FIVE
My heart skittered in my chest. Fear wrapped its arms around me. I didn't know why. All I knew was that something was wrong.
I rolled over in bed and let out a groan. It was too early. Why had I woken up?
Then it came again, the beep of an alert on my phone. I pulled the pillow over my head but couldn't resist the curiosity that filled me. Nobody texted me anymore. Why would they? The only two friends I had in Pittsburgh lived in the same house as me.
I pulled the pillow carefully away from my eyes and jerked as a gasp escaped me. Someone was there. They stood next to my bed.
My fear melted into irritation when I saw it was Serena. She stood next to me wearing a big t-shirt and boxer shorts, her hand extended toward me with a glass of juice.
"Wake up, little dreamer. You have details to share with me," she said and stepped onto my bed. She shifted around so her back rested against the wall and her bare foot pushed me toward the edge of the bed.
It was comical to sit next to her like that. The difference between us was like night and day. Her long, mocha-toned leg set next to my shorter, pale leg was like a study in contrasts.
I moved so she could extend her legs out, then leaned against the wall next to her and took the juice. She brought her mug of coffee up to tap against my juice and took a drink. I did as well, every part of me still convinced something was wrong.
It was all too clear what Serena wanted to know about. I was not in the mood. Morning chats were not my thing. It took me far too long to muster up the energy for conversation.
So I reached out to pick up my phone. The texts were all from Serena, telling me she was coming to wake me up. Why hadn't I locked my door?
I drank more juice as my mind spun. I felt like somebody stood behind me with a blade pressed to my spine? All I wanted was to burrow under my covers to hide from the creepy-crawlies like a little kid.
Serena took another drink of coffee before she bumped her foot into mine. "Okay, so why didn't you ever tell us you had a connection to the two hottest guys who go to Duquesne?" she asked, her eyes fixed on the cup of coffee in her hand.
I looked at my juice, my head bowed. "I moved away from here when I was fifteen. I don't know them anymore," I evaded, sure she wouldn't let me get away that easily.
I was right.
Serena reached over to pinch my arm. "Madison, you may be the computer genius in this house but I am very good at Googling things that interest me. When I got home last night, that's what I did and let me tell you, there are a LOT of pictures of you in a group of very hot people when you were younger. Ian and Dylan are both in those pictures."
I didn't look at her, didn't speak. Those pictures were probably from the party Emma had thrown when Ian was a senior. We'd been sophomores a few months from our sixteenth birthdays. It had been one of the best nights of my life.
The day following that party, my mom had told me she and I would be moving to Philadelphia. It had been only a four-hour drive but it had felt like I had been transported to a foreign planet.
Emma had been heartbroken when she found out. She had made me accounts for every social media site known to man and talked Ian into creating a blog where she could post pictures and tell stories. She hadn't been about to let me miss out on anything.
That must have been what Serena had found. Ian had gone all out. He had called the blog Inseparable and for the first few months, it had helped me get through the adjustment between life in Pittsburgh, to my new home in Philadelphia.
I stared into the cup in my hand, my heart newly broken over the loss of my best friend. I had thought my grieving was done. With the sights of her in the last few days, it seemed my grief would never end.
Serena poked me in the side. "At the party last night you flatly refused to allow Dylan Funar, who is so hot he makes me think bad boy might be the way to go, that he was not permitted to call you Maddie. Then you let Ian Gregory use that name without any problem at all. There is so much more to the story and I plan to sit here until you spill it."
I thunked my head into the wall and groaned. "You want to know, fine. My best friend was the most beautiful, most confident girl I have ever met. Everybody loved her. Every guy I liked, she liked them more and they always liked her back. Every good thing that ever happened to me happened when she was there. She was like a sister to me. Then when I was fifteen, my mom and I moved to Philadelphia. A few months later Emma sent me a text and said she needed me to come home so I got in the car thinking we'd spend the weekend laughing. I pull into her driveway and I find her dangling from the rafters of her garage." A sob escaped me as I recalled the gruesome sight. "Yes, I know all of them. I know Dylan. I know Ian. I know their parents. I know most of their secrets. I can tell you the look that comes to Ian's face right before he says something that'll make you want to cry for three weeks straight. I know the charming way Dylan smiles when he wants something. I know it all. You want to hear more?" I asked, my shoulders shaking as tears streamed down my cheeks like a storm of pain. "You want to know how lonely my life has been without Emma? You want to know about the therapist my mom sent me to when I started having nightmares about it? I could tell you-" I broke off, unable to tell her any more of it around the lump in my throat.
