Secrets (4 page)

“Can I rub your head?” Jackie asked Anthony.

“Huh?” That’s the only word his brain would come up with.

“It’s this thing I do. I rub the heads of the football players for luck,” Jackie answered.

“Since when?” the dark-haired girl-Lea-muttered.

Jackie ignored her. “So can I? I’m having this French quiz that I didn’t study for after lunch, so I need some good
luck.”

“I’ll give you some, Snowball,” Sanders told her.

Jackie didn’t appear amused. At least not until she looked back over at Anthony. Then her lips turned up and her
eyes gleamed like she and Anthony were sharing a private joke.

She’s flirting with me,
Anthony realized, amazed.
This total Cardinal girl is flirting with me.
He wondered if
everyone would know what the reason was if he casually moved his backpack into his lap. He decided not to risk it.

He wasn’t going to have to stand up for a while. He had time to get things back under control.

“Well?” Jackie asked.

“Sure. Why not?” Anthony lowered his head, and Jackie ran her fingers through his hair. The sensation of her
fingernails against his scalp sent a blast of heat all the way to his toenails.

“You want to do my head, too?” McHugh called.

“No, Anthony left me supercharged,” Jackieanswered, pulling her fingers through his hair a final time.

Was this actually his life? This couldn’t possibly be his life. He was fat ’n’ smelly Fascinelli, the guy who used to
spend most of every school day out in the trailers where the “special needs” classes were held.

If this was real-if this was his life now, anything was possible. Even with-Anthony tried to stop the thought, but it kept coming. Even with him and Rae. He could actually, like, ask her to go
to the movies or something, something that didn’t involve saving one of their butts. Maybe he could even-

Get a grip, Mr. Potatohead,
Anthony interrupted himself.
Remember being on the phone with Rae yesterday? Come

on, you can do it if you really try. Yeah, remember how she could hardly stand to say two words to you? Just stop

right here and get a friggin’ grip.

But Anthony couldn’t stop himself from checking the cafeteria for Rae, practically getting a crick in his neck from
trying to see the tables behind him.

She wasn’t there.
You’re not the sharpest knife in the drawer,
Anthony told himself.
But even you can figure this

out. She knows it’s your first day. She’s not in the cafeteria. Which means? Come on, you can do it.

Rae couldn’t care less that he was there. She obviously wasn’t the least bit interested in hanging around him now
that he was a part of her precious prep school.

Rae wandered around the house, trying to find something to do to… to basically keep herself from thinking about
dying.

Maybe some sketching. She’d been thinking of doing some close-ups of her hand where she made the lines of her
palm into a kind of drawing within a drawing. Something you’d have to look at twice to really see.

She headed into her bedroom and picked up her sketchbook off her desk. The two shadowy faces she’d drawn on
her “list” stared up at her.

I shouldn’t be drawing. I shouldn’t be doing any thing to distract myself. What I should be doing is going out there

and finding out the facts I need.
“I’m sorry, Amanda,” she said, her voice coming out too loud in the silent house.

“But I think that means I’m going to have to talk to you about your mom. I don’t want to-”

Rae was jerked out of her thoughts by the sound of a car pulling into her driveway. Who was it? Her dad shouldn’t
be home for hours. Alice wasn’t scheduled to clean. Who was it?

Adrenaline started pumping through her body. She felt like someone had stuck an IV of coffee into each arm. She
rushed to the window.
Slow down,
she ordered herself.
Slow down. Fast moves draw attention.
She gently pulled
the side of the curtain away from the window frame a quarter of an inch, then cautiously peeked outside. It wasn’t a
car out there. It was a truck. A guy in uniform climbed out and strode purposefully to the side gate. He disappeared
into her backyard as if he had every right to be there.

Okay, no car out front. School day. He -whoever he is-has no reason to know I’m home. I’ll just stay away from the

windows and
-

Uh-uh. No. She wasn’t going to sit in the house like a scared little mouse. Rae ran to the back door and slammed
outside. Maybe not the smartest move. But every muscle and nerve in her body were demanding action. She was
going to find out exactly who was in her yard. And right now. “Where are you?” she demanded.

The guy in the uniform appeared from around the corner of the house. “Hey. I didn’t realize anyone was home. I
didn’t mean to scare you,” he said in a rush. He waved a clipboard at her. “Just here to read the meter. I’ll be out of
here before you know it.”

“You didn’t scare me,” Rae told him, although she felt like her body had sprouted a heart at every pulsepoint. She
could feel the little hearts pounding in her throat, her ears, her wrists, even her fingers.

Okay, meter reader,
she thought.
Makes sense.
All her little hearts slowed down a little. Of course, how hard was it
to get a uniform and a truck and say you’re a meter reader? The hearts started speeding up again.
If you hadn’t

come out, who knows what the guy might be doing right now. He could be planting a bomb or
-

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” the guy asked. He moved toward her, and Rae was hit by how alone they were.

Most of the neighbors were at work. If the situation got ugly, no one would hear her even if she screamed her head
off. And the closest phone was in the kitchen, which might as well be a thousand miles away. Definitely would have
been smarter to be a little house mouse and just watch. Get information. Then decide what to do. But it was too late
now.

