The Perfectionists (22 page)

Julie felt a pull in her chest. Where did she go? Lately, Parker was spending more and more time by herself, letting Julie in less and less. Julie wanted to think that Parker's therapy with Elliot was working, but after picking Parker up from the cemetery on Saturday, she wasn't so sure. Parker had seemed . . .
unhinged.

Half an hour later, Julie finished wading through the wreck in the hall, trying to clean out the litter box, when the doorbell rang. Julie breathed a sigh of relief. Parker must have forgotten her key again.

She pulled her bathrobe around her shoulders and pushed her way through the hallway, trying to quell the anxiety she always felt at the sight of the towering boxes stacked against either wall. Mewling cats wove around her feet and watched from the heights of garbage everywhere. One fat, crusty-eyed tabby snored wheezily from where it'd nestled in an upturned sun hat.

“Julie! Who's at the door?” Her mother's voice was shrill and frightened from her bedroom.

“I've got it,” Julie called back, pulling the door open quickly. Then her jaw dropped.

It was
Ashley.

“Julie!” Ashley crowed loudly. She had that same strange, pointed smile on her face from when she'd tried to crash Julie's date. “How are you?”

Julie's heart thudded. Ashley had seen the overabundance of lawn decor in the yard. The stacks of car tires and extra porch furniture. The Christmas decorations that were still up from two years ago. A cat wandered across the grass, pausing to pee. And two stacks of boxes sat by the garage, only because the garage was too chock-full for them to fit inside. They were all mushy and almost moldy from sitting out in the rain.

“H-how did you know where I lived?” Julie blurted.

Ashley cocked her head. “Why? Is it a secret?”

Of course it's a secret!
a voice in Julie's head shouted. She never put her real address for the school manual. She even received her magazine subscriptions and college brochures at a PO box. Could Ashley have followed her circuitous route home? She'd always taken extra turns just in case someone from school was behind her.

Ashley waved her hand around the house, and then pointed inside, that saccharine smile still on her face. “I had a really long chat with your mom the other day,” she said sweetly. “She told me about all her cats.
And
she told me about California.”

Julie's mouth dropped open. “Y-you spoke to my mom?” she said weakly. Her head was spinning. She'd been here before? Jesus, her mom had let Ashley
inside
? She'd told her about how they'd been
evicted
?

Julie could still remember the day the health board inspectors had come to their little house, accompanied by two disgusted-looking cops with a warrant. The inspectors had worn hazmat suits. Mrs. Redding had gone into hysterics, sobbing and pulling her own hair out, begging them not to take her “babies.” They finally handcuffed her. Julie sat next to her mother on the curb, watching as the inspectors carried cage after cage of sick, angry cats to their van. It hurt her to see her mother in so much pain. But a part of her wanted to yell,
Take me, too!

“It was such a shock to learn. You seem so . . . together on the outside,” Ashley said. “Just goes to show: Never judge a bitch by her cover.”

Julie stared at Ashley, trembling. “You can't tell anyone,” she whispered.

“And why not?” Ashley crossed her arms. “Secrets are meant to be shared. Especially
dirty
ones.” Her smile turned hard. “Enjoy your popularity while you still have it, Julie. Soon, I won't be the only one to know the real you.”

And then she waved and stepped off the porch, carefully maneuvering around the rusty umbrella table and chairs that sat on the front lawn. Julie watched her car disappear down the street, then covered her face with her hands.

Julie had worked so hard to erase her past, to hide her secret in the present, but her house of cards was crumbling down around her. Parker was freaking out. The police were trying to frame her and her friends for something they didn't do, and now it was only a matter of time before her secret came out. Julie wasn't who she said she was, and before long, everyone would know the truth.

WEDNESDAY EVENING, CAITLIN STOOD IN
the girls' locker room, shaking out her arms and legs and jumping up and down to keep warm. Her uniform had been freshly washed, and it smelled like fabric softener. Her socks were pulled up, her shin guards in place. She'd checked the hair band on her ponytail at least six times to make sure it was secure. Monk, her monkey keychain, was tucked into her gear bag, and she had a stash of blue-raspberry Gatorade for time-outs.

