Vengeance (34 page)

I hoped she would.

I was back in Delaney’s room after school, and I was rifling through her desk, which she hated. “If you’ll just tell me what you’re looking for … there’s a system … and you’re …” She grabbed the papers from my hand and restacked them. “You’re messing with the system!”

But I saw what I was looking for. I pulled out the stack of new college pamphlets and held them over her head when she made a jump for them. “Nope,” I said. “You don’t want to go here.” All Maine schools. All the wrong schools.

“I can get a degree anywhere,” she said, elbowing me in the gut so I doubled in half and she could reach the pages.

“You’re a giant cliché,” I said, “going to school for some guy.”

“Ha,” she said. Then she stepped back, gave up trying to stop me. “You know what your dad told me?”

“Not to go to school for me?” I asked, because that’s what he’d implied to me.

She smirked. “I asked him, you know. When it got closer. I asked him what he’d do if he had one day left to live.”

I grimaced. “You and that question,” I said. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.

“Yeah,” she said. She took a deep breath. “He told me he was already doing it.” She smiled to herself. “He said his life was exactly what he’d hoped it would be.” I had stopped
breathing. “And I don’t think he was talking about what college he went to.”

“Delaney,” I said, but I didn’t know what to say after.

“So, I’m staying,” she said.

“No, you’re not.” If she stayed, if we stayed, we’d never escape the pull. The reminder of the past and how our lives had woven together in unbreakable threads. Binding us to each other and to this place.

The lake was our excuse. For all of us. We hid ourselves in it, giving and giving and giving to it.

“We’re leaving,” I said.

“We?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said. As if it could’ve possibly happened any other way. “Maybe not to Boston, because, yeah, I noticed, like you said, everyone walks too fast.” I smirked at her. “But somewhere. Someplace where you can do great things, and I can do … slightly above-average things.” She punched my shoulder, but she laughed.

And then she was staring off through the window, like she could see our future.

There was a knock at her door, and then Joanne saying, “Open,” as her footsteps continued down the hall.

“A year from now, there’s not gonna be that stupid door rule,” I said, turning the handle.

“A year from now, you’ll probably be sick of me.” I didn’t think she really meant it, but maybe she wondered. Maybe she worried.

“Yeah, probably,” I said. She hit my arm again, but she
was smiling, just for me. “Sometimes,” I said, “you say the most ridiculous things.”

I woke up before my alarm, sure I heard someone calling my name. It must’ve been part of a dream I couldn’t remember. But just in case, I got up and checked on my mom. I smelled coffee. I heard her heels on the floor downstairs.

So I got ready for the day and stared at the clock on my desk. “Bye, Decker,” my mom called as she left for work. Fifteen minutes to spare before I met Delaney out front. On impulse, I pulled the recorder back out of the drawer. I didn’t listen to it again. I wiped it clean.

But that wasn’t enough. I grabbed my bag and my keys and left the house, but first I walked in the opposite direction—to the end of our road, over the hill, kicking up rocks as I skidded down the embankment—straight for the water.

I felt the weight of the recorder in my pocket, pulled it out, tossed it into the heart of Falcon Lake. It was good at taking what we gave it. It was good at holding on to our secrets.

I watched the glint of silver disappear under the surface.

It keeps them all. Like a promise.

Was this justice for anything? Was it my dad’s idea of justice? Was it my own? I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure if it was anything at all, other than my choices, my life.

I walked back up the hill, and then I stood very still, at the corner of my street, wondering if I could hear his ghost in this place that holds its ghosts so close.

Listen
.

Nothing but silence and the wind, pushing me away from the lake.

It showed me things about myself, like it always had. That I left her, yes. And that I went back for her. That I let the ice break under my feet as I ran so I could get to her sooner. I’d fall, and fall again, for the chance to keep her with me.

I saw Delaney walking toward my car, and my stomach flipped like I was meeting her for the first time. She stopped when she noticed me at the far end of the street, and she raised her hand over her head, like I wasn’t already on my way.

“Decker!” she yelled, and I could tell that she was smiling. She had called my name when she fell through the ice, too. And just like then, she didn’t need to. It didn’t matter.

I was already running for her.

Acknowledgments

Thank you to the following people who helped this book come to life:

As always, agent-extraordinaire Sarah Davies, who championed this idea when it was just a few sentences in an e-mail and provided perfectly creepy suggestions along the way as it developed.

My thoughtful and brilliant editor, Emily Easton, who pushes me to become a stronger writer every time I sit down at the computer, and who always sees just what I’m trying to do and shows me how to get there.

The fantastic team at Walker/Bloomsbury, who are also so much fun to work with, including: Laura Whitaker, Patricia McHugh, Jenna Pocius, Nicole Gastonguay, Katy Hershberger, Erica Barmash, Beth Eller, Linette Kim, and Bridget Hartzler. Also, Rebecca McNally, Natalie Hamilton, Emma Bradshaw, and the team at Bloomsbury UK and Bloomsbury Australia. I am so lucky to work with you all!

Jill Hathaway, Elle Cosimano, Ashley Elston, Megan Shepherd, and Marilee Haynes: my ridiculously talented critique partners, who do so much more than critiquing. Thank you for the brainstorming sessions, the honest feedback, and the friendship.

My husband, for his endless support.

My parents, for an endless list of endless things, which would take up far too many pages.

And to the readers. This book exists because of you. Thank you.

Also by Megan Miranda

Fracture

Hysteria

Copyright © 2014 by Megan Miranda

All rights reserved.
You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce, or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

First published in the United States of America in February 2014
by Walker Books for Young Readers, an imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing, Inc.
Electronic edition first published in February 2014
www.bloomsbury.com

For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to
Permissions, Walker BFYR, 1385 Broadway, New York, New York 10018. Bloomsbury books may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at [email protected]

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Miranda, Megan.
Vengeance / by Megan Miranda.
pages cm
Sequel to: Fracture.

Summary: It seems Decker is the only person who does not believe that Falcon Lake, under a curse, is somehow connected to his best friend, Delaney, but everything changes when Delaney senses the imminent death of Decker’s father and says nothing.
[1. Supernatural—Fiction. 2. Death—Fiction. 3. Interpersonal relations—Fiction.
4. Blessing and cursing—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.M67352Ven 2014        [Fic]—dc23    2013024937

ISBN: 978-0-8027-3504-1 (e-book)

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