Don't Look Back (12 page)

“I know.” I lowered my gaze. “Cassie and I were terrible together, huh?”
He blew out a long breath, and when I looked up, he was staring out the French doors. “It was weird, like two people coming together and bringing out the absolute worse in each other. If you guys had something on someone, you’d use it to your advantage. Ever the opportunists ... and there were a lot of people with a lot of reasons not to like you. But hurt you? That’s different.”
Shame was back, burning through me like acid. I took one last mouthful of melted ice cream, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut. Carson glanced at me and then laughed softly.
“What?” I dropped the spoon in the bowl.
“You have ice cream on your chin.”
“I do?” I wiped at my chin. “Did I get it?”
Shaking his head, he reached over the bar and smoothed his thumb under my bottom lip. My chest rose quickly and my breath caught. His thumb stayed just under the corner of my mouth, but his fingers spread underneath my chin. They were calloused against my softer skin, sending a shiver of pleasure through me. Our eyes locked, and I waited for him to remove his hand, because surely the tiny smidgen of ice cream was gone by now, but he didn’t.
Instead, his thumb inched up, trailing across my bottom lip. I sucked in a breath, but like the one before, it got lost somewhere. A heady wave of warmth rolled through me.
I swallowed. “More ice cream?”
A lopsided grin stretched across his lips. “Sure.”
Part of my brain just clicked off. Placing my hands on the edge of the bar, I leaned forward and stopped thinking about
everything
other than the electric feeling he created with the simplest touch. I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing, but my body took the lead. My pulse thrummed, and my heart soared when his hand slid to my cheek.
This was wrong, but it also felt so incredibly right.
A throat cleared, and I jerked back, nearly falling off the stool. Much to my horror, Mom stood under a hanging fern, a full glass of red liquid in her hand. “It’s late, Carson,” she said, eyes and tone cold. “I think it’s time that you head home.”
Carson slid me a quick smile as he stood. “Sorry, Mrs. Franco, I didn’t notice the time.”
She nodded curtly.
He glanced at me over his shoulder. “See you at school, Sam.”
My cheeks felt as if they were on fire as I stood. I wanted to walk him out, but he had already disappeared around the corner. Seconds later, a door opened and closed. I’d totally sucked up his time—he hadn’t even visited Scott.
“What are you doing, Samantha?”
I took deep breath. “I was eating ice cream.”
“Don’t play coy with me.”
“I’m not playing coy with you, Mom. I was eating ice cream with Carson. What’s the big deal?” I turned my back to her and picked up our bowls, carrying them to the sink. “It’s not like—”
“I’m not sure I even know you anymore,” she said, voice tight as she set her glass on the bar. “Two weeks ago, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Yeah, and two weeks ago, I was a total bitch.” Who apparently had an entire school full of enemies. “So if being a nicer person is a giant letdown to you, you’re just going to have to deal.”
“This isn’t about you being nice.” She followed me to the sink, knocking the bowls out of my hand. One hit the stainless steel and rolled to the side, the other split into two large chunks of ceramic. Stunned, I stared up at her. “You’re going to ruin your life, getting involved with boys like that.”
I backed up. “Mom, we were just talking.”
“That’s not what it looked like to me.” Her cheeks were flushed the same color as her silk blouse. “Boys like him—”
“There isn’t anything wrong with Carson!” I brushed past her, not wanting to argue. Not like I didn’t have enough problems without getting into a verbal smackdown with her. “I’m tired—”
“Don’t make the same mistake I did,” she said in a low, barely audible voice, nostrils flared.
My eyes widened with shock. “What? What is that supposed to mean?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Her heels slapped off the hardwood floors. “I won’t have you embarrassing yourself any further. It’s bad enough—”
“It’s bad enough
what
, Mom?” I whipped around. Screw the not-fighting part. Everything boiled up inside me, spilling over until all I felt—all I knew—was anger. “Am I still an embarrassment to you? Are all your friends
talking
? Except now they’re talking about what happened to me—to Cassie? How terrible it must be for you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you don’t have your memories back? Because this sounds terribly familiar, Samantha.”
“Does it? That’s great.” I tried to stomp past her, but damn she was quick, blocking me.
Regret turned the flecks of green in her eyes darker. “I’m sorry, sweetie. None of this is your fault. No matter what happened or what you might have done, none of this is your fault.”
Shock rippled through me as my mom turned away. I heard her stop by the liquor cabinet, and I knew she was taking the bottle with her. In a daze, I left the kitchen and saw my dad standing there.
He looked away, eyes closed and brows furrowed. “Samantha—”
“She thinks I did it?” My voice was small, hoarse. “She thinks I did something to Cassie?”
“No.” His eyes shot open wide. “No, she doesn’t think anything like that. She’s just tired, and all the stress has ... has affected her. Your mom isn’t...” He shook his head. “She doesn’t think that.”
Nice of him to try to convince me, but I didn’t believe him. “Do you think I did?”
“No, baby, I don’t think you had anything to do with what happened,” he said, trying for a smile but failing. “It’s late. Go upstairs. Things will be better tomorrow.”
For a moment, all I could do was stare at him in icy disbelief. Tears built in the back of my throat, and when I could move, I flew past him. I wasn’t sure what I was running from, but it didn’t matter where I went. What Mom had said haunted me as I stripped off my clothes and changed with shaky hands.
I sat down on the bed, pulling my legs up to my chest. Resting my head against my knees, I dragged in deep breaths that did nothing to quell the rising panic. Carson might have believed I wasn’t capable of such a thing, but what was I supposed to think when my own mother thought I was?

