The Impossibility of Tomorrow Read online

  Noah looks up from the coffee table book he’s reading when we enter, giving a stiff wave and managing to avoid my gaze. Madison sits closely next to him, her feet splayed on the matching ottoman in front of her, seemingly oblivious to the scuff marks she’s making with her dusty Doc Martens. Rebecca is sharing the ottoman with Madison’s feet, looking elegant, as usual, wearing a beaded black drop-waist dress and a long, embroidered sweater.

  At the other end of the backless couch, Nicole and Chantal are sitting very close together. I’m surprised to see Chantal and even more surprised that Nicole’s not cozying up with Noah. Looks like Madison beat her to the punch.

  “Chantal!” Leyla squeals, rushing in front of me and plopping onto the couch next to them. “I thought you couldn’t come?”

  Chantal smiles angelically. “I wasn’t supposed to,” she replies. “But Rebecca convinced me to lie to my mother. Supposedly I’m staying at a friend’s house in Oakland tonight. If I go to hell for this, I blame the Sawyer family.”

  My stomach twists. Her presence must mean she’s still on Cyrus’s list of suspects.

  “Hell is more fun anyway,” Reed replies. “All those sinful rock stars are down there having a party.”

  “Now that everyone’s here,” Madison interjects, “maybe we can take that tour you mentioned?”

  “Definitely,” Reed agrees. “Although first we’ll show everyone where they’re sleeping. There are only four guest rooms, so we’ll be sharing.”

  “I’m with Madison,” Rebecca chirps quickly, and I notice Chantal’s face fall slightly. Madison and Chantal have always been close—but it seems like Rebecca’s moving in on Chantal’s best-friend status lately.

  “We can share, Chantal,” says Nicole. I’m sure she’d do anything to avoid sleeping in the same room as me.

  Leyla points at my chest. “You and me, Kailey.”

  “Looks like we gentlemen will share the last room,” says Reed, gesturing to Noah and Bryan. I shiver at the thought of Noah and Bryan sleeping in the same room as Cyrus, utterly defenseless. Is Noah here because Cyrus wants to make him an Incarnate?

  “Sounds good,” says Noah, with a genuine smile on his face. “Man cave.”

  Bryan pounds his chest. “Man cave good.”

  Reed and Rebecca lead us up the stairs to the second story. I follow the group in a confused fog, seeing myself out of the corner of my eye in one of the hallway’s mirrors. Through the looking glass, I think, remembering the story about Alice in Wonderland that bears the same name.

  Leyla immediately flings herself onto the king-sized bed in our shared room. The hot pink bedspread is the only spot of color in the room’s palette of muted whites and grays. “Mmm, thread count,” she murmurs into a pillow.

  I wish I could be so carefree. But I’ve been dying to check my messages since we arrived, to see if there are any more bids on the book or a missed call from Lucia. “Going to hit up the bathroom,” I tell her and dart out to the hallway, nearly colliding with Reed. He’s on his phone, tapping away on the screen.

  “Excuse me,” I mutter, and shove past him into the bathroom’s door, which is slightly ajar.

  And run straight into Nicole, who’s leaning over the sink, touching up her lipstick.

  “Oh, sorry,” I say, turning to leave.

  “It’s okay,” she tells me. “Stay. I wanted to talk to you, anyway.”

  “About what?” I ask warily, bracing myself for one of her trademark bitchy remarks.

  “Noah,” she answers, pulling a tube of mascara out of her unbleached cotton makeup bag.

  My stomach sinks. I feel like I know what she’s going to say—she’s going to brag about being his date for the dance. I feel ill. “About how you’re going to the dance with him?” I ask matter-of-factly.

  She opens her mouth and eyes wide as she recoats her already coal-black lashes. “Actually, he turned me down.” She laughs bitterly. “He wouldn’t say why, but I think I know.” She puts the tube back in her bag and faces me. “He’s obviously still in love with you.”

  Even though my heart beats faster at the news, I make my face a mask. A cool, haughty façade. “Too bad for him, then. Because I don’t feel the same way.”

  She appraises me. “Right,” she says, turning back to the mirror. “Well, then this won’t matter to you, but I’d watch out for Madison. She was all over Noah before you got here.” I suspected as much, but it hurts to have confirmation.

