Perception Read online

  For each inch he backed away from her, she stepped a foot closer, until his back hit the hallway wall. Kendra had one hand at the nape of his neck and with the other, her fingers stepped up his tie, slowly, until they reached his face. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, only the sexy intonation she was putting in her voice. She trailed a finger along his lower lip and leaned in for a kiss.

  My heart pounded. Was I watching history repeat itself? Memories of Tiffany’s seduction of Justin were bad enough. I couldn’t watch it happen again.

  Gabriel turned his face away, blocking Kendra.

  But she wouldn’t be so easily deterred. She murmured something in a low tone, leaned her body up against his, and pressed her lips to his now exposed neck. Then he put his hands on her.

  But to push her away.

  She stumbled back and gave him a throaty laugh. Like it was a game. Like he was playing hard to get.

  He snapped, “What’s wrong with you?” and marched down the hallway toward the classrooms and away from the gym. He didn’t see my face in the window.

  But Kendra did.

  She turned back toward the gym, her mouth stretched in a sly smile, and stopped mid-stride when she saw me. I threw my weight against the door, so hard it hit the wall with a slam.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I said.

  Kendra crossed her arms. “Whatever, Clare. It’s not like he’s yours. If you wanted him, you would have taken him by now. You can’t reserve him in case you decide you want him later.”

  She wasn’t even slightly apologetic. I was incredulous. I wanted to bang my fists against the wall and scream. It took an inhuman amount of effort for me to say, in a controlled tone, “You were crying in the bathroom when Tiffany did this to you, and now you turn around and do the same thing to me?”

  Kendra shrugged and stretched her fingers out to examine her manicure. “Tiff and I made up last night. We’re cool now. I know you’re new to this scene, Clare, but here’s a tip. He’s just a boy. Get over it and move on. You can’t let boys get in the way of friends.”

  “But that’s the problem,” I said. “You have no idea what it means to be a friend.”

  I shook my head. Kendra, Tiffany, Brooke … they just didn’t get it. Yeah, at first glance, that crew looked like fun. Parties every weekend. Sitting at the cool table in the cafeteria. All that. But it wasn’t worth it. One day, friends. The next day, enemies. Lather, rinse, repeat.

  “Don’t come talking to me anymore,” I said, and walked off. I’d given them a chance, like my mother made me. And they’d blown it.

  I searched the sea of faces for my real friend and found Mallory easily enough by her dress. She stood in a back corner, her shoulders slouched forward, seething at a small circle of girls with their arms wrapped around each other.

  “What’s going on?” I asked when I got closer.

  Mallory stepped aside and I saw. A small memorial had been set up for Sierra. An enlarged framed photo of her sat on an easel. Several flowers were strewn on the floor beneath it.

  “They make me sick,” Mallory said, staring defiantly at the crying girls. “They didn’t know Sierra. They’d probably never even stooped so low as to talk to her. They’re fake tears.”

  The girls had moved on from their mini-breakdown and rejoined a larger group on the dance floor. Within seconds, they were throwing their arms in the air and yelling, “Wooo,” when their favorite song came on.

  I frowned in disgust. “But why bother with the tears? What’s the point?”

  “Knowing someone who was killed gives them a chance at quasi-fame. A scary ‘it could have been me’ story to tell when they go away to college. A sad story for their application essays.” Mallory straightened. “They’re not mourning her. They’re using her.”

  I nodded, knowing she was spot on. I turned away from the girls with revulsion and examined Mallory in her sadness. I wanted to open up. Tell her why it took so long for me to trust her. Explain how most of my experience with girls had resulted in ridicule and hurt, and I’d learned to block myself off. But I struggled with the words. Sarcastic one-liners came more naturally.

  I cleared my throat, catching her attention. “Friendships don’t come easy for me,” I said, staring down at my clasped hands. “So I’m sorry if I kept you at a distance and didn’t fully let you in at first. I’ve learned to expect the worst in people. And I don’t trust easily. The only true friends I’ve ever had are my brother and his best friend.” I looked up at Mallory. “But I’m glad I’ve got you now, too.”

