Page 35 of Black Waters

Thinking of how this woman was trading her daughter’s life for her husband’s political career made me want to puke. Despicable. The only reason I was talking to her—or being somewhat respectful—was because she was actually with her daughter for a change, taking care of her child the way a mother should.

“You are such a sweet boy. Dear Whitney has a doctor appointment this morning, and I’ve arranged for a car but—”

“You’re not with her?” I interrupted, probably blowing out her eardrum, which didn’t cause me any guilt at all. How could I have believed she truly cared?

“Oh my, you continue to be an aggressive young man.”

That was her formal way of telling me I was being rude.

Fuck off, lady.

She coughed—probably choking on her lie. “No, her father needed me, so I left her three days ago.”

My head fell forward, and my stomach clenched, understanding the riddle now. Crash went back to Whitney. “I’ll take her to the doctor, Mrs. Summers.” My voice was a lifeless monotone. Crash had put a target on our backs.

“That would be wonderful, dear. Whitney hates drivers. So ungrateful for her means. The appointment is at eleven. Don’t be late.” She hung up.

I stared at my phone in disbelief.

I texted Crash: Damn it. What have u done?

Crash being defensive and protective over Whitney when I arrived unexpectedly at her front door didn’t exactly surprise me.

One: He’d been on his own with her for the last three days, which I’d personally experienced and knew to be extremely stressful.

Two: The last time he’d seen me, well, I had sort of attacked him.

Whit being hurt and angry with me stung, but I also understood. She believed I had abandoned her. I hoped after I was gone, permanently, that Crash would someday tell her the truth, tell her how much I loved her and always would.

Outside the front of Whitney’s house, we stood staring at each other. “What’s changed?” Crash asked me with an aggravation I deserved. I had recently accused him of trying to kill the girl he loved.

Regret, worry, and sorrow churned in me as I prepared my rehearsed speech with hidden messages. “It dawned on me that, I’ve known her—” I looked at Whit, hoping subconsciously she would remember that she, too, had known me all her life and should know me better. “You. I’ve known you all my life. And I know how much you loved your brother… There’s something you and Crash aren’t telling me.” I glanced at Crash, trying to communicate that something was brewing and to follow my hints.

Crash looked away with a deepening hue of shame. I nodded because he got my message.

“I see. No one’s talking. Umm, I thought maybe I could go with you guys today?”

Whit tried to give me attitude with her reply but eventually said yes.

Probably knowing he could use extra eyes on her, Crash said, “I—I actually think it is a great idea. Don’t fail her again.” I knew he was now trying to tell me something.

Not positive what the message was, I assured him of the truth. “Never.” Little did he know, I was there to take the hit directed at all three of us.

The doctor’s office visit sucked balls and was a rude awakening. After all that we had been going through, I’d never taken the time to imagine the final result of Whit’s injury—her attack. My best friend’s dancing career was finished. Even though my dream of football was never to be realized, and I had accepted that fact years ago, I’d secretly lived vicariously through her hopes of accomplishing her dream. Foolish maybe, but her smile was enough.

My phone vibrating in my pocket pulled me from my thoughts.

Even though we were in the same doctor’s examining room, Crash texted me: U r here becuz of riddle aren’t u

To me, that could only mean his father—our father—had received his. Wisely, Crash was keeping all this from Whit. I texted back: Yes so don’t fuck it up

He didn’t text me again but was aggressively texting someone else once we were back in his car. I texted: What is going on? But I received no response.

As Crash drove us back to Whitney’s home, his Lotus hummed down the road. I thought about how much my death was going to hurt Whit. She’d lost Tim and was about to lose me. “I’m so sorry, Whit,” I told her from the front passenger seat, wanting to tell her so much more.

Crash reaching into the backseat to hold her hand, comfort her, was too much for me to witness, so I looked out the passenger window, wishing like hell that I didn’t have to miss out on the rest of her life.

“Link… I need you to love her.”