Fake ID by Lamar Giles

Author:Lamar Giles
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2013-11-11T05:00:00+00:00

At the gravesite, a small mob gathered around Reya and her mom. Me and my mother watched from a distance.

“How’s she been doing?” Mom said.

“Who?” I knew.

She gave me a weird look. Squinty.

I said, “She’s as good as you can expect, I guess. I haven’t talked to her in a couple of days.”

“You like her, though?”

Oh my God . . . it was so awkward I felt like asking the grave diggers to bury me, too. Mom rubbed my shoulder. “Give her a little time.”

“For what?”

Mom just smirked. “You got a lot of good stuff from your dad, too. I hope you know.”

“What’s that mean?” The woman had suddenly become the Riddler.

She cleared her throat. “I think someone wants to talk to you, Nick.”

Her gaze drifted over my shoulder. I turned and found a puffy-eyed Reya approaching.

“Hello, Mrs. Pearson,” she said, her voice rough. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all, sweetie. I’m so very sorry about your brother.” She turned to me. “I’m going to go offer my condolences to Mrs. Cruz.” Mom left us.

“I don’t know what to say to you right now.” I felt the need to be honest. A rarity.

“Admitting that is the best thing I’ve heard all day. I hate all these people who just talk and say nothing. ‘He’s in a better place,’ ‘grief is for the living.’ I’m sick of it.” Reya gave me a hug. “Thanks, Nick.”

“What now? You going home?”

Her mouth turned down. “Yes, to get ready for the party. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“You’re going?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah—I just thought you might want to be with your family.”

“I’ve been with them for the last five days. If we’re together much longer, there might be a series of Cruz funerals next week.”

I couldn’t tell if she was joking. “Maybe a little fun would do you some good.”

“Fun? I’m going so we can get the truth out of Dustin. You haven’t been able to make that happen or I would’ve heard from you before now, right?”

No use denying it. I hadn’t called or texted because I knew she’d press for info I didn’t have. I didn’t want to hear her disappointed voice again.

She said, “You want some alone time with Dustin? What better distraction than Grief Girl? Everyone will be all over me. You shouldn’t have a problem.”

It sounded so . . . strategic. Like Eli. “You sure you’re up for it?”

She looked toward her brother’s coffin, sinking slowly into the earth. “You shouldn’t have to ask.”

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