What the ever-loving hell is happening?
If people here expect you to be something, it’s easy for them to continue believing it.
People here think that Lucky 2.0 is trouble.
He told the police he threw the rock.
He saved me?
A funny kind of panic swirls around my stomach and grips my chest. I don’t understand this. No one is ever nice to me for no good reason, and Lucky doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who just goes around doing good deeds. One minute I was in the middle of a sob fest—telling him stuff I shouldn’t have told him—and the next …
He was taking the fall for me.
For me.
Forme?
“Oh, thank God, thank God, thankGod?!” Mom says, shoulders sagging. “Of course you didn’t do this, right?”
“Uh …”
“Jesus. You scared the life out of me. Come on. Let’s go home before someone sees my car parked here,” she says with an anxious little laugh.
In a daze, I push through the front door and inhale a lungful of early summer air. Freedom, sure, only it doesn’t feel all that sweet. I glance around the parking lot, looking for Lucky and his parents, but they’re long gone.
Wired and paranoid, I climb into the creaky passenger seat of the Pink Panther and slam the heavy door shut, unsure what to say when Mom gets behind the wheel. She exhales a long breath and sits in silence, staring out the windshield.
“Where’s Evie?” I ask.
“At home. She’s freaked out that you left the party withouther and wanted to come along, but I made her stay. Shutterbug?”
“Yeah?”
“Why did you send me those texts if you didn’t smash the window?”
Right. The bajillion panicked texts I sent when I was stuck at the police station. Texts like:I did a stupid thing.And:You’re going to kill me.
How do I explain those?
“I’m just confused,” Mom says. “Evie told me she had a bad fight with her ex at that party, and that he said some things that may have upset you?”
I rub my knuckles with my thumb. “He’s such a jerk, Mom. He was drunk and …” God. I don’t want to tell her about the nude photo. I just can’t. It will be humiliating for her, and I don’t want to hurt her. As mad as she makes me, I don’t want to hurt her. So I don’t. “He was just saying all kinds of shit about our family. You don’t even know.”
She taps a finger on the steering wheel, contemplating. “Oh, I can imagine. Did I not tell you this place was built on a portal to hell? Thought I was clear about that.”
“You were,” I say weakly.
“Okay, so you got upset, and you didn’t tell Evie that you were leaving the party with Lucky Karras? Since when in God’s name did you start palling around with him again?”
“I—”
“Didn’t I tell you? From the first day we got here, I said don’tmess with that kid. Everyone can see he’s trouble now, Josie. And he’s throwing rocks at windows for you? That’s a weird kind of romance—some dark Bonnie and Clyde shit. Feels super intense, and that spells serious to me. I don’t like it at all, Josie.”
Oh my God. Is that what she thinks?
I mean, what other reason would there be, given the circumstances?
This is awful. I’ve never felt so guilty in my entire life. One lie is leading to another, and they’re all jumbling up together in my stomach and breeding, and now there’s a whole litter of Lie Bunnies hopping all over the place and kicking me in the ribs. I don’t know what to say to her that isn’t just another lie, so I do the only thing I know and twist it back around on her:
