Find Me (9 page)

My Trojan horse virus worked. The email receiver must have clicked my link, which means I’m in. I can see what they see, get into their files, go through their lives.

And take back my own.

“What are you doing?”

I jump, twist in my chair and realize, too late, that Griff is next to me now. He’s close. Close enough to smell his mint gum. Close enough to make me panic.

This won’t work. I need to get rid of him.
I stand up, keeping my body between Griff and the computer screen. “You have to go now.”

He cocks his head, smiling like I’ve just said some joke he’s desperate to understand. “But I just got here.”

“You have to go.”

Griff’s eyes flick beyond my shoulder to my computer, and then return to me. He thinks I’m being weird. Hell, I
am
being weird, but I don’t care. I need some privacy right now.

“Okay, fine, but close the window after me.” Griff’s devious grin has returned. He straddles my windowsill with more grace than you would think such a thin, tall guy would have. “You never know who might climb up that tree again, Wicked.”

Wicked.
It makes my heart do a silly, flippy thing. I open my mouth to retort, but Griff’s already gone. The tree shakes twice as he scales down the trunk, and then there’s nothing. I shut the window, check the locks, and close the blinds. When I turn around, the air is straitjacket tight. It feels like those moments before a movie begins, like the whole world is waiting.

But I’m not waiting anymore. I kick my chair out of the way and, still standing, hunch over the keyboard, pulling up another program. I punch in a few lines of code, accessing the remote computer’s webcam.

“Come on, you little bastard,” I mutter as the computer processes, turning my code into a rope bridge into someone else’s world. Another few seconds and the black camera window at the top of my screen flickers.

I’m in.

Now I can see them.

Or rather, I can see her, and when I do, my stomach hits bottom. Suddenly, I’m hollow.

I know that girl. I knew her when she was in third grade and I was in middle school. I knew her when we passed in the grocery store and no longer said hello. I knew her.

I
know
her.

The girl who clicked on my virus is Tally Waye. Tessa’s sister.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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I think my mom knows something’s wrong.
No matter how many times I say I’m fine,
she just keeps asking.

—Page 24 of Tessa Waye’s diary

When I wake up, it’s after ten. The house is quiet. My bed feels great. I want to go back to sleep.

But I’m wide awake.

All I can see is Tally Waye’s hollowed-out face framed in my computer’s screen. Even if I close my eyes, she’s still there.

Find me.

Not freaking likely. I roll onto my side, eyes drifting to the window Griff came through. I’m not sure I want to think about that either, but it’s too late because I already want to smile.

Dammit. I’ll find coffee instead. It’s Saturday morning, which should mean one of Bren’s big breakfasts is waiting downstairs, and if she’s distracted by making pancakes or whatever, I have a way better chance of finding coffee than I do of finding whatever Tally wants.

I pad down the hallway, checking the front window more from habit than worry. Hmm. Bren’s car is gone. The driveway is empty.

Crap. Does this mean no breakfast? Because that means no coffee.

At first, I think it’s odd she’s gone because Bren lives for using her Williams-Sonoma waffle maker, but then I remember she was taking Lily for ballet sign-ups this morning. It’s just me.

“Morning, Wicket.”

I jump. “Holy shit!”

“Sorry! Sorry!” Todd’s standing at the foot of the stairs with two cups of coffee. It’s Saturday, but he’s in a suit and tie. Headed for the office? If he is, he shouldn’t. He looks like hell. His eyes are bloodshot, like he didn’t sleep at all.

Shit. I’ve been so wrapped up in myself, I didn’t think how much Tessa’s death must hurt Todd. He wants to save the world, and he couldn’t even save this one girl. It’s got to be devastating. Todd was so quick to stand up for me; what would he have done to save a girl like Tessa?

“Really didn’t mean to scare you,” Todd says.

I wave away his objection. At the rate I’m going, I’ll have a heart attack and none of this will matter anyway.

“Don’t worry about it.” I rub my right temple, where I can still feel an echo of yesterday’s headache coming back. “I don’t suppose one of those is for me?”

Todd gives me a little smile. “Only if you don’t tell Bren.” He passes one mug to me, and I take a deep gulp. He’s put too much sugar in it and the coffee’s hot enough to burn off a layer of my tongue, but it’s still wonderful. Two more swallows and I can feel my skin start to perk up. By the fourth my eyelids don’t feel so saggy.

“Mum’s the word,” I promise, and finish off the last of the coffee in a long pull.

Todd laughs. “You’re funny, you know that?” He sips at his, watching me. “Bren thinks the caffeine will stunt your growth.”

I grimace. “Too late for that.”

“I was wondering if you could look at Bren’s computer for me. I think I hit a wrong button again.”

“Yeah, sure.” Todd is always hitting wrong buttons. He knows the Blue Screen of Death better than anyone I’ve ever met. It would be annoying if I weren’t kind of grateful for the distraction. In the five months we’ve been here, I’ve reformatted Bren’s computer twice because of “wrong buttons.” Luckily, their office manager keeps up with the work computers; otherwise, dealing with the Callaway computers would be a full-time job. “No problem.”

“Thanks . . . so what are you going to do today?”

“Don’t know.” I have an English paper due on Tuesday, the last of the financials to finish for my customer, and then there’s Tally Waye. I inspect the bottom of my coffee cup and think I should just go ahead and have my nervous breakdown. It would save time. “What about you?”

