“Students at Danford Academy choose from a myriad of electives to go along with the core curriculum,” the ad continued. “Everything from architecture to sports therapy to engineering. If it’s the arts you’re interested in, Danford’s theater is renowned for its acoustics, and its art wing is comparable to those found on college campuses.”
Art wing? When she’d found out that Joey was switching schools, she felt so responsible. It lingered in the back of her mind for weeks: Once upon a time, she and Joey had been friends, and now something she’d done had chased him out of town. But from what she heard, Joey was at Danford on an art scholarship for his drawings. Maybe he’d actually be happier at a school with an entire art wing. It helped ease the guilt she’d been feeling, at least a little.
“Syd?” her mom called out as Sydney headed into the apartment a few minutes later. “Is that you?” Her mom walked into the living room wearing her favorite purple dress, paired with black kitten heels and gold earrings. Her dark brown hair was swept into a low ponytail, and her turquoise-blue eyes were sparkling. Between those eyes, her dark hair, and her skinny frame, Sydney felt as if she were looking into a crystal ball of her future. She could only hope that the guy in hers was nothing like her father. “Your dad said he’s taking me for a surprise on our date tonight,” her mom told her excitedly. “What do you think, is this outfit good?”
Sydney was tempted to tell her it was much too good; she hated the idea of her mom looking so pretty for her dad. But she swallowed her words and nodded cheerfully. When her mom broke into a wide smile, she was glad she had. She might despise her dad, but she loved seeing her mom this happy.
“Will you be okay on your own tonight?” her mom asked worriedly.
“Always am,” Sydney said cheerfully. She was careful to avert her eyes as she said it. At school she was considered a loner, and she never minded. But she’d always had a secret weapon at home: her mom. Tracey Morgan had gotten pregnant with Sydney when she was only twenty, which meant she often felt as much like a friend to Sydney as a parent. Or she used to, until Sydney’s dad dived back in and plucked her away.
Her mom flashed that happy smile again. “Thanks, hon. And don’t worry about waiting up, okay? I could be late.”
Somehow Sydney managed not to gag. She did not like to think about what kept her parents out that late.
Her mom gave her a quick kiss before leaving. Sydney shut the door behind her, locking and bolting it. Then she quickly moved through the apartment, switching on every light and turning on the TV to make the apartment feel less empty. She’d just popped a frozen veggie casserole into the oven when someone pounded on the apartment door.
She jumped to her feet, her pulse spiking. She hadn’t buzzed anyone in, and she wasn’t expecting Guinness for another half an hour. Every nerve in her body was suddenly on high alert. What if the same person who’d come for Tenley was now here for her? Her breath came fast and shallow. She was all alone. No one to help her. No one to save her. She spun around, her eyes landing on the phone. How long would it take the police to arrive if she called them? Five minutes? Ten? The pounding grew louder, more insistent. Her hand went to the phone. Maybe if she told them it was an emergency—
“Syd? You there?
Sydney’s hand slid off the phone. Relief flooded through her. “Guinness,” she breathed, yanking the door open. “You’re early. And you didn’t buzz.”
Guinness shrugged. “Sorry, some woman let me in with her.” His wavy black hair hung in his face, and when he reached up to brush it away, Sydney caught a glimpse of the black tattoo on the inside of his wrist, the one she used to love to kiss.
As Sydney stepped aside to let him in, a familiar dart of excitement shot through her. She gritted her teeth in frustration. When would he stop making her feel like this?
“Blue.” Guinness wrapped his arms around her. Her skin warmed at his touch and she quickly slipped out of his grip. “I’m really glad you texted,” he said. “You haven’t responded to my calls all month. I’ve missed you.” He sighed, and it hit her just how exhausted he looked. The circles under his eyes were a bruised purple color, and he kept blinking as if he was struggling to stay awake.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” she said warily.
“Uh-oh, I know that tone.” He gave her a small smile. “Are you going to try to get me to protest the senseless murder of lobsters again?”
“Fifty-six million lobsters caught each year in Maine alone?” Sydney shot back automatically. “It deserves to be protested!”
“I know, I know.” Guinness held up a hand to stop her. “If that many people were killed a year, it would be considered a genocide. Okay, Blue, you’ve convinced me. I will protest the lobster genocide with you.”
