The Shadow Girl

17




After Wyatt leaves, I go upstairs and call the Purple Prose bookstore. A clerk informs me Gail’s out on an errand. I tell her I’ll call back.

After ending the call, I pull up the Milano Lawn & Garden site. Iris’s excitement crackles around me and my palms start to sweat as I punch the listed number into my phone. How will Jake react when I tell him who I am?

On the second ring, a guy answers and tells me that Jake doesn’t work there anymore. “Would you like to speak to Adrian?” he asks.

Making a guess, I say, “Adrian Milano?”

“Yeah. Jake’s mother.”

“Um, yes, thanks. That’d be great.”

Waiting, I stare out the window at the peaks and think of how Iris once told me that we’re like them—the dark east peak and the colorful west one, unable to exist alone, a part of each other. I’m not totally sure what she meant by that. I only know that I’m doing this as much for her as I am for myself.

“This is Adrian,” says a woman’s voice on the line, breaking into my thoughts.

“Um—Mrs. Milano?”

“Yes?”

“My name is Lily Winston. I’m looking for your son, Jake. I was hoping you could tell me how to get in touch with him?”

“Could I ask what this is about?”

“I’m related to a girl he knew in high school, and I want to talk to him about her. Could I get his number?”

“I knew all of Jake’s old friends,” she says in a friendly tone. “They were such a fun bunch. Who are you related to, Lily?”

Staring at the east peak, I say, “Iris Marshall was my sister.”

Over the next few seconds, I hear the background noises of the store—voices, a jingling bell, music playing. Jake’s mother remains silent.

“Mrs. Milano? Are you still there?”

“I’m here.” She clears her throat. “Iris Marshall didn’t have a sister.”

“I was born after she died.”

Another long pause, then, “How old are you, Lily? I don’t mean to be rude, but—”

“No, that’s okay. I just turned seventeen.”

“Dear God,” she whispers so softly I almost miss it. “But you said your name is Winston.”

“My parents changed their names before I was born. I didn’t know that until recently. I didn’t know I had a sister, either. Not until Dad died and—”

“Adam is dead?”

A creaking noise downstairs makes me jump. The door opening? Lowering my voice, I say, “He was killed in an accident a couple weeks ago.”

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry to hear that. I admired Adam very much. How’s Melanie?”

It takes a couple seconds for me to realize she’s asking about Mom. “It’s been hard on her,” I say.

“I’m sure. Give her my best, will you?”

“Yes,” I lie. There’s no way I’ll mention this conversation to Mom. Not any time soon, at least. “I really need to talk to Jake, Mrs. Milano.”

“If you’ll give me your number, I’ll pass it on to him.”

I recite the information, then hang up and sit on the bed, her whisper stuck in my mind. “Dear God.” Jake’s mother was surprised that I’m seventeen. Why? Because my parents lied about the miscarriage? Or something else?

We’re getting closer, I tell Iris, then shift my thoughts back to Dad. This morning when Ty told me about the little boy Dad tried to help, I started wondering if he might’ve attempted a similar experiment on Iris. In addition to his work on healing brain injuries, could Dad have also been using stem cells to try to cure leukemia? Is that even possible? It would explain Iris’s insistence that someone did something to her that she found frightening. She freaked out when Ty mentioned Dad’s team member at Cell Research Technology, Ian Beckett. Since Iris was Dad’s daughter, might Beckett have carried out the actual procedure in his place? If only she could remember the details. . . .

I’m so rattled by my thoughts and from talking to Jake’s mom that I can’t bring myself to try calling my aunt again. I punch in Ty’s number instead, and when he picks up, I say, “I really need to talk to you about something in person. Can you meet me now?”

“Sure.”

“If you’re up for a hike, I’ll meet you at the rock wall at one o’clock.”

“I’ll be there,” says Ty.



I lean against the rock wall at the edge of the trail. The earth smells spicy and damp, and for a second, I wish I could stay here forever, alone with Iris where I’ve always felt safe—at least I always did until the morning of my birthday.

Closing my eyes, I listen to the gurgling stream on the other side of the trail, my back to the wall, my palms pressed lightly against the rock. I imagine the power of a hundred souls radiating through the hard granite and into me, giving me strength. I feel like it’s time for me to tell Ty about my relationship with Iris. He might be able to help me figure out what happened to her. And I don’t want any more secrets between us. But what if he reacts the same way Wyatt did?

“Hey,” says Ty, and I jump and open my eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” As he walks up the trail toward me, sunlight filters down through the trees, streaking golden highlights in his hair.

“Hey back.” I smile as he stops in front of me.

He reaches out a hand, then hesitates and withdraws it, eyeing me with uncertainty. “Are we okay?”

