We stood there in silence for a moment, both of us deep in our own heads. I’d spent a lot of time over the last few days wondering what other secrets Jasper might be keeping from me, if he was really the kind of person I’d thought. But if anyone here had spent his vacation—hell, his entire life—playing a long, complicated game of Lies, it wasn’t him.
I took a deep breath. “Listen,” I said, “in the spirit of putting it all out there: there’s some stuff I haven’t been honest with you about.”
Jasper cleared his throat one more time, looking at me with some interest. “Oh no?”
I shook my head. “I’m at Bartley on a full scholarship,” I confessed. “Back in Boston, I live with my mom in a two-bedroom apartment above our landlady. I didn’t even have an internship this summer—I needed to bank as much money as I could, so I worked doubles at Star Market six days a week. I’m not like the rest of you guys—I never have been. I’m completely broke.”
Jasper gazed at me for another moment. Then he nodded. “Dude,” he said, “I know.”
I gaped at him. “You—what?”
Jasper sat back down on the edge of the porch. “Relax, Linden,” he said with a smile. “You talk a good game and everything, but it’s kind of obvious.”
“It is?” I opened my mouth to ask him how I’d given myself away, how I could possibly keep it from happening again, if other people knew. Then I realized it was beside the point.
Jasper rolled his eyes. “This isn’t a Brat Pack movie, dude. Nobody cares about that shit but you.”
I didn’t think that was true, not really. But just for a moment, I wondered what might have happened if I’d given him the chance to prove me wrong.
I glanced over my shoulder in the direction of the driveway. “I should go,” I said finally.
Jasper nodded. “Sure,” he said, flattening his palms against the floor of the porch and leaning backward. He was already turning into himself again: easygoing, casually bulletproof. “I’ll see you back at school, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I said, “totally”—though in truth I had no idea if he would or not. My scholarship wasn’t a sure thing. If I didn’t head back to Bartley, I doubted our friendship would survive. It was entirely possible we’d never see each other again.
I didn’t say anything like that, though—just lifted my hand in a wave before I headed around the front of the house. Holiday was waiting in the driveway, sitting on the hood of the sedan with her feet up on the bumper. She looked tired, a little bit ragged. But she also looked satisfied as all hell.
“So,” she said brightly, hopping down and sliding behind the wheel. “How was your vacation?”
I snorted. “Wasn’t all bad,” I said, collapsing into the passengerseat.
Holiday glanced behind her as she put the car into gear, pulling down the long, winding driveway. “Oh no?” she asked with a grin. “Which parts made it especially worth it to you? The capital crime or the public humiliation?”
“The fried clams,” I deadpanned, and Holiday laughed. The sun broke through the clouds just as we pulled out onto the main road, the damp pavement gleaming in front of us. I rolled my window down, the cool breeze on my face helping to clear my head. “I owe you an apology,” I told her.
Holiday nodded. “I mean, yes,” she said with a smile, “you do. By all means, please proceed.”
“Not just for what happened last night, though make no mistake, I was a giant douchebag and I’m really fucking sorry. But also for just kind of…disappearing off the face of the planet for the last few years.”
Holiday shrugged. “We both disappeared,” she pointed out. “Lucky for us, the universe has a way of course-correcting.” She grinned. “You know. With like, a casual murder.”
“I think that was probably their real motive,” I agreed.
“Oh, for sure.”
“I couldn’t have figured any of this out without you,” I told her. “I mean, Ididn’tfigure any of this out. You did. I feel like I was wrong about everyone and everything from the first second I got off the ferry.”
Holiday shrugged. “You were right about one thing,” she admitted, “as profoundly as it pains me to admit it. Iwasjealous,honestly. Not because I’m desperate to bone you,” she clarified quickly, even as my heart did a funny thing inside my chest. “But the truth is I missed you, all those years we weren’t really talking. And I liked hanging out with you again. I guess there was a part of me that was worried that if you got in deep with Eliza, that would be over.” She grinned. “Lucky for me, Eliza hates your fucking guts now.”
“Fuck you!” I said, but I was laughing. “She definitely does, though.”
“Oh, for sure.” We were approaching the ferry dock now; Holiday turned into the parking lot and pulled to a stop. “Good luck at Bartley,” she said. “Don’t wait until somebody else gets killed before you text me again, yeah?”
“I won’t,” I promised, leaning over the gearshift to give her a hug. Her hair smelled like tea and like salt water, soft against the side of my face. “Grand larceny next time, how about?”
“Arson, maybe.” She smiled. “Take care, Michael.”
“You too.”
