Beautiful Lies (39 page)

“What are you doing here?” I demand. “You don’t know either of us. You might think you know Rachel, but you’re wrong.” I pause. “I know her. Better than you ever will.” But my words sound hollow, even to me. Maybe I don’t know my sister at all. I think of the flowers in TJ’s front yard, and I understand that he must have been giving them to her for a while now, as some kind of small romantic gesture. And Rachel kept them close to her, but she made sure to hide them from me.

TJ leans forward until our heads are only a few inches apart. He stares right into my eyes. “I knew it was you today after school. Want to know how?”

I don’t blink. I don’t flinch. “How?”

“Because Rachel never calls me TJ. She calls me by my real first name. Tom.”

I shrug in careless defiance. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

His breath, so close to my face, smells like peppermint bubble gum. “Maybe not,” he agrees. “But I can tell you one thing, Alice. I’ve been seeing Rachel for almost a year. Really. Almost a whole year, and she never even told you. She couldn’t stand the idea of you knowing, because she thought you would ruin it.”

I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach. I take a step backward, closer to Sean’s arms. “That’s not true,” I say.

“It is true. And you know what else?” He leans closer to me. I cannot back away any farther; Sean’s arms are all the way around my shoulders now. “She couldn’t
wait
to get away from you.”

“Hey,” Sean interrupts, “come on. You don’t need to do this right now.”

TJ closes his mouth and takes a step backward, but he continues to glare—first at Sean, then at me.

Still holding my arm, Sean leads me all the way to the chair, holding on to me as I sit down. I look up at him, desperate for a hint of sympathy or understanding. His expression is glazed and empty, like he cannot believe I’m standing right here in front of him.

“What?” I ask. “What is it?”

He blinks a few times. His eyes are damp. His neck and
cheeks have turned a deep shade of blotchy red. “You’re really Alice,” he says.

“Yes,” I say.

I can actually see him, right now, breaking into a sweat. Tiny beads gather like shiny sand in the hollows beneath his eyes, on his forehead, at his temples. He lets out a deep breath. “Holy shit,” he murmurs. “You sure as hell fooled me.”

“Alice,” my uncle says, “we need some answers, and we need them right now. Where is Rachel? We know she’s not with Robin.”

That’s right,
I think,
because Robin isn’t real.

“Alice,” my uncle repeats, more firmly now, “answer me. Where is your sister? When was the last time you saw her? Was it last Saturday? At the fair?”

I shake my head. “No. I saw her yesterday.”

“Yesterday,” he repeats. “Okay. Where did you see her?”

I try to swallow, but my mouth is so dry that it feels like I’m going to choke on my tongue. “At Grandma’s,” I say. “I saw her in Grandma’s barn.”

My aunt glares, first at me, then at my uncle. “My mother. My own goddamn
mother.
Are you hearing this, Jeff?”

He nods. “Yes.” To me he says, “Does Grandma know Rachel’s there?”

My aunt stands up. She stomps her foot against the floor with such force that the heel of her shoe breaks off, tipping her balance so she has to grab my uncle’s arm for support. “Of
course she knows!” she shrieks, leaning over to yank off her shoe without missing a beat. “Get the phone. I’m calling her. No—wait. Get the car keys. We’re going over there right now.”

My uncle nods. He heads toward the kitchen.

As the four of us sit there, waiting, there is a sudden loud knock at the front door. Nobody moves to answer it. After a few seconds, the doorbell rings.

My aunt crosses the room, taking off her other shoe as she walks. Once she opens the door, I can only make out the low murmur of her voice, but not her actual words.

I look at Sean. “Where’s Charlie?” I ask.

“At work. I’m supposed to pick him up in a little while.”

“Oh.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“Mr. Morelli?”

This time, he doesn’t tell me to call him Sean. “Yes?”

“What were you doing over here?”

“What? Oh.” He shakes his head, like he’s distracted by something. “I, uh, came down for a beer. I wasn’t here five minutes before TJ came banging on the door, insisting you weren’t Rachel. Your aunt didn’t believe him at first. She went upstairs to take a look around your room, and she found the drawing you did of Charlie.” He pauses. As he glances toward the door, he lowers his voice. “Tell me the truth, Alice,” he whispers. “You didn’t see Rachel at your grandma’s house yesterday, did you?”