Serena sat still for a three full seconds before she hooked her arm around me and pulled me in for a hug. She didn't say anything, which made me feel both better and worse about spilling out my life story to her. All she'd wanted was to know about the guys. Since I didn't know them at all anymore, my info on them would be both incomplete and boring.
Serena pulled me back and leaned forward to kiss my forehead. "Madison Meyer, you've been holding that in for WAY too long," she said and took a drink of her coffee as though it was meant to fortify her. "So since I have officially adopted you, I feel obligated to tell you something," she nodded decisively. "You, my little friend, are one of those natural beauties who doesn't need makeup to draw a guy's attention. And let me tell you, Ian Gregory was most definitely paying attention."
I rolled my eyes. "Ian can hardly stand me. He made that clear as day from the time I was six on."
"Little boys are mean to little girls. It's how they show their affection, silly," she said with a smile. "He saw you as a woman last night, Madison and me thinks he liked what he saw."
My phone beeped at that moment. I grabbed it, eager to get off that very uncomfortable topic. It wasn't true so there was no need to even think about what Serena had said.
The text turned out to be from a number I didn't recognize. I opened it, my eyes narrowed in confusion.
Meet me at Espresso Express, was all the message said.
Who is this?
Dylan.
I let out a groan and again thunked my head into the wall.
"What's going on?" Serena asked, cradling her coffee cup like it was a boyfriend or something.
I showed her the phone, too confused and annoyed to bother speaking anymore.
Serena's eyes went wide. "Dylan, the hottest bad boy on campus wants to meet you at the best coffee shop in the city?" she squealed and gave a decisive nod. "You'll meet him in an hour. You don't want to seem eager," she said and began to type out a message before I could stop her.
I was tired of being strong-armed into going places and since Imogen was at work that morning, there was no one I could turn to for backup.
Serena jumped off my bed and ran toward my closet. "Okay, you want to be hot without looking like you're trying. You have amazing eyes, so we'll-"
"Serena, I can't do this."
She turned to look at me and shook her head. "Sweetie, he was drunk and mean. The fact he wants to talk to you means somebody told him what he said to you and he's going to apologize. Let him. Everybody deserves to be given a second chance."
I tossed a pillow at her. "The fact that you're coming with me is the only reason I'm even considering going, not because I want an apology from him."
She whooped and ran off to get in the shower. It was one of those things. With Serena, a guy could be a complete error code but if he was hot it was all good by her. She would probably have a date set up with Dylan by the time we left the coffee shop.
I resigned myself to an uncomfortable morning and simply began to get dressed. I didn't want to talk to Dylan. I wanted to lay in bed before starting the project I had been hired to do. It was one I looked forward to doing, the kind of thing that made me happy.
Computers made sense. They never made me feel inadequate. They always acted like I expected them to act. They were reliable and I loved them for it.
I smirked at Serena when she came out of her room an hour later. She wore a simple yet sexy off the shoulder shirt with snug jeans and another pair of ankle boots that looked fabulous with the outfit. Oh yeah. Emma and Serena would have gotten along perfectly.
Serena gave me a long look and bobbed her head in an approving way. "The black t-shirt is a good idea. It's simple and makes your eyes stand out even more. I have one that'll be better. Come here," she said and dragged me into her room.
"Serena, Dylan might be willing to apologize for what he said but he couldn't care less what I look like."
She handed me the t-shirt and smirked at me. "Sweetie, don't you know? Ian Gregory works at Espresso Express. If he's not there, I will be shocked. I'd guess that's why Dylan wanted to meet there." Her Cheshire grin made my face ache even at the sight of it.
