The Locket (22 page)

“Yeah, they are funny.”

“Indubitably,” he said, the hint of the old Theo’s vocabulary making my eye twitch even worse. “Later, Katie.”

“See you tomorrow.” I watched the Bug disappear and wondered who had decided to invite Cool Band Name to play.

It had to have been Isaac. None of the other platinums even knew about Mitch’s band. Bar mitzvahs and obscure coffee shops were far from the coolest music venues in Nashville. It had been sweet of Isaac to think of his friend and give him a chance to show the school what he could do. Mitch’s band was getting really good. I knew everyone would be impressed.

The realization made me a bit more patient when Isaac’s truck roared into the lot a few minutes later and a laughing Isaac made a joke of nearly running into the back of my car before slamming his brakes on at the last minute. This wasn’t the time for dumb boy stunts, but then again, Sarah wasn’t one of Isaac’s good friends. He probably hadn’t been that upset to learn she’d been hurt.

“Hey!” He practically bounced out of his truck, happier than I’d seen him in weeks. “Sorry it took so long. I couldn’t remember where I put your key for a few minutes.”

“That’s okay,” I said, taking the key and turning back to my car, ignoring the voices in my head screaming that shopping with his mother could never make Isaac this giddy. I didn’t have time for suspicion and jealousy right now.

“Then my mom was freaking out that I couldn’t be on campus after missing class all day.” He walked up behind me, lingering by my elbow as I unlocked the car and grabbed my keys. “She made me call Coach and make sure it was cool for me to come to practice.”

“You’re going to basketball practice?” I spun around, glaring up at him.

Isaac’s mega-watt smile faded the slightest bit. “Yeah. I can’t miss it. We’ve got our first game next week.”

“So you can skip school to go shopping, but not skip practice. Nice priorities, Isaac,” I said, angry that he could be so oblivious. “Good thing I didn’t plan on asking you to come with me to the hospital.”

“Why are you going to the hospital?” he asked, worry creeping into his eyes. “Are you okay? Is it that puking thing again?”

“It’s not me. I’m fine. It’s Sarah.” The confusion on his face took a minute to register in my cracked-out brain, but when it did, I felt awful.

Isaac wasn’t being an asshole. Isaac had no idea my friend was hurt. I’d evidently placed way too much faith in the BHH gossip machine.
I
was the asshole, the freak who was losing her mind.

“Sarah Needles got hurt while we were playing dodgeball last period.” I pressed my spare key back into Isaac’s hand. “They had to call an ambulance to—”

“Oh, man. That sucks. Is she okay?”

“I don’t know. There was a lot of blood and it seemed like she was in a lot of pain. That’s why I really need to get to the—”

“Shit.” Isaac shook his head. “How do you get hurt like that playing dodgeball?”

“Dodgeball is dangerous when you play with Rachel Pruitt,” I said, mentioning the one name I’d promised myself I’d avoid. I just couldn’t seem to help myself.

“What?”

“Rachel tripped Sarah.” A sick part of me had to say the words, had to see the expression on Isaac’s face. “She made her fall.”

“No way. Rachel wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Yes, she would,” I said, staring straight into his eyes, searching for the slightest sign of guilt. “I saw her. I was standing right next to her when it happened.”

“Well, maybe it was an accident. Rachel’s really nice. She wouldn’t—”

“Rachel’s really nice? You honestly think that?” I asked, my voice rising as I asked the question I’d been dying to ask for years. Was he really that oblivious? Couldn’t he see how Rachel cut me down every time she had a chance, couldn’t he hear the snubs in her saccharine voice? On some level, didn’t he know we all pretended to love Rachel because we were afraid of her?

“Yeah, I do.” His obvious indignation cut through me, bringing tears to my eyes. “She’s a bitch sometimes and doesn’t stress out about hurting people’s feelings, but she would never hurt someone on purpose.”

I shook my head, willing myself not to cry. His words were all the confirmation I needed. Whether it was just in the thinking stages or he’d actually done something with Rachel, I didn’t know, but there was no longer a shred of doubt in my mind that the boy I loved had betrayed me.

Now I just had to decide what to do about it. Did I get in my car and leave him in a squeal of tires the way he’d left me? Or did I try to fight for him, for us?

