Lies I Told by Michelle Zink Page B

you’re right. It is shitty. It’s been really hard for my dad.”
    â€œAnd for you, too, I bet.”
    She nodded slowly. “It was kind of a big deal. At first we thought something had happened to her when she didn’t come home from work. My dad called the police and there was a big investigation. They even suggested she’d been having an affair. Then they found her car at the Cove, and they thought maybe she’d drowned or . . . committed suicide or something.”
    Her face was so still, so lacking its usual animation, that I suddenly wanted to take it all back. Pretend I’d never asked about her mother. Rewind to when we were talking about friends and clothes and the dubious appeal of Hollister. I felt like a thief. Like I’d stolen the light in Selena’s eyes.
    But it was too late. I’d already brought it up. And who knows? Maybe Selena needed to talk about it. I didn’t have a lot of experience with friendship, but it probably involved more than just shopping. I silenced the voice in my head that urged caution, the one that said sharing secrets was the place where real attachment began.
    â€œHow do you know she didn’t?” I lowered my voice. “Commit suicide, I mean.”
    â€œWe got a letter a month after she left,” Selena said. “It didn’t say much. Just that she didn’t want to be a wife and mother anymore. That she needed to take care of herself, and she couldn’t do that taking care of us, too.” She shrugged. “We haven’t heard from her since.”
    â€œI’m sorry.” The words felt stupid and empty, but I didn’t have anything else.
    â€œIt’s okay. I wanted to tell you before, but it just seemed weird and depressing.”
    I shook my head. “It’s real. And we’re friends, right?”
    She nodded, the light moving back into her eyes. “Yeah, I think we are.”
    I smiled, wondering why the words made me feel not just happy, but more than a little scared, too.
    After lunch, I dropped Selena off and headed home to get ready for the bonfire. I’d invited her to come along, but she’d opted to stay in and make dinner for her dad. It was probably a good thing. Selena would be a distraction, a violation of my new keep-real-friends-separate-from-fake-ones rule. Inviting her had been reckless.
    And reckless was a good way to get us all sent to jail.
    I was halfway down Camino Jardin, already planning the night’s outfit in my head, when something in the middle of the road caught my eye. It was a peacock, and I slowed down, rolling to a stop in front of it. It regarded me calmly, surveying me with watchful eyes, its tail feathers folded back into a silky train, its large body oddly graceful on slender bird legs. I wondered if it was the same one that had been in the road the day Logan drove me home after school.
    On impulse, I put the car in park and stepped slowly onto the pavement, half expecting the bird to flee. But it just stood there, watching my approach. I stopped moving toward it when I was a few feet away.
    â€œHello,” I said softly. “Are you lost?”
    It cocked its head to one side, like it was consideringthe question. Its eyes were strangely human, brown and knowing.
    A car swerved around us, breaking the spell. The bird still didn’t move, but I suddenly felt foolish. I was standing in the middle of the road talking to a wild—no, a naturalized —peacock like I expected it to answer me back.
    Retreating, I got back in the car and drove around it, careful not to get too close. I pulled into the driveway and got out of the car, looking back at the street. The bird was gone.
    I shook my head, putting it out of my mind as I hurried to change. I ripped the tags off my new jeans and chose a drapey shirt printed with large flowers. I was turning in front of the mirror, trying to get a good view from every angle, when I heard a low hum