Heartbroken (31 page)

Imagining things, like the figure she saw on the dock. How could you be so certain one minute about what you saw and so doubtful the next? She’d been afraid; she’d wanted to run. But then it was gone, and even as she and Lulu were racing back to the house, she’d felt silly, as though she’d made the whole thing up.

She’d always wanted to see the ghosts on Heart Island that her great-aunt Caroline believed in. But she didn’t truly believe in them herself, much as she’d never truly believed in Santa Claus. But she’d gone along with the Santa story for years because she’d so badly wanted to it to be true: the flying reindeer, Santa coming down the chimney, how he knew when you’d been bad or good. There were so many holes in the story, but she’d wanted to be convinced, so she allowed herself to be. Maybe that was what happened tonight. After all those years of
wanting
to believe, she’d finally seen what she’d wanted to see.

Like what she did with Adam McKee. In the brief moment of connectivity they’d had, she’d checked to see if he’d left her a message, and he hadn’t. He hadn’t posted on his own page, either.

“Forget it,” Lulu said. “He’s a loser.”

Chelsea didn’t forget it. She carried the disappointment around in her middle like a stomach virus. What was wrong with her? Boys chased after Lulu, did backflips for her attention, even as she used, abused, and discarded them. Lulu would move on to the next and obsess about him as she was doing with Conner now. Once she was sure he belonged to her, she’d lose interest immediately.

Chelsea had never actually had a boyfriend. She probably never would.
You’re not like other girls
. In his online silence, what she’d taken as a compliment suddenly had new meaning. She wasn’t like other girls … she was a freak, a weirdo. No one would ever want her.

“What’s going on?” Lulu had come up behind her, put a cool hand on the small of her back. Chelsea jumped, startled. “Where’s your mom?”

“I think she went to check on my grandmother.” She didn’t turn around, kept her eyes trained outside.

Lulu moved in close to her, shivering. “I’m freezing.”

Chelsea looked out across to the main house. She didn’t see the bobbing light of her mother’s flashlight. She didn’t see any lights go on in the main house, either. There was some energy that Chelsea didn’t quite understand, as if a breath had been drawn and held. Lulu was tugging at her, pulling her away from the window.

“She’ll be back in a minute. Come cuddle with me,” she said. “Warm me up.”

They got into her mom’s bed and huddled together under the covers. Lulu’s hair smelled like strawberries. When they were younger, they’d often slept together in the same bed, and Chelsea was used to the feel of her friend’s body curled up against hers. They used to practice kissing on each other. But that was a long time ago. Neither of them ever talked about that anymore; it was unspoken. It was embarrassing to the point of being shameful. But then it had been warm and wonderful. Not sexual at all, Chelsea didn’t think. But even remembering it caused heat to come to her face.

“This place really sucks,” said Lulu. She sounded desolate, mournful.

Chelsea didn’t say anything. If you couldn’t see what was wonderful about Heart Island, then it
did
suck. She knew that. Plenty of people she loved—Sean, Uncle Theo, even her father in some ways—had similar feelings about the island. But no one hated it completely. It was just so fraught to spend time there.
It’s like loving an addict
, she’d overheard Uncle Theo say to her mother.
You know how good it can be when it’s good, how truly beautiful it is. But the ugly stuff is just not worth it
.

“We’re trapped here,” said Lulu.

“We’re not trapped.” Even as Chelsea said it, she wasn’t sure that was true. It seemed like a lot of people were trapped on Heart Island or in their idea of it.

“Your mother said the water was really rough,” said Lulu. “We can’t take the boat back to the mainland.”

Chelsea knew that was so. Although they’d left the island once during bad weather, when they knew a worse storm was coming and they felt they had no choice but to get off while they could. It was a frightening trip, with Sean white-knuckled at the helm, the water washing over the sides of the small boat. Chelsea and Brendan had clung to Kate as the cuddy pitched and rolled in the big water.

Birdie had stayed behind and weathered a storm that kept her trapped on the island for a week by herself. Chelsea had wept to leave Birdie.
She wants it this way
, Kate had told her.
We have to respect that
.