  I have a memory of Madison in our art class, pressing me on the subject of Noah. So you wouldn’t care if he went out with another girl? Hypothetically speaking, of course. She must have been referring to herself. I feel betrayed, somehow, even though I know I have no right to be.

  “We’re broken up,” I answer stiffly. “He can go out with anyone he wants.”

  “All’s fair in love and war,” Nicole agrees. “Though I have to say it’s completely unfair that the only guy left on this trip for me to flirt with is Reed—and he’s been on his phone all day.”

  As if on cue, my own phone buzzes in my sweatshirt pocket. I whip it out—“new e-mail.” My heart starts to pound.

  “Anyway, I’ll let you do your business,” Nicole says. “I’m happy we got to talk.”

  I don’t even stop to process how strange Nicole’s acting. I lock the bathroom door behind her and quickly pull up the e-mail screen on Kailey’s iPhone.

  The bidding war has continued between my two buyers—Sterling Books and the untraceable one. There’s a new offer from the latter, for $80,000.

  As I read the message, I picture Reed out in the hallway, typing a message on his own phone only minutes before. Could it be a coincidence? Hell to the no, I think, to borrow Echo’s phrase. Strike two.

  If I can only get a look at his phone, I’ll know for sure if he’s Cyrus. I take a determined breath as I step into the hallway.

  THIRTY-THREE

  “Just take them off, Kailey,” says Leyla, nodding toward my mud-covered boots. The familiar weight of Mr. Morgan’s sheathed fishing knife reminds me why that’s not an option.

  “They’re almost clean,” I protest, wiping at the soles with the rag that Rebecca gave me. They’re so not almost clean, I realize ruefully.

  The mud is caked on, gathered from the hours-long tour we took of the property. We tromped through the vineyards where hawks swooped overhead, through the temperature-controlled barn where the barrels of wine are aged, through the woods that cover the nearby hills. I didn’t miss Reed subtly pulling out his phone on our hike, the way he glanced at it when he thought no one else was looking.

  The highlight of the tour was a beautiful Victorian greenhouse made entirely of panels of leaded glass. Rebecca explained that it had long since been converted to a lounge for guests. The air inside was heady with flowers, which bloomed in colored glass pots next to the overstuffed couches and reading chairs. Old-fashioned hurricane lamps adorned the side tables. Ornate mirrors—the trademark Looking Glass touch—were hung on each of the four walls, spreading the afternoon light over our faces like honey.

  Rebecca told us that the previous owners thought the greenhouse was good luck, having survived several earthquakes with no damage to its glass walls. Despite the danger that taints this whole trip, I felt like it was true. The greenhouse radiated good energy. I was gripped with the desire to stay there, to let the rest of the group continue on without me while I curled up on one of the couches, safe in a pool of sun.

  I have to hand it to Nicole. Her intuition was right on about Madison—the way she walked closely to Noah, talking to him more than anyone else, tells me she’s definitely interested in him.

  Strange that I’ve started thinking of Nicole as an ally. Through the looking glass, indeed.

  “Don’t worry about your boots, Kailey,” says Rebecca. “We’re staying out anyway. Time for a bonfire to warm us up.”

  I nod, gratefully abandoning the mud-streaked towel.

  Reed appears from the darkness, his ar
ms full of kindling and newspaper. “If you’re not going in, want to help me get the fire started?” I look at his eyes—they appear black in the shadow of the newsboy cap he wears pulled low over his forehead.

  “Sure,” I reply. “I love flammable objects.” This might be my chance to look at his phone, to prove that he’s the one who’s been bidding on my book.

  I follow him down the gravel path. My right leg stings from where the knife’s been rubbing against my calf, but I don’t mind. I watch his back, taking in every movement like the hawks we saw earlier.

  “Noah’s cool,” says Reed when we reach the fire pit, dropping the pile of kindling and paper to the ground and selecting several large oak logs from a nearby stack. I sit in one of the gathered chairs, watching him. “I have to admit, he didn’t make the best first impression on me, but he’s been a lot friendlier since then. It’s too bad you guys broke up.” He leans the logs together in a teepee shape, stuffing newspaper into the triangles between them. I’m reminded suddenly of the fires Cyrus used to build for us, back in the early years before we had money and security. I shiver, and not just from the cold.