A laugh slipped out of Sydney before she could stop it. She cleared her throat. She had to be careful; she couldn’t let herself fall into their old rapport. “Actually… I wanted to talk to you about Kyla Kern.”
Guinness tensed. “Kyla Kern?” he repeated slowly. He stared at her, his dark eyes as unreadable as ever. It was one of the things she’d both loved and hated about him. Most of the time he was impossible to read, but when she did catch a glimpse, it was like opening up a fairy tale that had been written just for her.
“How come you never mentioned you knew her?” Sydney asked.
“I—uh, because I didn’t really.” He started to say something else but a huge yawn ate up his words.
“Not at all?” she pressed.
“I mean, we ran in the same group of friends, so we’d end up at the same parties when I was in town. But, you know, that wasn’t that often.”
Sydney nodded as she moved away from him. Guinness had grown up in Boston; his mansion in Echo Bay had just been a vacation home. It wasn’t until his dad married Tenley’s mom that they’d moved here full time. She found herself in her bedroom and sank down on the edge of the bed, trying to work up the courage to ask her next question. Guinness settled beside her. His ankle brushed against hers, making something flutter in her chest. Stop, she chided herself. She’d asked him here for a reason; she had to stay focused. “Tenley found pictures of Kyla on your bed,” she said quietly. “Pictures that made it look like you knew her pretty well.”
Guinness looked over sharply. “Excuse me? Tenley went in my room when I wasn’t there?”
“That’s the least important part of what I just told you, Guinness.” Sydney could feel herself growing exasperated. “Why do you have photos of Kyla?”
Guinness shook his head angrily. “I cannot believe that girl. She has no respect for privacy. She acts like she owns the world.”
“Guinness!” Sydney snapped. “Please answer my question.”
Guinness flopped back on her bed and stared up at the glow-in-the-dark stars she’d put there when she was ten. “I’m telling you the truth, Syd. We went to some parties together, that’s all. I took pictures of anyone I could back then. Kyla was a good subject.” He twisted around to look at her, the tiniest of smiles creeping back onto his face. “Not as good as you, though.”
Sydney dug her fingers into the edge of the bed, refusing to take the bait. “So the night Kyla died… you don’t know anything about it?”
Guinness fell silent. His eyes drifted shut, and for a minute Sydney thought he might have fallen asleep. But finally he wrenched them open again with a sigh. “I was actually in town that night for Fall Festival,” he said quietly. “I almost went out on the water, even. Some friends and I thought it would be fun to sail out to where all the Winslow seniors were partying on their boat floats.…” He trailed off, letting his eyes shut again.
Sydney stiffened, thinking of Tenley’s newest theory. She’d told Tenley Guinness couldn’t have had anything to do with Kyla’s accident. But if he’d been there… “How come you didn’t?” she asked.
Guinness’s shoulders rose in a small shrug. He didn’t bother to open his eyes when he spoke. “We were all trashed, and the wind was completely dead, so we ended up never making it out of the marina. Good thing, I guess, considering…”
He let out a huge yawn and rolled onto his side. “I don’t want to talk about Kyla,” he mumbled. “I want to talk about us, Syd. I miss you. I was so happy you texted tonight. I… I didn’t want to be alone.”
Sydney looked down. He sounded so exhausted, so small. More like a little boy than a twenty-two-year-old man. She wanted desperately to make him feel better, to rub his back and promise him he wasn’t alone. But she couldn’t give in; she had to ask him about that note. “There’s one more thing, Guinness.”
Guinness groaned into her pillow. “Fine. I need coffee, then.” He let out another yawn. “Lots and lots of coffee.”
She stood up reluctantly. If coffee would get him talking, then coffee it was. “I’ll be right back.”
She thought about Kyla as she waited in the kitchen for the coffee to brew. Before Caitlin and Tricia, Kyla had been the only Lost Girl she’d ever known. At the end of sixth grade, all Winslow students were paired up with a junior “buddy.” Kyla had been assigned as hers. She was supposed to act as Sydney’s mentor the next year—teach her study tricks and help her talk to boys. When Sydney met her at the introduction assembly at the end of the year, she was almost starstruck by her. Kyla was beautiful and popular and so happy, always smiling and laughing. She was everything Sydney wasn’t, and Sydney found herself growing excited to spend the next year getting to know her. But just a few months later, before Kyla ever got to act as Sydney’s buddy, she was dead.