Page 49 of Everyone Here Is Lying
Avery glares at the woman beside her. Marion wants her to leave. Nobody ever wants her. It infuriates Avery to be rejected, and now Marion, her helper, her secret friend, seems to be rejecting her too.
She’s scared, Avery thinks, having her here when there’s a massive search going on. She’s probably worried about being arrested if she’s found out. Well, maybe sheshouldworry, Avery thinks. Because Marion shouldn’t be mistaken about who has the power here. It’s not Marion. Marion agreed to help her, but she’ll throw Marion under the bus if it suits her.
Avery is the one in charge. Because she knows that if she tells the police that she was in Marion Cooke’s basement the whole time she was missing, then Avery won’t be the one in trouble—Marion will. Marion will be held responsible; Avery is only nine years old. Marion should know better. Grown-ups shouldn’t let missing girls stay in their basement while the whole world is looking for them.
She has known this from the beginning, but it just seems to be occurring to Marion now, Avery thinks. Maybe she’s not that bright. In fact, she was a bit surprised that Marion agreed to help her at all. Maybe sheiskind of stupid.
Avery used to play in the woods behind their street, and she was behind Marion’s backyard one day when Marion called out a hello. Avery was lonely, playing by herself.
“You’re Dr. Wooler’s daughter, aren’t you?” she asked. She seemed friendly.
“Yes,” she admitted. She came closer.
“I’m Marion,” she said, smiling. “I’m a nurse. I work with your father at the hospital.”
“Oh,” Avery said, losing interest.
“Would you like some cookies? I just baked some.”
Avery considered.
“Chocolate chip,” Marion added.
Avery had been told not to speak to strangers. But she loved chocolate chip cookies, and this woman wasn’t really a stranger. She was a neighbor, and she worked with her dad.
“Sure.” Avery followed her into the house through the door into the kitchen. The house was more modest than her own home down the street. Marion seemed to want to know all about her, asking her questions about school, about her family. Avery thought it was a bit strange, all the interest, but adults were like that. Lots of questions. Different from kids. She didn’t mind. Hardly anyone showed an interest in her. So she told her about her mom and dad, how they fought about her.
“Is that right?” Marion asked. “Why do they fight about you?”
“Because I’m difficult,” Avery said.
“You seem like a perfectly nice girl to me,” Marion said, smiling.
After that, through the summer, she often went to Marion’s house, through the woods behind the houses, into her yard to her back door, mostly for the cookies. She never told anyone; it felt pathetic not to have friends her own age. And when she wanted somewhere to hide out for a while after her dad hit her, the only person she could think of was Marion.
She wonders if Marion still thinks she’s a perfectly nice girl now. Probably not. She turns to Marion, still sitting on the bed beside her.
“You’re afraid we’ll be found out,” Avery says.
Marion looks at her. “We won’t be found out.”
She seems awfully sure of herself, Avery thinks.
•••
Marion gathers upthe dirty dishes and makes her way back upstairs. She puts the tray down on the counter and silently locks the door to the basement. She keeps it locked at all times so that Avery can’t come up to the rest of the house. But Avery knows the rules and hasn’t tried to leave the basement in case she’d be seen; she doesn’t know the door is locked.
Marion leans against the door.
The girl downstairs may be smart, but she’s only nine years old, and she doesn’t know everything. She has no idea what’s really going on here. Avery, hidden away in her basement, has no idea what she’s walked into. She doesn’t know that she’s in over her head.
She doesn’t know that Marion is obsessed with Avery’s father. The fact is, she’s been in love with him for a long time, her days and nights filled with thoughts of him. Looking forward to seeinghim at the hospital, living only for that. It was enough, somehow, to nurture this fantasy of the two of them falling in love, of being together, her and the handsome doctor—even though she knew he was married, that he had a family. But lots of handsome men—doctors included—leave their wives and their families to marry someone else, someone younger and more attractive. She’s not kidding herself that she’s more attractive than his wife, but she’s at least comparable; she’s seen his wife at hospital events. She has gone through the last year or more trying to get his attention, but he always regarded her with complete indifference. She thought perhaps he was a good man, loyal to his wife, one who wouldn’t stray, despite the easy charm, and that made her idolize him even more. And made him more of a challenge.
When she recognized his daughter lurking outside her backyard fence, she’d invited her in, bribed her with cookies. They got to talking, because Marion wanted to know as much as possible about Dr. Wooler and his family. She befriended the girl, but she had never mentioned it to anyone. She certainly wasn’t going to tell Dr. Wooler that she was chatting to his daughter on a regular basis. He might think she was stalking him.
She could have gone on like this indefinitely, sustained by her hopes and fantasies, merely seeing him at the hospital. She had her own soap opera running in her head. And it would have been enough, if it weren’t for the day, just a week ago, that she saw him with Nora Blanchard.
Thirty-five
