Those mani-pedi appointments seem like an absurd luxury now. Along with her Range Rover, her twelve-hundred-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, her countless pairs of Stuart Weitzman high heels. Everything has been stored at her dad’s place since her house was sold, and while she’s looking forward to getting out of Hellwood, she’s dreading going back to her childhood home. But there’s nowhere else to go.
The Young and the Restless ends, and Geo turns to find Cat asleep, her breathing deep and even. Geo watches her for a moment, her heart swelling and breaking at exactly the same time. The papery skin, the blue-veined eyelids, the dry, deflated lips. How can she leave her friend in here to die?
Fucking Lenny. It isn’t fucking fair.
“You’re being creepy.” Cat’s eyes are still closed, but there’s a hint of a smile on her face. “I love you, too. Stop staring and let an old woman rest.”
The news comes on. Geo watches absently as a pretty blonde reporter highlights the day’s top stories. And then suddenly her father’s house appears on the TV screen.
She sits up straight, pulling the TV a few inches closer. There’s no mistaking her childhood home. Same taupe-gray siding, same bright blue door, same dark-red Japanese maple tree to the left of the garage that’s always been there. Geo strains to listen, not wanting to turn the volume up because she doesn’t want to wake Cat.
“Police haven’t yet confirmed the identities of the victims, but we can confirm that one is an adult female and the other is a minor,” the reporter says, her diction clear and even. “To recap, both bodies were discovered in the woods just behind Briar Crescent in the Sweetbay neighborhood, reminding local residents of a similar discovery more than five years ago. More to come after the break.”
The news cuts to commercial, and Geo sinks back into the chair. Terror seizes her heart in a vice grip, wrapping it in steel fingers that won’t let up. Beside her, Cat snores.
Calvin’s back.
Just in time to welcome her home.
13
The first time Geo laid eyes on Calvin James, she was sixteen.
It was a day like any other. She was with Angela and Kaiser, the three of them leaving the 7-Eleven down the street from St. Martin’s, refreshments in hand. Grape Slurpee for Angela, blue raspberry Slurpee for Geo, and a Big Gulp Mountain Dew for Kai, who didn’t like Slurpees at all. The red Trans Am was parked two spots over from Angela’s cute little Dodge Neon, a gift from Angela’s parents the day she turned sixteen. Her father was a VP at Microsoft, and her mother came from money, so Angela was rich. It was something Geo’s friend neither bragged about nor tried to hide. It was what it was.
The Trans Am was surrounded by four guys, and they all looked about the same age, early twenties. All of them were smoking cigarettes and drinking beer out of cans hidden in paper lunch bags. It was two-thirty on a Thursday afternoon. That right there should have been the first red flag.
The older boys—guys? men?—looked over as the trio approached the Neon, taking note of their matching white button-down shirts with the St. Martin’s High School crest on the breast pockets. Angela and Geo wore identical maroon-and-gray plaid kilts, knee socks, and black loafers. Kaiser was wearing gray dress slacks and a maroon tie. Geo sensed her friends’ postures changing as they got closer. Kaiser, tall but skinny, seemed to shrink a little as the older guys stared him down. Angela, on the other hand, blossomed with the attention, adding a slight swing to her hips that hadn’t been there a few seconds ago.
“St. Martin’s girls,” one of the guys said, loudly enough for them to hear. His friends laughed. “One of them your girlfriend, bro?”
Kaiser didn’t answer. He simply waited by the back door of the Neon on the driver’s side, his designated spot when they were in Angela’s car, looking as if he wished he could disappear.
Angela placed her Slurpee on the roof as she unlocked the car, her cool gaze belying her excitement at having been noticed by older guys. The three of them got in. Geo rolled her eyes as she shut the door and buckled her seatbelt.
“They’re too old,” she said to Angela. “And they’re drinking. In the middle of the day, which means they’re at least twenty-one. Why aren’t they at work?”
“They probably don’t have jobs,” Kaiser piped up from the backseat, comfortable speaking now that they were safely inside the vehicle. “They don’t look like they’re in college, either.”
