She pulls open the door and rolls the two suitcases out.
Muffinhead comes scurrying down the stairs and runs out the door after Jo.
Finn watches her load the suitcases, unsure of what to do.
“What about the dog? Am I supposed to watch him?”
Jo lowers her sunglasses and shoots him a look. “Of course not. He’s coming with me, aren’t you, Monsieur Muffinhead?” She snaps her fingers and he jumps into the back row of the SUV. “You think I’d leave my dog behind? What kind of monster do you think I am?”
THIRTY-SIX
The fury builds in me as I walk back home. As I get close to the house, I see the minivan trunk is open. Rachel has brought her duffel bags out. She’s ready to go.
I swallow my anger and head inside to find Rachel standing in the middle of the living room wearing a Georgetown T-shirt, a confused look on her face.
“Hey, Mom! I’m like ninety-nine percent packed, but do you know where the clip-on fan is? And also the foam mattress pad? The one that doesn’t smell.”
“Did you look in the attic?”
“I looked everywhere. It’s not there.”
“Did you look in the large plastic tub in the attic that’s labeled ‘camp stuff’?”
She opens her mouth into a wide O.
“Check there,” I say. “It’s easy to miss. It’s about three feet long with huge letters that say ‘camp stuff.’”
She laughs. “Oh yeah, that sounds kind of familiar.”
I watch her run up the stairs. She’ll be gone soon, butinstead of relishing these last few moments with her, I am haunted by a deep feeling of betrayal. The trust I had in my neighbors and friends has been shattered. Eastbrook no longer feels like a haven to me. But I’m not just hurt, I’m angry, sick of the lies, of being kept in the dark. I hear Miguel in the kitchen and head toward him.
“There you are!” he cries. He is filling up his water bottle at the refrigerator. “I was worried we’d have to leave without saying goodbye. Where have you been?”
“Kenya’s. She had some really interesting things to say.”
“Oh yeah?” He’s not listening; he’s rummaging through the fridge. “I’m going to drop her off and then grab a quick dinner. I should be back by midnight.”
I close the fridge door, barely missing his hand.
“Hey!” He jumps back. “What was that for?”
“We need to talk.”
“Can it wait until tomorrow? We’re supposed to leave. Like now.”
“Just tell me, what’s your connection to Crimson Edge?”
He says nothing. Not a muscle in his face moves. He looks blank. That’s how I know. He was unprepared for this question, and he’s scrambling to come up with an answer. I almost feel sorry for him.
“Did you hire them?” Heat rises to my face as I fight to keep my voice steady. “We agreed, we weren’t going to be those parents. The parents who throw money at their children.”
“No,” he says through gritted teeth. “You agreed. I never did.”
“So, you hired some fancy college consultant without even telling me? How much did that cost?”
“Shhh.” He looks past me. “I don’t want to talk about this while Rachel is home. I don’t want her to know anything about this.”
“So, it’s true.” Disbelief crashes over me in waves.