M rs. Messer had this thing with her glasses. She
put them on when she started talking, took them off before she finished a sentence, and then nibbled on the temple piece. Within the first five minutes of our session on Wednesday, she’d already completed the cycle five times.

I slid down in the seat, smothering my yawn with my hand. She’d spent the better part of our time together checking over reports from my teachers.

She placed the papers in a folder and set it aside. “As expected, none of the teachers have any concerns. If anything, you’re actually paying more attention in class now than before.”

“Well, I guess that’s one good thing.”
Her smile was tight-lipped. “How’s everything been at home?” I schooled my features blank. “Everything’s okay.” On went the glasses. “Your mother contacted me yesterday.

She’s concerned about how you’re adjusting to everything.” Jerking up in my seat, I snapped my mouth close. Mom hadn’t spoken to me since the blowup on Monday night. And I was okay with that. “She called you?”

“Yes. She’s worried that you’re having a hard time connecting things from before the ... incident with your life now.” Off went the glasses. “Do you want to talk about it?”

My teeth ached from how hard I was clenching my jaw. “It’s more like she’s having a problem with the way I am now.”
Mrs. Messer nibbled on the end piece. “Something to do with a boy...?”
Heat swept over my cheeks. “I was eating ice cream with a boy and she freaked out.” I couldn’t believe my mom had called her! Mom hadn’t made good on calling an actual therapist, but telling the school counselor was bad enough. Gripping the arms on the chair, I took a deep breath. “I’m not the same person I was before the
incident
. And you know what? I think it’s a good thing. I was a complete and utter bitch before.”
Putting the glasses back on once again, her lips twitched as if she really wanted to smile. Not the fake, tight ones she always gave me. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I did explain to her that she would see personality changes.”
“I bet she took that well,” I grumbled. “She thinks I’m...”
“She thinks what, Samantha?”
I started chewing on my thumbnail as my foot anxiously tapped the floor. The urge to spill my secrets came at me fast and hard, and I wanted to cave. “I don’t know. She’s embarrassed by me. I think she’s always been.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” the counselor said, watching me. “Have you been able to recover any more memories?”
Focusing on the picture of the cherub-faced little boy in the photo on her desk, I gave a lopsided shrug. “Just bits and pieces, and they don’t make much sense. There hasn’t been a rush of memories, even though I’ve been doing like you’ve told me. I thought... I thought the news about Cassie would trigger
something
, but it hasn’t.”
“And how are you handling the news about Cassie? Do you still feel apathetic toward her?”
I hated it when she said things like that, even though I understood what she meant. My inability to recall the feelings surrounding my relationship with Cassie did make it hard to share in the grief everyone felt over her sudden death. “I’m trying to remember her.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she said.
Returning to my thumbnail, I refused to answer. “Can I ask you a question?”
Mrs. Messer nodded.
“Do people who start to get their memories back see . . . weird things?”
Her eyes blinked slowly behind her glasses. “What kind of weird things?”
I shrugged again. “I don’t know. Like just seeing weird stuff or hearing voices?”
She took off the glasses, folding them this time. “Some memories can come back in the form of voices or images that may seem strange. If you could give me an example...”
I waited for her to put the glasses back on or to chew on them, but when she did neither, I knew I’d thrown her off her game. Not good. Just from her lack of fiddling with her glasses, I guessed hearing and seeing weird things wasn’t normal.
When I didn’t elaborate, she moved on, but I knew she’d come back to it again, probably on Friday. “Cassie’s funeral is on Monday. That may be a hard... event for you—”
“Or maybe it will help me remember something.”
“Maybe,” she agreed, scribbling something down on her pad.
My session was over, and I had to hurry to my locker so I wouldn’t be late. The first thing I saw when I opened the metal door was a note, written on yellow paper, folded in a triangle. Looking around before I opened it, I made sure no one was lingering nearby.
These notes baffled me—hell, they frightened me. If it had been me... if I’d done something to Cassie and somehow hurt myself in the process, what explained these notes? What was worse? Being responsible for Cassie’s death or the possibility that the culprit was still out there? The same person who was stalking me with a never-ending supply of legal notepaper?
I didn’t have an answer. Sighing, I unfolded the note.