“The Wayes are having a prayer vigil at their house this afternoon. I thought I’d go.”

“I didn’t know you were close to them.”

Todd shrugs. “We know them through church. . . . Would you like to come?”

Oh, hell no—then again, Tally would be there and I could return the diary. Staring at Todd, the opportunity seems kind of perfect.

Perfectly dreadful.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“You know, you could do a lot with what happened to you, Wicket. You could turn it into an opportunity to help others.”

Like he did? I don’t think I have it in me. I damn sure know I don’t have the words anyone would need to hear. “The Wayes are not . . . big fans of mine.”

Todd nods like he was expecting this. “I understand. Mrs. Waye told me all about it one day before Sunday school. But you’re not that girl anymore, Wicket. You don’t have to be afraid, but it’s okay if you don’t want to come.”

Todd takes my coffee mug and turns toward the kitchen. “Bren wanted you to stay quiet, rest. I think she was planning to take you to get your nails done later—”

“Todd?” His name sounds all strangled, and we both pretend not to notice. “I’ll come.”

If only because it’s my best inroad to Tally, and I’ll take what I can get.

“Great! And you’re sure you’ll be okay? I mean . . . after your mom and what happened yesterday . . .”

I’m kind of glad he’s fumbling. It makes him seem less assured, less heroic, less . . . dad-like. I hate thinking about Todd in those terms, but it’s true. Todd is practically a sitcom dad come to life. He’s someone you could confide in, someone who would cheer you on, someone who would never hit you. He’s pretty much the exact opposite of my real dad.

Which is a ridiculous thought. I’m almost seventeen—way too old for this shit. I don’t need a father figure. I don’t need someone to confide in or anyone to cheer me on. I don’t need whatever Todd is or could be, but sometimes, in moments like these, I realize how much I want someone like him anyway.

Stupid. Really stupid. Dangerous even, because he will only let me down. So I push the idea under, hold it until it stops thrashing.

After my mom and all. Concentrate on that.
There should be a good way to explain this. God knows I’ve had enough opportunities. Our community is pretty small, and after the newspaper ran a front-page article on my mom’s suicide, everyone talked about it. They wanted to know why she did it and how she could leave “her responsibilities.”

I don’t think they ever understood that was the point. She couldn’t
handle
her responsibilities—that’s why she jumped. They never understood that they weren’t supposed to understand. It was something she felt she had to do, and it made sense to her. It’s been four years, and even though I’ve worked some stuff out in my head, I can’t express any of it.

Except maybe this: Everything comes after “my mom and all.” That’s what comes from loss. There’s Before When You Had a Mom and then . . . Now When You Don’t Have a Mom. You don’t get over it, you just learn how to endure. It isn’t just the loss of your mom. It’s the birthdays she’ll miss. Your graduation. Your first date. All those little losses light up her absence with torches.

You deal. I did.

Tally will.

I swallow. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I could do something good with everything that’s happened to me.”

Not the worst lie I’ve ever told. Might even be a little true.

But Todd’s still watching like he’s looking for cracks. I keep my face blank and shrug. “After all, I know how they feel.”

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

.....................................................................

I would do anything for my sister.

—Page 23 of Tessa Waye’s diary

Usually Brandy, the Wayes’ housekeeper, opens the door for visitors, but this time it’s Mrs. Waye herself. She pushes the door wide, and for a second, I feel like I’m an eleven-year-old again, getting dropped off for a playdate with Tessa.

I had forgotten how pretty her mom is, how Mrs. Waye can cry and still keep her makeup perfect.

But it cracks around her strung-up smile.

“Hi, Becky.” Todd runs one arm across her shoulders, pulling her into a brief hug. “How are you holding up?”

Mrs. Waye doesn’t let him go. “I’m so glad you came.”

“I’m glad we could be here.” Todd motions toward me and I catch Mrs. Waye’s attention, but I lose it even faster. Her eyes slide so smoothly over me it’s as if they were always on their way back to Todd.

Did she recognize me? Maybe not. Five years ago, when Tessa and I made forts out of couch cushions, my hair was short instead of long. My clothes were dark instead of light. I had yet tosurvive Bren’s makeover. I thought my new clothes made me stand out, but maybe they actually hide me.

Or maybe Mrs. Waye doesn’t care.

We’re barely away from her before Todd is pulled to the side by another mother, leaving me to stand around and look at kids from my school I don’t know well enough to talk to. This is weird. On the way here, I was nervous as hell, but now I feel curiously . . . lost.

And horribly sad when I see the pictures of Tessa scattered around the house. Most of them look like they were taken at the church Todd teaches at. There’s Tessa’s first communion . . . Tessa doing an art project with some younger children . . . Tessa smiling for the camera.

I try to keep moving, but the whole house is super crowded, and between the sheer number of people and their palpable grief, every room is suffocating. I don’t see Tally anywhere, and it seems weird to ask strangers where she might be. I give up and return to Todd when a lone girl catches my attention. The diary tucked under my shirt trembles.

Tessa’s younger sister, Tally, is looking right at me. Her eyes are a little glazy and her face is pinched. Everyone else is talking and crying, but Tally’s motionless, staring at me like I’m the only person who has ever mattered.