobia crushing her. When they’d first moved here, she and her parents had gone to see Dr. Samuels every week. But the visits had tapered off after a while.

Cara gasped for breath, but her lungs felt as if they were being squeezed sideways. “No,” she managed, holding her hands out in front of her and backing away toward the staircase.

Mom rose and followed. “It’s not an option. This is how you were acting when we first moved here. You need help.” She advanced, and Cara backed away up the stairs, holding the banister. All of her worst fears were surrounding her. Mom was going to come into her room. She’d find Zoe and take her away. It would be Cara’s fault. And for harboring Zoe they’d take
her
away. She’d never see Ethan again. She tripped on the landing and clutched at the banister. “Mom, wait,” she tried, holding out one hand. “It’s not that bad.”

“Stop it!” Mom almost shrieked. She kept coming, backing Cara up the stairs. They were almost to the top. “You’re in denial. Look at this! Look at this mess! You need help—” She flung open the door to Cara’s room and stopped short, her words cut off as if someone had clapped a hand over her mouth.

Cara peered around the doorjamb. The floor was clear—perfectly clear, for the first time since Zoe had shown up. And Zoe herself was nowhere to be seen. She must have heard the shouting below and hidden quickly. The closet door, partly open, had been placed back on the hinges. Every piece of clothing hung up inside was placed as perfectly as if it had been in a boutique. Even the hangers were facing the same way, and the clothes themselves were organized by type, then length, then color. On the floor of the closet, Cara’s shoes were lined up like soldiers at attention. The dishes and glasses were gone. Cara didn’t want to think about Zoe going down to the kitchen when she was gone, but apparently she had. The bed was made. The room smelled of nothing but fresh air from the open window.

Mom turned away from the door. She looked like she’d been slapped.

“I told you I’d clean it up,” Cara said. She couldn’t think of anything else. She swallowed, waiting. Mom stared at her. Cara felt some of her equilibrium flowing back. She made herself move closer to her mother. “Really, Mom, you’re making it a way bigger deal than it is.” She patted her mother on the shoulder.

Mom twitched, as if feeling a spider on her arm. She fell back a step. “I . . . I . . . we’ll have to talk later.” She fled down the stairs. A moment later, Cara heard the door to her study close.

Cara sat down shakily on the edge of the bed. Her pounding pulse slowed. She closed her eyes and gazed for a while at the comforting darkness on the inside of her eyelids. When she opened them, Zoe was perched on the dresser across the room, smiling and swinging her legs. Where had she been hiding?

“Hi,” she said cheerfully. There were lipstick smears on her teeth. Her hair was wet, as if she’d taken a shower, but she must not have used any shampoo. The soles of her feet were black with sticky dirt. She wore a T-shirt and jeans, but her fly was open and the collar of the T-shirt was stretched out, hanging down to reveal her dingy gray bra.

“Where were you?” Cara responded instead.

“Bathroom.” Zoe smiled and nodded as if she’d made a fantastic joke. She looked around the room. “Thought your mom would like it if I cleaned up.”

“Yeah,” Cara answered slowly. “Things were getting a little tense there for a while.” She noticed a large picture on the nightstand that hadn’t been there before and picked it up. It was a snapshot of her and Zoe from elementary school. Cara was straddling her bike, Zoe hanging on behind her. They stood outside Zoe’s house, the sun shining. Both of them were laughing hysterically. Cara set the picture down slowly, leaning it against the lamp. She looked over at Zoe.

Zoe was watching her. “What do you think of the picture?” she asked. “I found it when I was going through some of your old stuff.” She smiled, a normal smile, and all of a sudden, Cara could see her friend again, underneath the mess and all of the weirdness from the last week.

A rush of warmth overwhelmed her, and on impulse, Cara put her arms around Zoe and hugged her. Then she recoiled automatically. Zoe’s skin was damp and cool, even though the room was warm. There was a mushiness about her, as if her muscle tone was utterly gone. Cara had the disturbing sense that if she put her finger on Zoe’s arm and pressed down, she’d hit bone.

Cara gathered her strength for the brave speech about Zoe leaving that she’d been rehearsing all afternoon. Then she looked at her friend, who seemed very small and vulnerable huddled there on the bed. She closed her mouth. “I’m going out tonight,” she said instead. She tensed her muscles, expecting rage.

Zoe nodded instead. “Okay. Where are you going?”

