Page 53 of Dead Girls Can't Tell Secrets

Tyler lets his wood drop to the ground, and I shush him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“What’s going on?” Sam asks. “I thought you were all still sleeping.”

“Nothing’s going on,” Jacey spits too forcefully.

“Just collecting some wood to help you out, buddy.” Noah nods to his meager stack and places it near the fire ring.

Sam watches him leerily. “Thanks.” He goes back to whittling, pretending like we’re not surrounding him. We each add our wood to the pile and plop down around the fire to wait out the morning.

After a minute, Alexandra pulls that scrap of paper hidden in her notebook, squinting at the scribbles again. Beside Jacey, Noah yawns and draws circles in the dirt with a stick.

I scoot closer to Tyler. “Now that the charade is over, you can tell me your true feelings about squirrel mix.”

He ignores me, tossing a log onto the fire.

I take a deep breath. “Look, I know you think I’m horrible,” I say, my voice low. “And you’re right. But I’d do anything to be able to tell Piper how sorry I am. I would own up to the grade scam in a millisecond if it would wake her up. I would take back everything I said to her that day and tell her how amazing she is”—I try to swallow as the words catch in my parched throat—“and how much I love her. How much I want to be a better sister for her.” Tears well up in my eyes, one blink away from spilling over.

“Good.” He shifts to clear a rock from the dirt beneath him. “If she does wake up, she deserves all of that and more.”

Embarrassment smolders in me. I’m an idiot. I can’t believe I ever shared two words with that guy. That I drank it all up when he pretended to believe I was nothing more than a distraught sister, while he knew every crooked turn of my soul the entire time.

He’s only standing up for Piper. Still, it stings. I believed he wanted to be my friend.

I lean in closer. “You might think you’re special because you were friends with Piper, but I’m hersister. I’ve been in her life since the day she was born.”

“They should carve your name on a plaque,” Tyler mutters, gaze still locked on the flames.

“I already told you, I made a mistake. I really thought”—I swallow—“you wanted to help me.”

“Do you even want help, Savannah?” he snaps, his eyes sparking fiercely as he finally looks at me. “Piper tried to help you, and look where it got you both.”

“I’m sorry about everything I did to her. I was upset that she insulted Grant. And that she didn’t care about my future.” I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is finding out who did this to her. Maybe if I can help, she’ll—”

“Forgive you?”

My lips press together so tightly they hurt. “You don’t think she will. You don’t think I even deserve to make it back into her good graces. You think I’m a monster.” My voice is raised, and Jacey springs to attention across the fire. I mouth that I’m fine, but I’m not. Because Tyler is right.

“I’m worse than a monster,” I admit, dropping my voice. “I don’t deserve her forgiveness. But I’m still going to try.”

I get up and stride in the direction of my tent. I don’t make it far, though, before Tyler brushes past me to block my path.

He sighs, running a hand through his black hair. “That’s not what I was thinking.” I look up at him. “Well, not in those words.” That fire edges back into my limbs. I try to stomp away, but I seem to be fighting through a patch of tall, soundless weeds.

“Not even close to those words,” he continues, reaching for the edge of my jacket and tugging lightly. I stop, my eyes fixed on the weeds. “I was going to say that I see you, Savannah Sullivan.” He dips his head forward, in front of mine, fingers resting lightly on my arm. My sneaker pushes aside the tall grass in lazy circles as our eyes meet. “The real you. I think you’re better than all of this. And I hope Piper wakes up so you two can have another chance.”

My fist curls, sending a jolt of pain through my injured finger. “You’re so full of crap. Even your name is fake.”

He gives a curt head shake. “I meant every word.” His voice is steady, and I can’t read that glint in his brown eyes. That glint is kindness and cruelty. Love and hate. It’s everything and nothing, and I can’t look at it for another second.

I try to respond, choking instead as the tears I’ve been holding back finally wet my cheeks. This is what I deserve for sending Piper back to the school that day, straight into the arms of danger. I sniffle and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.

Tyler reaches out, his fingertips grazing my still-damp cheeks, but something moves in my peripheral vision. Grant ducks out of his tent, kneeling to tie his boots. I back up, throwing one quick glance at Tyler before leaving him standing alone in the weeds.

Running a hand through his hair, Grant stretches, then catches my eye. “Hey. You’re up.” His eyes narrow in concern as he shuffles over. “Are you okay?”

“Just couldn’t sleep. I’m anxious to visit Piper in the hospital.”

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