“Don’t be judgmental, Kai,” Angela snapped, flipping down her visor so she could check her face. She had checked it five minutes before they’d gone into the 7-Eleven, and she’d checked it five minutes before that, when they’d gotten into the car to drive over here from school. Satisfied that she hadn’t suddenly gotten a pimple in the last three hundred seconds and that her face was still perfect—which it was, there was no denying that—she flipped the visor back up. Her dark eyes cut past Geo toward the group, still looking over at them. “Maybe they work nights. You don’t know anything.” To Geo, she said, “And what, you prefer the boys at school? Look, that one there is cute.”
“Which one?” Geo said, sipping her Slurpee. She didn’t dare look.
“The tall one. Good lord,” Angela said, her voice slightly breathless. “Seriously, he’s beautiful. Jared Leto face, Kurt Cobain vibe.”
Geo chanced a glance in their direction. The tall one was pretty good-looking, she supposed, if you liked the whole bad-boy thing, which Angela did. Ripped jeans, black T-shirt, hair a tad long and brushed back off his chiseled face. He saw her watching him, and she turned her face away from the window. “Ang, come on, let’s go. I have to finish my English essay before Melrose Place.”
“Yeah, can we go already?” Kaiser said, sounding moody.
“He’s coming over,” Angela said.
“What?”
“He’s walking toward the car,” Angela hissed. “Roll down your window, see what he wants. God, I hope the Trans Am’s his.”
“I’m not rolling—”
The tap on the glass made them both jump. Geo couldn’t help but laugh. Stuff like this always happened whenever Angela went anywhere. Her best friend met guys just by walking down the street; in fact, that very thing had happened the day before. A car turned around in the middle of the shopping center parking lot, nearly hitting someone, just so the driver could ask for Angela’s number. She said no, unimpressed by his car, an old Jetta covered in rust spots.
Geo cranked the window down. His smell was the first thing she noticed, and it wafted into the car, an intoxicating blend of Budweiser, Calvin Klein Eternity cologne, and Marlboros. If Your Parents Would Hate Him were the name of a cologne, this was exactly what it would smell like.
“Can we help you?” she said. Her voice was sharper than she intended, and she knew it sounded prissy.
Angela smacked her arm, then leaned across Geo to smile at the guy through the window, her hair tickling Geo’s legs. She was doing damage control. God forbid the hot guy didn’t like her because of something awkward Geo said. The guy smiled back, first at Angela, then at Geo. He held her gaze, and she felt a flutter in her stomach. Angela was right. He was beautiful.
“Bro,” he said finally, nodding to Kaiser in the backseat without breaking eye contact.
“Hey,” Kaiser replied, but it came out a squeak.
“You left your Slurpee on the roof.” He was speaking to Angela, but he hadn’t taken his eyes off Geo. “Didn’t want you to drive away and have it fall.”
“Oh shit. Thanks for telling me.” Angela opened her door and got halfway out, reaching for her drink on top of the car.
“Blue raspberry, right?” he said to Geo, nodding at her oversized cup.
“How’d you know?”
“Your tongue is blue.”
“Oh.” She blushed. “I guess that’s a dead giveaway. Although I’m not sure why you’re looking at my tongue. That’s kinda pervy.”
He laughed, and she was pleased with herself. That was a good quip.
?
??Oh my god,” Kaiser muttered from the backseat, but if the older guy heard him, he didn’t react.
His stare was disconcerting. And there was nowhere else to look except directly back. He had green eyes, bright gold in the center. Feline eyes. They contrasted intensely with his dark hair. One arm rested comfortably on the ledge of the open window. “Haven’t I seen you here before?”
“Wow, such an original line,” Angela said, slamming the car door shut again. Geo glanced over at her friend, only to find her expression sullen, full lips pressed into a thin line. She was angry because the hot guy wasn’t paying attention to her. He wasn’t even looking at her, and Angela was masking her feelings of rejection and disappointment by pretending to be totally bored with the conversation. “You think up that line all by yourself or did you steal it from your dad?”
