This Is W.A.R. Part 12

The first reply didn't come until 7:12 P.M. Fewer than two hours before they were supposed to meet. Madge was in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Sorry, fam dinner before parents leave.

Lina.

Madge drew air into her lungs, holding it long enough to feel it burn. Her dad liked to remind her how she used to throw epic tantrums as a toddler, holding her breath until she turned blue. So much for evolution.

Sloane's response came ten minutes later.

Mandatory hospital hang out. Rain check.

Madge ground her teeth and ran her finger over Willa's initials engraved in her key.

And finally Rose's.

Let's do breakfast instead. Ivy room at the Club. Kira, Nadia wrking. Will catch up ltr.

No meeting. No attic. No maids. No War. Rose's text smelled an awful lot like an intervention. Madge's pulse quickened. She jumped up and shut the blackout blinds on her windows, bathing her room in blackness. Only in the dark would she call a truce; only when she could barely see her hand in front of her face would she quit the game. Instead of biting back tears, she'd finally let them slip down her cheeks.

Chapter 25.

Madge must have fallen asleep because the next time she opened her eyes, the clock read 8:42 P.M. Night leaked beneath the edges of her blinds. Her head felt achy, her room hot and cramped. She needed fresh air and a sip of water. But when she crept downstairs, she found the lights blazing in her father's office.

"So everything is in order? The first installment processed?" He was whispering, hunched over his desk. She didn't need to see her father's face to know that his forehead was crinkled with worry. She could tell by the slump in his shoulders that he wasn't as optimistic as he was trying to sound. "Well, great. That's good news." He raked a hand through his wiry grey hair. He was lying.

Money had never been an issue for the Ames-Rowan family. Private school, country clubs, exotic vacations, and cars that cost more than houses: that was pretty much the norm in their household. At least it had been until her father invested his entire inheritance in some doomed hedge fund.

"Yes, I believe the payments will be arriving on a semiannual basis in accordance with our agreement." Her father swiveled around in his desk chair and saw Madge standing there hanging on his every word. His face went pale beneath his perma golf tan. He seemed to instantly age another ten years. "I'm sorry; I'll have to call you back." He placed the phone in the cradle.

Neither spoke.

"Just working out the details of a new deal." He tried to smile, but the corners of his mouth stretched into a grimace instead. "I only wish ... the timing." His voice broke on the last word.

Madge just stared back at him. What could he possibly want her to say? That if he hadn't lost all of their money then maybe his bats.h.i.t crazy wife wouldn't have tried to marry off his stepdaughter to a Gregory? Madge often wondered if her father was able to see the connection between their money problems, his wife, and the changes in Willa. But the new lines on his face told her everything she needed to know. Her father knew he had Willa's blood on his hands.

He stood and stepped to her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Everything is better now. I promise." His dry lips grazed her forehead. She wanted to scream and yell that nothing was ever going to be better. She wanted to tell her father that he'd ruined everything. But there was a tiny hole in the arm of his golf shirt and less hair on his head. There was no way that Madge could tell this stooped, broken man what he already knew.

"I'm gonna meet the girls at the Club." It was another lie between them, but she had to get out of the house. She backed out of the office and made her way toward the garage.

"I can give you a ride. Just give me a minute," her father called after her.

But Madge ignored him and jumped onto her bike, pedaling out the open garage door as fast as she could. Stars hung above her in the night sky, and she made up a wish for Willa. When the girls were little, Willa would squeeze her eyes shut, her lips moving, the sound trapped inside. Madge had a knack for guessing each of her sister's wishes-a bright pink bike, a trampoline, horseback riding lessons. She'd taunt Willa with their closeness, Madge knew her like no one else, and Willa would pretend to get mad. In the end, though, they'd laugh until they cried. Tonight, Madge decided, Willa would wish for justice.

Droplets of water glittered on sprawling lawns beneath the moonlight giving the properties a sort of sparkle. Each of the houses looked so perfect from the sidewalk, amber light spilling from walls of windows. They looked like the kind of places where nothing bad could ever happen. But Madge had learned that houses, like people, did fine jobs of concealing the lies within them.

There would be no War meeting tonight, but still Madge found herself pedaling to Hawthorne Lake. She needed the comfort and privacy of the attic. It was the only place where she could think these days.

