I change into an Alice in Wonderland dress that the twins bought me at Disney, because they liked the Tweedledee and Tweedledum decals on the hem. Paired with the kick-ass red heels I grabbed during our shopping trip, and the Student Council pin I put on the pocket, I feel ready to deal with this whole fiasco.
Mom. Dating.
I don’t like it, not one bit.
Mom’s new boyfriend calls a taxi for us, and we end up at a nice restaurant with night-blooming jasmine and hibiscus outside. It smells heavenly, and I find myself relaxing a little. I mean, just because her new boyfriend can afford to take us here doesn’t mean he’s a nice guy, but at least the food should be good, right? The night won’t be a total wash.
“I thought you were still in love with Dad,” I say as we walk up the winding path, and Mom pauses, dressed in a cranberry colored dress and a fresh face of makeup that takes years off of her. She almost looks like the woman I used to know before the drugs started.
“Honey,” she says, a slightly patronizing smile taking over her lips. “It’s not that I don’t love your dad. It’s just … we don’t work together anymore. And I got with him so young that it felt like I never got to experiment, or test my own boundaries.” She pauses and looks at me with a slightly perplexed expression on her face. “Although it looks like you’re not making the same mistakes I did.” A chuckle escapes her red painted lips, and I frown. “Three boyfriends. Does your Dad know?”
“I told him, but I couldn’t decide if he believed me or not,” I say with a loose shrug of my shoulders. “Not that it matters. It didn’t change his decision to send me away, and it certainly won’t help him invite me back. Because that’s all I want, Mom, to go back to Adamson.”
“Certainly not with that hanging and all that other nonsense,” she whispers, and then her eyes widen and she stands on her tiptoes to wave at someone over my shoulder. “Over here, Ian!” She waves frantically, and I sigh, turning to see who this asshole coming up the—
“Holy shit, it’s Mr. Dave,” I choke out, looking around frantically for a hibiscus bush to jump into. But it’s too late. He’s seen me, and his own eyes go wide at the sight. We stand there staring at each other, mean librarian bully versus annoying male student turned daughter of the woman he’s banging.
Dear God of Holes and Other Such Things, please open up and swallow me now. I know you’ve never listened to me before, and continue to allow horrible, embarrassing things to happen to me, but just this once, could you make an exception?
No such luck.
Mr. Dave grumbles his way up the path, his dark eyes like spears, his mouth etched into such a deep frown that I wouldn’t be surprised if it got stuck that way.
“You’re my mother’s new boyfriend?” I ask, looking at him with an expression of sheer and utter disbelief. “How? You live in Connecticut.”
“I know you’ve met Ian before,” Mom says, coming around behind me to snuggle up to her new beau’s tree trunk like arm. “But I wanted to surprise you.”
“How did you two meet?” I ask, trying to puzzle my way through this whole thing. You don’t just accidently run into someone from across the continent like this. There’s no such thing as coincidence. You know, except for like how you ran into the twins at the Boardwalk that one time … All of a sudden I’m sweating bullets, and my mind is going crazy.
Everyone’s a suspect, aren’t they? Every single person I know.
“I came out here to visit family during winter break, and ran into your mother,” Mr. Dave rumbles, this voice like rocks tumbling down a mountain. “We just happened to hit it off.” He glances over at her, and his face softens in an almost believable sort of way.
“Psychopaths don't feel human emotion per se, but are extremely skilled in imitating it.”
Church’s words hit me like a freight train, and I find myself taking a step back. No way Mr. Dave—if that’s even his real freaking name—accidentally runs into my mom in a metro area containing over thirteen million people. This is all connected back to the school, and to me, and to Jenica’s murder. I can feel it.
“I know this is a little weird, honey,” Mom starts, but I’m already backing up another step. Mr. Dave’s dark eyes track my movements before flicking toward the street and back again. Is he looking for his accomplices? Is he checking out the security detail that followed me and Mom over here tonight?
“It’s more than just a little weird,” I tell her, turning my attention back to Ian Dave. I mean, what kind of a name is that?! It’s as fake as press-on nails. “This is creepy. You know that someone attacked me at the school, right? And I don’t mean Adamson, I mean SCHS. And during a week when Mr. Dave was absent.”