Ty’s hopeful, narrow-eyed appraisal shoots a current of electricity through my body from my head to my toes. “We’re okay,” I tell him.

He drapes his arms loosely around my waist. “Do you have more questions about your dad?”

“Only about a million, but I want to talk about my sister right now.” I twist the hem of his shirt around my finger, gazing down at my hand. “Have you heard any of the legends about this area?”

“Only the one you told me about the wall.”

“There are plenty of others. One claims that people who sleep in the shadow of the peaks never die.” I lift my gaze to his. “Maybe my sister was one of them. Maybe my parents brought her here when she was sick, or something.”

Cocking his head, Ty frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Promise me you’ll try to have an open mind, okay?” He nods, and I draw a long breath and tell him everything. As I talk, I try to interpret each subtle change in his posture, but can’t. Ty listens quietly, and when I finish, his expression is alive with amazement, but not even a glimmer of disbelief.

“That’s just—” He laughs. “God, Lily! How did you stay quiet about her? Hearing her voice in your head . . . feeling her inside of you! I would’ve gone totally crazy keeping something like that to myself.”

Stunned by his reaction, I say, “You don’t think I am? Crazy, I mean?”

He shakes his head. “Not at all.”

“I thought you’d at least question me. See if I have delusions of persecution and all the other symptoms that go along with being schizoid.” I laugh.

Ty studies my face. “Nope. I don’t see it in you. Sorry.” His mouth curves into a crooked grin.

“No apology necessary.” I laugh again, amazed that he believes me. “I had to stay quiet about Iris. To me, she’s as normal as breathing, but I figured out early on that other people probably wouldn’t think so—even my parents. So I kept my mouth shut.”

“You didn’t tell Wyatt?”

“I just did. He thinks I’ve either lost it, or I’m making the whole thing up to explain why I kissed him the other day.”

“You kissed him?” Ty squints at me.

“Sort of.” I wince.

He smirks and draws back. “How do you ‘sort of’ kiss someone?”

“I’m pretty sure Iris made me do it. It was like he was someone else. Her boyfriend, Jake.”

“She didn’t have anything to do with you kissing me, did she?”

“We kissed?” I tease.

“If you’ve already forgotten, maybe you need a reminder.” He lifts one arm from my waist, hooks his index finger in the neckline of my shirt, and draws me closer. Then his mouth lowers to mine, and I do forget. I forget everything except how crazy I am about him. He tastes like cinnamon and coffee, and I don’t ever want him to stop.

When he does, I touch my forehead to his and say, “Don’t worry. Iris didn’t have anything to do with that. Or any of the other times, either.”

He laughs. “That’s a relief.”

“Not half as much as the fact that you believe me.”

Ty tilts his head back and shrugs. “It’s a simple law of physics that energy doesn’t go away, it just changes form. It makes a weird kind of sense that your sister’s energy would attach to you.”

A breeze swoops through, rubbing the branches of the trees together and making them creak. “If that’s true, why doesn’t it happen to everybody?” I ask.

“I don’t know. There’re a lot of things that can’t be explained.”

I twist a strand of his hair around my finger. “I think I missed out on a lot, by not having Iris in my life. As a real person, I mean. Like you have Kyle.”

Ty’s face darkens. “Sometimes I wanted to throttle him. He could really bug me, you know? It’s weird, but the things Kyle did that used to piss me off the most are some of my best memories now.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I know your parents are going to be glad to have you back. They need you right now.” I take a breath, ready to tell him that I want to go with him, but before I can, he drops his head and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Not my dad,” he says. “I don’t know if he’s ever going to be able to even look at me again.”

“What? Why wouldn’t he?”

“Because—” I hear his breath catch. He opens his eyes and looks at me. “The accident was my fault. I was driving the car.”

“Oh, Ty. No.”

“I was home for Christmas break. Dad and I had a fight. I don’t even remember what about; that’s how unimportant it was. Kyle was at a friend’s and I’d gone to pick him up. The roads were icy, and because I was pissed off at Dad, I was speeding. When the light at the intersection changed to red I slammed on the brake, but I was going too fast to stop on the ice, and I slid into the oncoming traffic.”

I lean my forehead against his again. “I’m so sorry.”

“The guy in the other car walked away with a few broken bones. I had a gash in my cheek. Kyle wasn’t so lucky.”

I think of the scar on his face that I barely notice anymore. “Let me try to help you,” I say quietly.

“I don’t deserve to be helped.” He pulls away from me. “Dad has every right to feel like he does. And Mom—” He swallows. “Well, she’s my mother. She’s already lost one son; I guess she can’t stand the thought of losing me, too.”

“She hasn’t lost Kyle. Not yet.”

