Pretty Dark Sacrifice (5 page)

Late afternoon sunlight bleached Quinn’s vision as the rays beat against piles of driftwood and debris that littered the shore of Bluebonnet Creek. She looked at her watch. Four thirty, and still no sign of Reese, no text, no phone call.

Clusters of small gnats rose from the boggy shore and swarmed Quinn’s face. Waving them away, she shaded her eyes and picked her way through the piles of branches and cast-off stones until she reached the edge of a muddy cliff.

Two search and rescue boats rounded the bend, their engines chugging up the tributary from the Gulf. Grappling hooks attached to long chains dragged the bottom of the river behind them. Every few minutes a line would grow taught, and Quinn’s stomach with it. The rational part of her wanted closure, for his body to be found, but her heart wanted to hang on to hope, and every time a car tire or a tree dangled from the end of one of those hooks instead of a body, she breathed a little sigh of relief.

A branch cracked beneath a footstep, and Quinn whirled around to find Reese standing beside her, arms folded, lips turned into a frown. They didn’t say anything for a long time. Both stared at the water bubbling past and watched with bated breath as the boats inspected every tiny pull on their hooks. Hard to believe this now-quiet stream had torn apart her life and changed her forever.

“You suck.” Reese broke the silence first.

“I know.”

“You don’t deserve me.”

“I know, but I’m glad you’re here.” Quinn took Reese’s hand, and the thin layer of emotional ice that separated them started to melt.

“Have they found anything?” Reese asked.

Quinn shook her head. “But I know he’s alive. Somewhere.”

“I know you believe that, but he’s not.” Reese’s words were weary, not cruel.

“Is having hope such a bad thing?”

“No, not when there’s something to hope for, but Quinn, he’s gone.”

“If he’s really dead, then why can’t I shake this feeling?”

“Because you miss him, because you don’t want it to be true.” Reese leaned her head on Quinn’s shoulder, and Quinn leaned her cheek against Reese’s hair. It was the closest she’d felt to her best friend in months.

They stood like that until the sun dipped beneath the horizon, and the drag boats sped back down the river, hooks gathered high out of the water, empty.

Quinn held her breath at the buzz of Reese’s phone. A rising tide of panic surged inside her. Reese chewed her bottom lip, her eyebrows knitting together. She looked up from the text and held Quinn’s gaze. A single tear and a shake of the head was all it took for the dam inside to break. Grabbing the phone from Reese, she read the message over and over. The words “officially presumed dead” pulsed in and out of focus with the beat of her heart.

“This can’t be it.” The trickle of tears grew to a flood. But this
was
it, the inevitable moment where everyone gave up and buried, if not his body, his memory, forever.

Reese placed a hand on her shoulder. “You knew the dragging was nothing more than a formality. It’s officially over.”

“Don’t say that.” Quinn’s voice cracked. She couldn’t stop herself. Everything inside her screamed that he was near. Any minute they would find him weak, hungry, shivering in a cave or a hole somewhere in the woods. “They can’t give up yet, Reese.” Quinn paced the shore. “What if he’s washed up somewhere, starving, hurt? Something’s not right. I can’t explain it, but I have this feeling in my gut. Please, Reese, you have to make them keep searching. Your dad … ”

“Has done everything he can, and more. It’s not his fault Mother Nature decided to throw a hurricane at the Gulf a few days after the accident.” Reese pushed her hands into the pockets of her jeans and kicked a loose stone. “All the flooding made it almost impossible to search right away. We all did the best we could under the circumstance.” Reese’s breath sounded strained. “His family’s already planned a memorial. At St. Angeles. Friday.”

“Friday?” Quinn couldn’t quite wrap her brain around it. “So they already arranged it before they finished searching, while there was still hope?”

“Hope was lost weeks ago, Quinn, for everyone but you. Nobody could have survived out there for that long, Quinn.”

“Wait. You knew? This whole time?” Nails dug into her palm, teeth ripped at her bottom lip. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“You didn’t want to hear it.” Reese wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Aaron’s gone. We need to move on. You need to move on. Please let him go.” Reese pushed a strand of hair behind Quinn’s ear. “I’m tired of being reminded of it day after day. I’m tired of grieving, aren’t you?” Reese’s tears mirrored her own. “I love you, but you have to let this go. Your obsession won’t let any of us move on, to heal. The sadness is eating away at all of us, and I can’t take it. We all have to face it.
You
have to face it. He’s gone.” Reese choked on the word “gone.”