When she turned into the Club's long and winding drive she thought again about when she and Willa had decided to ride their bikes to the Club for the first time. They had spent almost the entire summer trying to talk her dad and Carol into letting them go. Their parents were full of excuses. "It's too long. There aren't streetlights. You'll get tired and end up in a ditch on the side of the road." Until finally, on Labor Day weekend, Madge made the executive decision that they should just do it. The girls waited until Carol was in the shower and Madge's dad was dozing in front of some golf tournament on TV. They snuck into the garage and strapped on their pink bike helmets.

"Are you sure we should ..." Madge saw fear in Willa's blue eyes but she refused to let her finish. The less time they spent thinking about this the better.

"Race ya." Madge stepped on the pedals of her baby blue Huffy and took off down the driveway.

She felt like she was flying.

Willa was in her shadow the whole way to the Club, and Madge spent most of her ride looking over her shoulder for her dad's silver car. They were almost there. Home free. But just as they pulled their bikes onto the winding drive that led to the Club, Willa took the corner wrong and ended up sprawled across the concrete. Madge was off her bike and at her sister's side in seconds. Willa sobbed. Her knees and elbows bled. Madge tried to help Willa to her feet, but she refused to budge.

"I'm not going anywhere. This was a terrible idea. Call your dad and have him pick me up."

"But if we call, they'll never let us ride together again. We have to do this. If we can ride to the Club we can go swimming whenever we want and play tennis and ..."

But Willa already had her phone out, fat tears sliding down her cheeks. "I fell. Madge thought we should ride to the Club. I need you to come get me."

Madge didn't speak to her for days.

It was ridiculous in retrospect. A waste of valuable time with Willa. But seeing the Club sign and riding up the brick paved drive never failed to remind Madge of Willa lying on the ground. Crying. Weak. Unable to pick herself up. Madge always looked at the spot where Willa fell when she rode by, even when Willa was alive. Until it rained, the bloodstains remained on the concrete, but they'd washed away long ago, and even if they hadn't, it would be too dark to see them tonight. But as she came up on the turn, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

There in the bushes right next to the Club's sign was Trip Gregory on top of some nondescript blonde.

Madge felt a fresh wave of rage roll through her body. Now she'd never be able to ride past the Club's entrance and remember Willa and her stupid injury. Yet another memory of her sister stolen by a Gregory. She was barely conscious of tossing her bike aside and sneaking past the after-dinner guests, storming up the narrow stairwell to the attic. But she stopped short of the top step.

"I'm worried about her." The high-pitched, soft-spoken voice belonged to Sloane.

Madge's hand flew to the doork.n.o.b. What the h.e.l.l did they think they were doing meeting without her?

"It almost seems like she's in some kind of denial."

Lina. Madge's hand dropped. Who was Lina to psychoa.n.a.lyze her? Unfreakingbelievable. If anyone was in denial it was Lina, and it had absolutely nothing to do with what happened to Willa.

"Well, I'm just not sure we're fighting the right people anymore." Rose's voice was louder and rang with a new authority. "I spoke to James and it turns out he doesn't even remember what happened that night. I'm not sure he was even ..."

Madge threw open the door before Rose could finish.

"Sorry, I'm late."

The girls gaped at her, their faces stunned. She flashed an icy smile and closed the door calmly, as if she'd called the meeting herself. Which, for the record, she had.

"I'm so glad you guys were able to figure out a way to get here. I didn't think you were going to make it." Madge made a point of looking directly into each of their faces. None of them met her eyes. Not even Lina.

Rose shook her head, wringing her fingers together in knots. "It's over," she blurted.

Lina nodded approvingly. Sloane looked like she might cry.

Madge felt nothing but quivering rage. These were her friends and this was her club; no one was going to shut it down before she was ready. "No." She didn't need a mint this time, didn't need to imagine Willa's funeral or think of her broken family pretending to be normal. "I have a new idea: their cars. I can't believe I hadn't thought of it before. It's perfect."