“Listen.” Isaac sighed and backed another step away. “You’re upset. Why don’t we talk about this later when you—”

“Do you really want to talk to me later?” I asked, my voice soft and bruised around the edges.

I couldn’t believe I was going here, giving Isaac the “out” I’d never dared to give him before. I’d always feared that he’d figure out he was too good for me and leave, and I’d never wanted to make that easy for him. But now . . . I had to know if everything I’d been through had been for nothing. When I spoke again, I sounded like I was about to cry. “Do you even want to be with me anymore?”

Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “Of course I do. What kind of question is that? My dad is barely speaking to me because of you.”

Ouch. “So it’s
my
fault that you and your dad—”

“No, it’s not,” he said, hurrying to reassure me, obviously freaked by the tear that had just slid down my cheek. “I’m sorry, but this is just stupid. Everything is good. We’re . . . good.” He stopped, searching for some further description he couldn’t seem find. Finally, he threw up his hands in frustration. “You know I love you.”

“I love you too.”
But I’m not sure that “love” means the same thing to both of us anymore.

Mitch’s words that night at the wedding had squirmed their way into my brain and made me doubt. Was Mitch right? Did Isaac and I love differently? And did Isaac’s way of loving include it being okay for him to mess around with other girls behind my back?

For a second I almost asked him point-blank, but then he reached out and pulled me in to his chest. His warm arms went around me, squeezing me so tight I could barely breathe. There was need in the way he held me, need for
me
, not anyone else. Need that felt real no matter what he’d done.

“Come on, babe,” he whispered into my hair. “I spent all day shopping for your presents with my mom. I let her drag me into
two
malls.” I could tell by the tone in his voice that he was telling the truth. I’d been driving myself crazy all day for nothing. “Let’s not fight the day before your birthday.”

I looked up at him, searching his face again, this time looking for reasons to stay. I found them in the clear blue of his eyes, the eyes I’d always hoped our children would have instead of my muddy green. Isaac and I had so much history and so many things to look forward to. I’d traveled through time and nearly lost my mind for him. I wasn’t going to let that all be ruined.

“And our anniversary,” I said, making my choice. It was time to let it go and move on, to get through the rest of this do over and reclaim my life.

“I got you a present for that too,” he said. “I know you’ve had my presents for months.”

I smiled, a small smile, but a real one. “Were you sneaking around in my closet?”

“Guilty,” he said. “But you’re going to forgive me, right?”

“I should have hidden them better.”

“So we’re good?” he asked, scanning my face.

“We’re good.” And we were. Or we would be. I believed Isaac loved me and wanted to be with me. Whatever he’d done with Rachel was in our past and it could stay there, buried with all the other secrets and lies of the past two weeks. “But I’ve got to go. I really want to go see if there’s anything I can do for Sarah.”

“I’ve got to get to practice, too,” he said, backing away. “But I’ll call you later.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.” He smiled as he opened the door to the truck.

The warmth of his smile kept me relatively calm on the drive across town to St. Mary’s hospital. I’d gotten a text from Sarah’s mom that they were taking her there, but by the time I finally found a place to park and made it to the emergency room waiting area, there was no sign of Sarah or her parents. It was barely four o’clock. No one ever got in to be seen in less than two hours . . . unless . . .

Unless their injury was really bad.

For a second I stood frozen in the waiting room, searching the seats full of people in various stages of pain and misery and sickness for a familiar face, thinking I’d see Sarah if I just kept looking. Surely I’d just missed her. But a few minutes later, I had to admit defeat. I was going to have to call Sarah’s mom. Checking in with the overworked nurses at the front desk wouldn’t do any good since I wasn’t a family member.

“Hello? Katie?” Sarah’s mom answered on the second ring, her voice as calm and collected as usual.

“Hi, Mrs. Needles,” I said, my spirits lifting. Maybe Sarah had already been treated and sent home. “I’m at the hospital. I came to the emergency room, but—”

“We’re upstairs on the fourth floor, room . . .” She paused and I heard footsteps. “Room 412. We’re waiting for the plastic surgeon, but you’re welcome to come wait with us. I know Sarah would be glad to see you.”

“Sure,” I said, my hope freezing into a hard lump in the center of my chest . . . right beneath the cold metal of the locket. “I’ll be right there.”