  It felt good to be honest. To share something real. Something deep. And, whether Mallory realized it or not, it took a lot for me to say all that.

  She took one last glance at Sierra’s picture, then turned back to me. “You might be my first true friend.”

  We shared a quick hug, then turned back toward the dance floor. A slow song was playing now. Girls danced with their heads on their dates’ chests. Many of them had ditched their heels, choosing to dance barefoot. The gym was steaming with body heat.

  I felt myself flush with warmth as I saw Gabriel off to the side, scanning the crowd, looking for someone. His eyes found mine and locked on with an intense expression.

  “I’m going to go, uh, get a drink,” Mallory said, giving me a wink over her shoulder as Gabriel strode toward me.

  He wore a black suit that worked so well with his dark hair and eyes. The crisp white shirt contrasted with the black tie. His usually unruly hair had been tamed by gel. As he strode over, several girls stopped to look at him. I wished I could make all the other people and the noise disappear. Like a wish come true, when he reached me and took my hand in his, the music and voices muted into the background.

  “Dance with me,” he said.

  I let him lead me to the dance floor. His arm circled my waist, drawing me closer to him.

  “I know Kendra threw herself at you,” I began. “I’m so sorry for setting you up —”

  “That’s not important,” he said, placing a finger on my lips. “Let’s not waste another second talking about her.”

  I sucked in a deep breath, realizing what was going on. Why he looked so serious. He didn’t want to waste any time because there wasn’t much time left.

  “You’re going to New York, aren’t you?” I said gently.

  He gave me a long look and in that time I felt everything amplified. The fabric of his suit jacket on my arm. The muscles in his shoulders beneath my hands. The sweet smell of his breath. The warmth that coursed through me as his hands moved down to my lower back.

  Finally, he spoke. “I’ve been all torn up inside over this decision. And part of me was dragging my feet because I was waiting on you.”

  “On me to what?”

  He ignored my question. “I’ve made a few friends here, but I have more back home. I have one parent here, one there. I have the beach here, the city there. It’s all equal. The tipping point is you.”

  “That’s not true. You have the hockey team and —”

  “And I’m on the team back home. Honestly …” He cleared his throat and a tinge of red rose to his cheeks. “Without you, there’s no reason for me to be in Eastport. I thought you realized this, and I’ve been waiting for you to make a decision. I didn’t want to do this. But I’m running out of time here. So I have to do it.”

  “Do what?” I said through my tightened throat.

  “Ask you.” He stopped our slow, shuffling dance and looked directly into my eyes. “Clare. Give me a reason to stay.”

  THE SONG ENDED AND GABRIEL DROPPED HIS HANDS from my body. “Let me know tonight, all right?” he said. “Tell me to stay, to be with you … or let me go.”

  My arms remained in the air for a few moments after he walked away, like they were draped around a ghost’s shoulders. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. If I chose Gabriel, he’d stay. If I chose Justin or procrastinated any longer, he’d leave. It wasn’t an ultimatum, really, just Gabriel being hone
st, as usual.

  I felt almost paralyzed. I stood in the center of the dance floor, all alone, surrounded by people living their own dramas while mine had come to a head. I told myself to move. Just walk, in any direction. I shuffled over to a table adorned with a banner that said CONGRATULATIONS.

  I’d missed the whole coronation-of-the-court crap at the game today, but a pink poster on the table told me that Kendra hadn’t won. Tiffany had. Reading the words, I felt nothing, since I didn’t even know who was the lesser of the evils anymore. What did raise an eyebrow was Tiffany’s guy. His name was Brenden, not Brendan. Not that I’d ever thought much about him, but I never realized that was how he spelled his name.

  And then a thought occurred to me. A long shot, but worth making a quick call.

  I pulled my cell out of my purse and scrolled down to Perry.

  He picked up after a few rings. “Yeah?” I heard the sounds of gaming-related shotgun blasts in the background.

  “Hey, I had a thought,” I said.

  “Don’t hurt yourself doing that,” he joked.