Chelsea hadn’t understood. She
still
didn’t understand why Birdie had wanted to be left behind.
She loves Heart Island more than she loves us
, Brendan had yelled over the weather. Neither Kate nor Sean had answered him.

“We’ll be able to leave eventually,” said Chelsea. “It’s okay. Nothing bad happens here. We’re safe.”

Lulu snorted. “Sure, except for the ghosts or the stranger lurking on the island.”

Chelsea didn’t say anything. Lulu’s fear was contagious. Maybe they
were
trapped. Maybe there was no way to call for help. The emergency radio needed to be kept charged. Maybe since everyone seemed to think there was cell service (even though there obviously wasn’t), it had sat neglected.

Chelsea lay listening for her mom to come back. Before Kate had given permission for Lulu to join them on the trip, she’d called Chelsea into her room. “Do you really want her to come? Or do you need a break?” she’d asked.

Kate had sat with her legs crossed on the big chair over by the fireplace. Chelsea had felt a rise of indignation, of defensiveness about Lulu. But it had dissipated quickly.
Had
she been looking forward to a week without her friend?

“I don’t know,” she said. “I guess I want her to come.”

“Why?”

“She’ll be lonely without me.”

Kate had pressed her lips together and looked at her with sad eyes. “It’s not your job to entertain Lulu,” she said. “Is she going to make the trip better or worse for you?”

“Better?” Chelsea said. It came off sounding like a question, and Kate frowned. “Better.” Chelsea firmed up her tone. “I want her to come.”

“You’re sure.”

“Yes.”

It wasn’t a lie. Well, it wasn’t a lie she told her mother. Maybe it was a lie she told herself. Because hadn’t she been a little disappointed when her mother told Lulu she could come? Hadn’t she, on some level, wanted her mother to say:
Sorry, Lulu, this is a trip for family
? Why hadn’t she just told her mother that? It wasn’t as if she weren’t free to speak her mind.

“Chaz?” Lulu was touching her hair, a soft, soothing, stroking movement.

“Yeah?”

“I have to tell you something.”

Lulu had that tone, that sheepish, too-cute tone that she used when she’d done something awful.

“What?” said Chelsea. She was bracing herself. She couldn’t imagine what Lulu had done. She’d used the same tone in telling Chelsea that she’d lost her virginity, and when she’d confessed to smoking a joint. What now?

“That guy? Adam McKee?”

“Yeah?” Oh, God. Chelsea felt a flowering of dread. What was
she going to say—that she knew him, that she’d slept with him, that he was flirting with her online, too, and she’d decided that she liked him?

“He’s not real,” she said. “He’s not a real guy.”

“What are you talking about?”

Even as she said it, Chelsea knew it was true. Of course he wasn’t real. Smart and kind, sensitive, into art and music—boys like that didn’t exist. Someone who thought she was cool, different in a good way. She should have known.

“Conner made that page. It was Conner sending you those notes.”

That
she hadn’t expected. She felt a boil of anger and shame. “Why?” The word barely squeaked out of her throat, which was constricting.

“He wanted me to sneak out last night from your place. We thought if you had someone you wanted to meet, you’d do it.”

Only Lulu could have known the exact kind of boy Chelsea would want to meet. Only Lulu would know all the right things to say. Chelsea, on the other hand, didn’t have any idea what to say. The anger, the disappointment, was too much. She didn’t trust herself to speak without crying.

“I’m sorry,” said Lulu. “Conner was going to bring a friend for you to meet, someone from another school. We thought you’d like him. We used his picture. You thought he was cute.”

Still, Chelsea couldn’t say anything. Her mind was racing back through everything she’d written. What had she revealed about herself? What had she shown Lulu and her asshole boyfriend about herself that they hadn’t known? Really, it was her own eagerness that embarrassed her more than anything else.

“Please don’t be mad,” said Lulu. “I didn’t think you’d really like him. I didn’t think you even cared about boys.”

Chelsea found her voice again. “I
don’t
care.”

She couldn’t believe her own level, easy tone. She had always
been able to do this, hide her feelings, keep them locked tight inside. It was so much safer that way. No one could ever know the power they had to hurt her. She’d learned it when she was little, to never let anyone who’d proved untrustworthy see her cry.