All the way out the door and around to the main entrance to the hospital, up the three floors in the elevator, and down the hall to room 412, I did my best to convince myself that Sarah’s injury wasn’t that bad. She wanted a career as an actress. Her parents knew that, and they knew even the tiniest scar could impact her ability to earn a living in her chosen field. They were probably seeing a plastic surgeon just to be absolutely sure Sarah received the best treatment possible.

The second I turned the corner and saw Sarah’s pale, tearstained face and hugely swollen upper lip, however, I saw my positive thinking for what it was—a hot, sloppy mess of lies.

“Come in, Katie.” Sarah’s mom motioned me inside but didn’t get up from her chair near Sarah’s bed. “Sarah can’t talk, but she’s writing notes.”

Sarah waved me in with a sad sniff. I crossed the room slowly, forcing my feet to move closer, though I really wanted to turn and run until I found someplace safe to hide from the misery in her eyes. The misery I hadn’t been able to go back and take away.

“She’s going to have stitches on her upper lip and need a bridge to replace one tooth the doctor said we wouldn’t be able to save.” Mrs. Needles still sounded completely calm, but I could see the tension in her face. She was trying to be strong for her daughter, but it was freaking her out to see chatty Sarah so quiet and broken. “Everything should heal in a week or two.”

Sarah groaned and started to scribble something on the sheet of paper in front of her, but her mother stopped her with a gentle hand.

“But it won’t heal in time for her to fulfill her obligations in
Romeo and Juliet
,” she said softly. “Sarah’s going to have to back out of the Rep production.”

“Sarah, I’m so sorry.” I started crying again when Sarah’s eyes filled with tears. I took her hand, squeezing her thin fingers.

I knew how much earning her Equity card had meant to her. It wasn’t an easy thing to get. You had to be cast in an Equity production and beat out hundreds of other union actors for a job.
Romeo and Juliet
was unique because it called for very young-looking actors, but another play like that might not come along for years. She could still audition for Julliard and go on to be a professional actress, but one important, life-changing break had been taken away from her.

A break she’d been allowed to keep the first time we’d lived these two weeks. It was my do over that had ruined this for her.

“Katie, while you’re here, I’m going to step into the hall and try to call her dad one more time,” Mrs. Needles said, rising from her chair.

“Sure, no problem.” I squeezed Sarah’s hand as her mom left the room, trying to think of something encouraging to say that didn’t stink of look-on-the-bright-side stupidness. I came up with . . . nothing. There was nothing I could offer except another lame “I’m sorry” that she couldn’t truly understand how much I meant.

She’d never believe this was
my fault
or the work of a horrible, cursed piece of jewelry.

All my doubts and suspicions, every dark thought I’d ever had about the locket surged into the tiny hospital room, burying me alive. It wasn’t good. It didn’t help people or make things better. It had taken me back in time to drive me crazy with worry and fear; it had nearly killed Rachel just for the kick of seeing me scramble to save her; it had ruined Theo’s life and messed up Sarah’s face and played with reality for its own amusement.

It was pure evil and was going to do its best to ruin my life before my do over was complete.

I stood there in silence with the weight of my fear wrapped around my neck, squeezing until I could barely breathe, sweating, shaking, my heart pounding in my ears until I finally broke under the terror pressing in all around me. “I’m sorry,” I said, pulling my hand away from Sarah’s. “I just can’t stay. I’m . . . I’m so sorry, but I can’t. I just can’t.”

Sarah made a noise of protest, but I’d already spun and raced from the room. I ran past Mrs. Needles, around the corner, and down the hall to the elevators. As I punched the down button, the locket flared hot against my skin.

“No, no way.” I ignored the freaked-out stares of the two older men waiting for the elevator and clawed at the buttons of my coat. I wasn’t going back in time. I didn’t want to “play” anymore. The locket couldn’t make me.

I pulled it from beneath my new gray sweater and flicked it open, determined to break it in half with my bare hands . . . until I saw the latest changes to the pictures within and froze. On one side, there was nothing but a hazy black and white blur. On the other was a black and white period-looking portrait of . . . me, wearing the same outfit I’d worn the night I made the mistake of picking up a seemingly innocent piece of jewelry.