Hanging by a Thread (10 page)

And then the silvery veil floated down and I felt nothing but relief to be back in my own head, my own thoughts, my own memories.

I pushed my hands against Jack’s chest, and this time he let me go. Stepping back, I wrapped my arms around myself. Now I
was
cold, misty spray from the gentle waves dampening my legs, the hem of my shorts.

Jack had done something terrible. I wasn’t naïve—when you had a gift like mine, naïveté was a luxury you didn’t get to keep. I’d seen all kinds of private deeds, enough that I
understood that wrongdoing isn’t limited to one kind of person, one fraction of society. Over the years I’d touched hundreds of articles of clothing. Trust me, you do too, you just don’t realize it; people brush past you in crowds, buses, stores, school hallways, church. Unless you lock yourself in a room, you can’t avoid it.

Teachers, camp counselors, businessmen, waitresses, priests, old people, and kids—there is no specific type of person, no particular occupation that signals secret wrongdoing, so I’ve never learned who to avoid.

I just really didn’t want it to be Jack.

“What?” he asked roughly, no trace of warmth in his voice.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly. “Just a little cold. Let’s get back to the fire.”

I started walking before he could reply, taking long strides and kicking up sand.

I was conscious of him following close behind. I
wanted
him to follow me. I didn’t truly want to get away from him, only to try to understand what I had seen. Yes, it was violent and yes, I’d felt incredible anger. Jack was dangerous.

But I wanted to know more. And I couldn’t forget the way his arms felt around me, the taste of his lips on mine.

By the time we got back to the fire, Jack was walking apart from me, his hands jammed in his pockets. At the last minute I paused, close enough to see the glow of the fire
reflected off his face, but far enough away that I could hear the laughter from the kids gathered around it, if not their words. I searched Jack’s expression for signs of the turmoil that had marked the vision, but all I saw was frustration … and desire. I knew, because I felt it too, a heat that seared my insides even while my skin was chilled by the night air.

“I want to see you again,” Jack muttered.

You do?
I kept my expression as neutral as I could. Even after what I’d sensed, what I’d seen, I didn’t want him any less. Looking into his eyes, into the darkness and the secrets, I sensed there was a lot more to him than he was letting on, that for every thought he shared, there were a dozen more that he didn’t.

And … I wasn’t afraid of him. Despite the powerful rage I’d sensed in his memories, I didn’t believe it could ever be directed at me. But was that wishful thinking? Could he truly be dangerous?

I wanted to know more about him. I wanted to go deeper.

I wanted him to want me, and I couldn’t resist his invitation. Maybe that was crazy, but when Jack grabbed my hand and pulled me against him, I hesitated before breaking away, and even then I only did it so I wouldn’t have to endure the vision again.

“Do you have to work at your uncle’s place during the week?”

“Yeah. Early. It opens at eight.” He looked away, toward
the black ocean. “He’s been sick. Lung cancer. He was lucky, they caught it in stage one.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He’ll get better. What about you? What do you do during the week?”

“I work on my designs. I go out to thrift stores and garage sales and estate sales, and I scavenge vintage stuff.” I knew I was rambling, and couldn’t stop. “Clothes, fabric, buttons … everything, really. Then I take things apart and restyle them.”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday,” Jack said, finally looking at me again. “They have garage sales on Sunday, right?”

“Uh, yes …”

“I’ll drive.”

I blinked. If I wasn’t mistaken, Jack had just asked me out. Sort of. “Um, sure, yeah. Only, when I say scavenging … I’m talking one step up from Dumpster diving sometimes. I get stuff off curbs all the time.”

“I don’t have a problem with that. Maybe I’ll learn something. What time?”

Tell him you’re busy
. I heard Rachel’s voice in my head, coaching me on how to get a guy interested and keep him that way—and her system involved a
lot
of acting like you weren’t really into him.

Which, now that I was talking to Jack, seemed sort of stupid. Even if it worked wonders for her—Rachel had seemingly never
not
gotten what she wanted.