“Chelsea.”

“I don’t. Really,” she said. She pushed out a laugh, but it sounded strangled and sorry. “I’d almost forgotten about the whole thing.” She knew that didn’t hold much weight, since they’d just been talking about it before they went to bed. She could hear Lulu breathing.

“Come on,” Lulu said. “I’m sorry.”

Some people knew her—Sean, her mother, Lulu. These were the people she couldn’t and didn’t want to hide from. That was why it hurt so badly that she now had to protect herself from her oldest friend.

She could feel Lulu looking at her in the dark. She could see the crown of her head, the round of her shoulder. Lulu put a hand on Chelsea’s arm. The gentleness of the touch made something go dark and angry inside Chelsea.

“Seriously,” Chelsea said. “It’s no big deal. I’m not like you. I’m not a slut for any cute boy who comes along.”

She wanted to take those words back. But they were out, shattering in the air all around them, slicing them both. Lulu didn’t say anything, just left the bed and the room. Chelsea had never felt so alone.

chapter twenty-three

E
mily’s fatigue was like an unbearable weight she carried on her back, one she couldn’t put down. She’d never wanted to sleep so badly—just to rest her head on something soft and drift away for hours. But everything was different; nothing was as she remembered it. The island was dark and cold. There were three structures instead of one. And yes, there were people here. Was her father among them, sleeping peacefully somewhere? She looked from house to house, wondering where he might be. It was probably the biggest one, the one to their left. For a moment, she felt a vague sense of relief, as if she had arrived home after a long, tiring journey.

Open your eyes, Emily
, her mother always said.
See what’s right in front of you
.

The weather had grown wild. They’d barely made it here, with Dean at the helm and Brad holding the gun to Dean’s back. There had been water washing in over the sides of the boat, the vessel bucking in the heavy chop. Emily had felt a terrible surge of nausea, but she’d managed to keep herself together.

As soon as they’d pulled away from the marina, she’d seen the dark, hulking shadow of Heart Island. Or maybe it was just her imagination. She knew it was the largest island and that it would lie straight ahead once they hit the open water. She sat quietly beside Dean, who hadn’t dared to look at her. But all her anger had drained. She just felt numb.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, they crashed the boat against a rock as they ran aground at the only place they could. The sound was so loud, the impact so jarring, that she was certain she’d see lights come on in the houses. But all was quiet. She wasn’t sure if the hull had been breached or if the water collecting in the bottom had rushed in over the sides. Now it was beached and tilting on the rocky area.

Brad climbed off the boat first, never turning his back on them. Dean and Emily followed.

Brad stowed the money on the boat, which she thought was idiotic, since it might sink or wash away.
Five thousand dollars
, she thought. She and Dean had ruined their lives for five thousand dollars. She thought about that college fund her father had set up for her. Emily’s mother controlled the money, so she had no idea what was in it.

There’s enough for school and a head start after you graduate
, her mother had told her once.
It’s what I didn’t have when I was your age. If I’d had a leg up, maybe I wouldn’t have made so many mistakes
.

Emily didn’t know what those mistakes were and how they had affected the course of Martha’s life. Naturally, Emily had asked. Martha had said:
I’ll tell you when you’re older
. But that day had never come.

“What do we do now?” Dean said.

Brad didn’t answer right away, just looked at them with some unreadable expression.
He’s wondering if he should just kill us both now
, she thought.
He’s wondering what use we are to him
. Her numbness gave way to a feeling of desperation. She had to get them out of this. Not her and Dean—her and her baby.

Dean put his head in his hands. She hated him in that moment. What had she seen in him? What was it about him that had caused her to fall in love? He was like a drug she’d become addicted to, so good the first time. Every time after that was just a poor facsimile of
that initial high. What had Carol said?
They’re always nice at first, honey. That’s how they hook you
.

She wrapped her arms around her belly. She’d missed her period last month, and a week ago, when the day came and went again, she’d taken a pregnancy test. Positive. She was pregnant at the same age her mother had been pregnant with her, in spite of Martha’s many warnings.