Page 38 of Dead Girls Can't Tell Secrets

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.

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