“Cara’s aunt, the one you work with … has she ever expressed any … suspicions about Blake?”
Aunt Meg shakes her head. “No. All I ever heard was just an acknowledgment of what a terrible tragedy it was. I think her family liked Blake, trusted him … The story seemed perfectly plausible. No one ever questioned it, not that I know of.”
“I guess there’s no reason anyone would. It sure makes more sense than any other theory out there, like Cara disappearing on purpose. Talk about a long shot. So, yeah … I think I probably believe Blake. I just don’t like him anymore.”
Aunt Meg nods and squeezes my arm gently.
I bite my bottom lip. “Dr. Sennett thinks I’m scared of my future,” I say, staring at my hands.
“Your future?” Aunt Meg asks. “What do you mean?”
“She asked about my future, and I told her I couldn’t really envision what was in it … only what wasn’t: Mom and Dad. So maybe I fell for Blake as a way of postponing my future … that I’m clinging to whatever will keep me from moving forward.”
“Wow,” Aunt Meg says in a whisper. “Deep.”
I wave a hand through the air. “But then I thought, ‘That’s so silly, so over-dramatic.’ Talk about psycho-babble, right? I figured I was just freaked out by the thought of falling for a guy; I mean, I feel ridiculous now, but I’ve never fallen so hard, so fast, before. I assumed I was overthinking every little thing, kinda subconsciously looking for an escape hatch, because maybe I still wasn’t quite ready for a relationship … ”
Aunt Meg’s eyes prod me to continue.
“But, of course, the flowers,” I say. “Blake telling me he brings Cara’s mother flowers every Sunday … telling all of us that.” I narrow my eyes. “What a creepy thing to say if it’s not true.”
“Hmmmmmm,” Aunt Meg says.
“He also told me he volunteers at the children’s hospital. One of our classmates overheard him talking about it, and he said Blake is full of crap.”
Aunt Meg and I sit there for a long moment contemplating what it all means.
“Smooth,” I finally say. “Too smooth.”
“So have you talked to him?”
I run a brush through my freshly shampooed hair and sit on the foot of my bed. “Nope,” I tell Sawbones, a steady rain still pelting the roof. “He’s texted me, like, a zillion times and left some messages. I haven’t responded to anything. I guess I’ll tell him tomorrow that we need to cool it.”
“Do it in public, do it in school,” Sawbones says, an alarming hint of urgency in his voice. “I don’t want you alone with him.”
I scoff lightly. “I’m not afraid of him.”
“Are you sure? Sounds like you have been afraid a few times.”
I finger my parents’ rings under my robe. “Not really afraid. I mean, I don’t think he’d hurt me or anything … ”
“You know there’s more to the drowning story than he’s telling you,” Sawbones says matter-of-factly.
“I don’t know that,” I say. “A girl jumps in the ocean for a quick swim one night, gets caught in a rip current, tragically drowns. It happens. Her own family—and the police, for crying out loud—they all accept that what happened is what Blake said happened. Yes, it was creepy being out there on the beach with him today at the exact spot where it happened, but all the crazy rumors? Cara wanting to disappear? I don’t buy any of that. Of course, the bottom line is that I really don’t know. But I know one thing: I’m done with Blake.”
I take a deep breath, relishing the thought—the exhilarating, liberating notion that’s occurring to me just now, this very second—that being done with Blake renders all the other stuff moot. Being done with Blake means being done with Cara, and as crass as that sounds, the very thought makes my muscles relax, makes my stomach unclench, for the first time in weeks. Being done with Blake means no longer having to deal with his crazy mood swings. Being done with Blake means being totally uninvolved with mysterious notes. Being done with Blake means having no reason to worry about creepy vibes between him and his best friend. Being done with Blake means …
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Twenty-One
“Sawyer, I gotta go. Someone’s banging on the door.”
I don’t even wait for him to say goodbye before I end the call and rush out of my room, down the hall toward the front door. Aunt Meg and Uncle Mark