Don't Look Back Read online

  another girl, much louder. “I saw her talking to Louis in the hallway today. Hell froze over.”

  Passing another table, I heard a guy say, “I’m not sure which one I wanted to come back. Both have the tightest…”

  I hurried up, not wanting to hear the rest of that. I passed my brother, who was sitting next to a pretty blonde. They didn’t seem to notice me, as their mouths were attached to each other.

  Sitting down beside Veronica, I forced my muscles to relax. The girls were talking about what happened on a TV show they watched last night, and I was able to eat half of my pizza in silence. A few minutes later, a guy with short dark hair and a supermuscular build joined us. He sat beside Candy.

  “Trey.” He shoved his hand out, grinning. He had a slight accent—British? “Nice to meet you.”

  Veronica knocked his hand away. “Don’t be stupid.”

  “What?” He winked at me. “Del said she doesn’t remember any of this. Figured I’d introduce myself.”

  “Samantha.” I held my hand out, going along with it. He laughed, shook my hand, and settled back, throwing an arm over the back of Candy’s chair. “Damn, you really don’t remember a thing?”

  Damn, I was really getting tired of people asking if I remembered anything. “Not a thing.”

  His eyes narrowed. “So you have no clue about what happened to Cassie?”

  Silence descended on the table like a thick, itchy blanket. A fist-size ball of unease formed under my ribs as I met Trey’s stare. “No. Do you?”

  “No.” Trey laughed. “I hadn’t seen her that whole weekend. We broke up.”

  Veronica cleared her throat. “Guys, can we talk about something else? This creeps me out.”

  He ignored her. “Have you asked Del if he saw her that weekend?”

  The ball grew larger, heavier. Had I asked Del? I didn’t think so, not in so many words. “He didn’t mention seeing her.”

  Trey’s look of innocence didn’t fool me. “You might want to ask again. Just saying.”

  “What does that mean?” I demanded.

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” Veronica said, pushing a piece of lettuce around on her plate. “Trey’s missing a few brain cells. Anyway, Lauren and I were planning on going to Philly this weekend to get new dresses for the party Del’s throwing after prom.”

  Lauren was the brunette with blond streaks, the quietest one of the bunch. She smiled at me.

  “Del’s having a party?” I asked.

  She shook her head at me and then laughed. “Oh, yes, I’m stupid. He throws one every year. Everyone goes. And some people who shouldn’t be there go, but there’s no way to control the population.”

  “Yeah, like if she shows up, we’re going to have to hide the food,” Candy said, her lip curled. “And lock the fridge.”

  The words were so loud I didn’t have to guess at whom she was talking about. The girl was sitting down at a table in front of us. Her curly hair was pulled up, and the back of her neck was beet red.

  “Oink. Oink,” said Veronica, brows puckered together.

  I stared at them. “That girl isn’t even big,” I said in a hushed voice. She wasn’t as skinny as Veronica and Candy, but hell, people in Third World countries were heavier than they were.

  Candy glanced over her shoulder and snorted. “What is she? A size ten?”

  My mouth dropped open. “Yeah, wow, call Jenny Craig. You guys are joking, right?”

  Trey leaned back farther, amusement dripping from his pores. The table of girls stared at me as if I’d stripped naked and done a little jig. I gripped my bottle, wanting to throw it at one of their heads.

  “Jeez, that’s rude on so many levels.”

  Veronica jerked her head back. “Okay, that’s coming from you?”

  “So?” I said.

  She bit down on her lower lip as she scanned the cafeteria. “Okay. Do you see her?” She pointed out a pretty girl with mocha-colored skin and kick-ass boots. “Just a couple weeks ago, you called her”—she lowered her voice—“a fat bitch whose thighs were capable of setting the world on fire. So you have no room to talk.”

  My jaw hit the floor. “I…I wouldn’t say that.”

  Lauren nodded slowly, her eyes focused on her plate. “You did.”

  “And a week before that, you actually offered a salad to some chick and suggested that she eat that instead of her pizza.” Trey laughed. “I really thought you were going to get your butt kicked.”

  A horrible feeling surged through my veins as I stared at my friends, the same combination of shame and confusion I’d felt when I tried to apologize to the boy in the hall. I couldn’t decide which was worse: that I had said and done things like that, or that my friends all seemed to think it was okay. Disgusted with them and myself, I grabbed my tray and stood. “I’ll see you guys later.”

  Veronica’s mouth snapped open. “Sammy!”

  I ignored her, blinking back the angry rush of tears. More than anything, I wanted to get away from myself—from any reminder of who I used to be. And I knew exactly where to sit.

  I stopped in front of my brother’s table, my eyes fixed on him. “Can I sit here?”

  He looked surprised but nodded. “Sure. Have a seat.”