You know why she was at the lake. Part of me wanted to laugh as I folded up the note, adding it to the other one in my bag, but a familiar unease coated my throat. Obviously I didn’t know why she was at the lake. Whoever was leaving these things needed to get a little clearer about my situation, which brought up bigger questions.

Who was leaving these notes, and how much did they know? Closing my locker, I turned as Del rounded the corner and sauntered toward me. A little stab of guilt shot through me as I remembered how badly I’d wanted to kiss Carson.

Del wrapped his arm around my shoulders and kissed my cheek before pulling back, tugging lightly on my ponytail. “You look tired. Doing okay?”

I smoothed my hand over my hair self-consciously. “I really didn’t put much into getting ready today....”
“It’s okay.” He wrapped his hand around mine as we started down the hall. “Everyone understands you’ve been through a lot, and with the news about Cassie, no one expects much.”
My brow arched, but I didn’t say anything. Stopping outside of my math class, he kissed me good-bye—this time on the lips. Not a bad kiss at all. It was warm and dry, soft. Even patient, but my toes still curled for all the wrong reasons.
Del pulled back, searching my eyes intently. “You sure you’re just tired?”
Mysterious notes, the possibility that I might have had a hand in what happened to Cassie, and crazy thoughts aside, I had serious boy troubles. As if my life couldn’t get more complicated, I was lusting after the wrong guy according to everyone else—my brother’s
best friend
—while my boyfriend patiently waited for me to snap out of it.
I needed to figure out how I felt about Del if there was any hope for us because stringing him along wasn’t fair. If I was no longer the girl who’d fallen in love with him, it wasn’t right to keep up this... this charade.
Mulling over my options during my morning classes, I still had no idea what to do. I didn’t know what it was that kept me
lingering
. Fear of letting go of one of the last things that linked me to my old life? My relationship with my old friends was practically nonexistent at this point, leaving Del as the last vestige of the old Sam. Unable to decide how I felt about that, I eventually pushed those thoughts away and focused on Cassie. The most recent note told me nothing, but it did point me in the right direction.
I needed to get to that lake.
Maybe seeing it would trigger a key memory—help me remember an important detail. Selfish as this was, the need to know what happened wasn’t just for Cassie anymore. I needed to prove to myself that I wasn’t the one responsible for what had happened. To her and to me.
A plan formed slowly in my mind, and before heading to my friends’ table at lunch, I was already in the process of implementing it. I stopped at my brother’s table. “Can I borrow your car after practice?”
His brows inched up his forehead. “I’m not sure about that.”
I sat down, prepared to beg and plead. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to your car. I just need to do something after school.”
“What?” he asked, eyes narrowing.
“Something,” I said. “
Please
, Scott.”
Julie grinned at her brother. “I can’t remember the last time I heard her say please, so you kind of have to let her.”
“You’re not helping.” Scott sat back, eyes still trained on me. “Why don’t you let Julie take you wherever you want to go?”
“I can’t,” she said quickly, then flushed. “Not that I don’t want to, because I kind of do want to hang out, Sam.”
“Okay.” I still felt a little stung, even though I hadn’t planned on bringing anyone with me, but she seemed as if she genuinely wanted to be friends again.
Looking relieved, she smiled. “I have to work at the theater after school. It’s my shift today.”
“Oh, crap, I forgot.” Scott sighed. “Fine. I’ll be home before five. You can borrow it then, and I swear, if anything happens to my baby, it’s your ass.”
Ecstatic, I jumped up and leaned across the table, hugging him. “You’re the best.”
My brother’s jaw dropped. He shook his head, speechless, as I said good-bye to an equally shell-shocked Julie and headed to the back of the cafeteria. Only when I plopped my plate down beside Lauren did I realize Carson hadn’t been at the table. During bio, he’d acted as if nothing had happened between us, and that was probably for the best. At least until I figured out what I was going to do with Del.
