Thornbird

Chapter Eight That’s Progress

eight

That’s Progress

“Hey, cousin,” a chirpy voice says from the door.

I jump and click my phone off as Jasmine breezes into the bedroom. My father’s words disappear from my field of vision, but they’re burned like a cattle brand in my brain.

“Hey,” I greet her.

Jasmine looks bored, carrying her cheerleading duffel, which she throws onto the ground. She sits on the edge of the bed and starts untying her sneakers. “You take any photos today before the downpour?”

“Some. Did cheerleading practice get rained out?”

She shakes her head. “It’s in the gym. We always work on our routines for an hour on Saturday morning, and then we sit and gawk at the boys working out.” She flashes an unapologetic grin. “And speaking of cute boys, Everett asked me to give you a message.”

I falter. “What?”

“Well, he asked Nikki to give me a message. He wants your number. I told her that I’d have to run it past you.” She raises a brow. “So?”

At that, my heart does a little flutter that I wish it wouldn’t. I don’t need this. This is a complication, and after my run-in with Zed, I’ve already decided that the best thing I can do is keep my head down until I graduate. “So, what?”

She rolls her eyes. “Do you want him to call you, or no? I’m assuming the answer is yes. It’s never no with Everett.”

I should say no. That would fix it. He isn’t used to rejection and probably has a fragile ego. He’ll probably never talk to me again. Yet for some reason, same way I couldn’t keep myself away from my old house, I can’t stop my lips from forming the word “Sure.”

Jasmine grabs her phone and thumbs in a reply, I assume to Nikki. “Done. But if I were you, I’d watch your back.”

My mind automatically goes to the true-crime junkies who relentlessly stalked and confronted the poor girl at the yogurt shop. Watching my back is good advice.

But Jasmine isn’t talking about that, because she has no idea who I am. So I ask her, “What do you mean?”

“Sofia,” she says simply, as if that means something to me.

The only Sofia I know is on varsity cheerleading, the beautiful girl from my government class who’s always traveling on a cloud of sparkles with the other perfect girls, usually orbiting the football team.

A couple of times I’ve tried smiling at her, but I think there’s a membrane surrounding them, and normal people can’t penetrate it.

“What about her?”

“She’s Everett’s ex.”

Right. Of course the two most godlike beings at school used to date.

“They’ve been on and off since freshman year. They were super hot and heavy for a long time, and everyone thought they’d be together forever. But then right after junior prom last spring, they had this huge fight and broke up.”

“Really? Do you know what it was about?”

She shrugs. “No. No one does. Whatever it was, I think Sofia didn’t think it was such a big deal, so she kept telling everyone they were just taking a break and were going to get back together soon. But if you asked him, he was like, nope. The Sofia boat had sailed. He was done with her.”

Now it makes sense why every time Everett tried to talk to me at school this week, Sofia looked annoyed. And she’s really going to be annoyed if she finds out he’s texting me.

But whatever. I have bigger things on my mind than upsetting the Queen Bee of Crockett High.

When my phone suddenly buzzes, both Jasmine and I jolt in surprise. I peer at the screen and smother a sigh.

She gasps. “Oh my God. Is that him? He literally got your number five seconds ago.”

I mask my expression as I read the message.

Unknown: Hey. It’s Everett. Jas gave me your number. Busy tonight?

“What’s it say?” Jasmine snatches my phone from my hands. “Holy shit! He’s asking you out!”

I take the phone back from her, my cheeks burning.

“You’re going to say yes, right?” she pushes.

I shake my head. “It’s not a good idea.”

She looks horrified. “What? Why not?”

“I barely know him. And your brother told me Aunt Maggie doesn’t let you guys date—”

“Oh, screw Mom. And anyway, this is Everett James we’re talking about. My best friend’s brother. If Mom found out you guys were together, she’d be totally cool with it.” Jasmine stares at my phone as if she’s afraid I’m going to make a life-ending mistake. “You have to say yes.”

I bite my lip, imagining myself out on a date with Everett. Talking to him, one-on-one. Having him look at me with desire. Kissing him…

My body flares with goose bumps.