The guy’s green eyes narrowed, and Rae realized she hadn’t answered his question. Well, why should she? He
had no right to question her. And if she said anything right now, he might be able to hear how nervous she was.

“Guess it’s none of my business,” the guy said, his eyes darting around the backyard.

Looking for the meter,
Rae realized.
He doesn’t have a clue where it is.
The little hairs at the back of her neck began
to prickle. She swallowed hard. Then, willing her voice to stay steady, she asked, “Are you new?”

The guy took a step closer.
He knows I’m suspicious,
Rae thought.
Not good. Shouldn’t have asked him if he was

new. Should have acted like everything was normal.
Her adrenaline rush had faded. It had made her feel strong and
powerful, like she could take on anyone. But God, the guy outweighed her by probably fifty pounds. And Rae was
almost the worst person in her gym class. What was she doing out here? What had she been thinking?

“Nope. Been on this route for almost four years,” the guy answered.

Yeah, right,
Rae thought.
And in another year you ’ll be able to remember where the meter is.
She forced herself to
nod and gave a little smile. If the guy figured out she wasn’t buying his story, who knew what he could do.

Okay, so don’t stand here until it’s totally obvious to him that you know that he has no idea where the meter is.

Back off. Let him think he’s convinced you.

“I hear the microwave. My pizza’s ready,” Rae muttered, then headed back inside, trying to look like she’d
completely lost interest in talking to the guy.

She returned to her bedroom and watched the truck. If she’d convinced him that she bought his story, he’d be
gone in a few minutes. Her eyes began to sting, but she didn’t blink. She wasn’t looking away from the truck for
even a second until she saw it drive away. Less than a minute later the guy came out and climbed in the truck and
backed into the street. Rae watched until he drove out of sight.

Maybe he was really the meter guy,
Rae thought.
Maybe he goes to so many houses, he just forgot where our

meter is. Maybe I just created this huge drama out of nothing.

Maybe that’s what you want to believe. Maybe it’s a little thing called denial.
She sat down on her bed, picked up
the phone, and dialed 411. Facts. From now on, it was all going to be about facts. She got the number of the power
company, dialed it, and stayed on hold for about fifteen minutes. She asked her question and was put on hold again.

A different man came on and told her that her house hadn’t been scheduled for a meter reading that day.

“Thanks,” Rae murmured. She hung up the phone, checked the clock, then snatched the phone back up again
and punched in Anthony’s number. He should have gotten home from school at least an hour ago.

The phone rang. And rang, and rang. “Come on,Anthony,” she whispered. He was the only one she wanted to talk
to right now. No, not wanted to talk to,
needed.
The phone kept ringing. The answering machine didn’t pick up.

Reluctantly Rae put down the phone.

I’ll try him again later,
she thought.
And if I don’t get him, I’ll track him down at school tomorrow.

Weird thought. It was hard to believe that Anthony was actually a Sanderson Prep guy. Weird, but good. She’d
actually have a real friend at school.

Suddenly she got this flash of how it felt to have his arms around her that night when he’d told her what it was like
to have a father who was a murderer. That night when she’d told him what she never told anyone-that her mother
was a murderer, too.

When Anthony had held her that night, she’d felt like she’d been surrounded in a bubble of warmth, a place where
nothing bad could ever happen. She’d never wanted him to let go.

So was she lying to herself? Was friendship all she wanted from Anthony Fascinelli?

ae headed oward the cafeter Tuesday afternoon. Finally she’d get a chance to talk to Anthony. All this stuff was
building up inside her.
Be honest,
she told herself. All this
fear.
About the non-meter reader. And about what was
happening in her body. She’d never told Anthony the numbness she’d experienced that day in the pool wasn’t a
onetime thing. But as soon as she saw him, she would. He’d probably be pissed-Anthony hated it when she kept
secrets, serious, possibly life-threatening secrets, from him. Rae didn’t care. He could yell as much as he wanted. It
would still feel so good to tell him everything.

As Rae headed past the girls’ bathroom, her feet slowed down. She decided to duck inside, see if sheneeded any
repairs. Last year this was her routine, hers and Lea’s. They almost always hit the bathroom before the caf for hair
and makeup touch-ups. Rae’d kind of gotten out of the habit, not that she walked around looking like a slob or
anything.

She found a tiny section of free mirror space-no one nearby who’d expect her to talk to them-then pulled out a
lipstick and gave herself a fresh coat, enjoying the smooth, moist glide across her lips. Next she added a little
mascara and plucked a hair that had somehow sprouted between her eyebrows since that morning. Finally she
sprayed a little no-frizz curl tamer on her hair and fluffed it. Did a quick overall inspection, checked her teeth for
lipstick, then headed out, satisfied. More than satisfied.

Rae hurried to the caf with more eagerness than she’d felt in a long time. She pushed open the double doors-the
layer of wax on her fingers keeping her from picking up any thoughts-and stepped inside. Her eyes immediately did
an Anthony scan.

“Oh my God.” The words popped out of her mouth without any conscious decision to say them. Anthony-Anthony
freakin’ Fascinelli-was sitting at her table. Well, her
old
table. He was saying something to Marcus that had Marcus
cracking up. And Jackie-Jackie the
Snowball
-was running her fingers through Anthony’s hair.