“Oh, no you don’t, you sprung for breakfast. This is on me. So, speaking of not letting things ruin our lives …” I quickly changed the subject before he could argue with me about treating him to an after-school snack.
Ryan took the tray from the counter and followed me to a table for two in the back.
“What’s ruining yours?” I asked casually.
Ryan sat quietly for a second, took a sip of his coffee, then set it down and played with the plastic flap on the lid.
“You were right about seeing a ghost,” he whispered, not looking up at me.
When he did finally look up, his face showed the strangest array of emotions. I saw anxiety and fear, apprehension, disbelief. It struck me that whatever load he was carrying in his chest had been there for a while, long before Brynn’s crazy statement this morning.
“You can trust me,” I said, reaching out and placing my hand on top of his. No one from school was here to see us, to misconstrue this display of friendly comfort. They were all at Starbucks. Well, the pimply kid behind the counter was here, but he looked too bored to take notice.
Ryan nodded in agreement, “I know I can.”
I took a bite of my donut and was all ears.
“I was driving around Sunday, just bored. I needed to get out of the house. My dad drinks sometimes. He’s not the best company.” He shot a look across the table to test the waters.
“Sorry, I had no idea.”
“So anyway, I’m driving around and before I know it I’m driving past the cemetery. I thought I saw something and slowed down. It looked like a person walking the path, maybe visiting.”
“Wasn’t it pouring buckets Sunday?” I interrupted him.
“Yeah, it was. That’s why I was surprised to see someone in the cemetery. I could barely see her from the road.”
He took a gulp of coffee and paused. I realized his hand was shaking.
“Ryan?”
“It was her.”
I could barely hear his voice, it was so low.
He looked up and I could see now that his eyes were moist.
“It was Claire.”
I let out a nervous snort of disbelief and looked over at the kid behind the counter. He was stacking straws.
“Teagan, I swear it. It was her,” Ryan leaned over, closing the space between us. The space that suddenly seemed five miles wide. He leaned toward me, reining in the distance that was suddenly huge and oppressive, as if keeping his secret from getting loose.
“What does this have to do with Brynn’s comment? About girls falling at your feet? Wait. Oh. My. God.”
My breath came in shallow rasps. I was having a panic attack and Ryan grabbed my arms inconspicuously, keeping hold of me.
“Listen! Listen to me!” his eyes were full of determination as he kept his grip on me.
“You were there,” I breathed.
“Yes, you know I was.”
“You said you were further back. You weren’t near her!”
The boy behind the counter, Mr. Bored-Pimple Kid, was looking over at our table now. We were causing a scene.
Ryan hung his head. “I dared her to stand on the edge. I don’t know why. The whole evening was like a dream from hell.” He had tears trailing down his nose now that he didn’t bother wiping.
I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to call him every name in the book but couldn’t quite think of the right one. Nothing seemed strong enough.
I was able to free my hands from his and leaned back against the seat, folding my arms protectively in front of me. If I wasn’t too stunned to move, I would’ve been out of there in a second. I had been so concerned about this stupid, budding friendship between us, feeling connected to him, feeling sorry for him and all along he was an active participant in Claire’s death.
I couldn’t trust anyone anymore.
Finally able to find my voice, I asked Ryan the question that had been lurking beneath all the other ones.
“Did you push her?” I growled quietly.
He turned away and looked out the window, avoiding me.
Before I could say anything else, he turned back. He was a wreck as he sat shaking his head back and forth.
“I didn’t push her.” His voice was thick. “It was Brynn … but it wasn’t.”
“You’re going to blame it on her because you know we already hate each other.”
“I swear it’s true. I don’t know how to explain this to you …” his voice was cracking. “It’s too … bizarre.”
What a sight we must be making. The poor kid behind the counter turned his back to us now, trying to ignore the agonizing conversation we were having in his donut shop. If he was more assertive, he would have thrown us out, but with all our carrying on, it was probably best to ignore the spectacle and pretend we weren’t here.
“Try,” I demanded.
Ryan wiped his red-rimmed eyes.
“Brynn hates you,” he began.
“Tell me something I don’t already know.”
“That night, after you left with Garreth … Brynn controlled the whole evening. Claire was convenient. She was there and Brynn knew it would hurt you.
But here’s the thing,” he shook his head again, “this is what I can’t really explain to you, and believe me, I want to tell you, I just don’t know how. It was like someone else was up there on that roof with us making me listen to her and giving her some sort of control. Brynn said some weird mumbo jumbo stuff. I don’t know. She was crazy that night. She kept saying it was you, but the whole time it was Claire.”
Chills broke out all over my arms. I remembered my dream the night Claire died. I was Claire. I looked down at her shoes, I saw the tiny scar, I felt the wind in my face as I fell. In my dream I died, and I knew it before my mother came into my room with the news.
“What is it, Teagan?”