“Yeah, and it’s all up to me now—how much longer he lives. They’re waiting until I get there to turn off the machines. Do you know what that feels like? I’ve been telling myself that if I stay away long enough, there’ll still be time for a miracle. The problem is, the only miracles I believe in are the kind people make for themselves.” He snorts derisively. “So there you go. All I have to do is figure out how to make one.”

Cautiously, I say, “I want to go with you to Baltimore.”

Surprise flickers across Ty’s features. “Your mom isn’t about to let you get in a car with me, much less drive all the way to Baltimore.”

“I won’t tell her. Not until we’re already gone.”

“She’ll kill you. After she kills me first, that is.” He shakes his head slowly. “Your mom’s been through a lot. Have you thought about how worried she’d be?”

“I know she’ll worry, but Addie and Wyatt will watch out for her while I’m gone. And once I explain things to her, she’ll realize I had to go.” I take his hand, lace our fingers together. “I want to be there for you and your family, Ty. Your mom was right about Iris’s music. It helps, somehow. I can play for Kyle. I want to. Please take me with you.”

After a long hesitation, he says, “Are you sure?”

I nod.

“Okay, then.” He exhales loudly. “When can you get away?”

“I’m going to Wyatt’s senior party after his graduation tonight. I should have plenty of chances to slip away without him missing me for a while. Just be ready to go and I’ll call you when the time is right.”

“If Wyatt gets to me first, you can forget what I said about your mom killing me. He’ll have already done it. You sure you won’t regret this?”

I think of Wyatt . . . of Mom . . . how upset they’ll be. But then I think of Kyle and Ty’s parents. Of Ty and what lies ahead for him. Shaking my head, I say, “No regrets.”



A big flock of fluttering crows has invaded Silver Lake High’s gymnasium. At least that’s how it looks from my position in the bleachers between Mom and Addie as we watch the students gathered below us in their black caps and gowns. Folding chairs cover the floor in short rows, like corn in a field, and ninety-three seniors dart between them, hugging and nudging one another, laughing and calling out names as they move from one huddled group to the next.

I look through the binoculars Addie brought and zero in on a girl with neon-pink hair—Sylvie, of course. While most of the other girls are wearing sandals or heels, clunky leather boots peek out from beneath the hem of her gown. She’s standing with a tall guy who’s as skinny as a green bean. He leans down and whispers something in her ear, then nods to a group of girls a few feet away. Sylvie clutches her stomach and bends forward at the waist laughing, like she’s about to pee her pants. I lower the binoculars and smile, hoping she’ll be at the party later. No way it could be boring with Sylvie there. And I might need her help to make my escape.

I’m queasy just thinking about what I’m going to do. Queasy and guilty. Wyatt’s going to think I used him to sneak out of town. I hope that he and mom will forgive me once I explain Kyle’s situation. But I have my doubts about Wyatt.

More familiar faces appear in the crowd below. Wyatt’s dorky friend Clinton. Some guys from the hockey team. A girl named Natalie that Wyatt went out with last year. I see Wyatt, too, standing with a group of guys, laughing. He’s the center of attention.

This side of Wyatt is unfamiliar to me—at school with his friends—part of a world where I don’t belong. It makes me realize how small and confined my own world has been.

On a makeshift stage at the front of the building, the school band begins to warm up and the black flock quiets as they migrate to the back of the room and line up. A couple minutes later, the music pauses, and then the band starts playing, “We Are the Champions.”

In the bleachers, we all stand and watch the students file in and take their seats.

The next half hour is filled with speeches about working hard and following dreams and facing the future with courage and hope. I can’t help wondering what surprises my own future holds. I hope I’m brave enough to handle them.

Finally, the students’ names are called out alphabetically, and one by one, Silver Lake High’s graduating seniors cross the stage to receive their diplomas. It seems like forever before they reach the letter P and “Wyatt Reid Pierson.”

I look through the binoculars again. The black tassel on Wyatt’s cap swings back and forth as he climbs the stairs to the stage and walks toward the waiting principal. I smile so wide my cheeks hurt. Beside me, Addie sticks two fingers into her mouth and whistles loud enough to pop an eardrum. I hand her the binoculars so she can get a closer look while Mom and I clap and cheer.

Wyatt takes the diploma from the principal’s outstretched hand, then descends the stairs on the opposite side of the stage. Making his way back to his seat, he scans the faces in the bleachers, and when he spots us, he grins ear to ear. In that instant, I’m so proud of him. And it hits me like a brick that I’ve been afraid of losing him—that’s what this change between us has been all about. We’re graduating and the future is such a big, scary unknown. I think we’ve both been afraid that we’ll grow apart now that high school’s behind us. Maybe we thought we had to change in order to keep moving on together. But I can’t mislead Wyatt anymore, even if it hurts us both. I do love him, but only as a friend.