“Sarit’s. She’s having some girls over.” Cara watched Zoe carefully. But there was still no explosion. Zoe just nodded again.

“Cool. Want me to pick out something for you to wear?”

“Sure,” Cara responded wonderingly. She watched as Zoe opened the closet door and paged through the clothes rapidly, pulling out a drapey, emerald-green T-shirt and a pair of dark jeans. She tossed them onto the bed, then added a slim pair of silver hoops.

Cara nodded, still in wonderment. “That’s perfect,” she said.

“I’m still good for something, aren’t I?” Zoe smiled. Cara smiled back. Zoe arranged herself on the bed, and Cara stood and pulled her sweaty jersey over her head. But something about Zoe’s attentive gaze made her feel like she was doing a striptease.

“I just need to jump in the shower,” she said, not looking at Zoe. She gathered up her towel and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her and locking it. She stared in the mirror as the water heated up in the shower. Her own pale face stared back at her. Her eyes were ringed in black circles, and her hair hung in strings. The wound on her knee smarted under the bandage. No wonder her parents had been worried. She did look like a girl in need of help.

Cara felt better once she was in the shower, scrubbing herself with peppermint body wash. She tilted her face under the water and inhaled deeply, letting the hot, steamy air fill her lungs. It was good that Zoe hadn’t freaked out about her going to Sarit’s. Maybe she was finally realizing that it was okay if Cara had other friends.

Cara rotated her face back and forth, letting the spray tickle her skin. Maybe she’d been too critical of the whole Zoe situation. Zoe definitely had problems, but really, if she thought about it, things were actually better since Zoe had come back. Alexis and Sydney were . . . gone . . . and things with Ethan were going better than she ever could have hoped. She had friends now, too. And she had Zoe again, even if she did act strange at times.

Cara stayed under the shower so long, her fingers began to wrinkle. Finally, the hot water began to run out, and she shut it off. She wrapped the towel tightly under her arms and opened the door, letting the steam from the bathroom billow into the room. She was temporarily blind for a moment, but when the steam cleared, she saw that Zoe had laid her clothes on her bed, the shirt neatly arranged above the jeans. A pair of black ballet flats lay at the end of either jeans leg, and above the neck of the shirt, silver hoop earrings were arranged as if on a head. It was as though Cara had lain down on the bed and then just disappeared, leaving only the clothes and jewelry behind.

Zoe sat beside the clothes, her back straight and her hands clasped as they had been before.

“Thanks,” Cara said slowly.

“Sure,” Zoe said. Her voice was eager.

Cara looked around the room, but it seemed weird to go into the bathroom to dress. She plucked the shirt from the bed and awkwardly tried to pull it over her head while still clutching her towel. She could feel Zoe’s gaze on her. She managed to tug on the jeans while keeping the towel around her waist. The towel fell away, and Cara turned to face the wall to fasten her pants.

She felt better once she had her clothes on. Zoe got up and extracted the flatiron from the heap on Cara’s dresser. “Come here, let me straighten your hair,” she said. The metal plates sent up a puff of steam as they heated. Zoe clacked the metal plates together.

Obediently, Cara sat down in front of the mirror. She watched her reflection and Zoe’s as her friend bent over her hair, already drying in puffy frizzes. Zoe lifted a section of hair near Cara’s ear and closed the iron on it.
Pfff
. A small burst of steam rose in the air.

For a few minutes, she lifted and ironed as they sat in companionable silence. Cara watched Zoe’s intent face as she worked. In the dim light of the room, she looked pretty again as she concentrated, her dark hair luminous and her purple eyes focused and calm. She seemed so peaceful, Cara finally felt she could ask the question that had been haunting her for the last few days. She couldn’t go on anymore without knowing.

“Zoe,” Cara said. Immediately her heart started hammering.
It’s okay,
she told herself.
It’s just an innocent question
.

“Hmm?” Zoe said. She kept ironing.

“Zo, listen, I know this is weird, but I just feel like I have to ask—” Cara could hear her voice quaver.

“Just spit it out already,” Zoe said, not looking up. “And no, I’m not a crack addict, if that’s what you’re wondering.” She closed the plates around a piece of hair on the nape of Cara’s neck.

Cara forced a little laugh. “Listen, Zoe. Did you have anything to do . . . with . . . Alexis going missing?”

Just then, she felt a searing pain on her neck. She screamed and jerked away violently, knocking over her chair. She clapped a hand on the back of her neck as if to protect it.