I felt better than I had in days. It was as if I finally had a purpose, something to investigate, instead of sitting around in a daze. I dug into what I thought was sliced ham.
“So, I saw you talking to Julie.” Veronica picked at the label of her bottle of water. “Did you guys kiss and make up?”
“She was actually talking to her brother,” Lauren said, her eyes nervously bouncing between us.
“I don’t understand why your brother is with her,” Candy said. “He’s definitely dating down.”
I bit down on the anger building inside me. “What’s wrong with Julie? She’s really nice, and my brother likes her.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Candy glanced across the table at Veronica. “Her father works at a cigar shop in town. And not like he owns and works there, but, like, works there for minimumwage slave labor.”
“He does?” I feigned shock. “Holy crap, I can’t believe they let her attend school here.”
“I know!” Candy nodded.
Lauren smothered her laugh with her hand.
“She was being sarcastic,” Veronica explained, her cheeks flushed. “God, you’re such an idiot.”
“I’m not stupid.” Candy folded her slender arms and then giggled. “Okay. I may not be the smartest cookie in the shed.”
I stared at her. “It’s the
sharpest tool
in the shed.”
She shrugged. “Whatever.”
“So is everyone excited about prom?” Lauren asked, striving to lessen the tension building at the table. “It’s, like, less than a month from now. Daddy is getting me this champagne-colored—”
“Shut up,” Veronica snapped. “No one cares about your damn dress.”
“Hey! Don’t talk to her like that.” I clenched the fork. Good thing it was plastic, because I wanted to shove it into what I suspected were surgically enhanced lips. “Jesus.”
Veronica’s skin flushed an unpleasant shade of red under the tan. “Okay. You’re being a bitch, Sammy.”
“I am?” I put the fork down, dumbfounded. All the irritation bubbled up and spilled over. A rolling anger took hold. “I’m not making fun of someone because their parents aren’t rich or because they don’t wear size Gap Kids. That’s what
you
are doing.”
“Okay. I’m just going to have to be upfront with you.” She twisted toward me, clasping her hands in her lap. With her collared blouse over her gray sweater, she looked like she was ready to give a sermon. “I understand that you’ve had some problems—”
“You mean not having any memories?” I shot back.
“Whatever. But that’s no excuse for how you’ve been behaving. If you keep dressing like you’re a homeless chick and—”
“What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?” I was wearing jeans and a shirt, for crying out loud. Most of my clothes at home were way too nice to wear to school, and seriously? Why would I want to wear a damn dress or skirt every day?
She gave me a
duh
look. “And if you keep talking to people like
them
”—
them
had to be anyone with a median household income under six figures, I assumed—“you’re going to turn into a bottom-feeder. And we’re going to have serious problems.”
Our little spat was drawing the attention of the kids closest to us, and I could’ve just shut up then or got up and walked away, but I couldn’t. I was so tired of ... of
everything
—the looks, the snide comments, and how Veronica and Candy acted as if my memory wasn’t the only thing I was lacking. And maybe it was more than that—the frustration of not knowing anything, of being confused all the time.
Either way, I was so done with these bitches.
“You know what? We already have problems,” I said. Veronica’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so?”
“If getting my memories back means becoming a huge bitch like you? Yeah, I think I’ll pass on that.”
Some of the kids around us stopped eating. Others choked on whatever was in their mouths. My entire body burned with anger, and I wanted to say more than that, but I grabbed my tray and stood.
“Don’t ever think about sitting here again,” Veronica said, her chest rising rapidly.
“Fine with me,” I tossed back.
Drawing in a deep breath, she swirled in her seat. “You’re going to regret this.”
“Already do, honey.” I didn’t wait for her response. Edging around the table, I made my way to the front of the cafeteria. Eyes were on me, and I didn’t care. A weight lifted off my chest. I felt free—free of having to fit in with people I couldn’t relate to anymore. Adrenaline put an extra kick in my step as I dumped my tray. Part of me wanted to run back there and kidnap Lauren. She was the only decent one among them.