“You should be with them, darling,” Mom says, interrupting my train of thought. She nods toward the graduates on the floor of the gym.

“It’s okay, Mom.”

“No, it’s not. You missed out by not going to school here. I’m sorry about that, but your father and I did what we thought was best.” She surprises me by reaching for my hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you how proud of you we’ve always been.”

The compliment is so unexpected, I don’t know what to say. I can only look at her and try not to burst into tears.

Mom’s smile falls away. “I know there’s been tension between us lately, and that there’s a lot about my decisions you don’t understand.” She glances toward Addie, and when she sees that her attention is firmly fixed on Wyatt, Mom says more quietly, “There’s a lot I don’t understand, either, Lily. For one thing, how you play the violin as beautifully as your sister did.” She sighs. “Maybe it’s time we both just accept what is and put the past behind us. More than anything, I want us to move on with our lives.”

I get her message. She’s telling me to stop asking questions. I love my mother, and I hate causing her so much distress. But I’m not moving on from the past until I find out the truth. For myself and for Iris.



After the ceremony ends, Addie and Mom say they’re going to dinner in Silver Lake, then to a movie. I’m glad for two reasons: Mom hasn’t had an outing like that in forever, and in case Ty’s delayed for some reason, it will give him more time to drive to the cabin and get Iris’s violin. I didn’t know how to bring it with me tonight, so I left the cabin door unlocked for Ty to grab it. He can take the violin from my bedroom and be gone before she gets back from the movie, with no problem.

Wyatt finds us, and we all take turns hugging and congratulating him. After pictures are taken with Addie’s camera, Mom and Addie leave in her Jeep, and Wyatt and I head for the community college activity center for the party. The center is sort of like a gym for students, with basketball and racquetball courts, a small bowling alley, a swimming pool, workout equipment, and empty rooms for exercise classes.

“You all right?” Wyatt asks, sliding me a look as we follow the flow of students toward the rows of doors across the front of the building.

“Sure, I’m great.”

He’s not fooled; Wyatt knows me too well. “Relax, Lil. This’ll be fun,” he assures me.

Ahead of us, somebody tugs open the door. We follow them into the mouth of the beast and are instantly surrounded by blaring music, loud voices, and shrill laughter. Tingly heat floods my body and I throb head to toe with the beat of the music that’s playing. I stay close to Wyatt as we weave through the congestion of people.

“Dude! There’s a line,” some guy barks. “You gotta sign in.”

“Sorry,” Wyatt shouts.

We make our way to the back of the crowd and take our place. The line moves quickly, and soon we’re standing before two women. One of them gestures toward a clipboard on the table, saying, “Put your name there, please. Anybody leaving the building has to check out first. If your parents call, we’ll want to let them know whether you’re here or not.” She wags a finger at us and in a singsong voice adds, “Once you leave, there’s no getting back in!”

Wyatt signs our names, while the second woman—a stocky, stern army-sergeant wannabe—shouts, “Over here, ladies and gentlemen! Let’s take a look in your pockets and bags.”

I open my bag, hoping Wyatt doesn’t see the clothes I stuffed inside for the trip to Baltimore. Luckily, he’s too busy turning his pockets inside out to pay attention.

When the lady sends us on our way, I ask, “Why can’t we get back in if we leave?”

“They don’t want people bringing alcohol back,” Wyatt explains.

Kids roam everywhere, relaxed now that the pressure of the ceremony is behind them. A dozen different activities are already underway. A coed basketball game on one of the courts, a volleyball game on another, dodgeball on a third. Both bowling lanes are occupied, and every racquetball court is full.

We make our way to the “Vegas” room, where blackjack tables are set up, and a couple of games of craps are being played. Wyatt spots some friends from the hockey team and they wave us over. As Wyatt, P. J., and another guy named Troy start playing blackjack, I stand back and watch, mentally devising an escape plan for later tonight. I’m so antsy I feel like I could jump out of my skin.

Iris is restless, too. I’m not sure if it’s the crowd or worry about Jake or our upcoming trip that has her on edge, but she’s like a tickle in my ear that I can’t scratch.

Wyatt laughs and teases the blackjack dealer—the father of one of his friends—about cheating. I try to listen and act as if I’m interested in what’s going on, but it’s no use. A sense of urgency thumps through my veins. I wander over to a corner, lean against the wall, out of the way, and check my phone.

“Expecting to hear from someone?” a hoarse voice asks, and I glance up to see Sylvie approaching. She grins and waggles her brows. “Bet I can guess who.”

Just as I’m about to reply, my phone vibrates. “Hey, just a sec. I want to take this in private,” I say. “You know anyplace I could go?”

She nods toward the door. “There’s a bathroom down the hall.”

“Thanks, I’ll find you later,” I say, and slip from the room.