It was go time. The biggest game of her high school career. Outside the locker room, she could hear the stadium filling up. Before she changed, she'd met the UDub recruiter, a sporty-looking woman in her thirties named Monica. If she played well during this game, she'd be guaranteed a spot on next year's team.

And if she didn't . . .

Caitlin shut her eyes. She didn't want to think that way.

She sat down and massaged her ankle, trying to ignore the twinges of pain she'd felt in the past few days. All of a sudden, she felt someone staring at her from across the room. Ursula, also in her soccer jersey and shorts, smirked at her from the water fountains.

“You feeling okay?” she teased, her gaze dropping to Caitlin's ankle.

“I'm fine,” Caitlin said tightly.

“Good. I'd hate for you to mess up!” Ursula sang. Then, halfway out the door, she stopped and whirled around. “Oh. I forgot. Someone is looking for you.”

Caitlin frowned. “The UDub recruiter? I already met her.”

“No . . .” Ursula smiled, smug. “Actually, it was a cop.”

Caitlin's heart stopped. “W-why?” she blurted.

“Oh, I guess the Nolan stuff,” Ursula said. “They're totally getting in everyone's business.”

Then she skipped out of the room. Caitlin's heart pounded. Had they matched her handwriting sample?
Stop thinking about it
, she told herself.
She's just trying to get in your head.

Setting her jaw, she shouldered her gear bag and stormed out of the locker room and into the long, echoing hallway. Kids and their families crammed every nook. Ursula had run up to her parents and was boasting about something to her dad, a squat man in a T-shirt that said
AAA POOL CARE AND LANDSCAPING
.

Then Caitlin looked back and forth for a police officer, praying he wasn't staked out here, hoping to catch her. When someone pulled on her sleeve from behind, she wrenched away, her heart leaping into her chest.

“Whoa!” Jeremy backed up, a startled smile on his face. “Sorry!”

Caitlin's shoulders dropped. “I didn't see you.” Then she peered at him. “What are you
doing
here?” As far as she knew, Jeremy had never been to a soccer game—not even one of Josh's.

Jeremy cocked his head. “This is it, right? The big game? I wanted to cheer you on.”

“Oh.” Caitlin smiled nervously, then peered around the hall and out into the small courtyard that led to the field. Was Josh here? She hadn't seen him, and they'd barely talked all week. But it seemed crazy for him not to come—he knew how much this meant to her. What if he was watching them right now?

“Uh, let's go somewhere else,” she said, suddenly feeling paranoid.

She took Jeremy's arm and led him outside and under the bleachers to a dark, secluded spot. Metallic sounds of people walking up and down the stands echoed from above. A group of kids burst into laughter. Then someone said, “Whoa!” and a river of cola-colored liquid seeped through a hole in the stands, almost on Jeremy's head.

“Oops,” Caitlin said, shifting him out of harm's way. “Soccer games are hazardous, you know.”

“Nervous? Excited?” Jeremy asked, his eyes shining.

“A little of both, I guess,” Caitlin admitted. She felt her cheeks redden. “Thanks for coming to this. It means a lot to me.”

“No problem. Actually, I brought you something.” Jeremy rummaged in his pockets and extracted a long, thin object. Caitlin studied it for a moment, then realized it was a pen. Not just
any
pen, either—a Dungeons & Dragons pen.

She looked up. “Was this the pen I lent you?”

Jeremy nodded. “The one that was Taylor's. I thought you should have it back.”

Caitlin smiled, her eyes welling up for a second before she blinked the tears away. “Thanks.”

“I should add that it's brought me good luck through the years,” Jeremy said. “I used it on my driver's test. I used it on finals last semester. I had it in my pocket when I had my nationals debate with the Model UN. I feel sort of . . .
safe
with it. Although maybe that has something to do with the fact that it used to belong to you.”

He was looking at her so sweetly, so earnestly, like she was the most important thing in his entire life. Caitlin felt her throat close, but her heart open. All of a sudden, what she needed to do seemed abundantly clear. Yes, it would be messy, but it was what she wanted. And if she'd learned anything from Taylor—or the fact that the police were breathing down her neck—it was that life was short.

