pleading.
She doesn’t have many friends left, I think. This is my chance to step into that role. This is my chance to find out who I am. But even I can feel how unethical this is. The idea of exploiting her misery drowns me in guilt. I’d be a closer—playing a role for my benefit instead of hers. But I don’t seem to have another choice.
“A party sounds fun,” I say, making her smile. I glance down at my clothes, wondering if I look okay, but Virginia quickly waves it off.
“You look great,” she says. “Don’t worry. Everyone’s going to love you. Want to head over now? We don’t stay out too late around here.” Her expression falls slightly. “Makes our parents worry.”
It’s possible that Virginia’s fears are based in reality, but there’s also a chance that this is part of a delusion. That her grief is making her paranoid.
Virginia gets up from the booth, and I take a look around, noticing that the waitress is watching her more closely than she should. Monitoring her. When the woman’s eyes dart to me, I lower my head and follow Virginia out of the diner, wondering if I’ve just gotten caught up in her delusion.
CHAPTER NINE
OUTSIDE THE DINER, THE SKY is an orange glow. Virginia and I walk side by side until we pause next to a silver car with a bundle of unburned sage hanging from its rearview mirror. We get inside, and the space is fragrant and comforting. Aromatherapy, I think. We occasionally use it with our clients.
“My dad’s old car,” she says when she notices me staring at the sage. “And I hope you don’t mind, but I technically don’t have a license. But don’t worry.” She waves her hand. “I’m an excellent driver.”
I remember what life was like before I got my license, and it definitely involved breaking some permit laws. Otherwise I would have been dependent on my dad or Deacon to drive me everywhere.
“Just don’t kill us,” I tell her with a smile, although I quicklytense at my unfortunate choice of words. Virginia pretends not to hear. I take a moment to glance around at Arthur Pritchard’s car, hoping to find some huge clue about my past, which of course is not there.
Virginia slips a CD into the stereo. The music that comes out of the speakers is haunting, itchy. Long whines of guitar strings, a melodic sound of a pained voice. The words are dark and depressing, but when I turn, I see they don’t have the same effect on Virginia. She drives, looking over at me with a smile.
But if I’m honest, I’m starting to feel a little suffocated. It’s not just the depressing music; I also feel fear. Selfish, personal fear. I’m playing a role: the role of Liz Major, a girl whose identity I stole. I want to be myself—I’m desperate to be myself. But I don’t know who she is. I don’t know who I am.
The thought of that leaves me lonelier than ever, and I wrap my arms around myself. I turn and stare out the window at the passing houses, thinking about the last time I went to a party—not as Catalina, but as Quinlan McKee.
A memory blooms across my consciousness and I cling to it. I nearly forgot it entirely because it didn’t seem important at the time. But now it feels like everything. A tether to who I used to be—who I thought I was.
It was a night while Deacon and I were broken up, a few weeks after one of our ill-conceived hookups. He acted like it had never happened, breaking my heart yet again. After that, both of us were determined to keep our relationship platonic; however, his lingering glances threatened to derail all we were working toward.
Aaron, Myra, Deacon, and I were heading back from some shitty party near the college campus. For the first time in a while, Aaron and I weren’t on assignment. We were enjoying a night off, playing pool in some guy’s living room until a fraternity showed up and crowded us out. Deacon was driving my car, taking us all back to Aaron’s, where I was spending the night because my father was at a
She doesn’t have many friends left, I think. This is my chance to step into that role. This is my chance to find out who I am. But even I can feel how unethical this is. The idea of exploiting her misery drowns me in guilt. I’d be a closer—playing a role for my benefit instead of hers. But I don’t seem to have another choice.
“A party sounds fun,” I say, making her smile. I glance down at my clothes, wondering if I look okay, but Virginia quickly waves it off.
“You look great,” she says. “Don’t worry. Everyone’s going to love you. Want to head over now? We don’t stay out too late around here.” Her expression falls slightly. “Makes our parents worry.”
It’s possible that Virginia’s fears are based in reality, but there’s also a chance that this is part of a delusion. That her grief is making her paranoid.
Virginia gets up from the booth, and I take a look around, noticing that the waitress is watching her more closely than she should. Monitoring her. When the woman’s eyes dart to me, I lower my head and follow Virginia out of the diner, wondering if I’ve just gotten caught up in her delusion.
CHAPTER NINE
OUTSIDE THE DINER, THE SKY is an orange glow. Virginia and I walk side by side until we pause next to a silver car with a bundle of unburned sage hanging from its rearview mirror. We get inside, and the space is fragrant and comforting. Aromatherapy, I think. We occasionally use it with our clients.
“My dad’s old car,” she says when she notices me staring at the sage. “And I hope you don’t mind, but I technically don’t have a license. But don’t worry.” She waves her hand. “I’m an excellent driver.”
I remember what life was like before I got my license, and it definitely involved breaking some permit laws. Otherwise I would have been dependent on my dad or Deacon to drive me everywhere.
“Just don’t kill us,” I tell her with a smile, although I quicklytense at my unfortunate choice of words. Virginia pretends not to hear. I take a moment to glance around at Arthur Pritchard’s car, hoping to find some huge clue about my past, which of course is not there.
Virginia slips a CD into the stereo. The music that comes out of the speakers is haunting, itchy. Long whines of guitar strings, a melodic sound of a pained voice. The words are dark and depressing, but when I turn, I see they don’t have the same effect on Virginia. She drives, looking over at me with a smile.
But if I’m honest, I’m starting to feel a little suffocated. It’s not just the depressing music; I also feel fear. Selfish, personal fear. I’m playing a role: the role of Liz Major, a girl whose identity I stole. I want to be myself—I’m desperate to be myself. But I don’t know who she is. I don’t know who I am.
The thought of that leaves me lonelier than ever, and I wrap my arms around myself. I turn and stare out the window at the passing houses, thinking about the last time I went to a party—not as Catalina, but as Quinlan McKee.
A memory blooms across my consciousness and I cling to it. I nearly forgot it entirely because it didn’t seem important at the time. But now it feels like everything. A tether to who I used to be—who I thought I was.
It was a night while Deacon and I were broken up, a few weeks after one of our ill-conceived hookups. He acted like it had never happened, breaking my heart yet again. After that, both of us were determined to keep our relationship platonic; however, his lingering glances threatened to derail all we were working toward.
Aaron, Myra, Deacon, and I were heading back from some shitty party near the college campus. For the first time in a while, Aaron and I weren’t on assignment. We were enjoying a night off, playing pool in some guy’s living room until a fraternity showed up and crowded us out. Deacon was driving my car, taking us all back to Aaron’s, where I was spending the night because my father was at a
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