Find Me (24 page)

Pretending to be normal makes you feel like
you’re bleeding to death.

—Page 48 of Tessa Waye’s diary

Bren’s singing about how the hills are alive with the sound of music again. In between verses, she explains to me how I can have all the time in the world to think, how we’ll talk about everything during a special seafood dinner in San Francisco, how we’re going to “celebrate our futures together.”

I have no idea what that means, but it involves every suitcase she owns.

I should tell her the Tates celebrate with Ho-Hos and takeout, not fancy restaurants with names I can’t spell, but I don’t say a word. It occurs to me that she’s trying to win me over. I look around her perfect kitchen in her perfect life and think maybe Bren isn’t perfect
because
she’s perfect. She’s putting on a front like everyone else—including me. I’m not the only one pretending to be something I’m not, and oddly, the idea makes me feel a little less alone. I try to smile at her, but Bren won’t meet my eyes.

I can’t really blame her.

I sit at the breakfast bar, watching Lily and Bren make lists of everything they’ll needuntil I’m boiling inside my own skin. I go upstairs, and I’m alone for maybe two minutes before Lily arrives.

“You need time to
think
?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to San Francisco with Bren, and I’ll do it with or without you, Wick,” she warns.

Exactly. That’s what I want.
Except I still have to wrap my arms around me to keep from doubling over.

“I know my picture showed up because of you.”

I go still. “Why’s that?”

“Because it’s always you. Just like it was always Dad.”

“Then why didn’t you want me to say anything? Why did you lie?”

“To protect you, to give you the opportunity to say yes. I
knew
what she was going to ask. I
knew
what we could have had.” Lily turns for the door. “But you’re right, Wick. Everything really is ruined.”

It’s the first
time I’ve ever seen Bren and Todd fight, but Todd says I can stay home, promises he’ll bring me to Bren for the weekend. My foster mom drives away with Lily in tow while I lie on my bed, work my jaw back and forth until I want to scream.

When I finally push myself upright, I see the sketch pinned to my window. I’m ten feet away, but I still recognize Griff’s style. He made the girl look fierce, but drew her eyes sad.

Vaguely, I remember the text:
I’m coming over
. He really did, and he left me the sketch so I would know.

On the nightstand, my cell phone buzzes. For a crazy second, I think it’s Griff and he knows I’ve seen his picture. He knows I’m thinking of him.

But it’s not Griff. It’s Joe.

Meeting 2day.

Again?
I’m not eager for a repeat. I put the phone in my pocket, concentrate on nudging open my window. I carefully pull Griff’s drawing free.

It isn’t some random girl. He drew me.

He’s sketched me in blue and green ink. My hair is loose, and I’m pushing it away from my face with both hands. I look like it’s all one big joke, like I’m amused and nothing scares me.

And yeah, the eyes are sad, but they’re also . . . knowing. There aren’t any tears in them even though, right now, I can feel tears pressing against my lashes. Is this how he sees me?

He made me look like I could take on the world.

He made me look beautiful.

Another text:

1 hr

I grimace. Something’s up. That barely gives me enough time to sneak away. I grab my bag, shove the window open a little farther, and tuck the sketch as far under my bed as I can reach. It’s the loveliest thing I’ve ever been given.

I scramble out the window and down part of the tree. I fall the rest of the way and end up in the bushes.

I pop back up, scan for any neighbors. Thank God. No one. I set off for the bike paths.

Almost forty-five minutes later, I reach my old subdivision, making the familiar right off the path, and stop dead. From this angle, I can see straight down the street, straight to Joe’s . . . straight to the cars parked outside his house.

Cops.

Oh my God. The cops.

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He really does want Lily Tate. She really is next.
I can’t help him. Won’t help him. I’d rather jump.

—Page 68 of Tessa Waye’s diary

They know. It’s all over. I want to scream and I want to hide and I cannot look away. Four cop cars are parked on the street and in the yard, lights flashing. There must be ten officers going in and out of the house. They’re carrying computers and dragging Joe’s gun safe onto the lawn. They’re leading my dad to a squad car.

They’ve caught Dad.

And, like he knows I’m watching, like he knows I’m close, Dad’s head swings up, turns toward me. His mouth opens . . . I turn.

And run.

I’m barely on the path before I hear someone coming after me. Just one person? Or is it more? I pump my arms harder, force my feet to move faster.

It doesn’t matter. They’re gaining on me.

“Wicked!” An arm hooks around my middle and we go down, twisting at the last second so I land on top. I start kicking and punching.

We roll, and I look up at Griff. “Jesus, Wicked! It’s me!”

Griff. It’s only Griff.
But I can’t stop struggling. I have to get away. The cops know. They’re making arrests and they have my dad and he saw me. He’ll think I betrayed them, and he’ll be enraged. They’ll never be able to hold him.

He’ll come for us—for
both
of us.

