through me, the sound so jarring that for a moment, I think I hear the sound of Nancy gasping for breath mixed with Julian’s drunken, yet honest, rant. I stand stock still, looking down at the shattered glass, the rock firmly in my hand.
What am I doing? What’s the purpose of following the direction of a woman whose intentions are sketchy at best? A shiver goes down my spine as I take in the mess around me.
There’s no going back now. It’s already done. It’s time to see how all this plays out.
I have no idea what game this has graduated to but Nicky asked me to trust her. This is the part where I do just that, so I stuff the rock in my backpack as well. I’m not taking a chance that the police might get involved in this. They already have my name as a suspect for Liam’s attempted murder. That too, is still hovering over me, just waiting.
I look at the car, and make sure to leave the driver’s door open. In the spur of the moment, I cut my finger with the broken bits on the glass, then spread the blood on surfaces I can touch. The door, the seat, the steering wheel; I leave drops of my blood and then stand back.
I leave the trunk open as well and leave the keys right beside my lone shoe. I pull on my backpack and without a second glance, I start walking toward the station I passed a mile back.
I know I’m doing the opposite of what I was told but fuck that shit! I’m going back to Palos Verdes.
I need answers!
9
I look up at the ratty, old house with a. ceiling that might fall in with a light breeze as I stand on the sidewalk with weeds everywhere.
It’s quiet like there’s no one home. The blinds are down, but I know she’s in there. Where else would she go?
The last time I was in this part of town, I was maybe in sophomore year. Curiosity and a bit of bitterness at her actions and words had made me follow her home, wanting to see where she lived, and my snooping led me to the other side of the tracks.
I can’t say I was surprised though. The fake Swiss brands she used to wear at school, the way she used to try and desperately fit in, it was all done to cover up her true identity. I mean, I’m not judging her, apparently, I’m now poor myself, but still, Kristine was a liar, a hater and right now, the only one who might have the answers I need.
She might not want to see me but I’m still going to try.
I’m pretty sure that this is a bad idea. A lot can go wrong and I know this is dangerous, seeing as the reputation I’ve made for myself as the Ice Queen of Clintwood made her hate me. Even when I last saw her, I embarrassed the hell out of her, in front of the entire school no less, so now showing up on her doorstep is a step too far, even for me, but here I am like the stubborn bitch she has called me countless of times, behind my back, then to my face once.
But what else can I do? I’d rather see where this goes, so I walk up to the front door and knock, before my nerves get the better of me.
I wait for a few seconds, thinking that there’s no one home but right before I turn around to walk away, I hear something. The door cracks open, revealing a puffy eyed Kristine.
Her eyes widen as soon as she sees it’s me, then she goes to close the door but I beat her to it.
“What are you doing here?” she croaks, her voice hoarse. Her eyes are red like she’s been crying and I think I know why. “How did you know this is my house?”
“Hey Kristine,” I start, keeping my voice level and soft. I don’t want to spook her or intimidate her or let he know that I basically stalked her. “May I come in?
“What do you want?”
“I think we need to talk, don’t you?”
I watch her closely, waiting for her to make up her mind. She looks nervous, her forehead is actually doted with sweat.
“I don’t think I have anything to say, not you, bitch.” Ahh, there’s that vindictiveness. Good, I can handle that.
“That’s not true and you know