On the way out, I glanced over to my brother’s table. They were too far away to have heard us, but the whispers flying around the cafeteria had already reached them. Julie caught my eye and grinned before she rested her chin on my brother’s shoulder.
With some time to spare before lunch ended, I headed for my locker. Rounding the corner, I came to a complete standstill.
Carson was leaning against a locker across from the library, his back to me. A pretty brunette smiled up at him as he handed her a backpack that must’ve belonged to her. All I could hear beyond the irrational buzzing in my ears was the deep, husky laugh that curled my toes
in the right way
as he slipped the bag over her shoulder.
A pang hit me right in the chest, splintering my heart. I had no right to that pain—no right to the fire building inside me, but I wanted to bum-rush the two and force them to have at least five feet between them.
And there was no way in holy hell I would do such a thing. Maybe the old Sammy would’ve, but then again, the old Sammy didn’t like Carson on most days.
I took a step back, and it was suddenly like watching two actors on a black-and-white television, except the girl in front of him ... it was
me
. I was on the tip of my toes, in his face. At first I thought I was kissing him because I was
that
close, but then I heard myself speak—this lifeless gray version of me.
“I saw you,” I sneered. “I saw you with Dianna. I know what you did.”
Carson threw up his hands, laughing grimly. “As always, you’re sticking your stuck-up nose where it doesn’t belong. You have no clue what you saw, Sam.”
Laughing, I tossed my hair over the shoulder. “Oh, we’ll end you, Carson. You just—”
Whatever else I’d said was lost to me. I’d stumbled into a locker, and the rattling sound sucked me out of the vision. All I knew was that the girl who was
really
in front of him was Dianna, but the reason behind the confrontation with Carson was unknown. Who was the “we”? And what had I seen him do with Dianna that could’ve been used as a threat?
Carson looked over his shoulder, brows knitting when he saw me. “Sam?”
Backing up, I shook my head in confusion. Switching from a memory—or possibly a hallucination—to what was really happening had my mind spinning to catch up. That, and my reaction to seeing him with a girl. “I’m sorry. I ... I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Wait,” Carson said, stopping me. “Is everything okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah—sure, I’m okay.”
His eyes narrowed, and then he turned to Dianna. “Can you hold on a sec?”
“Sure,” she said, pulling out her cell and suddenly becoming very interested in it.
He crossed the distance between us, reaching out as if he would touch me but stopping before he made contact. “Sam, what happened?” he asked in a low voice. “You’re bleeding.”
“What?” I looked down. The sleeve of my sweater was pushed up to my elbow, revealing two jagged scratches that beaded tiny drops of blood. A dull ache radiated from my arm. “I must’ve ... scratched myself.”
He took my hand, swallowing. “How could you not know if you did that, Sam? That’s...”
Messed up?
I pulled my hand free. “I have to go.”
“Sam—”
“She’s waiting for you,” I whispered, backing off. “I’ll talk to you later.”
His jaw clenched as he gave me a sidelong glance. “Okay. There
will be
a later.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I nodded. Forcing a smile that felt wobbly, I turned around and headed to the nearest bathroom. Heaviness pressed down on my chest, spreading to my shoulders. The back of my throat burned as I dropped my bag near the sink and turned on the water.
How had I done that to myself without even noticing or feeling it until now? And when had I done it? Swallowing hard, my stomach rolled as I shoved my arm under the faucet. The raw skin stung, adding to the already overwhelming pressure of unshed tears. Water ran red until it turned a faint pink against the porcelain basin.
Lifting my chin, I stared into my own frightened eyes. My heart threw itself against my rib cage. What would Mrs. Messer say about scratching yourself so deep that the skin tore? Probably the same thing she’d say about talking reflections. A strangled laugh escaped my lips. I doubt either of those fell in the normal range of coping mechanisms.
I took a breath, but it got stuck. There was most definitely something wrong with me. Crazy wrong.