“It’s okay.” Griff pushes me harder into the leaves. He has me pinned, and I still feel like I’m going to rocket off the ground. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Except it’s not. I try to curl into a ball, hold myself together, but I can’t. Griff’s in the way and I’m spinning apart and I can’t stop shaking.

How long until the cops come for me?

I’m sorry, Lily. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
Griff presses me to his chest. It isn’t until my whole face has gone wet that I realize I’m crying.

We spend another
hour waiting in the woods, watching the shadows stretch longer and longer. Waiting for cops to come up the path.

They never do.

I push myself upright, and Griff’s hand drags down my arm like he doesn’t want to let me go. “How did you know they were coming?”

Griff looks away.

I wipe my sleeve across my eyes once more. “How did you know they were
coming
?”

“Because I was in on it.”

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Sometimes I think I got involved with him
because I was bored with boys.

—Page 9 of Tessa Waye’s diary

“You were in on it?” This doesn’t make any sense. It’s like when we repeat those random Spanish phrases in class to improve our accents. Everyone is saying the words, and no one has the faintest idea what they mean. That’s what this is like.
No me gusta
bullshit.

I put both hands on my knees and grip. “What. Are you. Talking. About?”

“You’re not the only one with secrets, Wick.” Griff meets my eyes, and whatever he sees there makes him wince. “My cousin’s a cop. I do undercover work for the police every once in a while.”

“Because they make you?”

“Because I want to.”

“Because they caught you before?”

Griff smiles. “Really blown you away, haven’t I?”

No. Yes.
“So you’re a red hat.” It isn’t really a question, but he nods anyway. “And you know I’m not.”

“Yeah.”

I thought we were alike, but we’re not. Red hats are good hackers. They protect people, systems, websites. That makes Griff one of the good guys, and I’m still . . . just like my dad.

I swallow hard. “So . . . all those times you kept asking me why I didn’t do something else for money, what was that about? Some sort of hint?”

Griff studies the ground. “I wanted you to quit. . . . I also wanted to know the truth about why you were hacking.”

“Even though you were lying to me.”

“Yeah.”

“You said they took you in for questioning, but you were really . . .
informing
on us.”

“Not all of you. I didn’t tell them anything about you. They don’t know about your involvement.” Griff’s hand shoots forward, grabs mine. I start to pull away, but he holds me like he’s drowning and I’m a lifeline. “You didn’t want to be there. I had to save you.”

Something cold coils in my gut. “I don’t want to be saved. I don’t
need
to be saved.”

“Don’t you?”

I don’t answer. Griff’s seen what I am with my dad. He’s seen how I have to act with Joe. He’s seen the worst parts of me, the parts that make me the most ashamed.

I look away.

“You weren’t supposed to be there when they got busted,” Griff says quietly.

“Joe sent me a text. Emergency meeting.”

Griff’s fingers tangle around mine. “I didn’t want you to see it.”

Too late for that.
A vision of my dad walking down the porch and looking up at me floods my brain. I squeeze my eyes shut. “Did you tell them about Tessa? About
Lily
?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Griff presses his hands over both of mine, rubbing his fingers across my cold skin. “I didn’t tell them because I knew it would be the fastest way to lose you.”

Except that isn’t
quite right. Griff wants to go to the cops, but he wants me to be the one to do it.

“Not going to happen.” We’re walking to his bike, and as the evening’s last joggers pass us, I duck my face so they can’t see how I’ve been crying. I don’t need to, though. Griff puts himself between their stares and me.

He grazes his hand against mine. “Are you sure you want to go home?”

Home?
Yeah, I guess he’s right. Bren and Todd’s house is home now. If they put away my dad, it could be home for a long time.

Well, it could’ve been if I hadn’t screwed it up by telling Bren I had to think about her offer.

“Yeah, the detectives will come by.” I straighten. “I want to be there.”

“Wick.” Griff tucks me close, and for a moment, I let him. “They can help find Tessa’s rapist. They can help
you
.”

“You mean like they helped my mom?” Griff sucks air like I punched him. “I gave Carson Tessa’s diary, you know. I slipped it into his car when he was at my house the other day. You know what he did?”

“What?”

“Nothing. He showed up at Lauren’s house that night instead of investigating the diary. He doesn’t care about Tessa. It doesn’t matter to him. Not really.”

Griff’s arm tightens around my shoulders. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I’m always alone.” And then, because that sounds like I’m whining, I make myself grin. I am not broken. I do not need to be saved. “I’m alone, and that’s the way it needs to be.”

Griff scowls. “Why do you have to be like this?”

I refuse to look away. “Because this is who I am.”

Griff turns for his bike. “Get on.”

I start to object. We shouldn’t be seen together. It could be dangerous for Griff, for me.

But my hands reach for him anyway.

I climb behind him, feel all my bravado drain. By the time we get to my neighborhood, I’m cold to the bone. We turn the corner, and I see the cops parked at my house, waiting. Griff’s left hand squeezes mine.

It’s supposed to be comforting, but I still feel like he’s driving me straight into an ambush.

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