  “Too bad for who?” I ask warily. Is this a test?

  He pulls a book of matches from his pocket and strikes one, shielding it from the bracing wind. Since the sun set, it’s dropped many degrees.

  “For both of you,” he answers, cupping his hands around the tiny flame he’s managed to coax from the paper and blowing on it gently.

  He stands up, and the wind finishes the work of his breath, feeding oxygen to the fledgling fire. Soon our faces are lit orange and hot, and flames leap around the oak.

  I pull my phone from my pocket, tapping at the screen with a frown. “Shoot,” I say, with exaggerated disappointment. “I need to call my parents, and my phone doesn’t get reception over here. Can I use yours?”

  He watches me for a moment. “Sure,” he says hesitantly. “Of course.” He pats the pockets of his blazer, of his breeches. “Sorry, I must have left it in the house,” he says.

  “Left what?” says Bryan, from the path, followed by Rebecca and Leyla.

  “Kailey’s phone doesn’t work. I was going to let her use mine . . .” Reed’s smile deepens in the firelight, shadows lining his cheekbones, the dimple in his chin.

  “Just use mine,” says Bryan, stepping into the light and thrusting his phone into my hands.

  Heart sinking, I dutifully compose a text message to Mr. and Mrs. Morgan, informing them that Bryan and I are having an educational and wholesome visit. I lean back in my chair, watching as the rest of our group joins us at the fire.

  Rebecca passes out glasses of wine to everyone, and I take a deep swallow. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was, but the day’s walk must have dehydrated me. Almost immediately, I feel a warm burn in my stomach.

  “You might want to slow down there, Kailey.” Leyla’s voice is gentle as she points to my half-empty cup of wine. “Reed suggested a game of ‘Never Have I Ever’ when we were inside.”

  “Never have . . . what?” I repeat, confused. I can’t for the life of me parse the sentence she just spoke, and I wonder if the wine has already gone to my head.

  “At our old school, we just called it ‘I Never,’ ” says Reed. “But I’m sure the rules are the same.”

  “I’m in,” says Chantal.

  “Bring it,” echoes Nicole.

  It slowly dawns on me that they’re talking about a game, one that everyone appears to know the rules for. Everyone but me. I need to tread carefully.

  “How did you play it at your old school?” I ask.

  Reed stands up and selects a couple of logs that he tucks into the fire, releasing a billow of fragrant oak-scented smoke. “We go around the circle and take turns saying something we’ve never done. Whoever has done it has to drink.” The flames leap up, accepting the new wood, and I feel my face grow hot.

  This game could be very bad for me. What if Kailey’s friends realize I’m not who I say I am? Or more to the point, Cyrus realizes? This must be his plan—the reason for getting us out here. This game is a perfect way to reveal who I am.

  I pretend to take another drink of wine, tipping the cup to my closed lips so that I don’t actually swallow. If I get a question wrong, I’ll blame it on the alcohol.

  “Same as how we play,” says Bryan. “Kailey, I think the last time we played this you puked in the bushes.”

  “Charming,” remarks Madison.

  “Yeah, that was a crazy night,” I agree vaguely.

  “I’ll start,” says Nicole, with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Never have I ever kissed a girl.”

  Reed, Bryan, and Noah take a drink. I don’t move. I’m certain Kailey has kissed a girl—Taryn—but as far as I know, that was a secret that she withheld from her school friends.

  Nicole stares at me. “You sure about that, Kailey?” I hold her gaze, nodding slowly. “Hmm, I must be mistaken, then,” she says.

  “Never have I ever told a lie,” says Chantal, looking downcast as she takes a sip herself. Everyone else joins her in taking a drink, except Madison.

  “Come on, Maddy, everyone’s lied at some point,” says Noah.

  “I haven’t,” she protests. “Though it’s good to know I’m surrounded by a pack of liars. Better watch my back.” She grins, sitting up straighter. “My turn. Okay. Um. Never have I ever been in love.”

  Everyone groans. “Too easy,” says Leyla. “Everyone’s been in love.”

