Between (41 page)

“Hey.” I shake her awake, hard. “We have to talk. Now.”

“What?” She sits up, groggy. “Did you get the car? Is it fixed?”

“Come up to my room.”

“Mom and Dad aren’t back yet. We can talk here.”

“No,” I say, insistent. “My room. Now.”

Once I finish telling her everything, she sits cross-legged on my bed, her eyes wide. “Christ,” she murmurs. “What are you going to do, Liz?”

“I don’t know. What choice do I have? I’m going to pay him.”

“And you’re going to do … whatever else he wants?”

I don’t say anything.

“What about Richie?” she prompts. “If you do anything with Vince, that’ll be like cheating on him.”

I cringe at the word “cheating.” “It won’t be like that. I don’t have a choice. Josie … you were in the car, too.” I close my eyes for a minute. “It doesn’t seem fair.”

She takes a deep breath. She nods. “I guess it’s not. But Liz … you were driving.”

My mouth drops open. “That’s not fair, Josie. You were the one who didn’t want to call for help.”

Josie shakes her head. “It wouldn’t have mattered. He would have died anyway.”

“Maybe.” I pause. “But I still can’t stop thinking about it. I’d do anything to take it back.”

“But you can’t take it back. It happened, and now you have to do this, or else we’re both in deep shit. Just—just go over there tomorrow and give him the money, and that will be the end of it. Okay? Then we can put it all behind us.”

I stare at her. “What about Alex? What about his family? They aren’t going to put it behind them. Josie, we ruined their lives. We killed him.”

She bites her lip. She’s quiet for a long time. Finally, she says, “Liz, we didn’t kill him. You did. All I did was get into the car with you.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say, beginning to cry again. “I’m sorry I got you into this mess, I’m sorry about Alex … maybe I should just go to the cops, you know? Maybe I should turn myself in. I don’t know if I can do this, Josie. I don’t think I can do what Vince wants. I don’t know what he expects, but whatever it is—”

“No! You have to do what he wants. Liz, just get it over with.” She reaches toward me, strokes my blond locks with her small hand. One of her fingernails catches in my hair, and I wince as she tugs it free. “You have to do it, Liz. You can’t tell anyone what happened. Nobody. Not the police, not Richie, nobody. Understand?”

I nod.

“We would be in so much trouble. It would ruin our lives, too, and what’s the point in that?” She’s almost breathless. “I’m looking out for you,” she says. “I’m your best friend.” Josie smiles weakly. “We’re sisters. I promise, nothing bad is going to happen to you. I won’t let it. This will all be over soon.”

Twenty-four

The news of Vince’s arrest—for blackmail, extortion, and sexual exploitation of a minor—spreads almost instantaneously. It is on the morning news. I see it at Richie’s house, where he and his parents watch in amazement, all three of them silent and stunned as they stare at the television.

“That poor boy’s family,” Mrs. Wilson says. She’s talking about Alex.

Mr. Wilson is putting on his coat. On the news, there’s no mention of anything specific about the night Alex was killed—like the fact that I wasn’t alone. And, at least according to the morning anchor, my death is still accidental. It was a terrible end to a horrible tragedy that stretched over the course of an entire year.

“I assumed Liz had some issues with food,” Mrs. Wilson says. “I guess I just thought, with her mother’s history …”

“It made sense.” Mr. Wilson is ready to head out the door. “She was wasting away.” He tugs at his wife’s elbow. “Now we know, don’t we? See what a guilty conscience can do to you?” he says to Richie. Richie doesn’t nod. He doesn’t move. He just stares at the television. In his head, I can tell, the pieces are all falling together. Just like they’ve been coming together for me all night, ever since I watched Joe Wright take Vince Aiello off to jail.

“Your father and I are going into the city. Just for the morning,” Mrs. Wilson says. She peers at her son. “Richard? Are you okay?”

He nods slowly.

“Say something,” she demands.

He clears his throat. “I’m okay. I mean … yeah. I’m just shocked, that’s all.”

“I know. It’s horrible.” She shudders. “But the Valchars are moving away now. That’s good. So. Your father and I will be home later today, and there’s grocery money for you in the kitchen. Will you be all right by yourself?”

Richie nods again.