Instincts war within me. Part of me wants to text him the verbal equivalent of jumping in his arms: Take me, I’m yours! But then there’s that little voice that says You were going to keep your head down, remember?

I sigh. Yes, I remember.

I start to text him back, only to realize Jasmine is silently watching me like a hawk. I tilt the display of the phone away from her and say, “I’ve got this.”

Me: Why are you asking?

He starts to respond right away, and to keep myself from freaking out, I add him to my contact list. EVEREST JAMES, I type.

Everest: Want to take you out tonight. Movies?

I gnaw on my lip. My fingers want to type YES, but my mind is telling me, over and over again, no.

Me: Sorry. I’m busy.

I feel better after I’ve sent it. That was the right decision. I can’t go out with the guy. After graduation, I’m out of here.

I don’t need any reason to stay.

Everest: How about coffee then? Just an hour.

Me: Told you, I’m busy.

Everest: Yeah? Doing what?

Me: Going to the movies with another quarterback.

I hide a smile and glance at Jasmine, who is gathering up random items from the floor. She’s pretending she isn’t interested, but I can tell she’s hovering, wanting me to spill the tea. Sadly for her, there isn’t anything to tell. I said no, and I meant it.

But then I read Everett’s follow-up.

Everest: You’re flirting. That’s progress.

Everest: See you Monday.

He texts me a couple more times before the weekend is over, but I leave him on read.

On Sunday night I hang out with Uncle Dan, Connor, and Connor’s friend Kabir in the family room after dinner, watching the Titans game.

I’m not a football fan, but I’m not not a football fan.

I don’t mind having it on in the background while I click through the hundreds of photographs I’ve taken since I got to Starling.

On the other side of the couch, Connor and Kabir are arguing. Those two always seem to be arguing. It’s entertaining.

“I’m telling you, Con,” Kabir says, his voice dripping with exasperation, “the moon landing was filmed on Earth. Earth! It’s, like, super obvious. You ever seen the shadows? They’re all wrong.”

Connor groans, slouching back on the couch.

“Please, for the love of God, stop talking before my brain melts. The moon landing happened. Do you really think NASA has time to fake an entire moon mission? Do you realize how many people would have to be in on the cover-up? Dad, back me up—how many people would need to be involved?”

“Literal thousands,” Dan says, without taking his attention off the game.

“Exactly,” Connor says.

Kabir glances over at me. “Ryan, back me up. Real or fake?”

“Real,” I say without hesitation.

“Traitor.”

I grin at him. “Sorry.”

“I’m gonna let it slide because of that smile. You know you have a great smile? It’s a shame I can’t ask you out.”

Connor smacks him on the arm. “Dude.”

I raise an eyebrow, laughing a little. “Is there a reason you can’t? Not that I’m encouraging it. I would one hundred percent say no,” I assure him, and my uncle snickers from the recliner.

“You’d totally say yes. And I can’t ask because my quarterback already staked his claim,” he reveals with a smug, knowing look—which quickly fades into a stricken one. “Oh wait, and I also have a girlfriend.”

Connor doubles over in laughter. “I’m totally telling Layla you forgot she existed.”

Kabir shrugs, winking at me. “I know you’re disappointed, Ryan, but it’s only fair. Even if I was single, I don’t mess with the code.”

My cousin punches Kabir’s arm again. “There is no ‘code.’ Ryan can go out with whoever she wants.”

“Code,” his friend repeats. “She can only date Ev now.”

I stifle a sigh while also trying to ignore the way my pulse speeds up. Everett James is, apparently, incorrigible.

“Thanks, buddy,” I tell Kabir, “but I think I’ll make my own decisions.” Still grinning, I go back to clicking through my photos, trashing the ones that don’t make the cut.

“That’s a lot of trees,” Dan remarks at one point as he walks along behind the couch. He stops, peering at my screen. “Wait, go back. This one’s beautiful, kid. What kind of bird is that?”

I click on the previous photograph, which depicts a small bird with bright feathers perched on a low-hanging branch against the backdrop of the Smoky Mountains.