Zoe stood there, holding the burning flatiron. “I’m sorry,” she said, but she didn’t look that sorry. “I must have had it up too high.”

Instead of answering, Cara grabbed a hand mirror from her dresser and held it up, moving it around until she could see the back of her neck. A bright red burn mark stared back at her, a perfect rectangle the same shape as the tip of the iron plate. “Christ, Zoe!” The skin burned, the pain searing and fresh, as if Zoe were still holding the iron to it.

“I’m sorry,” Zoe said again, calmly. She went into the bathroom and came out with a washcloth. “Here.” She started to apply the cold washcloth to Cara’s neck. Cara clapped her hand on her neck and jerked away. Zoe stopped. For a long moment, she and Cara stared at each other in the mirror, their eyes locked together. Then Cara moved her hand and allowed Zoe to press the washcloth to her neck.

“How could you even ask me that about Alexis?” Zoe asked. Her voice was sorrowful. Cara closed her eyes as the cool of the washcloth slowly stopped the burning feeling on her neck.

“I-I’m sorry,” she murmured. All she could think about was the pain. “It was a stupid thing to ask.” A worm of fear coiled itself in her stomach.

“Yes, it was,” Zoe agreed. She refolded the washcloth and pressed it to Cara’s neck again. “It was a stupid thing to ask.”

Chapter 23

H
EY THERE!” SARIT OPENED THE DOOR RIGHT
away after Cara rang the bell. She was wearing a hooded sweatshirt that read
JINGLE BALL 2010
and a pair of flannel pajama pants printed with faded hearts. Moose slippers poked out from the pantlegs. Cara looked down at her Zoe-styled ensemble.

“I guess I’m a little over-dressed,” she said sheepishly.

“No, don’t be silly.” Sarit pulled Cara inside and closed the door. It was warm in the house and smelled deliciously of pizza. Cara could hear the buzz of voices from the basement. “Come on, everyone’s downstairs.” Cara followed Sarit’s ponytail as she tripped down the carpeted steps.

Five or six of the track girls were sitting on the floor or sprawled on the couches around a big, low coffee table. A flat-screen TV played on mute. On the table, a stack of pizza boxes sat unopened, along with two liters of soda and a bag of chips. With a touch of relief, Cara saw that while most of the girls were wearing sweats and leggings, Julie had on jeans, too, and a nice top.

“Hey, Cara,” Madeline greeted her.

“Hi.” Cara nodded at the group. She perched on the edge of a sofa next to Madeline, who was staring at her phone.

“Oh my God, look at this,” she said, turning the screen to Cara. “St. James totally kicked Country Day’s ass this morning.”

Cara looked down at the screen showing the local track standings. “That’s so crazy—their best sprinter has shingles. I totally didn’t see that one coming,” she told Madeline.

“Come on, let’s eat.” Sarit opened the pizza boxes, and immediately the melty cheese and pepperoni smell wafted through the room. Everyone started grabbing slices. Cara took a small one and tried to take a bite without dropping sauce on her shirt.

“Dude, what was Coach Sanders wearing today?” Julie called out to the group. She got up and wiggled her hips back and forth. “Could those shorts have gotten any smaller?”

Everyone giggled. “He loves showing off his ass,” Madeline agreed with a wink.

Sarit shrieked, “Ew!” and started laughing so hard she collapsed on the floor with a beaded pillow over her head.

“His cheeks were hanging out the bottom,” Cara tried. Everyone tittered. She grinned.

“Nasty!” Rachael said. She was riding the exercise bike in the corner, pedaling backward.

Cara sat back and ate the rest of her pizza, letting the conversation wash around her. She felt like she was inhabiting a different body—someone who was bold and confident and daring.
Someone like Zoe.
Her jaws stopped chewing. She saw Zoe in her mind’s eye, not the Zoe of today, in her dirty clothes and greasy hair, but Zoe as she was the first night she came back. Her long shiny hair hanging down her back, her violet eyes shining. A confident smile and a joke—or a hug—always at the ready. That was the Zoe she loved. That was the Zoe she missed.

Sarit reached for the stack of books under the coffee table and pulled out last year’s yearbook. She flipped it open, and Cara caught a glimpse of the heavily autographed title page and inside cover, unlike the barren expanse of her own at home. “Okay, we’re going to go through all the guys in the class,” she announced, “and say who’s hot or nasty. Everyone has to vote.”