  “What if Ashley isn’t spelled the traditional way? We didn’t search for her as A-S-H-L-E-I-G-H or A-S-H-L-E-A or A-S-H-L-E-E or —”

  “Yeah, yeah, I get the point. I’ll check it out later.”

  “Just do it now. It’s a simple search.”

  “You’re supposed to be dancing,” Perry said. “And these zombies aren’t going to shoot themselves.”

  I groaned and slipped the phone back into my purse.

  Cody Rowe walked by, with one arm in a sling and the other around a tiny blond girl with an upturned nose who looked around like she owned the place. I didn’t know her name, but recognized her. I’d seen the way the crowd opened for her as she walked down the freshman hall. She was a miniature Tiffany, waiting to inherit the crown. It never ended. When we graduated and Tiffany and Kendra were gone, this girl would slide right into their place. And after she was gone, there would be another.

  “Everything okay?”

  I looked to my left and found Rylander wearing his usual shirt/tie/jeans ensemble. “Sure, Mr. Rylander. Everything’s great.”

  He sauntered over, his hands in his back pockets. “It’s a shame Cody Rowe couldn’t play in the big game,” he said.

  My mind registered the sling. The damage Gabriel had done made Cody miss the most important game of the year.

  Rylander continued, “Word is he tripped at the bonfire Friday night.”

  I couldn’t help but smile as I said, “What a shame.”

  My eyes went to Rylander and he was smiling, too. “Thanks for your advice the other day, Mr. Rylander,” I said.

  “It’s no problem, Clare. Now I must return to staking out the punch to ensure that it stays nonalcoholic.” He winked and walked away.

  My lightened mood would be short-lived, though, as I spied Tiffany striding purposefully toward me. Her hair was pinned in a complicated updo, and the two ringlets hanging down on each side shook as she stomped over. I planted my feet and balled my hands into fists at my sides, readying for battle.

  “You know, that was really low,” she snarled. “What you made your boy toy do to Cody. He might miss the rest of the season.”

  My mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for water. “You’re whining to me? Are you serious? After everything you did?”

  “It was a little prank. Not a big deal. Gabriel’s the one who turned it violent.”

  Yeah, like Cody pinning me to a car by my throat wasn’t violent. I put my hands, palms up, into the air.

  “Not a big deal?” I started in. “You stalked me for weeks over email, the phone, leaving stuff for me to find everywhere, following me day after day taking pictures —”

  Tiffany cut me off. “What the hell are you talking about? All Cody did was follow you one afternoon on your way home from school. He snapped a bunch of pics and planted them in Mallory’s car so you’d think she was a psychotic freakbag. Which I still think she is, by the way. So really I was doing you a favor.”

  “Wait. So you didn’t send the flowers and the email or call me or send me this dress?”

  Tiffany looked me up and down. “Are you high? Why would Cody or I drop money on a dress for you?”

  I blinked rapidly, still processing. “So you’re saying all you did was have Cody follow me once and take a few pictures and put them in Mallory’s car.”

  “Um, yeah. Hello.”

  “Did he do more on his own?”

  “And not brag to me about it after? Unlikely.” A shadow passed over her face as something dawned on her. Her expression morphed from bitchy petulance to something like concern. “Cody did say something, though. I didn’t think anything of it, but …”

  “What?”

  “When he was taking pictures of you walking home through the woods, he thought someone else was there.”

  “Who?”

  “He didn’t see anyone. But he felt like someone was watching him. And he heard noises. So he got all spooked and took off. I didn’t think anything of it. Cody just babbles on and on to me. But maybe Mallory was stalking you after all.”

  “No, it’s not her.” I was sure of it.

  “Well, then, it’s someone,” Tiffany said, already walking away.

  I rubbed my temples as I sifted through the information. If Tiffany was telling the truth, then she and Cody had only planted the photos. The calls, emails, flowers, and dress were from someone else. And the photo stuck in my locker was, too. I knew it was different from the ones I found in Mallory’s car. It was done well, for one. And it was black-and-white, professional-looking. The ones in Mallory’s car were in color and amateurish.