In a gentler tone, Mrs. Wilson says, “Please call if you need anything. We’re only a phone call away. We love you.” She musses his hair. I close my eyes, imagining how it feels to run my fingers through those curls.

“And whatever you do,” Mrs. Wilson says as she and her husband are heading out the door, “do not go over to the Valchar house. You are not to see Josie under any circumstances. Do you understand me?”

Richie doesn’t say anything.

“Richard. I want an answer from you.”

“Yes, Mom. I understand.”

He waits until his parents have pulled out of their driveway. He watches from the window as their car makes a left off of High Street. Then he walks right out the front door, down the sidewalk, and straight to my old house.

Josie is sitting among boxes. The television is off. It’s a Saturday, so there’s no school, and I can only imagine how my classmates will be buzzing on Monday morning. I wonder if they’ll rescind my homecoming crown. The notion makes me think of Alex, of our dance together, and our time onstage. In spite of everything, I smile. They can take the crown. I never deserved it in the first place.

Richie walks in without knocking. Josie is home alone. My father is at the boat, of course, and Nicole is nowhere to be found.

He stands in the doorway to the living room. Josie is sitting on the floor, her back against the sofa, looking through an old photo album.

“Did you hear the news?” Richie asks.

“No news in this house. I’m cut off from the world. We’ve got no Internet, and Dad canceled my cell plan. Cable’s off, too. Why?”

“They arrested Vince Aiello for blackmail. A bunch of other stuff, too. They know Liz is the one who hit Alex Berg.”

I can actually see the color fading as it drains from Josie’s face. “What?” she asks, her voice laced with a hint of panic.

“Yeah.” Richie nods. “It’s all over the news. The cops are probably talking to all our friends right now. Josie,” he says, “that was the night you two drove home from Caroline’s, wasn’t it? I remember it happening. It was just a few days later when Liz came to me about her car. The cops are going to figure it out, Josie. They’re going to find out you were in the car with her that night. You’re going to be in some kind of trouble.”

Josie puts her head down. Her hands clench the corners of the photo album. “I wasn’t driving, though,” she says. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You knew what happened and you didn’t tell anyone. It’s a crime.”

“I was a minor,” she protests. “I still
am
a minor. What are they going to do, throw me in prison? I didn’t know how to fix things. What was I supposed to do, Richie? Turn in my own sister? It was horrible enough when—” She stops. She shuts her mouth.

“When what?” Richie takes a step into the room.

“Nothing.” Josie shakes her head. “It was just horrible, that’s all. It’s all so horrible.”

“You were her best friend,” Richie says. “She told you what Vince was doing, didn’t she?”

Josie doesn’t say anything.

“You showed me those pictures. You let me believe she was cheating on me. You knew I would break up with her eventually. You knew I would confront her. And when I did, what would she say? She wasn’t going to tell me what happened. You did it all on purpose, just to … to what, Josie? To steal me from her? I loved her. I still love her.”

Josie’s look is pained. “You love
me,
” she whispers. “And I love you. We have a love story. It’s like my mom and dad. We’re supposed to be together. She didn’t deserve you.”

“What she
didn’t
deserve was to die. She didn’t deserve what Vince did to her. But if you think she didn’t deserve me, then you didn’t really know her at all.” Richie shakes his head. “Josie, there’s no love story here. I care about you. I don’t want to see you get into any more trouble, but it’s unavoidable at this point. I wouldn’t be surprised if the cops are on their way over here right now. You’re gonna have to face up to what happened.”

My sister wipes her eyes. “You’re right. I guess I will.”

“I just wish … God, I just wish so badly that Liz had confessed. I wish she’d gone straight to the cops that night, you know? Maybe she’d still be alive. Maybe everything would be different.”

Josie gets a faraway look in her eyes. “Maybe.”

I begin to feel dizzy. So dizzy, in fact, that without thinking about it, I reach toward Richie for balance.

As soon as we make contact, his entire frame stiffens. For the first time since I’ve touched him after my death, I’m certain that he can feel it, too. He might not know that it’s me, but he knows that it’s
something
.

“Richie?” Josie asks, sniffling, still crying. “What’s wrong? You seem weird.”