I groaned. "That means Dylan's not apologizing. Ian is making him do it." I folded my arms like a petulant little girl, irritated by that reaction in myself.
Serena threw back her head and laughed. "Madison, you look like you need a spanking. Stop pouting and put on your shirt so we can get to the coffee shop and you can be your broody genius self."
I huffed in exasperation. For some reason, I did as she said. It made me feel both annoyed and pleased, the conflict of my emotions entirely too much for me to deal with. Recalling so much of what had happened with Emma made me feel torn up on top of everything else. I was a little afraid of what my reaction might be at the sight of Dylan again.
I'd had such a crush on him when we were younger. He had been around the Gregory's house as much as I had, so we'd all grown up together. Memories danced through my mind as Serena and I drove to the coffee shop, ones that made me want to cry yet again.
I closed my eyes as I pulled into a parking place. I knew Dylan. There was no need to feel betrayed that it was all Ian's idea. Dylan might have come up with the idea to apologize on his own. It didn't matter either way.
I hadn't seen him in a couple of years. One night of him being a drunken 'bad command' didn't mean he was a bad guy. He'd always been my favorite of Ian's friends, far more fun than the rest of his rule following buddies.
Serena pulled down the vanity mirror to check her makeup, glancing at me when she saw she was perfect. "You ready to have your butt kissed?" she asked with an irreverent smirk.
I rolled my eyes at her and got out, not ready at all. Why did the past have to be so in my face? Why couldn't I get over the grief that still felt like it could cripple me?
The smell of coffee wafted through the air as we opened the door, baked goods an equally strong smell. It was pleasant, a smell that felt welcoming even though I didn't drink the stuff. The smell was enough for me.
Serena chuckled a little as we walked up to the counter. Ian was indeed there, serving a group of college girls who all treated him like he was a flower and they were bees trying to pollinate. She leaned closer to me and pitched her voice low enough that no one else would be able to hear her. "There's a hot bad boy heading in our direction while an even hotter good boy is about to serve us the greatest beverage ever made by man. We are very lucky girls, Madison."
I scowled, irritated that she seemed to think this was something very different than it was. I wanted to turn around and walk away, to pretend never to have gotten Dylan's text or simply to have refused to come.
I smelled Dylan's cologne before he was even close to us. It was a smell I didn't like in the least. It was too strong, too fake, a smell that made my nose twitch.
I didn't turn to look at him as he stepped up next to me, my eyes fixed on the menu board. I needed time. I also needed food.
Dylan let out a theatrical groan and stepped forward, pulling his shirt up to show me his back. "Okay, fine. I'm a horrible, drunken slob and I deserve to be flogged. Let me have it, Maddie."
I glowered at him when he glanced at me. "My name is Madison. Maddie doesn't exist anymore. She's dead."
He released his shirt and turned to face me, holding out his hand between us. "Madison, I'm sorry. I was drunk and stupid," he said, charm oozing off him like puss out of a huge zit.
I ignored his hand and nudged my chin toward the counter where Ian stood watching. "So did he threaten to break your nose if you didn't apologize?" I asked, doing my best not to smile even slightly.
Dylan snorted out a derisive sound before he glanced at Ian. "You really think I'm scared of pretty-boy there?" That had been the same insult he'd used on his friend since they were twelve.
I made a motion toward the guy in question. "I know you are. You rile up the blue-eyed golden boy, you learn what true pain is," I teased, only saying that because Ian's attention was fixed on us.
Dylan shot me one of his most dazzling smiles. "I could take him," he said cockily, despite the fact we all knew it was a lie.
Ian leaned his hands on the counter and stared his friend down. "What was that?" he asked, his tone polite with only the slightest barb at the edge.
Dylan pitched his voice loud. "I apologized to Maddie . . . I mean Madison. I think this means you can stop eye-punching me. It hurts and I'm a very sensitive boy."
I rolled my eyes at him. The thing was, I wasn't mad. I hadn't been mad the night before and wasn't mad that morning. He hadn't said anything that wasn't true.