“Yes.” I nod. “I saw her.” But did I? I can’t be sure. I can’t be sure of anything anymore.

He narrows his eyes. His lips curl into a slow smile. When he speaks again, his voice is so low that I can barely make out his words. But I could almost swear that he whispers, “You’re a little fucking liar.”

I don’t have time to react. My aunt comes into the room, followed by—oh God. Just when things were going so well.

It’s Mr. Slater.

“Alice,” my aunt says, “Mr. Slater stopped by to drop off your homework assignments. When I told him you were here, he said he had something he wanted to ask you.”

I stare at my aunt. “Really? Now?”

She shrugs. “He insisted.”

“Oh.” Right away, I can smell the reek of cigarette smoke all over him. As usual, he looks sad and disheveled.

“Alice?” he asks. “Are you sure? You look just like Rachel.”

I shake my head. “I’m Alice.”

“Oh.” He pauses, stares at the pile of papers in his arms. “I feel silly asking this. I’m sure it doesn’t matter. You must have seen her picture somewhere and used it to work from. I hope you’ll understand. I—I—don’t want you to draw her anymore. If it’s all the same to you.”

And as he stands in my living room, my teacher begins to cry.

“Mr. Slater?” I ask, startled. I’ve never seen one of my teachers cry before. The sight is unsettling, to say the least. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

My uncle has returned with his car keys. “What’s going on?” He looks at Mr. Slater. “Who are you?”

“My homeroom teacher,” I explain.

“Alice has done something to upset him,” my aunt says drily.

“No, no she hasn’t. I’m sure she didn’t mean to. I wouldn’t even have known, but I was collecting her assignments today, thinking I’d give them to Rachel to bring to her. I went to the art room, because I know how Alice loves to draw—I thought maybe there was something she’d like to work on from home. And her teacher gave me this.”

His hand is shaking so much that he can barely grip the sketch paper. He’s still crying. He shoves the drawing toward me, almost like he can’t bear to hold on to it for even a second longer.

It’s one of my portraits of the gap-toothed girl.

“Oh my God.” In an oddly intimate gesture, my aunt reaches out toward my uncle and laces her fingers through his. “I recognize her now. I can’t believe I forgot.” She stares at Mr. Slater. “Was she your daughter?”

He nods. He wipes at his eyes with his free hand. “She
is
my daughter. She is my daughter. She is.”

My fingertips are going numb. The room feels fuzzy, like I’m not getting enough air. Sean Morelli gazes at Mr. Slater with a mixture of confusion and fascination.

Even though I’m sitting down, I’m lightheaded. “Mr. Slater, what are you talking about? What do you mean, she’s your daughter? I didn’t even know you had a daughter.”

“Jesus,” my uncle interrupts. I can almost
see
the light bulb above his head. “You’re Jamie Slater’s father.”

He’s still crying. Without saying anything, he places my homework on the coffee table. He takes his wallet out of his back pocket. It falls open to display a photograph of the face I’ve come to know so well over the years, even if I didn’t know who she was. I lean forward, barely breathing, and stare into her eyes.

It’s like she’s looking right at me. It’s like she’s been waiting all this time for me to discover her identity.

The room begins to fade away. Nobody notices as I struggle to breathe, to remain conscious. The last exchange I hear is Sean Morelli asking, “Who is Jamie Slater?”

“It was years ago.” It’s my uncle’s voice. “She just disappeared one day.”

Then my aunt says, “Alice, are you okay? Alice?”

Against the blackness, I see the back of a young woman as she jogs into space. Her long blond hair is wound into two braids that bounce against her back with every step. She turns around to look at me, raises one hand in a friendly wave. She smiles, like she’s been waiting for me, like she’s never been so happy to see somebody in her entire life. Her name, I know now, is Jamie Slater.

She looks forward again and continues to jog, her steps light and carefree. The lines of her body blur into the darkness. Then there’s nothing at all.

When I come to, I am lying on the hardwood floor in the living room, surrounded by my aunt, my uncle, TJ, and Sean Morelli. As their faces come into focus, I feel something cool and damp on my forehead. I try to sit up, but my uncle puts his hand on my shoulder, pressing me gently downward.