The girls remained still, as if they'd just realized they were on the wrong end of the firing squad. A feeling of deja vu crept up Madge's spine like clammy fingers. She had seen this look before. She remembered it vividly on Willa's face after Madge had told Carol she wasn't going to be a bridesmaid in her ridiculous vow renewal ceremony. More recently she'd seen it on her father's face when he caught her sleeping in Willa's bed again; on the same day she'd demanded to know why he let Carol sit in Willa's chair at the kitchen table. It was a look that said she had problems that were too big for anyone to fix.

But Madge ignored them and barreled onward, fueled by a renewed sense of purpose. "I mean it's such an obvious solution. They love their stupid cars. There are so many options!" She continued rambling about scratches, dents, slashing tires, and messing with the brothers' famous drag races, staging a hit-and-run, pulling stop signs. She couldn't stop. The words tumbled from her mouth, the ideas spewing like the lake water from around her sister's blue lips as the EMT pumped her chest.

"Madge!" Lina rasped.

She jumped up and grabbed Madge's hand, squeezing it in her own. Amazing that Lina's fingers could be so soft when the rest of her was so hard. Sloane sniffled and stood as well, taking Madge's other hand. Rose lowered her head. It was as though they were performing a vigil. It made Madge want to kill someone.

"It's time to go, Madge." Lina opened the door.

"I'm not leaving." The truth was Madge had nowhere to go. She wasn't about to return home. And she had no desire to hang out by the pool, watching people couple off in dark corners. Outside of this attic, Madge had nothing.

Sloane choked back another sob. Clearly Madge was freaking her out. Lina threw a protective arm around Sloane's shoulder and exchanged a look with Rose. Rose nodded and stood as the other two girls made their way down the stairs.

"So ... maybe we could talk? They're worried about you, you know." Rose started blowing out the candles one by one.

But Madge ignored her, ignored the concern in her voice, and focused on the search results on her phone. This new plan was real and possible. She had to prove it to them. She had to make it happen tonight before she lost her nerve. "I need you to take me somewhere. It's important."

Rose paused for a second, considering her options. "Fine. But only if you promise me you'll talk to someone about all of this. Deal?"

"Deal."

Chapter 26.

In silence, the two made their way back to the employee lot, far from the shiny Jags and Porsches, where Rose had parked her Dad's old Ford.

"Where to?"

"The Gregorys' house." Madge fastened her seatbelt and stared straight ahead.

Rose's knuckles went white on the steering wheel. "Madge, it's late. My parents will freak."

"I get it," Madge lied. "I know this has to stop. But they killed my sister, Rose. Either you take me to their house or I'll find another way. I could really use a friend right now."

It felt strange to plead with someone like Rose. She had to tread carefully.

Finally Rose sighed and started the car. She hesitated at the entrance to Hawthorne Lake, and Madge could almost hear her negotiating with her conscience. Rose just wanted to drive her home. But as the car idled, Madge knew Rose felt a pull in another direction that she couldn't ignore. It tugged at the possibility of a friendship, and Madge knew Rose didn't want to pa.s.s that up. Not when she'd finally found a place where she belonged. Her hand hovered over the blinker but finally fell away. Rose drove straight.

"I'm not getting out," she said. "Do what you have to do. This is it. You get one last chance to bury this, Madge." She turned down the private lane, ancient oak trees canopied above them creating a leafy green tunnel. Halfway down the road, she flicked her lights off and slowed in front of the Gregorys' sprawling estate. "I'll pull halfway up, but you have to walk the rest of the way. If you're not back in ten minutes, I'm leaving." Rose stared straight ahead. Madge wondered if she'd even have the nerve.

"I'll be back in five."

She gently opened the door of the car and left it open an inch to avoid a slam, then jogged up the driveway to Trip's car. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she clicked to review the photo again: BMW brake systems. Her plan was barely thought-through, but sometimes those were the best kind. She'd had all of five minutes in the car to prepare, but as she knelt beside Trip's shiny car and used her phone to illuminate the underside, she felt confident that she'd complete her mission. How hard could pulling a brake line be? She gripped the closest thing to a brake hose that she could find and pulled gently at first. Nothing happened. She pulled harder and finally had to grip the line with two hands, anchoring her feet to the cement in order to pull with all her strength.

"Madge!" Rose was out of her car and storming up the driveway. "What the h.e.l.l are you doing?" Even in the darkness, Madge could see the horror and disgust in her eyes.