The guy grinned, then winked at Geo, as if to say, I know why she’s mad, and you do, too. And who gives a shit.
“So what’s your name?” he said to Geo, ignoring Angela.
“Her name is Jailbait,” Angela snapped before Geo could respond. “Now, it was nice talking to you, but we have homework to do. I’m sure you remember what homework is, right?”
Now he’s too old? Geo thought, incredulous. To the guy, she said, “I’m Georgina. My friends call me Geo.”
“Then I’ll call you Georgina,” he said. “Because I think we should be more than friends.”
She laughed. Beside her, Angela let out an impatient sigh and started the car.
Geo knew exactly why her friend was being rude, and it was because the hot older guy with the cool older friends wasn’t interested in her. Well, you know what? Tough shit. How many times had Geo sat back and played wingwoman while guys hit on her best friend? There was even a term for it in this situation: grenade. In every girl group, there was the hot one, and there was the grenade. Angela was always the hot one, the one the guys wanted, the one they competed for. Geo was the grenade, the one the guys had to be nice to and treat with kid gloves, because if it blew up—if the grenade didn’t like you—then the entire group of girls would leave, and there went your chances with the hot one.
For reasons Geo couldn’t begin to understand, they had switched roles today, and neither girl was prepared for it. Not that Geo wasn’t pretty. She was, and most days, she felt it. But Angela Wong was beautiful. Everybody said so. Waist-length black hair, dark almond-shaped eyes, porcelain skin. She was also confident—one of the most popular girls in their junior year. When she spoke to you, she could make you feel like you were the only person in the room, or she could shred you with one dirty look.
Geo had none of these qualities. Yet somehow, the hot guy wanted her. Predictably, Angela was pissed. The hot guy wasn’t playing the game right by not showing her best friend any interest. The grenade was about to blow.
Luckily, he figured it out.
“Listen, the reason I came over is that my friend over there thinks you’re gorgeous.” He directed his attention to Angela now, and pointed to where his friends were standing. One of them raised a hand to wave. “That’s Jonas. He plays in a band. They got a gig at the G-Spot tomorrow night, and we can get you in for free. Bartender’s a buddy of mine, so free drinks all night. You guys have ID, right?”
He meant fake ID, and of course they did, though Geo got nervous any time she used hers, which wasn’t often. Still miffed, Angela craned her neck to get a better look at Jonas, who in Geo’s opinion looked to be about twenty-five years old. But he was cute enough, and the fact that he was in a band would appeal to Angela.
“Maybe,” her friend finally said, but she allowed a small smile. Geo let out a breath. The pin was staying in the grenade. For now.
“You’re in the band, too?” Geo asked him.
“Nah, not me,” he said with a lazy grin. “Can’t carry a tune to save my life. But I support my buddies, you know? Whatever they want, I want for them. That’s what a good friend does.”
It was a jab at Angela, but her friend was too busy checking her face again in the visor mirror to notice. He smiled knowingly, and Geo smiled back, and already it felt like they shared a secret.
Already, it felt intimate.
“I’ll give you my number and you can page me,” he said. “Got a pen?”
Geo found one in the armrest and handed it to him. He reached into the car and took her hand, taking his time writing on the back of it. The sensation tickled, and she wanted to laugh, but there was something about him that made her feel all warm inside and a little bit dizzy. Geo looked down at the number he’d given her, and the name right under it. Calvin.
“Hope to see you guys.” He held her hand for a second longer than was necessary. “You’re welcome to come, too, bro,” he said to Kaiser, as an afterthought.
“Pretty sure I have homework,” Kaiser said, sipping his Big Gulp.
“See you soon, Georgina,” Calvin said, kissing her hand before letting it go.
Angela started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, driving slowly past the three other friends leaning against the red Trans Am.
“Jonas is cute,” Geo offered, twisting around to look at Kaiser in the backseat. “Don’t you think, Kai?”
“You don’t want to know what I think,” he said, sounding glum.