She peered around to make sure no one was watching. Then she leaned forward and kissed him.

For a moment, Jeremy was stiff, his eyes wide open. But when he kissed her back, his lips were soft and warm. Caitlin inhaled the grassy scent of his clothes. She ran her hands through his hair, which was so much longer than Josh's sporty-boy buzz cut. Tingles ran up and down her body.

When they pulled away, they both grinned. “I'm sorry,” Jeremy blurted.

Caitlin gave him a crazy look. “For what?
I
was the one who kissed you.”

“Oh.” Jeremy lowered his eyes. There were two blooms of red on his cheeks. “Well, yeah. I guess you did.”

The whistle blew on the field, and they looked at each other again. In a few minutes, Caitlin's game would be starting. But something else suddenly dawned on her, too. She felt . . . lighter, somehow. Freer. Jeremy's kiss had opened up a whole new world, and she no longer felt bogged down. If she played well, great. But if she didn't . . . maybe it would still be okay. After all, she'd already won something today, no matter the game's final score.

THURSDAY AFTER SCHOOL, PARKER HOVERED
outside Elliot's office. The sun streamed in through the windows, making dappled patterns on the carpet. Traffic swished by out the window, creating soothing, soporific white noise. Elliot hadn't noticed her yet, but instead was staring very intensely at something on his computer screen. Parker wondered what it was. A psychologists' forum? The
Seattle Times
? Porn?

Then Elliot glanced up. He paled and jumped, then smiled awkwardly. “Parker!” he said in a loud voice. “I didn't see you there! Come in, come in!”

Parker slouched into the room, pulling the hoodie securely over her head. She slumped down on the couch and hugged a pillow. She could feel Elliot looking at her.

“Is everything okay?” Elliot asked with hesitation.

Parker shrugged. He could probably sense how antsy she felt. How prickly. She'd hesitated at the front door of the building for at least ten minutes before actually stepping inside, unsure she wanted to face his questioning during this session. Because she
knew
there would be questioning. Even crazy Parker was accountable for her meltdowns.

Elliot sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “So, Parker. I'm guessing you don't want to talk about the cemetery.”

“No,” Parker barked. She covered her ears. “No, no, no.”

“Hey, it's okay.” Elliot rose from his seat, stepped forward, and gently lifted her hands away. He met her eyes, his bow-shaped lips curving into a smile. “Listen. We don't have to talk about it. I promise. We can talk about something else.”

Parker blinked. “W-why don't you want me to talk about it?” she demanded.

“Because obviously you're not ready,” Elliot said, raising his palms. “And that's fine. You have your reasons for not liking cemeteries. We can explore that, or we'll talk about something else. I'll never push you on anything.”

Parker sat quietly for a moment, letting this sink in. It felt like reverse psychology, but annoyingly, it was
working.
“It's like something prevented me from going in there, a mental block or something,” she stated, trying to make sense of her emotions. “You know how psychics can tell if a place is cursed or tainted or if something bad happened there? It's a feeling like that, maybe.”

“What do you think happened there?”

Parker shrugged. “I don't really know. People died, obviously. Maybe that's all.”

Elliot nodded, but it looked like he didn't completely believe her. Parker wasn't sure she believed herself, in fact—but she knew she didn't want to walk through those gates.

“Are you angry at me for taking you there?” Elliot asked, looking worried.

Parker shook her head. “Not exactly,” she said quietly. “I mean, I guess I felt a
little
ambushed. But I didn't know I was going to react that way until I was actually there.”

“What did the reaction feel like?”

Parker shut her eyes. “I wish I could explain it. But I can't. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay, Parker.” He smiled, looking straight at her. No one ever looked straight at her these days. “We can take our time.” He paused and looked down at his hands. “There's no rush.”

They smiled at each other, and Parker's heart did another leap. It wasn't like her to make emotional confessions to people. Even the old Parker kept her emotions pretty close to the vest. But she needed someone in her corner besides Julie.