“I’m sort of … flexible.”

There was a burst of laughter from the other side of the campfire. I glanced over and saw that the horsing around had pretty much given way to more serious pursuits—drinking and talking, with a few kids making out or lying in the sand, wasted enough to simply stare at the moon.

Self-conscious, I backed away from Jack. I wasn’t embarrassed to be seen with him. I just wasn’t ready for everyone—especially Rachel—to know about it yet. I wanted it to be just … my secret, for a while.

“I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty,” Jack said. Not asking.

“You want the address?”

“I know where you live. The haunted dress shop.”

I
SAT ON THE CURB AT THE TOP
of the hill with Giselle and Victoria, who were full-on drunk, wishing Rachel would hurry up. I just wanted to drive everyone home so I could get some sleep before Jack picked me up in the morning.

“So,” Victoria said, yawning. “What’s with you and Jack?”

“It’s no big deal, we were just talking,” I said, unsure how to navigate the conversation. “He was telling me about his dad.”

“That was so sad,” Giselle said. “When he died. Almost everyone at school went. We didn’t even get into the main part of the church—we had to watch it on the big-screen TVs in the youth room. They had bagpipes. And firemen from practically the whole state.”

“What about … after? I mean, Jack told me he went through a bad time for a while.” For all I knew, everyone in town already knew about the drinking and drugs, but if not, they weren’t going to hear it from me. But if there was more to it, maybe I could find out now.

Giselle frowned. “He told you about him and Amanda?” she asked coldly.

“Amanda who?”

“Amanda
Stavros
?”

The girl who disappeared
. Whose name had been in the news for weeks. Her parents’ frantic pleas broadcast on the news every night. “What about her?”

“Oh, you probably don’t remember her from when you lived here,” Giselle said. “She went to some private school down the coast until middle school.”

“She was a sophomore, like us,” Victoria said. “She was going out with Jack when she disappeared. The police talked to him after. He was one of the last people to see her.”

“Talked to … as in, he was a suspect?”

“Yeah. I mean, it wasn’t in the paper or whatever. I don’t think they can do that, with minors, and he wasn’t eighteen yet last year.”

“You don’t think he did it.” I didn’t mean for my words to come out as forcefully as they did, and Giselle glanced at me sharply.

“Well, the cops gave up on him, so I guess he didn’t.” She didn’t bother to mask her sarcasm. “I mean, yeah, it’s not like I think he killed her and dumped her body. But he sure didn’t make things any easier for himself. He went nuts, Clare. If someone accused me of something that serious, I think I’d try to keep my shit together until they cleared me.”

“Instead of …”

“Instead of everything. Vandalism, fights, drugs … He was locked up for a while, before his mom got a lawyer.”

“You shouldn’t tell her that, Giselle,” Victoria said, slurring her words. “Clare can make up her own mind. If she likes him or not.”

“But—he’d lost his dad,” I protested. “And … and his girlfriend. I mean, he must have—” I thought of something else: Why hadn’t Rachel told me any of this before? Why hadn’t she said anything when I first met him?

“Look, I realize he’s had a hard time,” Giselle interrupted, her voice softening. “I feel sorry for him. But I’m just trying to protect you. Trust me, you don’t want to get involved with him. This is a big year for you, you know?”

“Your mom would probably have a fit,” Victoria added. “She’s a hippie or something, right?”

“
My
mom?” I asked incredulously. Everyone had wildly inaccurate notions about our family, all because of Nana and things that had happened long ago. “Hardly. She’s more the corporate type.”

“Well, I still wouldn’t want her to find out I was seeing him. If I were you.”

“Why doesn’t Rachel like him?” I asked, taking a chance.

“Oh, I don’t think she hates him or anything, she’s just really stressed about the Gold Key elections.”

“What do you mean?”