Ian's chin was still tipped back in his angry stance as he turned his eyes down to meet mine. "We've got this awesome cheesecake that's topped with blueberries, exactly how you like it. Dylan's buying for both you and your friend," he said decisively with a nod of greeting to Serena.
Dylan gave a resigned nod. "Yes, I will buy your cheesecake," he said before he turned his eyes on Serena, his charm there in full force.
Those two began flirting openly together, both of them making it clear they were into each other. It became uncomfortable quickly, so I stepped forward to watch as Ian made Serena's latte. "It's funny. I always imagined you as a grease monkey, not a barista," I said with a small smile as he foamed the milk in a way which made a beautiful leaf form on the top.
He kept his eyes on the job in front of him, his lips turned up in a wide smile. "I am a grease monkey. I just work here because college loans need to be paid and this also feeds my addiction to coffee."
I let out a laugh. "That's one of the first memories I have, of your mom setting down her coffee cup to answer the phone and coming back to find it empty because you'd drunk it," I said, delighted by that sweet memory in the midst of so many bad ones.
He grinned, wide and boyish. "And you thought I was going to get in serious trouble, so you told my mom you'd drunk it. Always trying to protect me, aren't you, Maddie?" he said, turning his eyes to meet mine full on. "Speaking of protection, that Imogen girl needs to be careful. The guy she was talking to at the party last night is trouble."
I narrowed my eyes. "What are you talking about?" I asked, surprised by the tone he'd used.
He tipped his chin down and gave me an earnest stare. "Spencer is not a good guy. His sister, Adrian, was in my class. That whole family is trouble."
I scowled at him, irritated by his judgmental way of looking at people who didn't follow the rules as stringently as he did. "Imogen is a big girl. She can decide who to hang out with without my help."
He scowled but his lips quirked up in a tiny excuse for a smile. "You're as stubborn as ever, aren't you?" he asked, setting the mug down on the tray before he pulled out a bottle of Italian soda and set it next to the coffee. "I'm guessing that's still your favorite."
A lump again rose in my throat. So many memories. So many wonderful times. So much pain.
I stared at that bottle, startled when Serena pried herself away from Dylan and slid her arm around my shoulders. "Come on, sweetie. Let's go sit down," she said as she began to tow me toward a table.
The group of girls who had been in front of us in line all shot me death-glares like they thought I was competition for Ian's attention. They muttered nasty things as Serena guided me into a chair not far from them. I ignored them all. My mind was so fixed on the past that nothing else mattered.
The chair next to mine was pulled out and someone sat next to me. I didn't look up. The depression which had reared its ugly head after Emma's death felt like it wanted to bury me again.
"You know that blog I made when you moved to Philadelphia?" Ian asked from right next to me.
I glanced over, surprised that he was there. It surprised me more when he handed me his phone.
"I've been messing with it again because of a class I took spring semester. I thought you might like this one," he said, his elbows on the table.
I looked at the screen of his phone, startled to see my face beaming out at the world. I looked to have been fourteen or fifteen, my face so alight with happiness even I was struck. I began to read what he had written and my eyes filled with tears.
He described me like I had been as captivating as his sister had been. He obviously had a distorted view of me or a faulty memory.
I began to fiddle with his phone when I'd read his article, my fingers downloading, deleting, and protecting without conscious thought.
When I was done, I set the phone down on the table and took a drink of the soda in front of me. It was wonderful and I savored the flavor.
"What'd you do?" Ian asked as he turned his phone around to look at it.
"You had malware. I took care of it," I said, my eyes fixed on the table.
He narrowed his eyes, his head tipped to the side. "Uh, thanks," he said and leaned closer to me. "I'm guessing you didn't like my article."
I took a bite of the cheesecake to keep me from saying something that shouldn't be said.
One of the girls from the table across from ours stood up and walked over. She was an amazingly hot girl, with flawless olive skin, pin-straight dark hair, and a smile that had probably made her orthodontist rich. I recognized her immediately. She had gone to our school and had always disliked me.
