This Is How It Ends

My insides felt cold.

“No.” Tannis was shaking her head. “Impossible. We went back and looked. There’s nothing there, Nat.”

“Nothing where?”

“In the binoculars,” Trip said. “We went back up to the cave,” he explained quietly, glancing toward Nat’s handler. “Monday night. We were worried about you and that you’d . . . you know . . . seen this. We didn’t know what it meant. But it’s like Tannis said: There’s nothing in them. It’s just a kaleidoscope. They didn’t have anything to do with this.”

“So what happened that night?” Nat demanded. “I’m telling you I saw it. Exactly what happened.”

“Hallucinations,” Tannis said firmly. “If anything.”

I looked at her, the tight set of her jaw and eyes, clearly ready to challenge anyone who disagreed. I was struck by how completely she’d latched on to the idea that the binoculars were nothing more than a fancy toy. There’s no way I’d have believed Trip without looking for myself. Maybe I’d have felt differently if I’d seen something I didn’t want.

Natalie’s handler came over then. “I’m sorry, kids,” she said, actually looking like she meant it, “but I have to ask you to move on.”

The four of us closed in on Nat again, a football huddle with Natalie safe in the center. “We’re here for you, Nat,” Sarah whispered, hugging her tight. Natalie hugged back, each of us with an arm around her and Nat holding on like we could somehow whisk her away from everything.

We stood at the edge of the crowd for a little, watching people. I could feel the others studying faces too. Watching how Natalie greeted them, how they mixed and mingled and talked among themselves. I wondered if the same question was on all of our minds:

If Nat hadn’t done it, who had?

CHAPTER 12

I HAD DINNER WITH MY mom and told her all about the funeral.

Well, not all.

I didn’t mention all the seedy characters who’d been there, or how Bill Winston hadn’t been and what had happened between him and Mr. Cleary at the Dash, or any of the other things I’m sure she’d hear or already had heard through the grapevine.

I also didn’t talk about all the reporters. I didn’t want to remind her of when my dad had died.

“There were a lot of cops there,” I said. “And Nat was a mess.”

She nodded. “That poor girl.”

“The police finally cleared her,” I said.

“She was a suspect?” Maybe my mom’s link to the grapevine was broken.

“Yeah.”

“So who do they think did it?”

“Dunno,” I said. “The police have been asking around about who Mr. Cleary’s enemies were.”

My mom snorted. “Anyone on the tourism board, after the stunt he pulled at the Dash.”

“You heard?”

“Who didn’t?’ She tapped her lips thoughtfully. “Or what about the family of that girl who died last year?”

“The one who OD’d?” My mom nodded. “What does she have to do with it?”

“Where do you think she got the drugs? Sally at the Manor knows them, said the dad was out of his head when it happened.”

“Huh.” I wondered if maybe my link to the grapevine was broken. My mom started clearing dishes, and I flipped absently through the mail. Bill, bill, junk, bill.

“They live up that way too, I think,” she added.

A postcard about the SATs, “FINAL REMINDER” in bold red letters.

I stared at it for a minute, my hand stalled between the stacks I’d been sorting envelopes into. Not a bill. But I couldn’t bring myself to call it junk, either.

“What’s that?” My mom peered at the postcard as she collected my dishes.

“Nothing,” I said, wishing I’d tossed it into trash pile, where it belonged. “Just came with the mail.”

But her face told me she got it. It wasn’t nothing, just nothing we could use. The SAT notices had started coming last year, sandwiched between glossy flyers and fancy college booklets I’d never sent for. I’d paged through them, imagining myself on those campus paths or in the lecture halls. Then I’d read the tuition and swept them into the trash can, along with the local paper and whatever other crap had come that day. Each notice about the SATs had gone with them. Why waste forty-three dollars to take the test? There was no way I could go to college. Believe me, I’d racked my brains.

Community college? The closest was over an hour away, and we only had one car.

Living and working on campus? I’d never make enough for tuition, dorm, books, food, and sending money home.

Financial aid? We didn’t qualify for enough government aid, and our credit was too shaky for anything else.

Scholarships? No one was giving out free rides these days, and even if I won half a ride, it wasn’t enough.

And the biggest unknown, always looming—what if things with my mom got worse?

But I wanted to go. So bad I could taste it.

We finished our dessert in silence. My mom stood to rinse her dish, then turned to me. “I’ve gotta run,” she said. She came closer, smoothed my hair the way she had since I was a kid. “You’re a good boy, Riley.” She kissed my head lightly, the smell of bleach and her perfume surrounding me. “Somehow we’ll work things out.”

I listened to the car crunch out of the driveway, then shoved the postcard into my jeans pocket and headed upstairs to start on my homework.

CHAPTER 13

NATALIE CAME BACK TO SCHOOL Friday. We all walked in together, me on one side and Trip on the other. A hush fell over the hallway as everyone turned to stare.

“You okay?” Sarah asked Natalie softly when we paused outside the office. Her voice carried in the silence.

Natalie nodded, tense and uncomfortable. “See you at lunch.” She pulled open the glass door and slipped inside.

As soon as it closed, Trip whirled to face the eyes of at least twenty of our classmates. “Give her a break, people, you know?”

A few people nodded, shuffling off. The rest stayed, apparently transfixed by the prospect of watching Natalie Cleary fill out paperwork. Everyone knew by now that the police had cleared her. Forensics and all. But having one of your classmates orphaned by a murder in a town of twelve hundred was still a big effing deal. Trip shook his head in disgust, muttering “Losers,” and stalked off.

Behind the glass Principal Miller ushered Natalie and some other people, including Lu Kresbol, Nat’s coach and head of the ski program, into his office. Technically Natalie was a ward of the state until she turned eighteen. But that was two months away, much sooner than anyone would get through the paperwork needed to assign her somewhere. So, untechnically, the local Social Services staff—including Matty’s mom—had signed off on her staying with Lu. By the time anyone from the state figured out what was going on, Natalie would be legal to be on her own anyhow.