“Elections are the first week of school. She’s running for president, so she has to keep her reputation squeaky clean. I mean, it’s ridiculous, but with Jack’s suspension and his
trouble with the police and all, she can’t afford to be associated with him.”

“But lots of people have been suspended,” I said, wondering why Rachel had never mentioned she was running for president. “I mean, Luke has, twice, right?”

“That’s different,” Victoria said. “Luke’s a Herrera. His dad owns, like, half of Monterey County.”

“So?” I’d heard that Luke’s dad was a wealthy real estate developer, but that wasn’t exactly huge news in Winston. Many of the residents of the town were like us, middle-class families. But in the last few decades the hills above town had become prime real estate, and a lot of wealthy people moved down from Silicon Valley and San Francisco. Millionaires were a dime a dozen.

“So, if your dad gives a ton of money to the town, then you get away with anything. Come on, Clare, you’re from the big city, I can’t believe you’re that naïve.”

“My old school wasn’t—” I didn’t finish the sentence; there were plenty of rich kids at Blake too, but there was a sort of reverse elitism there. You were supposed to pretend you didn’t care about money and status, that all that mattered was your art.

“Jack’s family’s poor,” Giselle said, with the careful enunciation drunk people used when they were trying to make an obvious point. “Gold Key pretends they don’t care about that, but they do. Just look at the membership list sometime.”

“But if that’s what they care about, I mean … Rachel’s family is rich,” I said.

“That’s not the problem. Rachel only got in her sophomore year, which never happens, and that’s like a black mark against her. The alum advisory committee didn’t even want to let her run, but they were the ones who made the exception for her in the first place.”

“Can we stop talking about this?” Victoria said. “Clare and I aren’t in your Diamond Butthole society, so this conversation isn’t doing much for me.”

“Stop being so jealous,” Giselle said, but she was laughing. “It’s not like anyone cares outside of this stupid town.”

“Wait, what happened with Rachel?” I asked, confused.

“She didn’t tell you?” Victoria looked surprised. “I thought you guys were like best friends.”

“It was this huge scandal when she didn’t get in freshman year,” Giselle said. “Everyone thought she was in for sure, being a legacy and all, but she partied a lot in middle school.”

“She did?” This was news to me. Rachel hid her partying incredibly well. To outside appearances, she was a model citizen.

Giselle and Victoria exchanged glances. “Yeah. Like, she got caught in the middle school bathroom getting high—”

“Her mom
lost
it,” Victoria said. “She was grounded for like the whole summer; she and her mom fought for months. She snuck out a lot and—”

“Clare doesn’t need to know about all
that
,” Giselle said. Suddenly she didn’t seem quite as drunk as before, and I got an eerie sense that maybe Gold Key membership really did mean something to these girls. Come to think of it, the
girls who were members partied with the rest of the crowd, but they stopped short of anything that would look bad, anything that would reflect poorly on them or each other. “All you need to know is that Rachel worked really, really hard freshman year to restore her reputation. And when Amanda disappeared, they had a spot to fill, and they picked Rachel.”

“And now she’s running for president.”

“Were you guys, like, really close to Amanda?” I asked.

Both of them shrugged, and they exchanged a glance. “Not really. I mean, I don’t know if anyone was. Everyone liked her and all, but … it was like she didn’t have
best
friends, just more like … casual friends.”

“She was into guys,” Giselle said. “More than other girls. Y’know?”

I figured I did. I’d known girls like that, who went from guy to guy without ever taking a break in between, who kept other girls at a distance.

“Okay,” Victoria interrupted. “New subject. Are you guys going to Dillon’s memorial tomorrow?”

“Yeah, everyone is,” Giselle said. “You should come with us, Clare.”

Yet another thing Rachel hadn’t mentioned. Maybe she didn’t know about it either, though that seemed unlikely. I was starting to get really confused about my relationship with her—it seemed like there was a lot she hadn’t told me. “Um, I guess I could, depending on when it is. Are they having one for Amanda too?”