Aaron. Gone. Returning to a world where he didn’t exist meant she would never be whole again. She wanted the chance to tell him the truth, to admit that the idea of loving him and him loving her back frightened her, that she was a coward.

The silence between them lasted an eternity. Reese looked frozen staring at her feet, jaw clenched.

“Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“What do you want me to say?” Quinn asked.

“I don’t want you to
say
anything.” Reese threw up her hands. Coal eyes full of hurt and love stared into Quinn’s. Hands on her hips, Reese glared. “I want you to start acting normal again. Come back to school. Obsess about your SAT scores and what college we’ll attend together. And stop chasing ghosts.”

Quinn shrugged and picked imaginary lint from her shirt. “I need time to process.”

Reese shook her head. “Yeah, you keep saying. The whole school misses you. I miss you.” Reese touched her arm. “I want my best friend back. I want to be the friend you go to with every little secret, big and small. Remember when you used to trust me?”

Quinn stared at her hands, afraid to look her best friend, afraid her secret would explode from her lips with just one glance. She couldn’t handle the look Reese would give her.

“I do trust you.” Quinn rubbed the back of her neck.

“Do you? It feels as if the last few months have been nothing but secrets and lies.”

Trusting Reese used to be so easy, before the demons invaded her life and changed the very core of her being. She was so far away from the popular, straight-A, carefree cheerleader she once was that she didn’t even recognize herself anymore.

That Quinn drowned in the swirling flood, never to return. This new Quinn couldn’t go back to normal. For good or ill, she’d accepted a destiny that would never quite fit in with Reese’s future of frat parties and all-night cram sessions for finals. Quinn might not be able to live an ordinary life, but Reese could. If she brought her into this secret, that might change everything.

“You wouldn’t understand.” Twisting the edge of her shirt in her fist, she looked sideways at Reese. If Reese couldn’t believe that Aaron was still alive, something that was plausible, how would she believe Quinn was the reincarnation of Eve sent to save the world? She barely believed it herself.

“Yeah? I’m so sick of you telling me I wouldn’t understand. Try me.”

“I have tried you. Aaron’s not dead.”

“Stop it.” Reese’s voice hit Quinn hard and heavy as a concrete brick to the head, cutting her off. “Just stop! You need to understand that he is not coming back.” Her fists balled at her side. Tears coursed down her cheeks as she locked on Quinn. “I watched him die, not you, don’t you understand? You think I don’t feel the guilt, too? I know you think it’s your fault, but it’s not. It was an accident. You’re not the only one who lost someone that day. We all loved Aaron. Me, Marcus—the pain doesn’t belong to you alone.” Reese folded her arms across her chest. “It was an accident, a horrible accident, and now we all have to pick up the pieces and try to move on.”

True, she wasn’t alone in missing Aaron, wasn’t alone in losing him either, but an accident? No. She had jumped into the raging river, not fallen. A part of her sought to die that night.

“Of course it’s my fault!” Quinn snapped a twig in half with the heel of her boot. “I’m sick of everyone dancing around me as if I’m a fragile piece of porcelain. He jumped in to save
me.
He’s terrified of the water, Reese, and he jumped in anyway. There’s nobody to blame but me.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Quinn swallowed the emotions that threatened to break her.
Confession is good for the soul. Spit it out. Tell her you didn’t fall, that you jumped, that you put them all in jeopardy that night. You and you alone.
She squeezed her lip between her teeth until she tasted blood. Voicing the blame that was eating her alive, sharing the secret, would be a relief. But what if Reese hated her for it? What little courage Quinn had mustered left her, and she swallowed the truth that settled on the tip of her tongue.

“You want me to stop treating you like you’re fragile? You want the truth?” Reese took a step forward, knuckles white, face flushed. “You want to hear how Aaron insisted Marcus take you first? How I watched Aaron let go of the branch he was holding onto while Marcus struggled to drag your lifeless body back to shore?”

Quinn turned away and covered her ears. Twin waterfalls of tears ran down her neck, soaking her T-shirt.

