Page 29 of The Obsession

I turned my back to the door. I couldn’t face Mom right now. I couldn’t sit at the kitchen counter and have some bullshit girly chat with Mom about how cute my date was. I needed time to think, to let it all sink in, to get my head straight and figure—

“Detective Mendez is here, and she brought doughnuts. They’re still warm. I’m making coffee. Come on, sleepyhead,” Mom said cheerfully, then she padded back downstairs.

She might as well have kicked me in the chest. Mendez. I’d spent last night swimming in a lake of despair; now, all of a sudden, fear sliced through the black waters. I came fully awake, my senses painfully alert. Every alarm bell ringing.Mendez is here!

I shot out of bed and paced about as silently as I could.Don’t want them to hear my footsteps downstairs.Maybe I could pretend not to feel well. But maybe that would make Mendez even more suspicious. She was obviously suspicious, otherwise she wouldn’t be here with doughnuts.What do I do what do I do what do I do?

Calm. I must stay calm. Or must I not? How do innocent, non-cop-killing teens behave two weeks after the death of their beloved stepdad figure? Would they still be grieving? Or moving along nicely?

My mind clacked furiously as I brushed my teeth. I splashed water on my face and studied my reflection. I had the good fortune of having a near-perfect complexion—there were no dark circles nor puffiness under my eyes. I looked well-rested. Well-adjusted.Is that a good thing?

Then it hit me: Mom. Of course! All I had to do was follow Mom’s cue. If she was still grieving, I should probably also be grieving. And if Mom was all breezy and fine, then I could probably be all la-di-da. Mom had sounded happy and relaxed at the door, so that was how I should carry myself. Okay. I got this.

Ten minutes later, I went down the stairs and greeted Mom and Detective Mendez with a cheerful, “Morning!”

Mendez was seated adjacent to Mom at the dining table. She gave me a Saturday-morning smile—bright, cheery, relaxed. But her eyes gave me a quick once-over.

I looked back at her, my face open. I’d done well, I knew I had. I’d put on a pink cable-knit sweater over faded jeans and tied my hair up with an actual, goddamn scrunchie. No one, especially not a cop, has ever been murdered by a girl who wears scrunchies with daisies printed on them. Mendez couldn’t possibly find anything suspicious about me, not like this.

“Your mom told me you had a big date yesterday,” Mendez said as I slid into my seat.

My skin shrank at the mention of Logan, becoming too tight for my body. One fucking emergency at a time!I wanted to scream.

“Yeah, it was okay,” I managed to say. I’d been so focused on dealing with Mendez’s questions about Brandon that I’d completely forgotten to consider what to say if she asked me about Logan.Why’s she even asking me about Logan?

“She’s been so secretive about it,” Mom said. She and Mendez exchanged a look that said,Teens, amirite?

Mendez gave a laugh that was probably designed to sound light and breezy and very one-of-us-girls. “Where’d he take you?” She popped a doughnut hole in her mouth, her eyes never leaving mine, studying me, assessing, prickling across my skin like spider legs.

I needed caffeine to sharpen my sleep-dulled mind, so I took a glug of coffee before answering. It burned my tongue, and I coughed, almost snorting it up my nose. Oh god. I was so bad at the whole Appearing Innocent thing. “Um, we went to this like, obstacle course thingy in the middle of the woods—”

“Oooh, Monkey See Monkey Do?” Mendez said. “I love that place! Good choice. I like this kid already.”

It took every drop of will not to give her a Look, not to give any indication of anything bad happening with Logan. New strategy: my date was uneventful, boring, and I probably won’t be seeing more of Logan.

“Yeah, it was okay,” I said. I tried to punctuate it with a hair flip then belatedly realized I’d tied my hair back with a goddamn scrunchie.

Luckily, Mendez didn’t seem to notice the awkward hair flip. “Your mom tells me you’re thinking of applying to the National University of Singapore,” she said.

I glanced at Mom, who beamed proudly at me.

“It’s one of the hardest colleges to get into in the world,” Mom said.

Mendez nodded. “Very impressive choice.”

“Well, I haven’t gotten in,” I mumbled.

“You will,” Mom said loyally. She turned to Mendez. “She has a 4.0 GPA, and you should read her college application essay. It made me tear up.”

“I’m sure it’s excellent.” Mendez smiled at Mom then turned her attention to me. “How’re you holding up, Dee?”

Here it comes. I glanced at Mom, took in how she was carrying herself. Bravely cheerful. Right. “Well, it hasn’t been easy…”

Mendez nodded encouragingly.

“But I think Mom and I are doing the best we can?”Should that have come out as a question?I tried again. “We’re getting by.” I wondered belatedly if “getting by” sounded too much like “getting over it.” I was a robot trying to pass as human. Before long, Mendez, someone who was actually paid for detecting bullshit, would sniff out my lies and—

“Good, good,” Mendez said. “I’m sorry if I’m prying. I wanted to make sure you’re both doing okay. I’ve been trying to move things along with Brandon’s life insurance, but you know how insurance companies are.”

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