“Are you like totally in love with him?” Kate gushed.
“No,” Lindsay said. “God, I hardly know him.”
“Has he kissed you yet?”
“Yes.”
“You totally have to stick to our pact. Even if you are on vacation. It still counts.”
“Don’t be a freak, Kate.”
Lindsay hadn’t even thought about the pact in months. Last year, after watching Titanic for the billionth time, they swore to each other that they wouldn’t go all the way until they were really, totally, completely in love. It had to be a Leo-Kate kind of love or else it didn’t count. Looking back on it now, Lindsay found the pact rather childish and wondered why she ever agreed to it in the first place. It was like two little girls swearing they would only marry princes or something.
“So, is he taking you out or what?”
“Not really,” Lindsay said. “There’s no place to go but the beach. So we just kind of hang around the house.”
That wasn’t too much of a lie.
“I’m so jealous,” Kate said. “I can’t believe you snared yourself a boyfriend. No one’s ever going to talk to me again, not after the tragic fun-suck of a party.”
“Trey said he had a great time,” Lindsay assured for the fourth time. “He said everyone had a really good time. Well, except for Constance.”
“She’s such a skank engine. She knew I liked Chad. I totally told her last week, and the first thing she does is climb on him. At my party! In my BED!”
Then Kate launched into another ten-minute rant about the girls at school and how she didn’t trust any of them, except for Lindsay of course. Lindsay grunted and said, “yeah,” in all the right places. She knew how girls could be. She’d seen Ev in action.
Instead of feeling angry when she thought about Ev, Lindsay found herself feeling sorry for the girl. It was strange. She didn’t like Ev, but she pitied her. Ev was calculating and driven and would have done anything to escape Redlands Beach. It was her one dream: to get out. But she wouldn’t get out now. She’d seen something that drove her crazy, and traded the glamour of a blossoming career for a hospital bed in a psychiatric ward.
“Are you seeing him tomorrow?” Kate asked.
“What?” Lindsay said. “Oh. Depends on his dads.”
She crossed to the window again and looked out. Mr. Richter stood beneath the scraggly tree, facing the house.
“They’re really strict,” Lindsay said.
“That’s weird. Rachel’s moms are totally cool. Maybe it’s a guy thing.”
“Yeah,” Lindsay said, forcing a laugh. “It might be.”
She wanted to spill everything to Kate, wanted to tell her about Mark’s abusive guardians. How he was all alone with them. How he couldn’t contact help. She wanted to tell her best friend about Ev, and how she’d melted down after seeing something in that house. She wanted to let Kate know that she was going to help Mark. It wasn’t much, just a few supplies to get him started.
She didn’t take the chance telling Kate, though. She couldn’t. Not yet. When it was all done and Mark was safely away, Lindsay would tell Kate everything. Until then, she needed to stay quiet.
13
The rain finally stopped. Her parents announced they were going to take “a snooze for about an hour.” Lindsay returned to her room and went to the window.
She was surprised to note that neither Doug nor Jack stood in the yard, at least no place where she could see them. She was more surprised to see Mark in his window, looking up at her. He waved his arm frantically for her to come over. He looked totally desperate to talk to her.
Lindsay rushed down the stairs and out the door. At the side of the house, she paused, wondering how she would get near his window without leaving tracks in the sand. The answer appeared quickly enough.
Like her uncle’s house, Mark’s sat up off the ground, giving way to low thatches of grass. All Lindsay had to do was cling to the side of the house and step on those. Sure she would still leave prints, but they wouldn’t be nearly as obvious as tromping through the sand. She moved fast but carefully from one tuft of grass to the next.
At Mark’s window, she peered in. He stood on the other side of the small desk, looking absolutely miserable. His eyes were swollen as if he’d been crying. Dark circles painted the puffy skin beneath. He looked very thin and quite ill.
Lindsay put her palms against the glass and pulled, but it didn’t budge. Inside, Mark shook his head.
“They locked it,” he called.
“Are you okay?” Lindsay asked, trying to make her voice just loud enough for Mark to hear, but not so loud it carried to her parents’ room at the front of her uncle’s house.
He shook his head. Moving slowly as if in great pain, Mark grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. Lindsay looked through the dirty glass, remembering her first view of him, topless and smoothly muscular. Her eyes roamed over his perfect pale skin, his wonderful abs, and she squinted, wondering what it was Mark wanted her to see.
Head low, like a beaten dog, Mark turned around.
Lindsay saw his back and gasped. Her stomach clenched tight and her throat closed with horror. She put a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming.
Two dark circles about the size of bracelets were carved or burned into Mark’s back. The filthy glass and gloomy bedroom made it hard to tell exactly how the wounds were inflicted. But there they were, two circles filled with complex swirls and lines, etched on Mark’s skin. They were puffy and red and recently scabbed over. They were awful.
“My god,” Lindsay whimpered, already crying from the horrible sight.
Mark turned back to her. He didn’t bother putting his shirt on.
“I think they’re going to kill me,” he said, his voice barely loud enough for Lindsay to hear. “I tried to leave and they did this. They’re going to kill me.”
“No, they won’t,” Lindsay said, sniffing and wiping the tears from her eyes. “I won’t let them.”
“You can’t do anything,” Mark said. “I told you before.”
“It’s going to be okay,” Lindsay said. “Just hold on. Okay? I’ll be right back.”
Again Mark nodded his head.
Lindsay needed to get the gym bag and then get Mark out of that house, but it was so damn hard to leave him. He needed her and shouldn’t be alone. She wiped the freshest of her tears away, then eased along the side of the house.
She looked back one last time, seeing only the angle of the window. Then she stepped onto the sand and headed for the porch of her uncle’s house. Inside, she hurried quietly up the stairs. In her room she grabbed the blue gym bag and her tote, which carried her cell phone, Treo, and wallet.
Back in the hall, she was heading for the stairs when the door to her parents’ room opened. Lindsay froze.
“Everything okay?” her dad whispered.
“Sure,” Lindsay said, hearing the tremble in her own voice. Be cool, she thought. Be cool. “I was just running down to the boardwalk for a bit.”
“Is it still raining?” her dad wanted to know.
“No. It stopped.”
“Good,” he said quietly. “I was hoping we’d get some more sun. I wanted to grill out tonight. Have a good time. Be careful.”
“I will,” she said, looking at her father’s kind round face. He looked sleepy, but also concerned. Maybe he didn’t believe her. She forced a smile and waved quickly.
She’d get Mark out of the house and then come home. Her parents wouldn’t even know. It would be over in a few minutes.
Outside, she dashed across the sand to Mark, the blue bag and her tote striking her hips in turn. No longer worried about leaving prints in the sand, she raced through the alley right up to the window. Mark stood inside, looking dazed.