Chapter 15

I finish telling Noah about Alex and all of my failed attempts to identify them.

"Why not give Piper's phone to the cops?"

Guilt flutters in my stomach as my last text message to Piper types itself out in my head. "I can't explain how I got the phone. My parents think the hospital staff lost it."

Noah cocks a brow.

"I stole it from the hospital as soon as I found the threat in her pack." He doesn't need the whole truth.

"And Alex has been texting you?"

"Just to tell me to stop calling." It's cold in the shade beneath the pines. I draw my arms in tight, crossing them over my stomach.

Noah runs a hand over his chin. "What if this Alex person threatened Piper, and she didn't quit the club, so he blackmailed her or something? Maybe Piper saw no other way out. Those calls could be really important."

A bird swoops down through the brush, stirring the leaves. "I know. I'll turn it in." Just as soon as I'm certain the cops will take this Alex lead seriously. I'm not simply handing the phone over to my parents with a memo to look at Piper's deleted texts.

"Well, you should talk to Abby."

I squint at him. "The fairytale princess? That's your great plan?"

"She and Piper were always off in corners, whispering. Especially the last few days before the accident. I saw them in Survival Club. And then on that Tuesday or Wednesday, I saw Piper coming out of the choir room."

I give a skeptical head tilt. "Sure my sister didn't develop a new talent? Wouldn't be the first time."

"I'm just saying, if Piper was being threatened by someone, Abby might know who it is."

I think of Abby's face yesterday, her unfinished thought. You're sort of in your own world. That's why you didn't know Piper was…

I didn't know Piper was what? Being threatened?

"All right," I say, standing up and wiping the muck and a trail of ants off my jeans. "I'll talk to her. If she knows something, maybe she'll agree to speak to the cops."

Noah nods but doesn't get up. "Savannah," he says, voice threaded with grief. If this is an apology, I'm not sure I can listen to it. Not because what he did is unforgivable. If anyone should believe his actions are pardonable, it's me, since I did the exact same thing to Jacey.

I can't listen to it because I need forgiveness so much more…from a person who may never wake up to give it.

"I know," I whisper, my eyes stinging.

Then Noah's standing beside me. The same kid who used to toilet paper our house every Friday night. The same kid I always thought would end up with my sister one day.

Only now he's grown. And I'm grown.

And neither of us can look the other in the eye.

***

When we reach the gorge, voices drift toward us from below. Down at the shallow part of the river, most of the group is goofing around with their makeshift fishing poles and climbing the rocks along the edge of the embankment. Sam stands and tugs, his line taking a sharp course through the water as everyone shouts excitedly, only to have it come up empty.

The guys begin splashing Alexandra and Abby, who trot away through the shallows, giggles trailing behind them.

Noah wanders off in search of his water bottle, and I scan the river for Grant.

When I spot him, my heart swells at the smile on his face. He really is a huge wilderness nerd.

Then there's me: completely out of my element and no closer to finding out what really happened to Piper. I'm exhausted. I barely slept last night, between the cold and my shredded nerves after catching Noah with the paint can. And I'm tired of this constant weight that's been pressing down on me ever since the accident. A weight I'd do anything to remove.

Finding shade beneath a massive oak, I lie down, shutting my eyes and letting my brain go black. A ray of sunlight cuts through the leaves to beat against my face perfectly as I listen to the soothing, crashing sounds of the water.

I don't know how long I've been resting this way when something cold and wet hits my cheek. I open my eyes to find Grant above me. He's soaked, water dripping down onto me from his hair and bare chest.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Napping." I wipe a drop from my eye. "What does it look like?"

"The Savannah I know doesn't sit around while everyone else has all the fun."

"Romping around in a river is your idea of fun?"

"It is if I'm with you." He grins, the gold in his irises glinting like the flecks of mica in the granite-strewn hillside.

I sit up, resting on my elbows. "You expect me to go fishing?"

He pantomimes reeling in a fish, like that'll sell it.

"I have a better idea," I say, getting up and patting his chest before making my way toward the bank.

"Where are you going?" he calls out.

"To put on a show."

If someone wants to threaten me, let's see what they do when I put myself out there in a position just like the one Piper was in.

I look up at the rock wall cloaked in layers of billowing water, scanning the area for a decent pathway to the top. I trudge back up the ravine, branches and sharp rocks snagging my jeans along the way. When I reach the point where lush vegetation gives way to slippery stone, I slow. My plan didn't extend past climbing to the highest ledge I could see. But I will get to the top. And then, who knows? Maybe I'll jump. The water below the falls looks deep enough.

Laughter pinballs around the gully below. A cool wind whispers through the trees, and leaves float down, reminding me that it's autumn. Despite the end of the summer heat, despite the end of the greenery, the splashing sounds of my classmates and the rumbling of the water makes me want to dive in. My whole life could use the refreshing effects of the waters below.

When I was little, water was the answer to all my problems. Bad day at school? I went for a swim in our backyard pool. Sweltering soccer practice? I dove into the pool. Chlorine turned my shiny blond locks into sticky green straw. I probably could've gone out for the swim team with all the muscles I developed from swimming laps every afternoon. Even Piper liked the pool.

My parents hated cleaning it.

