“Don’t start on them,” I warn her, nails digging deep in my palms.
“Why not?” she cries. “They’re the reason you’re being such a bitch, isn’t it? You think Cash has brainwashed me, but what about you, huh? What about killing innocent creatures with your precious g*y best friend, Ethan?”
There’s a sudden noise behind her, and we both spin around. Standing on the front porch, staring at us in horror, is Ethan.
And Fiona. And Grady.
34
“What the hell?” Grady reels back. He blinks, turning slowly from us to his brother. “What’s she talking about?”
Ethan is frozen, eyes wide.
“Nothing!” I say quickly, trying to cover. “She’s just kidding around.”
“I’m not,” Olivia announces. She stalks up the front steps and sneers at Ethan. “Whoopsie, looks like your secret is out. Ha, out. Funny.” With a mean little smile, she pushes past them and disappears inside, leaving us alone under the glow of the porch lights.
There’s a long silence, filled by the noise and laughter from the backyard. It’s late, and they’re all getting drunk on punch and ice-box beers. There’s nobody to hear us here.
“Dude.” Grady tugs Ethan’s sleeve. “She’s talking trash, right? Right?”
Ethan still hasn’t moved.
“Come on, Grady.” Fiona tries to lead him away. “We were going to get more pie.”
He shakes her off. “I don’t want pie. I want you to tell me she’s full of crap.” He stares at Ethan, imploring.
Ethan doesn’t say a word.
“No, man . . .” Grady backs away from him, shaking his head. “No way!”
“Grady —” Ethan tries to reach after him, but Grady angrily shoves him back. “Don’t you touch me! Don’t you dare touch me!”
Ethan stumbles back, useless. His face is stricken. Grady makes as if to lunge at him, but Fiona physically drags him back as I rush forward, planting myself between the boys. “Grady, stop!”
“Ethan? Ethan, it’s going to be OK,” I tell him, desperate. He won’t look at me.
“You freak!” Grady yells, lunging again. He sends a wicker chair clattering to the ground and knocks me into Ethan. We both fall, hard, against the porch swing before Fiona clutches a handful of Grady’s shirt and yanks, choking him.
“Calm down!” she screams at him. He suddenly sags, limp in her arms, and with all her strength, she bundles him into the house. The screen door slams.
I turn to Ethan, gripping his arms. “Are you OK?” I’m shaking, but it’s not from the fight or Grady’s harsh words. No, right now I’m sick to my stomach with the awful, twisted knowledge that this is all my fault.
All. My. Fault.
Finally, Ethan looks at me. His eyes are watery, but he swipes his tears away with the back of his plaid sleeve. “Don’t touch me,” he says, quiet and fierce.
“But I —”
“Don’t!” he yells, snatching away from me. “It’s over. Don’t you get that? Everything, it’s all over!” His face crumples, distraught. Backing away, he knocks into the fallen chair, but doesn’t stop, just takes off, sprinting into the dark.
Into the forest.
“Where’s Ethan?” Fiona hurries out about fifteen minutes later. I’m slumped on the front steps, my head in my hands. “Grady’s locked himself in my room upstairs; he won’t talk to me.”
“Oh, God.” I sniffle, trying to smear away my tears. “Ethan took off, out there somewhere.” I nod at the dark shadows, looming out of range of the pools of light from the house. “I didn’t know if I should go after him. Fi, the way he looked at me . . .” I choke back another sob. I can’t believe this is happening — that I made this happen. He trusted me, and I’ve screwed up everything.
“What do we do?” She blinks at me, eyes wide with worry. “I could get Susie. And I think the guys’ mom is here . . .”
“No!” I stop her, remembering what Ethan told me. “Not their parents. Not yet. We’ve got to do this ourselves.”
“But do what?”
Think, Jenna!
Trying desperately to pull myself back together, I take a breath. “OK. Nobody’s noticed anything yet, thank God. So, you go find Reeve. Tell him what happened, get him to talk to Grady.”
“But . . . should we be spreading this around?” Fiona pauses.
“This isn’t spreading anything,” I say, already getting to my feet. “Grady won’t listen to us. He needs someone . . . someone to talk some sense into him. I’ll go after Ethan.”
“Out there?” Fiona looks past me at the forest. She shivers. “Shouldn’t you at least get a flashlight or something?”
“There’s no time for that,” I argue. “And what if we get grabbed by an adult inside? No, I’ll be fine.”
She wavers for a moment and then launches herself at me in a hug. I stumble, surprised.
“I’m scared,” Fiona admits, clutching me. “You should have seen Grady . . . I’ve never seen him like this.”
“Me either, and Ethan . . .” I swallow. “Come on, we’ll make this OK. We have to.”
She nods, collecting herself. “Good luck out there.”
“You too.” I manage a weak grin. And then she’s gone again, and I start walking slowly away from the house, toward the dark forest.
It’s cooler now, and my thin summer dress and sandals are no match for the scrape of tree branches and tangle of tree roots underfoot. Bracing myself, I find the entrance to the path by the road and plunge into the darkness. The trees loom close around me, and even though I’ve walked this path dozens of times this summer, I can’t help but remember the last time I was here in the dark, alone. That first night in Stillwater, I was paralyzed by fear, but this time, I have no choice but to keep moving, stumbling over the dark path as I clutch my arms tight around me and try not to jump at every noise. The trees rustle around me, and every few seconds there’s a new sound — a bird calling, a mysterious clatter or high-pitched animal call. I gulp, forcing myself onward. I need to find Ethan.
35
After what feels like forever, I reach the lake. It’s lighter here, the moon reflecting off the black water, but still, the valley rises up in huge dark swathes on every side.