He shakes his head. I pull away from him. I still feel dizzy, but I’ve managed to right myself in my boots—these
damn
boots—and slide to the floor beside Josie. The room is almost spinning. I feel like I could pass out. I take deep breaths, struggling to regain my bearings.

“What are you looking at?” Richie asks. He still seems rattled from my touch.

“Nothing. An old photo album. It’s from way before my mom got divorced. It’s my baby album.”

“Baby pictures, huh? Can I see?” I can tell that he’s only making conversation. He wants to get out of my house. He wants to get away from Josie. But Richie is a nice guy—he isn’t just going to up and leave her alone, not like this.

“Sure. Sit down.”

The three of us are on the floor together, Josie seated in the middle. She’s looking at photos of herself as a newborn, in her mother’s arms. Nicole and her first husband look so thrilled to be with their baby daughter. There are no hints of discontent in their eyes, no outward signs that they are anything but a happy family.

Even as a newborn, Josie was wide eyed. She gazes at the camera. A shock of red hair covers her head.

In an instant, I remember. I understand. Here it is: the last piece of the puzzle.

“That’s weird,” Richie says.

“What?” Josie rests her hand on his leg like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

It is like someone has flipped a switch and turned on the lights. Everything is clear now. Everything makes sense. Of course. This is the truth. It’s always been here, waiting for me to remember.

Get out!
I want to scream. But instead, almost instinctively, I reach across Josie’s body and grab Richie’s arm. I’m doubtful that it will work, but I have to try. I want him to know. I want him to realize. I need him to understand what I know I am about to see.

“Beware of the redhead in disguise,” Richie says. “Isn’t that what you told me the psychic said to Liz? At the Spiritualist Church you guys went to?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so.” Josie takes her hand off of Richie’s leg. “But I only had red hair until I was like four. As I got older, it turned into … well, this.” She tugs at her dirty-blond locks. “I’ve been dyeing it for years.”

“But you had it once,” Richie says. He’s staring at her.

I hold on to him as tightly as possible. Focusing. Concentrating.
Please,
I think,
please remember. We’re connected. Show me
.
Show him.

It’s after midnight. Almost everybody else on the
Elizabeth
is asleep. Everyone except Josie and me.

“Our friends are lightweights,” she complains, taking a long swig from an almost-empty beer bottle. “Can you believe they didn’t even stay awake for your real birthday? What do we have, less than two hours to go?”

I stand up. I’m clearly dizzy, unsteady on my feet. “I need air,” I tell her, stepping onto the deck of the boat. “Come out with me.”

We climb down the steps linking the boat to the dock and stand on the rickety wooden surface together. The night is silent, all of our friends sleeping inside. I’m almost eighteen years old, and I am in the biggest mess of trouble.

“We need to talk, Josie,” I tell her.

She gives me a doubtful look. “About what?”

“You know what. Alex. What we did. I can’t do it anymore,” I say. “Not for one more day.”

My stepsister’s expression shifts to alarm. “What did you say?”

My speech is a little bit slurred. “I’m going to tell Mr. Riley what happened, Josie. I don’t know what I’ll do after that. Probably go to the police.”

She shakes her head. “No way. Liz, be serious. You aren’t going to tell him anything. You’re done with Vince. It was just some pictures and some money.”

“He’s never going to stop, Josie. No matter how much I give him, he wants more. Every time he contacts me, he wants more money, and now he wants sex.” I laugh out loud. “Can you believe he expects me to have
sex
with him? I’m not doing it.” I shake my head hard. The docks rock gently against the water. For a moment, it appears that I almost lose my footing. The boots look great, though. I know there’s no way I’d be willing to take them off—not simply for the sake of balance. They complete the whole outfit.

I can tell Josie is doing her best to remain calm. “Liz, listen to me. You’re drunk. We’ll figure something out. But you can’t tell anyone. We talked about this. We’ll both be in serious trouble. It’s been over a year. Just … just sleep with him. How bad could it possibly be?”

“I don’t know,” I tell her, “I’m a virgin. You know that.”

“Well, you’ve gotta lose it somehow.”

“I want to lose it to Richie.”

She snorts. She doesn’t say anything.

I put my hands on my knees. “I’m so dizzy,” I breathe. “I feel like I’m going to pass out, Josie.”

“Put your head between your knees,” she instructs me. “Take deep breaths.”