“What happened?” I ask, blinking and blinking, turning my head away as my aunt wipes my face with a wet waschloth.

“You passed out,” Sean says. “You slid right out of your chair.”

There is a hissing sound in the back of my brain as I remember his words from a few minutes earlier.
You’re a little fucking liar.
Why would he speak to me that way?

As my aunt is wiping my cheeks, she stops. She lowers the washcloth and leans closer to me. “Alice,” she says, “your face. What happened?”

She’s talking about the bruises; she hasn’t seen them until now.

I thought I knew exactly where the bruises came from, but I don’t. I don’t know anything. All I have is a name—Jamie Slater—and a banged-up face, and a sister who’s been trying to get away from me for over a year, if there’s any truth to what TJ says. I’m guessing there’s at least some. I have been wrong about so many things. Robin. Rachel. The money. The Captain. And the kitten the other night, the one that came back to life—surely that was all in my head, too.
Crazy,
I think.
I’m crazy.

I brush away my uncle’s arm and manage to bring myself into a sitting position. “I don’t know what happened,” I tell my aunt. “Where did Mr. Slater go?”

“He left,” my uncle says. He and my aunt exchange a glance. “Alice … what happened to you? Did somebody hurt you? Did you get into a fight?”

“She’s upset,” Sean says. “Give her a minute. She just woke up. She’s probably still dizzy.”

I shake my head. “I’m fine. Nobody hurt me, okay?”

“But your face—” my aunt begins.

“I know what my face looks like!” I don’t mean to yell at her; that’s just how the words come out. So much is happening so quickly, and I don’t have control over any of it. What I want right now, more than anything, is to find my sister. Regardless of what she might tell me, I know that she’ll have some answers. Even if they aren’t the ones I want to hear.

“I’m sorry,” I say, trying to calm myself with deep breaths. “I’m just … confused, I guess. I don’t know.” I frown. Tears come to my eyes without warning. “I want you to find Rachel. I want her to come home.”

“We are,” my uncle says. “We’re going right now.”

TJ stands up straighter. “I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not. This is a family matter.”

TJ frowns. He shakes his head, but he doesn’t argue.

My uncle hesitates. “Alice, I don’t think you should come with us either.”

“Uncle Jeff, I’m not going to sit here alone and wait for you.”

“He’s right,” my aunt agrees. “It’s not a good idea, Alice. We’re going to have a talk with Grandma. I don’t think you should be there.” Her lips stiffen into a straight line. “It’s not going to be fun.”

“Go ahead,” Sean says. “I’ll stay with her.”

I stare at him. He still smells like damp earth: wet leaves, dirt, like the debris that’s left in the gutter after a heavy rain.
You’re a little fucking liar
.

“I want to come with you,” I insist, trying to climb to my feet.

“Alice, no.” Sean helps me stand. He gives me a worried look. He’s so
cute.
It occurs to me that it’s an odd observation to make at a time like this, but it’s true; he’s just such a charming, good-looking guy. When Rachel and I were maybe ten or eleven years old, he used to do these cheesy little
magic tricks for us. It was simple stuff: making a handkerchief disappear into his fist, or pulling a quarter out from behind our ears. We always looked forward to seeing him. Even as little girls, we were drawn to his charisma. Everyone is.

“I have to pick up your cousin in fifteen minutes,” he says. He nods at my aunt and uncle. “I’ll take Alice with me to get Charlie, and then we’ll come right back here. I’ll stay with them for as long as it takes you to find Rachel and do whatever else you need to do.” He looks at TJ. “You should go home now.”

My aunt and uncle glance at each other, communicating with their eyes. I can tell they’re hesitant to leave me alone, even for a little while.

“We might be gone for a long time,” my uncle says.

“It’s fine, honestly. I don’t have anything else to do.” Sean pats my uncle’s shoulder. “Really, you should go. I’ll take care of everything here. That’s what neighbors are for, right?”

My aunt begins to massage her own neck, tilting her head back, sighing as she stares at the ceiling. She must be exhausted. “Jeff? What do you think?”

My uncle rubs his forehead. “I don’t know …”

“
Go.
” Sean is friendly but firm. “We’ll be fine. Maybe I’ll teach Alice how to play poker while you’re gone.” He winks at me. “I bet she’s a great bluffer.”