15. Now’s Not the Time
NOW’S NOT THE TIME
We thought we could use the library, but the library has been turned into a crisis center. So we sneak into an unused classroom across the hall. The four of us—Twig, Kate, Naomi, and me—take a seat at a round table while Naomi texts Harper, and Coach Dempsey pokes his head inside the room.
“Oh,” he says. “Hi there. Are the four you needing—?”
“A quiet space to talk,” I say, trying not to fidget or squirm. “To process everything. Before, you know, school starts.”
“Of course, of course. Take as much time as you need.” He gives us an awkward smile, his attention lingering longest on Naomi, who hasn’t quite gotten her coloring back. “There’s counseling in the library if anyone needs it.”
“We know,” I say.
He nods, then closes the door behind him.
Naomi stares into her lap. She stayed over last night. I was shocked Mr. and Mrs. Kapoor let her. They’re very strict, Naomi’s parents. Especially about academics. A sleepover on a school night isn’t typically allowed. But recent events had them making concessions.
Same with Coach Dempsey.
“What’s going on?” Kate asks. “Why are you guys acting so cloak and dagger?”
“There’s something we have to tell you,” Twig says.
“Something you couldn’t just tell me at home? Or on the drive here?”
“I don’t think you would believe me without backup. I’m not even sure you will with backup.”
Kate quirks her eyebrow.
The door opens.
Harper slips inside.
“Hey,” she says.
When she sits down, I take a deep breath and set my palms flat on the table. “What I’m about to tell you is going to sound crazy. I need you to listen to the whole story, and when I’m done, Twig and I will answer any questions you have as best as we can.”
Harper tries catching Naomi’s eye, confusion in her own. But Naomi continues staring into her lap, so Harper exchanges a befuddled shrug with Kate instead.
I take it as permission to continue.
So, I dive in.
I tell them the same story I told Naomi yesterday, only a slightly more organized rendition, as I have had the whole night to think about how to tell it.
When I finish, Harper laughs, clearly expecting Naomi to join her. But Naomi isn’t laughing. She looks up from her fidgeting hands and swallows. “It’s true.”
Harper laughs some more, only this time, there’s more uncertainty in the sound.
“I’m serious, Harp. I saw Griffin disappear with my own eyes. Lainey’s were glowing, and then she disappeared, too.”
These are highly unusual words for Naomi to speak. Perhaps if I had said them, or Twig, Harper’s laughter would continue. Instead, she pulls her chin back with a frown.
Kate’s cheeks have taken on a mottled hue. Her lips, meanwhile, have gone white. “Now’s not the time for this.”
“For what?” Twig asks.
“Your stories.”
“It’s not a story,” I say. “It’s the truth.”
She glares at me, actually glares.
I don’t think Kate has ever glared at me in her life.
“Kate,” Twig says, gathering her attention. “Consider the evidence. An earthquake at the ball that wasn’t an earthquake. Everything that happened at the cemetery.” He lifts his foot, which is still in a boot. “Lainey’s suspicious return after not contacting you even once?”
Kate’s mouth tightens.
In all my years of knowing Mrs. Calloway, I’ve only seen her angry one time, at the Phoenix Parade five years ago when she overheard a group of mean girls teasing Twig for being adopted. Right now, Kate’s resemblance to that Mrs. Calloway is uncanny.
“Griffin’s in trouble,” I say. “For all we know, he might be dead.”
But Kate isn’t listening.
Shaking her head, she types furiously into her phone.
“What are you doing?” Twig comes out of his chair. “Who are you texting?”
“Griffin,” she retorts.
“Kate, he isn’t going to text back,” I say. “He’s—”
A sharp ding pings through the room.
And the thing I said wouldn’t happen does.
She turns her phone around and thrusts it forward.
The message is from Griffin.
In Okie for college visits remember? Riverhawks all the way baby!
I blink at the screen.
Kate comes to her feet, the legs of her chair scraping against the linoleum.
“Lainey probably went with him. The two have been joined at the hip ever since she came back.” She grabs her backpack off the table.
“Look, I know the two of you like to believe in this sort of stuff and everyone processes grief differently, but this is seriously crossing the line.”
Twig looks up at her, visibly distraught. “We’re telling you this for your safety.”
“Ivy drowned in the river, Spence. I hate that it happened just as much as you. But it’s over now. Lainey’s back. And what happened to Ivy was an accident. A terrible accident. Trying to turn it into something podcast worthy? That’s beneath you.”
“Kate—”
But she doesn’t stay. She whips her backpack over her shoulder and marches out the door.
It slams shut behind her.
The noise reverberates through the room.
Twig looks like he might cry.
Which makes me want to hug him. “Lainey must have taken Griffin’s phone. That’s the only thing that makes any sense. She’s pretending to be him. And if everyone believes he’s on a college visit, then nobody is going to know that our town has another missing teen on its hands.”
“Have the three of you gone crazy?”
I look at Harper, who looks back at us like we’ve lost our minds.
Naomi’s chin quivers. “I swear to you, Harper, there’s no other explanation for what I saw last night. Her eyes were glowing.”
Harper twists her fingers. She looks uneasy. Uncertain. Confused. And a little hurt, like maybe we’re playing a cruel joke.
“We have proof,” I blurt. “All of it’s in the crypt beneath St. Fortuna’s. The portrait. The gemstones. Ezra Vandenberg’s journal entries. Photographs of Rafe from the 1900s.”
“Okay, then,” Harper says. “Let’s go see it.”
My shoulders sag. “We can’t.”
“Why not?”
I heave a sigh, wondering why on earth I was so eager for closure, why I was so quick to put everything behind us. “The key that gets into the crypt is at the bottom of the Vandenberg well.”