Chapter Seventy-Six. Sarah Lynn
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
SARAH LYNN
I made sure I watched that camera footage before handing it over to Mrs. Campbell, double-checked that Mr. Magnuson never once appeared in any of the videos. The night of the party at The Hollow, his truck had been parked just out of the camera’s range.
And I was glad about that, at least, because then no one would ever see the way he rejected me.
That night, when I spotted his truck parked in the trees, I peeled off from the group. When I stepped from the dark, my body felt lit from within, buzzing on booze and pot and the rush of diving naked while the boys gawked. I’d been so sure Mr. M. would be just as captivated.
But as soon as his eyes caught on me, he stepped back. Sarah Lynn? Oh God, was this you? He held up his phone.
I clasped my hands behind my back, swayed innocently, aware of how good I looked in my bikini even though I was literally frostbitten. Do you want it to be me? I’d asked.
He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing toward the splashes and laughter by the well, like he was realizing what it was—a kid party.
He put a hand to the door of his truck. I need to go, he said. Be safe, okay?
And he drove away, leaving me feeling stupid there in the woods.
But later, floating beside Olivia in the well, her fingers twined in mine, and the water so cold that I couldn’t tell where my skin ended and hers began—I felt how unimportant his rejection was. What mattered was the three of us—me, Olivia, and Hannah—together.
Now Hannah and I steel ourselves and knock on Olivia’s door. Emily answers, voice dialed low like in a hospital. “Come on in, girls.” She glances toward the couch where Olivia lies facing the back cushions. “I’ll give y’all a little privacy.” She slips out, shutting the door without even a click.
And we are left alone in the room with Olivia and the heavy blanket of her grief.
“Liv?” Hannah whispers, creeping closer like she’s approaching a wild animal.
Olivia turns her head, and her eyes are raw, lashes clumped with tears. She sniffs, then rolls back to the cushions.
Hannah sits on the couch at Olivia’s feet. I curl in behind her, spooning her. I can feel her heartbeat through her back, thudding right up against mine. Hannah leans across, draping an arm over both of us.
“Y’all are going to suffocate me,” Olivia mutters, but it’s wrapped in a snotty laugh as she pushes herself up to sitting.
“What do you need?” Hannah asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “Anything.”
“Anything?” Olivia drags the heel of her hand across her nose, and when she looks at us, her voice is steady, blazing. “I want to do the pageant.”