“How helpless I felt watching the current drag Aaron’s body under? I thought I was going to lose all of you, everyone I loved, in the depths of this goddamn river.” Reese picked up a giant rock and hurled it to the riverbed.

Marcus, Reese, Jenna—all had kept the gory details from her for weeks, feeding her bits and pieces but never the whole story, and part of her was glad to be spared. Now Reese granted her no reprieve.

“You weren’t awake to hear Marcus screaming his name.” Another rock hit the water with a smack. “You didn’t hold your breath every time Marcus dived under the water, or comfort him while his heart broke into a million pieces because he had failed his best friend. I did.” Reese poked her own chest with a finger. “I witnessed it all while you lay half-dead on the muddy bank. Do you have any idea how freaking scared I was?”

Each word pricked like a wasp sting. Throat tight and aching, Quinn thought of Marcus pulling her to safety as the boy she’d spurned suffered in the cold water alone.

“Aaron traded his life for yours. He knew he wouldn’t make it back to shore. Don’t you get that? Did you even know that Marcus won’t go back into the pool because he feels so responsible? No, you wouldn’t, because you haven’t asked about any of it, how any of us feel. You’re too wrapped up in yourself to care.”

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?” Quinn wanted to wrap her arms around her friend, wanted to take the pain from her, but the anger in Reese’s face stopped her cold. “Of course I care. Do you really think I don’t understand what he did for me that night, what you all did?”

“No, I really don’t.” Reese folded her arms over her chest. “You think you feel bad? What about me? And Marcus? We should be mourning together instead of pushing each other away. Stop pushing me away. You might not need me, but I sure as hell need you right now.” Reese’s hand trembled as she wiped the evidence of her emotions from her cheek. “You didn’t die with him, Quinn, but some days it feels like you did.”

Silence, awkward and oppressive filled the air. Quinn reached for her best friend, but Reese swatted her away. Without another word, she disappeared back down the path, not even turning around when Quinn called her name.

***

“There you are. I was starting to worry.”

Quinn winced and turned. Her mother leaned against the kitchen doorframe. Jeans and a white T-shirt replaced her usual business suit, her blond hair tied back in a rare casual ponytail.

“I thought you had a meeting tonight.”

“I’ve been home for hours. I sent you a text.” Ever since she’d been released from the hospital, her mom had spent more nights at home and fewer at her office. A few months ago, Quinn would have relished having more time with her mother, but not now. Now, having her mother around meant more lies and more hiding.

Quinn slipped her phone from her pocket. Three texts from her mom, all unread. Oops.

“Sorry. It was on silent.” Quinn hoped her mother would drop it, but no such luck.

“Where were you? I was so worried.”

If her mother had known she’d been down at the river, she would flip. One more little lie wasn’t going to hurt anything.

“Shopping with Reese. She wanted to buy a new outfit for her date with Marcus this weekend.” Quinn pushed a smile to her lips and hoped her mom would buy it.

“I’m so glad to see you out of the house and spending time with your friends.” Her mother smiled back. “Did you find anything?”

“Not really.” Quinn shrugged

“Well, at least you’re getting out again. Are you hungry?”

Quinn didn’t have a chance to say no before her mom draped an arm around her shoulder and steered her into the kitchen.

“I ordered pizza for dinner.”

Quinn sat down at the bar, and her mother slid a slice of pizza in front of her. She picked a chunk of ham from the cheese and dangled it between her fingers.

“Now that you’re feeling better, getting out more, maybe we should talk about school.” Quinn choked on a bit of stringy cheese and glared at her mom. Great. First Reese, now Mom, a relentless alliance forcing her back into a life she didn’t want anymore.

“You’ve been through a lot, I get that. I’ve been patient, but I think it’s time to start putting all this behind you and get back to normal.” Her mother took a pre-made salad from the fridge and drizzled a small amount of dressing on the top. Enough for a rabbit to eat.

“I’ve decided to get my GED.” Quinn wasn’t going back, but convincing her mother wasn’t going to be easy. “There are online classes I can take, and I’ll be ready for the test by summer. I’ll even pay for it myself.”

Quinn’s mom sighed and shook her head. “I know it’s been hard on you, sweetie, but locking yourself away in this house isn’t the answer. It’s past time you got back to a routine, to friends and cheerleading. I’m sure Aaron wouldn’t want you to miss your senior year. I won’t agree to the GED.”