Piper and I used to play mermaids. It was one of the few things we could do for hours without fighting. Her mermaid persona was an underwater chemist who concocted potions out of pool toys. That kept her stationary for most of the game; she wasn't very skilled at swimming with her feet stuck together, anyway. She used to cheat, but I pretended not to notice.

One day, she dove in with her gangly little legs twisted together and didn't come back up.

I kept calling for her, but she stayed beneath the surface, her figure a purple blur on the pool floor. I swam down and pulled her up. She'd hit her head on the bottom and blacked out.

Dragging her over to the side, I shouted for my parents. I managed to heave her over the edge, unfazed by the way the concrete scraped her pale skin. My heart throbbed in perfect contrast to Piper's unmoving chest.

My parents arrived, shoving me aside to work on her frenetically until her eyelids fluttered open and her blue lips parted. I pushed my way past them to help her sit up, clutching her hard enough to break her as she coughed and gasped for air. Finally, her eyes focused and settled. She looked at me the way little girls are supposed to look at their big sisters.

Immediately, my parents made a decision. The next day our pool was filled with cement. A lovely fountain of a mermaid spewing water from pursed lips now sits atop a concrete patio where it used to be.

The rock wall is just ahead now. Droplets of water splash me as I climb. The next stretch will require more strength. I know there's a longer, less treacherous way up through the forest behind the waterfall, but I'm too close to chicken out now. I grab hold of a ridge and drag my body upward, shirt catching on the rocks, until I find footing in a little crevice. The slick, mossy face of the cliff paints my jeans green, but the surface beneath my grip is dry as I heft myself up the rest of the way.

When I make it to my feet, a loud voice nearly knocks me off balance. "Savannah!" It's Mr. Davis. "Come back down!" He stands alongside Abby and the others below, hands cupped around his mouth like a megaphone.

Instead of obeying, I edge myself out a little farther and peer down into the dark water.

"Savannah! Get down!" Mr. Davis's tone is more urgent this time, and it gives me a sick rush of adrenaline.

"Savannah!" Grant's voice now. I tear my gaze away from the shadowy surface of the water and look down at the group of people standing near the riverbank, heads identically cocked to watch me. Abby's hands are folded in front of her chest like she's praying. Mr. Davis wavers, taking a few large steps toward the forest but then stopping to watch me.

Voices buzz, dull and distant, and then Grant takes off up the embankment, leaving Mr. Davis below with his eyes glued to me.

The shadows beneath the water are sharp rocks, some of which pierce the glassy surface. I see that now. Someone would have to be out of their mind to jump from here. Still, I let the crowd squirm, my head hovering out over the ledge. Like I might try it.

Like Piper may have at the Point. I try to imagine her thoughts before she fell. Was there really someone on the other end of the phone line moments before she stepped off the edge?

Or was someone up there with her?

"You couldn't leave it alone, could you?" I startle at the voice, my feet kicking tiny pebbles off the cliff and into the water. I spin around to find Jacey standing behind me. "Told you it wasn't him."

I take a deep breath. Compose myself. "Yeah, well, there were some things you didn't tell me, weren't there?"

Jacey takes another step toward me. "Like you haven't kept secrets."

"I deserve that." Still, I get an uneasy feeling as she looks at me. I shuffle away from the ledge, but she sidesteps in front of me. "Gonna push me too?"

Her eyes narrow at this. "You don't actually think I did something to my best friend?"

"I don't know, Jacey. You wanted her boyfriend, didn't you?" And the second I dangled myself out in front of her like a lure, she came running. Now she has me cornered with my back to the ledge. If she pushed me, everyone who just witnessed me toying with death a moment ago would see a grief-stricken sister simply following in Piper's footsteps.

Jacey's face contorts, like all the hate she has for me is about to come spewing out of her. But her shoulders sink. "I wish I could take it back. If what I did was the reason—I don't think I can handle it."

Something in me yields, like my insides have been doused in fabric softener. "You weren't the reason. Piper was tough. I'm sure she was upset. But we never should've believed she did it on purpose. Something else happened, and we have to figure out what. For Piper."

"It's not going to help her, though, is it?" Jacey chokes out through a sob, dropping to her knees. "She won't wake up."

The words lash at me. My feet feel numb, the blood flow suddenly cut off, and I find myself lowering down beside her. "Probably not."

"How am I going to tell her I'm sorry?" she cries, tears streaming down her cheeks.

It's the question that's been swimming through my mind on a constant loop since the second Dr. Porter recommended taking her off life support. Hearing Jacey ask it aloud cracks whatever was holding my torso upright. I crumple, letting my head fall to my knees. My skin becomes slick as the tears that I haven't let fall run harder than the waterfall crashing behind us.

Any chance at telling Piper we're sorry might be lost. As gone as those pebbles I knocked over the edge.

But I still have one chance. It's right here beside me, just as wrecked as I am.

I won't miss this chance again the way I did with Piper.

" I'm sorry." I look at Jacey through a web of tears. "I'm sorry for what I did to you. And I'm sorry I never apologized. I was…" I try to swallow. "I couldn't face you."

She glances up at me, her eyes red, face smeared with dirt that mingles with her tears. She doesn't speak. But it's there in the set of her lips, in the slump of her shoulders: a common shame. A week ago, I never thought Jacey and I would speak again, much less be sprawled out here in the dirt, sharing tears. But here we are, bonded by our mistakes.

Bonded by something dark.