But Mrs. Redding knew she had her. “That’s why he left, you know. The first time he held you, he turned to me and he said, ‘Well, maybe we’ll get it right next time.’ He saw right through you. You’re the reason he abandoned us. You were never good enough for him.”
“Please,” Julie said weakly, shriveling into herself, the rush of confidence she had felt just moments before vanishing. This was always her mom’s secret weapon. And it was always the thing that decimated Julie completely.
“So you’re not going to school today, huh?” Mrs. Redding challenged. “I’m not surprised. Your father always said you weren’t smart enough. You’re a piece of nothing. A worthless, no-good, piece of nothing. Of course you’re accused of a murder! You probably did it, you stupid bitch!”
She said more than that, way more, but the words soon blurred together, washing over Julie as they had since she was a little girl. Her mother had always been mean, even before she snapped. Julie remembered crying so hard when she was little, once even asking, “What can I do to make you love me?” To which her mother had just laughed and said, “Become someone else.”
That was when Julie became . . . well, Super Julie. Even as a six-year-old, she’d scuttled around doing everything her mother asked—anticipating her every need, bringing her slippers, a case of Diet Sprite, her favorite weekly tabloids. It was why she studied harder than anyone else in her class, dressed neater, brushed her auburn hair until it was the shiniest of all the girls in her grade.
But it had never been enough. No matter what Julie did or how she did it, her mother despised her. Julie often felt like the barrage of words was worse than the sea of trash lapping at her bedroom door.
When they moved to Beacon Heights, she’d thought she could start fresh, and for a little while, she’d gotten away with it. But maybe her mother was right. Maybe Julie was the problem. If she had just tried harder to keep her secret from Ashley, no one else at school would have found out. If she had just tried harder to fix her mother, then there wouldn’t have been a secret in the first place. And if Julie had just tried harder to stop herself and the others from drugging Nolan, if she’d done a better job of disguising her handwriting so the cops wouldn’t recognize it on Nolan’s face, if she just hadn’t broken into Mr. Granger’s house, maybe she and the others wouldn’t be suspects. If Julie were smarter, better, stronger, then she would be able to figure out who had snuck back in after they left and killed him. Because right now she didn’t have the faintest idea, and unless she figured it out fast, she was going to jail.
Maybe it was all her fault.
Somewhere in the distance, Julie thought she heard a bell. Mrs. Redding halted mid-word. Julie heard it again—this time more clearly. It was the doorbell.
Julie’s mom turned back to her. “Well, are you going to get that or not?”
Julie, who had flung herself on her bed and curled into a tight fetal ball, slowly sat up and blinked. “Uh, sure,” she said weakly.
“Good.” Mrs. Redding hefted herself up from Parker’s bed and trudged out the door, leaving a cyclone of cat hair swirling behind her. “And after you do, you can get my cat litter and Diet Sprite.”
“Okay,” Julie said in a tiny voice.
The doorbell chimed again. Julie rubbed her eyes, sensing how red they probably were. What if it was Ashley? The girl materialized in her thoughts, her red-gold hair the same shade as Julie’s, her clothes so carefully copied, her smile so saccharine and evil. Ever since the email, Julie had had nightmares about Ashley ambushing her at every turn. Ashley popped out of a cake at a birthday party, poked her head into a private bathroom stall, even interrupted Julie at a waxing appointment. “Do you know the truth?” Ashley giggled every time. “She’s a disgusting freak! She lives in a trash heap! Her clothes are made of cat hair!” And whoever else was in the dream—a friend, an acquaintance, even a stranger—would look at Julie in horror, understanding her true nature.
Then again, maybe it was just Parker at the door. Parker needed her now. And Julie had wondered where her friend had disappeared to after the police station yesterday—after they’d spoken about who could be after them, Parker had taken off through the woods, insisting she wanted to be alone. Julie should have followed her. Parker was too fragile to be alone.
She slipped from her bed and wrapped a plush terry cloth robe around herself. Slowly, she wedged her way down the hall, following the square beacon of light that streamed in through the one small window set high in the front door.
Just as Julie was a few feet from the door, the light went dark. A face blocked the window, peering in. She froze in her tracks, her heart leaping into her throat. She recognized the olive-green eyes, the beautiful dark skin: It was Carson Wells. The new guy in town, whom she’d been foolish enough to go on a few dates with before everything went down.