Page 47 of The Last Time I Lied

“I just want to know that you’re better,” he says. “As your friend.”

“I’m one hundred percent fine.”

“Then I’m sorry, okay? So is my mother.”

The apology, more forced than sincere, angers me all over again. “If you don’t trust me, then why did you invite me back here?”

“Because my mother wanted you here,” Theo says. “We just didn’t know what to expect. Fifteen years have passed, Emma. People change. And we had no idea what you’d be like, especially considering what happened the last time you were here. It was a matter of safety, not trust.”

“Safety? What do you think I’m going to do to these girls?”

“Maybe the same thing you said I did to Vivian, Allison, and Natalie.”

I stumble backward, gripping the sundial for support, the copper cold and smooth beneath my fingers.

“It’s because of that, isn’t it?” I say. “The camera. Digging up my health records. It’s because I accused you of hurting them all those years ago.”

Theo runs a hand through his hair, exasperated. “That couldn’t be further from the truth. But since you brought it up, I have to say it was a lousy thing you did back then.”

“It was,” I admit. “And I’ve spent years beating myself up over it. But I was young and confused and scared.”

“You think I wasn’t?” Theo shoots back. “You should have seen the way the police grilled me. We had cops, state troopers, the fuckingFBI coming to the Lodge, demanding that I tell them the truth. They made me take a lie-detector test. They made Chet do it, too. A ten-year-old kid hooked up to a polygraph. He cried for an entire week after that. And all because of what you accused me of doing.”

His face has gone red, making the pale slash of scar on his cheek stand out. He’s mad now, piling it on to make it clear how much I had wronged him.

“I didn’t know any better,” I say.

“There’s more to it than that,” Theo says. “We were friends, Em. Why did you think I had anything to do with what happened to them?”

I stare at him, dumbfounded. The fact that he has to ask why I accused him makes my anger flare up once again. He might not have caused Vivian and the others to vanish, but he’s certainly not completely innocent. Neither of us are.

“You know exactly why,” I say.

Then I’m off again, leaving Theo alone in the clearing. After a few wrong turns and another stumble-inducing sneak attack by exposed tree roots, I find my way back to camp. I march to the cabins, seething all the way. I’m mad at Franny. Even more mad at Theo. Yet the bulk of my anger is reserved for myself for thinking that returning here was a good idea.

Back at Dogwood, I throw open the door. Inside, something springs from the floor, taking flight. I see dark shapes at the window, hear the flap of wings.

Birds.

Three of them.

Crows. I can tell by their jet-black feathers.

They fly in a frenzied group, smacking against the ceiling, squawking. One of them swoops toward me. Clawed feet skim my hair. Another heads straight for my face. Black eyes staring. Sharp beak gaping.

I drop to the floor and cover my head. The crows keep flapping. Keep squawking. Keep slamming themselves against the cabin walls.I stretch across the floor, reaching for the door, opening it wide. The movement sends the birds in the opposite direction. Toward the window, where they strike glass in a series of sickening thuds.

I crawl toward them, my right hand over my eyes, my left one slicing the air to shoo them the other way. The bracelet slides up and down my wrist. Three more birds in motion. It does the trick. One crow spies the open door and darts through it, followed immediately by another.

The third bird lets out one last squawk, its feathers brushing the ceiling. Then it, too, is gone, leaving the cabin suddenly silent.

I remain on the floor, catching my breath and calming down. I look around the cabin, making sure there’s not another bird inside waiting to attack. Not that attacking was their goal. They were just trapped and scared. I assume they came in through the window, curious and hungry. Once inside, they didn’t know how to get back out, so they panicked.

It makes sense. I’ve been there.

But then I remember the birds thudding against the glass. Such a dreadful sound. I sit up and look to the window.

It was closed the entire time.

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