Cold as Marble by Zoe Aarsen

Author:Zoe Aarsen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse
Published: 2019-10-07T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

HAVE FUN TONIGHT,” MOM TOLD me as I unfastened my seat belt. She was dropping me off at Cheryl’s house, where I’d told her I was spending the night on New Year’s Eve. I didn’t feel great about lying to my mom or to Cheryl, but sleeping over at the Guthrieses’ seemed like the most credible and benign way to escape from my house the night of Violet’s party.

I climbed out of the car with my overnight bag and said, “We will.”

“And don’t stay up too late. I’ll be here at eight sharp. We need to be on the road by nine thirty to make it up to Sheridan by noon,” she reminded me.

“I know, I know,” I grumbled. The long drive back up to my boarding school was the least of my concerns that evening. Little did my mom know that with all I intended to accomplish that night, there was a very good chance I’d never be going back to Sheridan. I’d even taken a long, nostalgic look around my bedroom before leaving the house, wondering if I’d ever set foot in it again. “Get home safely,” I told her. If it wouldn’t have put my mom on red alert about my activities, I would have also warned her about using electrical appliances, knives, and walking with scissors that night, out of my concern for her. But I left my precautions at driving and waved wistfully as she backed out of the Guthrieses’ driveway, with my heart twisting into a knot, hoping that this wouldn’t be the last time I’d see her.

Cheryl greeted me at the front door beaming from ear to ear. “Yay! I’m so glad you’re here!” she said as I stepped inside her house, which always smelled like potpourri. “We’re going to have so much fun tonight!”

I felt like the most sinister person in the world as we microwaved popcorn and settled into her living room to watch movies rented from iTunes with her mom, dad, and younger brother. I’d called Cheryl on Friday to express regret that we hadn’t had a chance to hang out at any other point during the break, which had been my way of gently manipulating her into extending an invitation to me to spend the holiday at her house. The entire time I sat quietly with her family, I could hear my phone buzzing with incoming texts from Mischa and Henry, making anxiety build like a Jenga tower in my chest.

I hadn’t filled Cheryl in on my full agenda for the night when I’d excitedly accepted her invitation. But after we ordered pizza and watched a second movie, I knew I had to act quickly if I was going to make it outside to meet Mischa at ten fifteen, when she was scheduled to pick me up. When I’d left my house with mom, Mischa was still leaning toward avoiding the party. It was only through my persistent reminders that her seven-day candle had reached its seventh day,

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