I had been in AP classes all through school and Infinity had hated being shown up by a girl a couple of years younger than her. Everything with her had always been a competition. It looked like she hadn't grown out of that.
She laid her hand boldly on Ian's shoulder. "We need to talk about the party," she said in the kind of voice that sounded purposefully breathy like she wanted to make herself sound sexy.
Ian glanced at her, a single eyebrow cocked in confusion. "Sorry, what party?" he asked, his voice a little sharp like he was annoyed and about to say something nasty.
Infinity gave him a besotted smile and squeezed his shoulder. "A party next weekend. It's in our sorority and it's going to be amazing."
Ian looked at me and gave a small smile. "I have to talk to another girl about a party next weekend. See, it's her eighteenth birthday and her mom tends to ignore her birthdays. If I don't take her somewhere, she'll probably stay at home and hack into Google's servers so no one will ever be able to find my weblog again. She doesn't like my writing," he said, utterly unbothered by that idea.
I looked at Infinity and groaned internally as I saw she still wanted my head on a platter. I leaned closer to Ian and shot him a sneer. "First, you don't have to hack Google to delete a blog. Second, I'm going out with Imogen and Serena on my birthday so you can go to whatever party you want. Third, you have told me so many times over the years how annoying you think I am that your post is nuttier than the average nut-loaf. I know what you thought of me as a kid and writing lies on a blog doesn't change that." I stood and turned away before he could say something to break me, which was a skill he had used twice a week most of my life.
Dylan let out a loud laugh. "Ha! It's not just me that needs to apologize. You big jerk. You made 'Little Einstein' mad," he crowed, continuing to laugh in an obnoxious way as I exited the coffee shop.
I hated that nickname. It was what all the kids at school had called me because I had been in high school classes while in middle school. It seemed that Dylan hadn't forgotten like I'd hoped.
Serena rushed after me and pulled me to a stop, her eyes damp with unshed tears. "I'm sorry, Madison. I thought it would help. I never meant to have all your sadness dragged up again."
I stared disconsolately up at the clouds which had begun to gather overhead. "It's no one's fault but mine. I keep trying to tell myself that the past is the past and agonizing over it isn't going to change anything. Looks like I need to listen to myself," I said, my brows raised in question. "Oh yeah and would you and Imogen mind going out with me on my birthday so I'm not a complete liar?"
She threw back her head and laughed. "Sweetie, you're on. We're going to make this a birthday you will never forget."
And oh how right she turned out to be.
SIX
Since a little kid deleting the drivers on someone's computer was such an easy thing to fix, there was way too much time left for despondency to wrap its arms around me. That was why I had arranged ten computer repair jobs and was suddenly a lot richer than I had been the week before.
Okay, so rich was a stretch. I wasn't going to go to the poor-house, though. It was nice to feel needed, to know that I had helped in some small way to make people's lives a tiny bit easier.
The problem was, I was done. There was nothing left to do other than either bathe in the cash I'd been given or immerse myself in the information I always found online. That was what I decided was the best plan.
So, I changed from the shirt Serena had loaned me into my most comfortable pajama pants and a programmer t-shirt and sprawled out on my bed. That was when I began what I called fun. The more I read, the more it became clear to me that computers were better than people. If I was the last human on earth with an AI in control, I'd be the happiest girl ever.
Or that had been true before I'd returned to Pittsburgh. Finally, it was like I had found my place. It wasn't in Emma's shadow either.
As though that thought made the world around me flip upside down, my screen began to flicker. That was when the cold registered in my mind. Goosebumps rose on my arms and a chill worked its way up my spine. Something was wrong. I could feel it.
My laptop, tablet, and phone all flickered at the same time until they came clear on a news site. I stared for a bit, baffled as I never was by anything with a computer. How had all three of them gone to the same site at the same time?
I sat up and started to reboot all three. I hit the button to turn each of them off. Nothing happened. The screens remained fixed on a reporter's face as she stood outside what looked like the house we'd been at for the party the night before.