  With my cheeks blazing and a sob stuck in my throat, I sat down. Several moments passed before I realized that Carson was at the table, and he was watching me through narrowed eyes. When I glanced up, my eyes met those of the girl sitting beside my brother.

  In an instant, I knew who she was—the girl I had a brief memory of; the one with the red floppy hat. Excitement hummed through me as I realized I knew someone. “You’re Julie!”

  She glanced at my brother and then back, blinking rapidly. Scott placed his fork down. “Do you remember her, Sam?” he asked.

  I nodded eagerly, kind of like a puppy in the dog treats commercial I’d seen the day before. “Yes. I mean, I remember a younger version of her. You were wearing a red hat, but I couldn’t find a picture of you on my wall, but I think we used to be friends.” I glanced at Scott, who was staring at me with wide eyes. Actually, half the table was gawking at me. My cheeks flushed as I trailed off.

  Julie cleared her throat. “I used to wear this really big hat when I was younger. It belonged to my mom. We—you and I—thought it was the coolest thing ever, but that was a long time ago.”

  Back before I turned into an überbitch or one who had an entire table enthralled for all the wrong reasons. I shoved a piece of pizza in my mouth.

  Carson shook his head. “You’re right, Scott. This is really bizarre.”

  I pressed my lips together and glanced around the jammed cafeteria. I will not break down. I will not break down. The lump was almost in my mouth, stuck around the pizza. Del strolled in through the double doors, talking to a boy in a neon-green polo.

  Horrible shirt.

  Del’s gaze drifted over me and then shot back. His eyes widened. The look on his face was almost comical. He said something to his friend and then started toward me.

  “Great,” muttered Carson, screwing the lid back on his drink. “I can tolerate her sitting here, but not Del the Dick.”

  My laugh bubbled up before I could stop it, and I started to turn toward Carson when something red caught my attention.

  At once, everything froze around me. A second later, the lunchroom crumbled away, flaking off in chunks of ash and broken stone. The sounds of people talking, laughing, and eating vanished. A film settled over my eyes, fading everything to a lifeless gray with the exception of one color.

  Red.

  The only color in the whole room was the red ripped dress hanging from her body.

  Cassie stood at the end of our table.

  chapter seven

  She stared at me, eyes narrowed and fists clenched at her sides. Her hair was all over the place, darker at the top of her head, plastered there. A dark stain spread over her hairline, leaking down her face like a ghoulish, insidious river.

>   “You think you’re so perfect,” she said, her voice eerily flat as blood ran into her unblinking eyes. “You’re not! You have no idea! Your life is so messed up, and you have no idea.”

  I jerked back. “Cassie?”

  A warm hand wrapped around mine, and Cassie vanished. Dazed, I met Scott’s worried stare. “What did you say?” he asked.

  “You didn’t see…”

  “See what?” Scott’s grip tightened.

  “Nothing.” I pulled my hand free, heart racing.

  “You said Cassie’s name,” Julie said, pale and visibly shaken. “God, Sam, you look like you saw a ghost.”

  I was beginning to think I had. Or I was certifiable. All of them were staring at me. Carson’s eyes were wide and had that dilated look again. There wasn’t enough air coming into my lungs. They were contracting painfully. Legs trembling, I stood and grabbed my bag. “I have to go,” I rasped.

  “Sam.” Scott stood.

  I hurried away from the table. A confused Del reached for me, but I dodged him. Out in the hallway, I started running and I didn’t stop as I pushed open the doors leading outside. My feet slapped off the concrete and then the asphalt. Reaching my brother’s car, I dropped down beside it and pulled my knees up to my chest, dragging in air in painful gulps.

  Now I understood what everyone had warned me about—it was all too much.

  Mom picked me up from school early. The ride home was tense, and I kept getting the impression that she wanted to say something but didn’t know what. And honestly, what could she say? Something like this couldn’t be fixed with a few simple words.

  “Honey,” she said when we pulled into the driveway. “There’s a doctor your father knows—”

  “What kind of doctor?” I twisted toward her, clutching my bag.

  She grimaced as she killed the engine. “He’s a psychologist.”

  Anger and embarrassment warred inside me. I should’ve never told her what had happened over the phone. “I’m not crazy.”

  “Honey, I’m not saying you’re…crazy.” She looked at me, her smile pained. “But you said you saw Cassie in the lunchroom and—”

  “That doesn’t mean I have to see a therapist. You already have me seeing the guidance counselor.” I climbed out of the car, slamming the door. “I don’t want to see a therapist.”

  “You might not have a choice,” she said quietly.

  I whipped around, and the next words came from a place hidden deep inside me. “What would your friends think, Mom? Having a daughter who needs to see a therapist?”

  Mom blanched. “The same thing they thought when my daughter got drunk and drove her brand-new car into a tree. Or when my daughter was in those pictures for everyone to see! Or when—”

  “Wait. What pictures?”

