Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
Emily stood at the mouth of the aisle, her brows pulled together tightly beneath the smooth line of her blonde ponytail. Concern flashed across her face so quickly it almost looked like fear.
“Jesus Christ,” she whispered, stepping closer. “You look awful.”
I forced out a weak laugh. “Thanks.”
She didn’t smile back. Emily crossed her arms over her chest, fingers curling into the sleeves of her cheer sweatshirt as she looked me over carefully. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” The lie came too fast.
Her brown eyes narrowed immediately. “Bullshit.”
I looked away from her toward the rain-streaked windows at the far end of the library. Gray clouds sat swollen over Woodland, low enough to make the football field outside look washed-out and dead. The trees beyond the parking lot swayed slightly in the wind.
I kept seeing trees. Corn stalks shifting under moonlight. A silhouette hunched and heaving.
Emily waited quietly, which somehow made everything worse. She had always been good at waiting people out. Like she knew silence eventually made everybody confess.
I rubbed my sweaty palms against my skirt before finally whispering, “I think I fucked up.”
The hardness in her face dissolved instantly. She uncrossed her arms and took another step toward me. “What happened?”
I swallowed hard. My throat hurt with the effort it took.
“Last night,” I said carefully. “After youth group.”
Emily’s nose wrinkled immediately. “Oh God.”
Despite myself, I huffed out a tiny laugh. “Shut up.”
“You and Andy were hooking up at church again?” she whispered harshly. “Lola, one day lightning is literally going to strike you dead.”
“Not at church,” I muttered. “Near church.”
“In the cornfield?” she grimaced.
I nodded once. Embarrassment prickled hot across my skin now on top of everything else. The image of myself half-undressed in the mud while something watched us from the woods made nausea twist through me all over again.
Emily leaned against the shelf beside me, lowering her voice further. “What, did you not use protection or something?”
I stared at the worn carpet while I spoke. “I saw someone.”
Her mouth popped open. “Who?”
“In the trees.” My fingers curled tighter around the book in my hands. “At first I thought maybe I imagined it, but they were just standing there.” I shook my head quickly. “Andy said it was probably a deer, but it wasn’t moving like one.”
Moonlight slicing through the field. That shape tucked between the trunks. Watching. I could still feel the adrenaline that had ripped through me when I’d sat upright.
Emily studied my face carefully now. “What did you do?”
Heat crawled up my neck. My whole body felt sticky with shame and sweat. I tugged at the square neckline of my ivory dress, the buttons going down the center seemed to be caging me in.
“I threw a rock.”
Emily blinked. “Okay?”
“I panicked.” The words came out louder than I intended, bouncing softly off the shelves around us. I lowered my voice immediately. “I hit him—it.”
The silence afterward felt enormous. I stared at the floor because I couldn’t bear to look at her.
“You don’t know that,” she said carefully.
“Yes I do.”
My chest tightened painfully. I could still hear the sound. That pain-filled grunt swallowed by the woods.
“I didn’t even think to look,” I continued, my words speeding up as panic clawed back into me. “Andy and I were fighting—”
“About the deer, or the sex?” Emily cut in.
I shook my head fervently. “August.”
“Of course,” she sighed. I gave her a pleading look, and she waved her hand encouraging me to go on.
“I thought maybe it was some creep trying to catch a peek but now Shannon’s missing and—” The sentence broke apart. I pressed the heel of my hand against my mouth hard enough to hurt.
Emily’s expression shifted then—not panic exactly, but concentration. Her brain moving quickly behind her eyes. She always seemed to work best under pressure. “Oh, Lola.”
“What if it was him?” I whispered. The thought had been eating through me for the last hour like acid.
“What if he was walking through the woods and I hit him and he got confused or fell somewhere or—” My breathing turned shallow again. “What if I killed him?”
Emily reached for my arms immediately, gripping them firmly. “You did not kill Shannon O’Kinzy with a rock.”
“But what if he’s hurt?” The words cracked embarrassingly in the middle.
Emily softened instantly then, her thumbs rubbing absently against the sleeves of my cardigan. “Hey. Look at me.” I forced myself to. “You are spiraling right now.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know it was Shannon.”
“I know.”
“And if somebody got hurt out there, the search party will find them.” At the mention of the search party, dread settled low and heavy in my stomach.
“Andy texted me earlier,” I said quietly. “Pastor Spires already organized one for after school.”
Emily went still. Something unreadable crossed her face then. Fast enough I almost missed it. She released my arms slowly and leaned back against the bookshelf, chewing lightly at the inside of her cheek while she thought.
Finally she nodded once. “Okay.” The way she said it made my stomach tighten further. “I’ll take care of it,” she said as if the problem had already been solved.
I frowned immediately. “Take care of what?”
Emily shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Em.”
“I’m serious.” Her voice sharpened slightly now. “Don’t talk to anybody else about this.” Fear crept colder through me then.
“Why?”
“Because if Shannon’s off somewhere smoking weed with his weird little friends and you start telling people you cracked somebody in the woods with a rock, this town is going to decide you murdered him before dinner.”
The awful thing was I could picture that perfectly. Woodland loved only two things more than Jesus: gossip and punishment.
Emily glanced toward the front desk where the librarian sat stamping return dates onto books. Rain ticked softly against the high windows overhead. Then she looked back at me. “Make sure Andy keeps his mouth shut too.”
I frowned. “I didn’t tell him I thought it could’ve been Shannon.”
“Good.” Her jaw tightened slightly. “Keep it that way.” Something about the tension in her shoulders made unease creep slowly up my spine. “And don’t tell Andy you told me,” she added quickly.
“Why not?”
Emily looked away for a second, eyes drifting toward the storm-dark windows. For a moment she looked older than eighteen. Tired in some deep unreachable way. Then she met my eyes again. “Just trust me.” she repeated.
The words settled heavy inside my chest because I did trust her. More than anybody, I realized. Maybe more than I should have.
I nodded slowly. “Okay.”
Emily’s shoulders loosened just slightly in relief.
Neither of us spoke for a moment. The library hummed quietly around us while rain tapped harder against the windows, soft and steady as fingers drumming against a coffin lid.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” I spoke the words quickly, afraid that if I didn’t say them then, I might never.
Emily smirked faintly then, though it looked fragile around the edges.
“Lose your mind, probably.” she said it more like a fact, than a light hearted dig. She didn’t say anything else before she left me standing in that aisle of aging books.