"I said I'd be back in five minutes. Just give me five minutes!" Madge felt sweat bead along her forehead and yanked again on the line. Nothing.

And then the driveway was bathed in a light so white and bright and shocking, it might as well have been some tunnel to the afterlife. Madge would have almost welcomed death. Right now, it seemed like a better option than being caught by James Gregory. He cut the lights and the engine and stumbled out of his car. With a strange smile, he narrowed his eyes and c.o.c.ked his head in front of the garage.

Madge jumped to her feet, wiping her black fingers down the length of her summer dress. His eyes landed first on the greasy streaks and then on her face as though he couldn't quite connect the two together. Then he turned to Rose. Madge swore she saw something inside him break. His lips quivered; he blinked rapidly. She catalogued the expression in her mind and focused on retaining every detail so she could call it up when she needed it the most.

"That's not even the right one," he said.

Rose and Madge exchanged a glance. She looked as sick and scared as Madge felt. James nodded to his brother's car. But something about the way he said the words made it clear he'd given up, surrendered. If Madge were being honest, she knew he hadn't even bothered fighting to begin with.

"If you want me dead so bad, you should at least do your research."

"James ..." Rose whispered his name, but by the time it left her lips, he'd disappeared into the house.

Movement in one of the upstairs windows caught Madge's eye. The Captain? Trip? Did it even matter? She turned back to the expensive car, the brake line intact. It took all she had not to bend down and continue what she'd started. She knew it was Trip's car. He was the one she was really after. The one she really wanted to hurt. And as hard as she tried to tell herself it was truly over, she couldn't stop her brain from reeling, planning. She wasn't sure anything would ever be enough.

July 4th, 10:52 P.M.

"Get off the d.a.m.n table, Willa."

Madge yanked her sister's leg. At this point she didn't care if Willa bit it in front of their entire group of friends. Enough was enough.

Sloane shrugged. There was nothing she could do, either. Her soft voice could never be heard over the music.

"Now!" Madge barked.

"Not until you come and get me!" Willa giggled and spun around next to Trip Gregory. She looked like a spoiled child, like an idiot. She was head over heels in love with her life. Madge swallowed back jealousy, wondering if she'd ever look that free or feel that happy. And then Willa stopped dancing. She might as well have had stars in her eyes. "James!" she cried.

Willa jumped down from the table, stopping only to whisper to Sloane and then flew right out of their grasp like a hummingbird.

James kept a polite distance from Willa, the same way he did whenever any girl threw themselves at him. But she never grew discouraged. Madge knew why: Willa believed in that trashy c.r.a.p she read. If James was a character in one of the romance novels she devoured on a daily basis, he'd come around. He'd stop drinking, breaking things, and otherwise behaving badly, and he'd fall in love with Willa. It wasn't a matter of if; it was a matter of when. Boys like James fell in love with girls like Willa. It was practically a law.

Madge watched her sister across the room, could see the sweet flush on her cheeks from where she stood. She watched as Willa lifted onto her tiptoes and slung her arms around James's strong shoulders. Willa appeared oblivious to his awkwardness, his resistance. Madge knew this would be one of those nights where Willa would sneak into her room and climb into her bed like she used to do all those years ago. Back when the two girls had first become a family.

Yes, tonight she'd be all nerves and excitement. Tonight she'd whisper into the dark about her dreams and ask her sister if she'd seen the look on James's face, if she'd felt it, too. Madge would roll her eyes, but at the same time relish every second. If that was what closeness with Willa meant these days, she'd take it. Like all the best things in life, it never lasted long enough.

Willa's laugh rose above the music. James barely even cracked a smile.

Madge saw through all of his bulls.h.i.t. Why couldn't Willa? He was just another ent.i.tled brat living some kind of fantasy. But his fantasy was real life: he'd not only hit the genetic jackpot but was also filthy rich. Willa was too good for him. It was so easy to see what her future would look like with a boy like James. He'd never laugh at her goofy jokes; he'd probably force her to stop reading all of her trashy romance novels; there was no way he'd encourage her to follow her dream of writing a grown-up version of My Only Home or doing celebrity interviews for Teen Vogue. No, if Willa fell in love with a guy like James she'd end up just like her mother. Bitter, sad, and dest.i.tute after her third husband gambled the family into a pit.