Please Don't Tell - Laura Tims Page 0,58
was unexpected.”
“Not as unexpected as Exposer of Evildoers Joy, let me tell you.”
I flinch.
“It’s okay. That police officer was a dick. People deserved to know.” He gently nudges my shoulder. “Sorry. Not talking about it.”
But it’s too late. The blackmailer’s back in my head. I’ve stolen too much time here. “I . . . told my sister I’d help her with her project tonight.”
“You’re gonna go have giggly sister talk about the date you had with this cute dude. Don’t try to hide it.”
I smile painfully.
“Do me a favor, would you? Just, like . . . enjoy hanging out with her tonight. It’s special, getting to have time with your family. I always thought I’d have time with Adam someday.” He shrugs so casually it hurts.
But he’s wrong. I’ll always be with Grace. It’s him I won’t have much time with. He’s going to go back to Indiana and forget about his temporary Stanwick friend, and I’ll never have to tell Grace that I spent any time with Adam’s half brother.
I figured out how to keep her secrets. Now I’m learning how to keep mine.
When I get home, Mom and Dad are in the living room, watching TV. I wait, but neither of them says anything about the fact that I’m home so late. Either they’ve forgotten to be suspicious of me or they’ve given up completely.
“Did any mail come for me today?” I ask.
“None.” Mom doesn’t look away from the TV. “Leftovers in the kitchen for you.”
I ignore the plastic-wrapped spaghetti on the counter and go straight to Grace’s door.
Come on, Grace. Open your door so I won’t have to. Sense me standing here. I reach for the knob, and an invisible monster folds each of my fingers back until the snapping is deafening. But I twist it with my mangled hand.
Grace would never lie in bed with her laptop like I do, marinating in crumbs. She’s sitting at her desk. She’s organized all her books by color since the last time I was in here. It’s hermetically clean, vacuum sealed.
“Are you busy?” I ask.
The profile of her face is lit up blue by the computer screen. “I have a lot of work to do.”
Does she even realize how much she sounds like Mom?
I sit on the edge of her quilt, the blue-and-green-patterned one she’s had forever. It’s the only thing in her room left from our childhood, since the lamp broke. She put everything else in boxes or threw them away.
“I don’t want to keep secrets from you,” I say.
She closes her laptop. “You’ve never kept a secret from me in your life. You can’t even stop yourself from telling me what you got me for Christmas.”
“Would you be mad if I was keeping one?”
“I would never be mad at you about anything.”
“You’re allowed to be mad at me, Grace.”
She bends her legs underneath her, balancing on top of her desk chair in a position that looks uncomfortable. “Where are you going with this?”
I have to tell her about the blackmail. She’s my sister and she deserves to know. She’s my sister and she would never stop loving me.
I don’t want to do this without her anymore.
“This is going to sound ridiculous,” I manage, and then I steel myself and let it all spill out. The notes, the photos of Principal Eastman, the security video of Officer Roseby . . .
It does sound ridiculous. It’s so ridiculous I’m not even afraid.
“And I should have told you sooner,” I finish. “I should have told you the second it started. I was scared you’d think . . .”
She’s so quiet.
“That the blackmailer is telling the truth,” I stammer. “That I really did . . . kill him, and I just don’t remember. Even if Preston says I left the party before then. What if I came back?”
“Do you think you did it?” she asks.
I have no idea what her thoughts are, behind that face that looks just like mine. “I’ve been trying not to ask myself that. If I’m capable of it, I don’t want to know. But what if I am, Grace? I wanted to.”
It burns a hole in my chest.
“How do you do something like that and live with yourself?” I whisper. “The worst possible thing.”
“Him dying was not the worst possible thing.”
“That wasn’t . . .” I flush.
“I’m sorry.” She pulls her hair over her face. “This is so crazy. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t want to make you worry.”
“You should have come to