  “Fine,” says Madison. “Never have I ever been in love more than once.”

  No one drinks, especially not me, even though I suppose I qualify. I did love Cyrus once, though to use the same word for my relationship with him as the one I had with Noah feels like a betrayal.

  “That sentence makes no grammatical sense,” Chantal informs Madison, poking her in the arm.

  Rebecca is next. “Never have I ever had sex.” She immediately takes a gulp of wine, and everyone laughs.

  “TMI,” says Reed, covering his ears. “I don’t want to know that about my sister.” He does, I notice, take a drink as well.

  So do Nicole, Leyla, and Bryan. Madison, Noah, and Chantal don’t drink. Neither do I. I look down at my lap where I’m gripping my glass, my fingers white against its surface. I assume Kailey was a virgin, at least as far as this group knows. I look around slowly. No one calls me out for not drinking, and my fingers finally relax.

  “Maddy, that is a damn lie,” says Chantal. “I think you owe us two drinks now. For lying about sex, and for lying about lying.”

  “No retroactive penalties,” Madison says, her face reddening as she takes a drink.

  Reed rubs his hands together. “This is getting good,” he says. “My turn. Never have I ever . . .”—he pauses, locking eyes with me across the circle—“betrayed the trust of someone in this circle.”

  Across the fire, Bryan takes a drink. Leyla whips her head in his direction, a shocked expression on her face. “What did you do?” she demands.

  “Remember that time you made me watch the Harry Potter movies? And I said I liked them? I was lying,” he admits.

  Leyla relaxes. “Oh. Well, that’s not so bad.”

  “I mean—wizards? So cheesy.”

  “I get it,” she snaps. But I can tell she’s not really mad.

  Reed is still staring at me. “Kailey?” he presses. I’m flustered. What exactly does he mean? Rather than call more attention to myself, I take a swallow. Next to me, Noah coughs, spilling wine on his jeans. I can only imagine what he suspects me of doing.

  Reed swivels his head toward Rebecca. “Sis, did I miss you taking a drink?” he asks. She shakes her head, looking confused.

  “That time you ratted me out to Mom and Dad, when you were mad at me for taking the car?”

  “Oh!” Rebecca reddens, taking a drink. “Sorry about that one.” She’s pissed, I can tell.

  “Awkward!” Leyla declares. “This is getting a little personal, don’t you think
?”

  “That’s the whole point,” Reed snarls, and I start to panic. What else will he ask me?

  I stand up, and the movement makes me immediately dizzy. “I have to go to the bathroom,” I say weakly, and begin to walk away from the fire.

  “I’ll come with you,” says Rebecca. “It’s so dark outside. I’d hate for you to wander off the path and get lost.”

  “Thanks,” I say, since I can’t think of any polite way to refuse.

  Rebecca’s right about the dark night. As soon as we step away from the fire, I’m effectively blind. I pause for a moment while my eyes adjust. She leads me to the gravel path, and I find myself staring up at the sky. I can see so many stars. It’s been a long time since I’ve been out in the countryside. The sky reminds me of Echo’s mural, its glittering swirl of celestial light.

  “You don’t see that in Berkeley,” says Rebecca, following my gaze.

  “No,” I agree.

  “But it won’t be clear for long,” she observes, gesturing west. “Storm’s coming.”

  She’s right. A pile of clouds looms over the distant hills. As if on cue, the wind picks up, trying to push us from the path.

  “Thanks for inviting me up here,” I say, teeth chattering. “I’m having a great time.”

  “We’re glad you came. Reed and I are so lucky to have found such cool friends already,” she replies.

  “How’s Reed doing, anyway?” I make my voice casual. “I know moving can be hard. Has he been upset at all?”

  A moment passes before she responds, and I hope that my question didn’t sound weird. “Maybe a little bit,” she finally says. “But if anything, he seems happier in Berkeley. My brother is a bit . . . eccentric. I think he fits in better in Berkeley than he ever did in Sonoma.” So she does notice something different about Reed, though I’m not sure it sounds like Cyrus.

  “I know if my parents moved me away from my friends, I’d be furious. Does he seem . . . angry?” I press. It wouldn’t be like Cyrus to conceal his violent side for long.