I zoom in and study it. “It’s a northern flicker,” I say. The bird’s reddish-brown body with speckled markings stands out in the shot. “They’re woodpeckers, actually. Pretty common around here, especially in the fall.”

He leans in a little closer, inspecting the picture. “Woodpeckers, huh? I didn’t know they came in so many colors.”

“Yup, and this breed is one of the only woodpeckers that actually feed on the ground a lot. They love ants, believe it or not.”

He chuckles. “How do you know all this?”

My smile falters. For a moment I don’t answer. I look at the photo, the brightness of the bird contrasting with the shadow creeping into my chest.

“Uh, I must’ve read it somewhere,” I lie.

Dan’s expression softens. His gaze darts toward the boys, who are focused on the game, before returning to me. He gets it. Everyone in Starling knows about Gabriel Thorn’s birdhouses.

I close my computer. “I’m going to see what Jasmine is up to.”

My decision to flee backfires, because when I walk into Jasmine’s bedroom, I don’t like what she’s up to.

Not one bit. She’s sprawled across her bed with her laptop open, the light from the screen casting a slight glow over her face.

She doesn’t even acknowledge me, too absorbed in whatever article she’s reading.

Her fingers tap against the keyboard as she scrolls.

“What are you doing?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. It’s the same thing she’s been obsessing over since the press conference—the missing bodies. Every time we’re alone in our room, she’s on her laptop Googling things.

Jasmine finally spares me a glance, eyes glinting with excitement.

“Okay, so, the police dredged the lake years ago and found nothing, right? But people online still think that’s where Uncle Psycho dumped the bodies.

There’s speculation that the reason the police didn’t discover anything is because the water level was—”

She stops talking. Maggie has just appeared in the open doorway.

Jasmine gives me a look, and I try not to roll my eyes.

Message received, cousin. She’s already drilled into my head that her parents can’t know about her body hunt.

I’m not a snitch, so I’ve been keeping my mouth shut.

For now. But if I notice Jasmine getting in over her head, then I have no qualms about telling my aunt and uncle.

“Ugh, what now?” she grumbles, grimacing at her mother. “I swear I already finished my homework for tomorrow.”

“Ugh,” Maggie mimics. “But I still don’t see those clothes in the closet.”

Eyebrow raised, she nods toward the laundry basket full of folded clothing that sits at the foot of Jasmine’s bed.

“I’ll do it before bed,” Jasmine says, a slight whine in her voice.

“Or,” Maggie replies with a bright smile, “you’ll do it now.”

I hide a grin. The more I get to know my aunt, the more I like her. She has her hands full with the drama that is Jasmine, but she can definitely hold her own against her daughter.

“Fine.” Heaving a sigh, Jasmine closes her laptop and hops off the bed.

“Good girl.” With a pleased nod, Maggie disappears down the hall.

The moment she’s gone, Jasmine turns away from the laundry basket and climbs back onto the bed. I sigh as she buries her face in her laptop again, but Jasmine is like a dog with a bone. There’s no prying the lure of that million-dollar reward out of her hands.

When I spot my own pile of neatly folded clothes, guilt spurs me into putting it away.

I’m not used to having someone else do my laundry.

Or someone cooking me dinner. Driving me to school.

Gran taught me to fend for myself. She worked as a receptionist at a twenty-four-hour women’s clinic in the city and came home late most evenings.

I tuck the clothes into my drawer, then tidy up my little corner of the room.

The rings and bracelet I wore yesterday are strewn on the nightstand, so I gather them and put them in the small wooden box where I keep my jewelry.

I’m about to close the lid when I notice it.

Or rather, when I don’t notice it. My necklace isn’t in there.

I frown, rummaging through the box before automatically reaching for my throat. Maybe I put it on this morning and just—no, it’s not around my neck. And I’m positive I haven’t worn it since…I scan my brain, struggling to remember. I definitely didn’t wear it this weekend. I think.

I empty out my jewelry box and then place every item back inside, one by one, but the heart-shaped diamond locket is nowhere to be found. Where is it? As a surge of panic rises in my chest, I frantically search through my sheets, toss my pillows aside, dig through my bag.

But it’s gone.

My necklace is gone.