  She gave me a pointed look, one that said she wouldn’t disgrace herself by repeating what those pictures were.

  “What pictures?” I screamed.

  Mom didn’t answer.

  The moment we stepped inside the house, she went straight to the liquor cabinet and poured herself bourbon. She downed it in one gulp and then poured another. “Honey, I want you to get better. Not because of what my friends think, but because you are my daughter. Seeing a therapist isn’t—”

  “No,” I cut her off. “I’m not going to a therapist.”

  She looked away, taking a healthy drink of the bourbon. I left the room, having nothing else to say.

  I spent a couple of hours in my bedroom, pacing back and forth. Every so often, I stopped and looked at the music box and then at Cassie’s picture. When I heard the garage door open, I panicked. I didn’t want to be in the same house with the woman I was driving to drink and the brother who surely thought I was crazy. Slipping out the back door, I started walking beyond the pool and the little bungalow surrounded by trees. A man was working on them, carrying thick branches to the back of a pickup truck. Sweat glistened off his dark skin.

  He didn’t even look up. I was invisible to him, and I liked that.

  Moving toward the end of the property, I climbed over a stone wall surrounding the yard. There was a path carved through the grass and rocky soil, splitting between trees. Up ahead was a tree house built into a large maple.

  I stopped under it, wondering if my subconscious had led me here. There had to be a reason why I found this.

  There wasn’t anything special about the tree house. It was more like a hut in a tree, with an open side that allowed you to look out over the grounds. It took several tries to get into the main part. From there, I crawled through a small opening and into a space big enough for me to lie down in but not stand. I seriously hoped the wood wasn’t rotten.

  A cool breeze picked up a few strands of my hair, tossing them across my face. I shivered and hunkered down in my sweater.

  I’m not crazy.

  Didn’t Mrs. Messer say that the memories could come back in the form of disjointed images? Images that screamed at me—that bled? A horrible thought struck me. What if the image of Cassie bleeding had been a recollection of something I saw that night? But why would she yell those things at me? There was no answer to that, because I didn’t know what my life was like before Wednesday. And then there were the two notes. The last one talked about blood…and then I saw a bleeding Cassie? I knew the notes weren’t imaginary. Scott had read one. Someone had to be placing them there. To scare me? To warn me?

  What pictures?

  Surrounded by birds chirping and the dragging swoosh of bare branches rubbing together, I realized another terrible thing. Missing best friend or not, I didn’t want any part of my old life back. I didn’t want to remember the terrible things I’d said and done, but I suppose it didn’t matter. Even if I couldn’t remember who I was, everyone else would never forget. No matter how badly I wanted to ignore the person I used to be, I couldn’t escape a past I didn’t remember.

  I must’ve been so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t realize someone had joined me in the little tree hut until I heard the wood creak and groan behind me.

  My heart jumped in my throat, then skipped a beat when I turned and saw him sit down beside me. “Carson?”

  “You know, you could’ve picked a more comfortable place to hang out. I doubt this place is entirely safe.”

  Several moments passed before I could find the ability to say something other than his name. “I didn’t mean to be up here so long.”

  “I figured as much.” He tilted his head toward me, eyes shadowed.

  I scrubbed my eyes, fighting a yawn. “What time is it?”

  “Almost nine thirty.” Carson paused. “Everyone is looking for you. Your parents—Scott and Del. They’re combing the whole town.”

  “And you found me?”

  Carson laughed. The sound was nice, deep, and warming. I had this impression that I didn’t get to hear him laugh a lot. “I know. It’s a shocker, huh? I was kind of surprised you were in the tree house. No one would have thought to check here. And it was really a last-ditch effort on my part.”

  Warmth crept through me as I stared at his half-shadowed face. Our gazes locked, and the heady rush of heat spread lower. “Why were you looking for me? You don’t even…”

  “Like you?” he supplied, grinning.

  “You hate me.”

  His brows shot up. “I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you. You were…just really hard to like sometimes.” He turned back to the night sky, letting out a soft breath. “Why did you come here? Did you remember this place?”

  I twisted my chilled fingers together, pleased that at least he never hated me. It was probably the best news I’d heard all day. “I don’t know. I don’t remember it, but I ended up here anyway.”

  “The three of us used to play here when we were little,” he explained. “And when you would get in trouble for not going to piano class or dance class, you’d hide here. I bet you haven’t stepped foot in this tree house since you were eleven, though.”

  Piano and
dance classes? That explained the music box, but that wasn’t what was important. I thought about the coffee trip this morning. “You know a lot about me.”

  “We grew up together.” He was quiet for a moment. “You spent a lot of time here. Scott used to dangle you off the ledge.”

  I laughed. “That sounds like fun.”

  Carson nudged me with his arm. “You loved it. You had this thing about flying. Once you actually jumped out of this thing.