  Something else occurred to me. The note … the very first note in my locker. That came before Mallory and I had really even talked. Before Tiffany would have had any reason to want to break up our friendship.

  Maybe Tiffany was telling the truth for once. Maybe there had been a stalker after all. I looked around the gym, at the crowd of faces and sweaty bodies in the dim light. Suddenly, I didn’t feel as confident as when I’d first arrived.

  My phone started buzzing in my purse and I pulled it out.

  “What’s up, Perry?” I said, though I didn’t care so much about his little ghost problem anymore.

  “I’ve got her,” he said excitedly. “It’s A-S-H-L-E-I-G-H. And you’ll never believe what I found out.”

  OUT OF THE CORNER OF MY EYE, I SAW GABRIEL approaching. He was patting down his suit jacket with a confused look on his face.

  “Hold on,” I told Perry. I put my hand over the phone and asked Gabriel, “What’s wrong?”

  “I lost my cell phone. I swore I left it on the table over there, just for a second, while I poured myself a drink. But it’s not there. It’s not anywhere.”

  “I’ll help you look for it in a few minutes,” I said. “I’m talking to Perry.”

  Gabriel nodded and meandered away through the crowd.

  “I’m back. Who was she?” I asked, pressing the cell phone harder against my ear as if that would bring the answers faster.

  “Ashleigh Reed was a painter,” Perry said.

  “So she was famous, just like she said.”

  “Well, within a small art scene, yes. She’d been a child prodigy. Amazingly gifted. Her work started selling in galleries when she was only ten. She left the country at age eighteen to go to some fancy-pants art school in Paris.”

  Okay, so far nothing mind-blowing. “When did she die?”

  “Her first semester in Paris. Five years ago.” He paused. “She was strangled. They never caught who did it, as far as I can see.”

  “Just like Sierra Waldman,” I said, in barely a whisper.

  My fingers started to tremble as ideas clicked into place. Sierra and Ashleigh were both strangled. And both were extraordinarily talented, though in different mediums.

  “There’s something else they have in common,” Perry was saying in my ear. “This is the big
one.”

  I was almost too scared to ask. “What?”

  “Guess what high school Ashleigh graduated from?”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Says it right here in the article. Eastport High in Eastport, Massachusetts.”

  I felt stunned. Only moments ago, the gym had been hot and steamy. But now, as gooseflesh rippled down my entire body, I shivered as if I’d been dipped in ice. Ashleigh walked these halls, sat in these classrooms, ate in this cafeteria, maybe danced in this gym.

  “Are you still there?” Perry said.

  “Yeah,” I whispered.

  “I was saying I’m going to do some more research. See if her graduating class has a page up anywhere. I want to find out as much about her time here in Eastport as I can.”

  “Okay, call me back if you find anything.”

  I ended the call and stared at the phone as if it were a foreign object. I’d never expected this turn of events. I searched the crowd for someone to tell. Justin and Mallory were out there on the dance floor having a great time. But I needed Gabriel. His father would want to know about this.

  The sounds of screeching feedback shrieked through the gym. I winced. Others covered their ears. Someone yelled, “You suck,” to the DJ.

  The DJ smiled sheepishly, the microphone held tightly in his hand. “Now that I’ve got your attention,” he said, and added a nervous laugh, “it’s time for our Homecoming Court to lead us all in a dance.”

  I rolled my eyes. Tiffany’s moment of glory. The chosen couples readied themselves to begin, but Brenden stood in the middle of the circle all alone and looking befuddled. I, along with the rest of the crowd, glanced around. Tiffany was nowhere to be found. Odd. Like she’d miss her chance at the spotlight.

  I shook my head quickly and started searching for Gabriel again. I was done caring about that crowd and their dumb little dramas. I went out the double doors and into the hallway.

  The school at night was like entering an alternate universe. Everything looked the same — the lockers, the classrooms. But the silence made it all feel different. Only half the lights were on. Many of the classroom doors were closed. There was no yelling, laughing, screeching. No crowd to push through. No slamming lockers. Only the dimly lit hall, the muted booming of the music from the gym, and the loud clicking of my heels on the floor.