My mouth fell open as, without me hitting the button, the video began to play. "Duquesne University is reeling after one of its students found the body of a young man. Twenty-one year old Manuel Brumoso attended Carnegie Mellon but came to a party at Duquesne with his girlfriend. The following morning, he was found hanging from a tree outside the house where that party had been held. From what we've been told, suicide is how they believe Manuel to have died."
A picture flashed across the screen of a handsome, cheerful Mexican guy . . . one I'd seen at the party. When Dylan began bellowing, that guy had taken a step in our direction. It was like he planned to come over and help if things got out of hand.
I'd seen him dancing with a girl, both of them looking thrilled to be alive. Why would he have done such a thing right outside the party? Why would he make that choice?
The reporter swallowed like the idea of it made her want to cry. "Manuel was a good student, well-liked, and mourned by his family."
That was when I saw her. Emma stood in front of me, her translucent face demented by rage. She had always been a girl who looked even more beautiful when she was mad. At that moment, she was horrifying.
The white dress she wore shone like the sun. Her teeth were bared. The bruise on her neck where the rope had taken her life was a bold purple. That specter's rage-filled eyes met mine and hatred for me was clear as day in them.
I stared at her, unable to think a clear thought. Instinctively, I raised my hand with my little finger extended. I didn't want my friend to be mad at me. I didn't know what I had done. It didn't matter, though.
Emma and I had been friends since our first day of preschool. We had grown up together, learned to ride our bikes together, learned everything that was important while we were together. She was dead, yet she had come to me. I believed it. Emma really was there.
Her eyes turned down to look at my finger before her lips curved up a tiny bit. Her little finger extended as involuntarily as my own had. Before we made contact, she vanished like she'd never been there before.
I stared at that place, tears rising in my eyes. Why would she have killed herself? She was so confident, almost an arrogant girl. A girl like her was the last kind of person I would think of as someone to take her own life.
The guy from the party had seemed so happy as well. Maybe happiness had nothing to do with it. Maybe confidence wasn't something which kept a person from taking the easy way out of a problem. I had no idea and it made my heart ache.
I blinked several times, startled to find that my laptop, tablet, and phone were all normal again. They looked like they always did. I would do a scan to be certain. Something told me that I wouldn't find a thing. It had been Emma. I was sure.
A knock sounded on my door after a few hours, bringing me out of my daze. I didn't want to talk to anybody. All I wanted was to stay right there in my room for the rest of my life. If I never spoke to anyone, no one could leave me floundering and alone.
I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. Maybe I should hide under my bed to avoid having to see anybody. I rolled my eyes at myself and took the choice out of my own hands.
"Yeah?" I called, my eyes still fixed on the laptop.
The door behind me opened and a loud sigh met my ears. "Have you gotten out of bed at all today?"
My body jerked in surprise. I turned slowly, finding my dad in the doorway. I hadn't expected to see him at all. Mom had made it clear Dad wanted nothing to do with me.
I stared at him for a few seconds. My brain had gone to the blue screen of death. I wanted to run over and throw my arms around his neck, pour out all the anxieties that had plagued me for so long. We didn't have that kind of relationship, though. I actually hadn't seen him since Emma's funeral.
He was in his sixties, with gray hair and the kind of face that was always better suited to a frown than a smile. The lines around his mouth and eyes gave him a dignity that was massively intimidating.
I sat up, my hands clenched around the edge of the mattress. "If you've shown up to imply that I'm lazy, you've done that. You can leave now," I groused, perfectly aware of what both he and my mom thought of me.
Dad straightened up and walked into the room, looking around in an interested way. "How long have you been back here?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the equipment splayed out on my desk.
I closed my eyes and let out a breath while counting to three in my head. "I've been here for two and a half months," I said, waiting for the ax to fall.
"May I ask why you didn't call, or come by?"
I tipped my head back, my eyes narrowed to slits. "Come by to see you? Why would I do that? You said you thought I was a slacker when Mom told you I wasn't going to MIT. I'm not like you, which means I'm nothing." The bitterness in my own voice made shame pass over me. I pushed it away. His opinion of me didn't matter.
