Page 68 of Jar of Hearts
The clock read oneA.M.Walt was long asleep, his bedroom door shut, the volume on his white-noise machine turned all the way up. First thing in the morning, she would confess all to her father, and they would go down to the police station together. Yes, it would ruin her life, but at least she had a life to ruin. Angela didn’t. Her best friend never had a choice.
Tomorrow. She would come clean tomorrow.
The decision made, Geo managed to fall back asleep, only to be woken up again an hour later by a knock on her bedroom window.
The sound startled her, and she turned over in bed. At the sight of Calvin’s face through the glass, her insides froze. They hadn’t spoken to each other since it happened, and she was starting to let herself believe that the next time they faced each other, one or both of them would be in handcuffs.
She got out of bed. She was wearing an old pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt with a hole in the armpit. Her face was shiny, her hair twisted into a messy knot at the top of her head. She had three zits on her chin from stress. Calvin had never seen her looking anything less than put together, but she didn’t care now. They’d already seen each other doing the worst thing they’d ever done; greasy hair and a few pimples would have no impact on that.
She opened the window and he climbed in, dragging with him a duffel bag that looked stuffed to the gills.
“Where’s your car?” she asked, concerned that his bright red Trans Am was parked out front for all the neighbors to see.
“Sold it.”
She didn’t ask why. She didn’t care. He took a seat on the edge of her bed, dropped his bag on the floor, and reached for the jar of cinnamon hearts on her nightstand. There were only a handful left, and he shook out what remained, started popping them into his mouth.
The jar was finally empty.
“How’ve you been?” He gave her the once-over, raising an eyebrow at her baggy sweats, the messy hair. “You look like shit.”
“I feel even worse than that.”
“Well, don’t,” he said. “There’s nothing you can do about it now.”
“I’m telling my father tomorrow,” Geo said. “It’s only a matter of time before the cops figure it out, anyway.”
“No, they won’t.” Calvin reached for her hand, and squeezed. She tried to jerk it away, but he wouldn’t let go. “If they knew anything, if they suspected, they would have arrested us by now. Nobody will find out, so long as we keep quiet.”
“I’m sick inside,” she said, staring at him. “Aren’t you? How do you sleep? How do you eat? I’m barely functioning.”
He let her hand go, ran his fingers through his hair. “Then don’t think about it.”
“How can I not?” Geo’s voice was small. “You killed her.”
“You killed her, too,” he said.
Her head snapped up. “No, I didn’t. How can you even say that?”
“By law, it’s the same thing. You helped me move her body. You helped me cover it up. You lied to the cops.” Calvin’s tone was soft, matter-of-fact, all-knowing. “If this ever gets out, you’ll be just as guilty as me.”
“So you’re taking off?” she said, gesturing to his duffel bag. “That’s what you’ve come to tell me? They’re still investigating, they’re still asking questions. I can’t… I can’t keep lying to everyone. I can’t keep lying to her mom.”
“You don’t have to lie. Just don’t say anything.”
He met her gaze with a steady one of his own. On the surface, he looked the same as he always did—handsome, relaxed, confident. But there was something new beneath the surface. Something she’d caught glimpses of whenever they’d argue, something that would peek out for a brief moment, and then scoot back into its hiding place. Whatever it was, it wasn’t hiding now. She sensed it. She could feel it staring at her, watching her from someplace inside him.
“I love you,” Calvin said. “That hasn’t changed. You could come with me.”
The words made her stomach churn. Whatever he felt for her, it couldn’t be how love was supposed to feel. What they had was something fucked up, something poisonous, something that would kill her if she didn’t get as far away from it as possible.
“I can’t,” she said. “I have to finish school. And I can’t leave my dad.”
He nodded. “I know. But I thought I’d ask anyway.”
He leaned in and kissed her. Her stomach turned, and she tried to move her face away, but he grabbed it in both hands and kissed her more deeply. He had a cinnamon heart in his mouth; she could feelits hard knobbiness rolling around on his tongue. Sweet and hot and spicy, all at the same time. A familiar taste, and it now made her sick.
“Stop,” she said, but he didn’t.
