The Girl Who Was Supposed to Die by Henry April

Author:Henry, April [Henry, April]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co. (BYR)
Published: 2013-06-11T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 23

DAY 2, 10:33 A.M.

Ty turns to me. “Are you okay?” he whispers. Before I answer, I scan the room without turning my head. Most of the computers are now in use. I’m probably the top story on every local news site. How many people are looking at my picture right at this moment? The changes in my hair and clothes suddenly feel like a mistake. Will my androgynous appearance make people stare at me longer, trying to figure out whether I’m a guy or a girl?

I answer Ty’s question with a question. “You know I didn’t kill him, right?”

He blows air through pursed lips. “Awfully convenient, a camera that panned away at just the right moment.”

“What do you mean?” My mind whirls. “Do you think they planned the whole thing in advance?”

“I don’t see how they could do that.” His brow furrows as he turns it over. “They couldn’t have known which way you would drive after you left the cabin. But they had—what?—at least a couple of hours before Dillow’s body was found. They must have altered the footage. Taken out the part that showed you running away.”

“Why didn’t they just add the sound of the gunshot when I was pointing the gun at him?”

“Because it would have needed to be more than just the sound. The gun would have kicked, there would have been a puff of smoke.”

I realize Ty is saying these things because he knows. He sees the way I’m looking at him and shrugs. “My mom’s boyfriend used to take me out in the forest to shoot handguns. He made fun of me because they scared me.”

I’m starting to get an idea about why Ty ended up living on the street.

I look at the article again. “I’ve spent the last day thinking my name’s Katie when it’s really”—I lower my voice further—“Cady. Cadence.”

“Cadence,” Ty repeats softly. “I like it. It’s different. I wonder why your parents chose it. Was it because they liked music or poetry or…”

Right now, I wouldn’t care if they had named me after their favorite brand of paper towels. Just as long as I could find them. “And where are they anyway?” I interrupt him. “This article is hinting I did something to them.”

“‘Signs of a struggle’ covers a lot of ground.”

“None of it any good.” My stomach churns.

“If something really bad happened to your family, it seems like they would have found them by now.” He pats my hand. “The fact that they weren’t there is a good sign.”

“Yeah, but if they’re not at our house, and they weren’t in the cabin, where are they? They’re probably dead.”

“Don’t go there,” he says. “Not when you don’t have to.” His eyes are kind. Kind and sad. He sits back and thinks for a moment. “At least Cady isn’t as common as Katie. Let’s see if you have a Facebook page.” He types in my name. Cadence Scott. There are a half dozen results, but only one with a picture of me.

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