Dad folded his arms and gave me the kind of look Mom had given me when she kicked me out. "Madison, you have been more intelligent, more driven, more gifted in every way than your mother and I could ever have dreamed of. What could possibly make you think I would ever accuse you of being a slacker? From what I learned this morning, you have the kind of reputation of being a miracle worker when it comes to anything electronic. You are no slacker. I have never thought it and certainly never said it."
I gaped at him, my mouth working silently. Was it possible Mom had lied? Could she have made up all the things that had always made me keep my distance from Dad? Why would she do that?
Dad walked over and crouched down in front of me so our eyes were closer. "I can guess why you believe that and a lot of it is my fault. I should have been around more. I should have told you every time I saw you how proud I was of you. Your mom has her issues but I believe she really was trying to help you." There was doubt in his eyes as much as there was in my own heart.
We both knew that Mom's 'issues' as he'd called them, were far deeper than either of us could even understand. I had spent my life striving to be as little like her as it was possible to be. That was the main reason I had refused to go to college.
Since Mom and Dad were both professors, it had seemed to me that education was the issue. I had chosen to go a totally different route. Had I been wrong?
A small sound by the door alerted me to the fact someone was there. I glanced over to find Imogen standing there, her mouth open in shock. "Professor Hopkins? How do you know Madison?" she asked like the foundation of her world had been eroded.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and nudged my chin toward him. "Imogen, this is my dad. Dad, this is Imogen." I waved my thumb at each of them, my mind still trying to understand everything.
Mom hadn't wanted me to stay with Dad, so she had made me think Dad wanted nothing to do with me. That was such a horrible thing to do to a kid. I had spent my entire life believing the only person who loved me was Emma.
To find out that Dad was proud of me . . . the foundation of MY world had indeed crumbled. Error code 404 in my head.
Imogen looked like she might pass out in shock. "Um . . . wow. I never knew that." Like her memory had come back to her, she turned her lips up in a smile. "I was just coming to see where Serena and I should plan to take you for your birthday."
My birthday? Oh. I had forgotten. I turned eighteen on Friday.
Dad turned his eyes to meet mine, his frown still in place. "I'll let you get back to your friends. I want you to know you're not alone. My house isn't far from here if you want to come by . . . anytime."
I lowered my chin, not sure any words could fit past the lump which had expanded to what felt like a tennis ball in my throat. My heart fluttered when he rose, afraid it had all been a dream. Would I wake up to find it had all been in my head?
"Dad," I squeaked out as he moved toward the door.
He glanced at me, no expression whatsoever on his face.
"Did you know Manuel Brumoso?"
Dad cleared his throat, his arms folded again. "He was my TA," he said, his eyes full of sorrow.
"Why would he do it, Dad?" I asked, desperate to know the answer.
Dad shook his head. "I have no idea. Suicide was never something I would have thought Manuel to be capable of." It was clear we both knew we were talking about Emma. It was written all over his face.
My throat went dry as sand as I rubbed at my chin. "I . . . Dad, I . . . I want you to know-"
Dad gave a small smile. "Me too, Madison," and he turned to walk out of my room.
I stared after him, bafflement and hope at war inside me. My dad loved me. I wasn't alone. He had said it. I could make it through whatever happened around me all because of that fact.
Imogen waited until the front door had closed behind Dad before she let out a primal cry and launched herself into my room. It was like she'd been possessed by a banshee. "I cannot believe this! The professor who has won the Marconi Prize five years in a row and will probably win it this year too, is your father and you never told us!" she bellowed as she bounced up and down on my bed. "Girl, you and your secrets are so annoying."
I didn't speak. No words would form. My dad wasn't the man Mom had always told me he was.
I'd always known Mom lied when it suited her needs. I never imagined she'd tell that kind of lie to me. Wasn't I supposed to be the one that made stupid decisions like that? Wasn't it a parent's job to correct their kid when they committed that kind of offense?
I clenched my hands so tight on the edge of the mattress, my knuckles were white as bone. I had never understood Mom. She had never understood me. It had been the one constant in my life.
Now there was another. I couldn't trust my mom. I would never believe anything she said again. Never again.