LANA
—What's this supposed to mean?—Susan demanded the second Lana stepped into the living room. She was waving that ticket around like it was Exhibit A in some unforgivable crime.
Lana didn't bother answering right away. She'd already played out this scene in her head before it even happened. She walked into the kitchen, turned on the tap, poured herself a glass of water.
—It means I got stranded in the middle of nowhere because I blew a tire—she finally said, not turning around.
Susan let out one of those dramatic sighs.
—How can you be so irresponsible? Do you have any idea how much this costs? Why can't you, just once, act with the common sense of—
—My sisters?— Lana cut in, still facing the sink, her voice calm but tired—Yeah, I already know: Elizabeth never would've had car trouble, and Mary Kate would've livestreamed the whole thing from her phone.
Susan crossed her arms. In her impeccable dark power suit, she looked more like a UN delegate than a mom in a bathrobe. And in a way, she was—her job as an international geopolitical consultant had her hopping continents and meeting with diplomats, leaving her daughters behind easier than shaking off jet lag.
—I'm not in the mood for your sarcasm, Lana.
—And I'm not in the mood for lectures at seven in the morning— Lana replied, voice ice-cold—But since we're doing this: thanks for worrying about my safety. I know your priorities are usually in a different hemisphere... literally.
—Don't you dare disrespect me. I'm your mother.
—And I'm your daughter. But apparently that only counts when there's a fine involved.
Susan clenched her jaw, like Lana's words were something she had to swallow without spitting back out.
A truck horn blaring outside saved her from the rest of this conversation.
—Gotta go— Lana said, grabbing her bag—Enjoy your day... saving the world.
Lana walked out and closed the door with the same force she used to keep all those other words locked inside.
Outside, Quinn was waiting behind the wheel, her unmistakable red hair pulled back in a ponytail, sunglasses sitting on top of her head. Morgan, riding shotgun, turned down the music as Lana approached.
—Everything okay?—Quinn asked as Lana collapsed into the back seat.
—Oh yeah. Lovely morning. Full of motherly tenderness and imaginary hugs.
Morgan, with her chestnut waves and wine-stained lips, turned around with that knowing look.
—Your mom's back?
—Like a tropical storm during off-season: shows up unannounced, wrecks everything, and bounces.
—You guys fight about the car?— Morgan asked.
—Not exactly—Lana let out a short, dry laugh—Fighting takes two people. I just existed. Apparently that was enough to piss her off.
The girls went quiet for a second, respecting that small space where Lana's sarcasm served as armor.
—And Lizzie and Kate weren't around?
—Lizzie was fused to the couch and the Food Network. And Mary Kate, who knows. Probably strutting some runway in Milan. Or influencing souls from Facebook. Gracie Lou was the only one who even looked at me, though she was too busy eating cereal and watching cartoons to notice Mom was about to blow.
—I'll never get tired of saying this, but your family is weird— Quinn said, putting the truck in drive.
—Adorable, every last one of them— Lana muttered, staring out the window—A whole constellation, and I'm the asteroid that keeps getting in the way.
Lana closed her eyes for a moment. In its own way, that shared silence with Quinn and Morgan was the closest thing to refuge she had.
●●●
By the time Lana started her junior year, the influx of kids from the reservation was impossible to miss. The building was bursting at the seams, and it wouldn't be long before they literally ran out of space. The cafeteria especially was a war zone. You had to grip your tray with both hands and pray you kept your balance.
Still, when the trio cut through the tables, students parted ways with this urgent, silent speed. Like the devil himself was walking through. Lana, Quinn, and Morgan moved carefully anyway—the last thing Lana needed today was a burger all over her shoes.
She set down her tray and dropped into the seat against the wall.
—If there's any cosmic justice, that janitor comes back as a used toothbrush in his next life— Quinn complained. She had this weird obsession with cleanliness. Lana usually laughed it off, but today she was right: the tables were sticky, like they'd been varnished with sugar.
—Or better: gym shoes after spin class—Morgan added, handing over a disinfectant wipe—Or wilted lettuce in a sealed bag.
—You're so dramatic—Morgan said, rolling her eyes.—I told you to bring a placemat.
—And let Egyptian linen touch this filthy table? I'd rather die of typhoid—Quinn replied before turning to Lana—What about you? What's wrong? You're never this quiet.
Lana blinked. She'd been staring at a spot on the wall, lost in a tornado of thoughts.
—Do I have to talk to be okay?
—No— Morgan said gently—. But you've been off since this morning. And you're never silent this long, not even after fighting with your mom... Does this have something to do with Black?—she ventured carefully.
Lana clenched her jaw, cursing internally. Quinn, meanwhile, lit up with that hunger for drama.
—Black? What happened with Black?—she pressed, sounding like a reality show host.