“He is, right?” Angela said, but her voice was doubtful. They drove in silence for a bit. Geo was basking in the glow of Calvin’s interest in her and dying to talk about it, but she knew if she opened her mouth too quickly, it could ruin the rest of the afternoon. She had to wait for Angela to bring it up, and for her friend to decide she was okay with what happened. Instead, Geo smiled down at her hands. She’d already memorized Calvin’s number, in case the ink rubbed off before she had a chance to call.
“I can’t believe you took the guy’s digits.” Kaiser didn’t sound happy. “Your dad will kill you. He’s like, so old.”
“Shut up, Kai,” Geo said, cross. She didn’t expect him to be happy about it, for different reasons than Angela, but the least the both of them could do was not shit all over it. Things like this didn’t happen to her every day, and she wanted to enjoy it a little. “I’m not telling my dad.”
Angela sighed. “Fine, whatever. He’s hot, you lucky bitch. We’d better figure out what we’re going to wear tomorrow night. You’re coming with us, right, Kai?”
“Bite me,” he said.
As it turned out, her outfit hadn’t mattered. Geo had spent the following night in the back room of the G-Spot, making out with Calvin on an old green sofa that smelled of beer and pizza. It was the first time she’d ever French-kissed a guy, the first time she’d ever sucked someone’s tongue. They hadn’t gone all the way because Geo was still a virgin and nowhere near ready for that, but she’d let his hands go wherever they wanted. Down her shirt and into her bra. Up her skirt and inside her panties. He’d given her the first orgasm she’d ever had with another person, and she came hard, looking directly into his eyes. She didn’t know it could feel like that.
Afterward, he’d laced his fingers through hers, and whispered, “This is crazy. I’m so into you, it hurts.”
That first night with Calvin was the first and last time the relationship felt beautiful. The first and last time it didn’t feel complicated. The first and last time that Geo’s heart and mind were pure. If she could somehow isolate that one night and remember it all by itself, it might actually be a happy memory. After all, Calvin James was her first love.
But it doesn’t work that way. The past is always with you, whether you choose to think about it or not, whether you take responsibility for it or not. You carry the past with you because it transforms you. You can try to bury it and pretend it never happened, but that doesn’t work. Geo knows that from experience.
Because buried things can, and do, come back.
14
1,826 days. That’s how long Geo has been inside Hazelwood. And she would have been free hours ago, except for one small glitch.
&n
bsp; The prison is currently on lockdown.
Yolanda Carter, the skinny black inmate also known as Boney, was stabbed in the shower this morning. She was found by a guard during count, and had probably been in the shower for at least an hour already, with inmates coming and going as they got ready for the day. But of course nobody said anything. That’s how things work in prison. Nobody wants to be the “bitch who snitched.”
Geo didn’t see what happened, but according to the rumors—which move faster than lightning in prison—Boney’s death was a scene from a horror movie. The shower, timed to shut off after eight minutes, hadn’t rinsed much away, and the inmate-slash-drug dealer had been found crumpled on the tiled floor dressed in nothing but her shower shoes, covered in her own blood. When Geo heard the news, she wasn’t surprised, especially considering her conversation with the woman the day before. Boney had been moving in on Ella Frank’s turf for a while now, and not only here in Hellwood, but on the outside, too. That’s why Boney had to go. You didn’t threaten a woman’s family. And you sure as shit never threatened a woman’s children. Maybe if Boney had given birth to a child, she would have understood that. But she didn’t, and now she’s dead. Everybody knows it was Ella, even the guards, who’ve been questioning her all morning. Whether they can prove it, however, is a different story.
An alarm bell sounds, signifying the end of the lockdown. Geo swings her legs over the edge of the bed, a sudden sense of urgency flooding over her. It doesn’t take long to organize her things. She doesn’t have much to take with her other than a small notebook filled with numbers, a thin stack of birthday and Christmas cards, and a packet of unopened letters written on blue stationery and tied with string. The cards are from her father, and she stuffs them into the cheap duffel bag they’ve given her. Her dad isn’t much of a writer, signing almost all of them with a simple Chin up, kiddo! Love, Dad, but it doesn’t feel right to throw them away.