—I sent her to get her car fixed with him— Morgan answered before Lana could jump in. That betrayal earned her a scowl.
—Ah, now I get why she's like this— Quinn said, putting it together instantly.
—What do you mean by that?— Morgan asked, defensive.
—Come on, are you serious?—Quinn raised an eyebrow—Of all the shops around, you guide her to her nemesis? Just because you're neutral doesn't mean she has to make peace with him.
Lana stared at her, incredulous.
—Excuse me?
—I just talked to Embry once. He came into my mom's store and turned out he fixes cars. I didn't know it was the end of the world—Morgan defended herself, then looked at Lana with some remorse—I already apologized. It was a mistake. Can you drop it already?
Lana sighed through her teeth.
—Well, you're not the one stuck with a two-hundred-dollar ticket— she muttered, lowering her voice—I know you didn't do it on purpose, but just thinking about him still bugs me.
—Speaking of the devil... he's looking at you— Quinn warned, half-smiling.
Lana followed her gaze and locked eyes with Jacob Black. He was at the other end of the cafeteria, dead serious. She held his stare for barely a second before turning away. An uncomfortable tingle crept up her neck.
—What did you do this time to get him looking at you like that?—Morgan wanted to know, halfway between worried and curious.
Lana remembered last night: the blowout in the middle of nowhere, the offer to help, the closeness... that involuntary tremor she'd felt. She had no idea what was happening to her, and she definitely didn't want to talk about it.
—I just threatened him a couple times and wished him a slow, painful death.
Quinn nodded, like that made perfect sense to her.
—Logical. I wouldn't want to be him right now either.
Lana watched him one last time before biting into her burger.
●●●
For the rest of the day, she couldn't stop turning it over in her mind: Why would Black offer to help her? Why wasn't he acting like the arrogant asshole he'd always been? Something didn't add up.
And on top of that, something else was hanging in the air. Hushed whispers, shifty eyes. A group of freshman girls was crying in a hallway corner.
—Did something happen?— Lana asked, closing her locker. Morgan, who was beside her, did the same.
—Something like what?
Suddenly the murmur intensified.
—I'll go find out.— Morgan announced, heading toward the crowd.
—It's terrible. — Quinn said, appearing out of nowhere—She was two years younger than us...
Lana turned toward her, feeling a growing unease.
—What are you talking about?
—You didn't hear?
Before Quinn could explain, Morgan came back white as a sheet. She wasn't the same girl from five minutes ago.
—It's Tina Rogers... they found her. — she murmured.
Lana knew she meant the body. Her corpse. She felt the cold climb up her spine. She remembered the posters plastered all over town. Tina was fifteen. Pretty face, open eyes, smile with no trace of tragedy. The day she disappeared, they only found one silver shoe, muddy and stained with blood.
—Where? What happened?
—In the woods. They say it was a bear. — Morgan said, in a voice that didn't sound like hers.
—A bear?— Lana repeated, skeptical.
The official story wasn't convincing anyone.
—Please. —Quinn scoffed, almost laughing at how absurd it was—A bear dragged her three kilometers from the park? Since when are bears strategic?
—You think it was something else?—Morgan questioned, lowering her voice.
—Not something else. Someone else. This was murder. And if it was human, that means the killer is still out there.
That last line stuck with Lana like a splinter under her skin. She didn't know why, but she had this creeping suspicion Quinn was right.
When she walked out of the building, she slammed into something solid and her books scattered like cards. She bent down to grab them, muttering an apology. Another hand appeared to help.
—First time I've ever heard you apologize.
That voice...
Lana looked up and saw Jacob.
—Oh. It's you. — she grunted.
—Were you expecting someone else?
—Was hoping not to see you.— She snatched the papers from him and slung her bag over her shoulder—What do you want, Black?
—Why do you assume I want something?
—Because you follow me around like a stray dog.
He frowned.
—We live in the same town. Go to the same school. I'm not that everywhere.
—You're irritating. —she shot back, walking toward the parking lot. But he followed.
—Aren't you going to throw some curse at me today?
—If you don't stop following me, I'll be forced to.
Jacob smiled.
—By the way, you owe me a favor.
Lana stopped dead.
—Excuse me?
—I gave you a ride home last night. So now you owe me one.
Lana whipped around, checking that nobody was listening.
—Have you lost your mind?! Don't you ever mention that out loud again! Never! Plus, I don't owe you anything. You offered. I just... went along with it.
—Exactly. You went along with it. That makes you a debtor— he replied, all smug.
—You live in a parallel world. I don't do favors.
—Don't worry. I won't ask for anything weird. When I need a favor, I'll let you know.
Then he walked away to where his motorcycle was parked, climbed on, and took off.
Lana stood there alone again, pissed and confused. Wondering—once more—why the hell she'd let him give her that ride home last night.