Seven Dirty Secrets

by Natalie D. Richards

Find your partner in crime And follow the clues. No one else can know. Happy hunting, birthday girl.

Dad works giant cranes, so he follows the work. He’s out of town for months at a time. When we were little, that meant Mom was alone a lot with me and Connor. Now, she goes with him more often than not. For Connor’s junior and senior years, it was kind of fun. Me and him against the world. But then Connor went to college. Other than the stint with Declan and the times my dad is in between contracts, I’m alone a lot.

From her baby-blue sweatshirt to her white sneakers, Hope just looks wholesome. Especially next to me in a stained shirt and ratty yoga pants. Hope wants to structure programs that help people lead better lives. I want to analyze body fluid samples and gunpowder residue in a forensics lab when those people inevitably crack up and commit heinous crimes.

Someone saw, someone knows. At the Service Door, that’s where it goes. Near the deer water in the city’s heart. Isn’t that where everything starts?

There are three reasons I’m dating Bennett. One, he always makes me laugh. Two, he has great shoulders, and I have a thing for shoulders. And three, he doesn’t drink or do drugs. Not ever.

“Truth hurts and all,” he says. “Just text me if some weird clues lead you into a dark forest at night. And for God’s sake keep your phone charged. Don’t be the person who dies because you can’t make a phone call.”

I can still smell the damp and rot of the river in West Virginia. Sometimes at night, I can even still hear him scream.

But everything between us changed when he found me in the woods in West Virginia. He told me to breathe and washed the blood and filth from my hands. Connor took care of me that day, but he never asked me how Declan ended up in that river. Not once. Looking at him now, a terrible thought prickles in my mind. Maybe he didn’t ask because he already knew.

Declan held up my hands and laughed at my shaking fingers. My face caught fire, and I was sure my chest would cave in. But then he kissed me. His hands felt so gentle on my shoulders. It made it easy to ignore how cruel his laugh sounded. I wish I hadn’t ignored it though.

Ninjas, birds, and towers And some that take a fall. If you don’t win this hunt, I swear I’ll tell them all.

“If I fall, I’m going to need you to switch your major so you can fulfill my forensic dreams.” “I’ll just add a third. I’m already committed to economics and sociology. If I add a third, I’ll work on economic strategies and trade training programs for disenfranchised women, and I’ll spend my weekends as a freelance crime scene investigator.” “You were born for Vassar,” I say, but it’s no secret how proud I am. I think I screamed more than she did when she saw the decision online. “You probably could do a triple major.”

Don’t tell another soul. You know I’m watching you. Past Bellows, Pierce, Demuth. Find the starry dress that’s blue.

Instead, I have a few basic rules when it comes to them. First, Hope is always prepared, so I’m only there to support whatever plan she’s carrying out. Second, no matter how much drama there is, somehow Jack and Hope always end up back together. He’s literally the boy next door, and the son of the worship leader of the Baptist church her mom visits now and then. They have next to nothing in common, but that’s never mattered before. This isn’t my first rodeo, and I know how they all end.

she puts up with it because Jack is gorgeous. I mean, look. I love Bennett. He’s got killer shoulders and a beautiful smile and better hair than mine. But Jack? He’s like a supermodel. He’s tall and lean with a square jaw, full lips, and warm brown skin that makes me think of islands and sunshine. And his eyes? His eyes are such a striking pale green that you’d think he wore contacts. He actually does, but Hope swears they aren’t colored. Jack isn’t just hot or cute or even sexy. He’s the kind of stunning that makes people stop midsentence to watch him walk past. He’d be perfect, except that he’s an artsy snob and sort of a prick.

I always thought I was the one who kept secrets. Looks like I was wrong.

You want the future, not the past, But your dreams and lies are blind. Look for an old capital neighbor, A doctor’s gift, a citizen’s find.

Then again, maybe I shouldn’t go digging in the backyard for bones when I know damn well there’s a Declan-shaped skeleton in my closet.

I can’t blame her for not caring that Declan died. Hope never expected to see him again, because that was the deal. When she drove me to the hospital with a wad of paper towels pressed to the back of my gashed-open head, she agreed to stay quiet. As long as he stayed away for good. But he didn’t stay away, and that part is one hundred percent on me. Three weeks after Declan put me in the hospital, I bought his shit, dried his tears, and quietly added him to the rafting roster. Because he begged and cried and, God, why did I believe him? Why was I that girl?

“This from a woman who spent half of our first date doing an oral compare-and-contrast report on murder mystery parties versus escape rooms.”

“Of course, you’re going to kill any brightness with all the talk of blood spatter and serial killers, but to each their own.” “You’re one to talk. My boyfriend, the future biochemist. What even is that, Bennett?” “You want to stare at murder scenes. I want to cure cancer. We all have our calling.”

I pause, rattled, and then he strikes, one wide hand popping me hard in the center of the stomach. It’s one push, but he’s got eight inches and eighty pounds on me. And I fly. Feet sliding, body tumbling back. My head smacks—I hear it more than I feel it at first, but the pain comes. A great, wet bloom of it wrenching a cry out of my throat. I’m on the linoleum staring at the dirty alcove under the cabinets. I see a twist tie. An old cap from a milk carton. Declan’s shoes.

Swearing. I roll to my side, dizzy and intensely nauseous. Something warm and slick oozes out of me. Coats the back of my hair. The pain rolls in heavy beats—a rhythm that churns my stomach and matches my heart.

don’t want to feed her clues or build a case. I want her to evaluate this on her own, because this is why witnesses are never as reliable as evidence. Our perspectives and memories and interpretation are all subjective.

Do you believe it’s over? Do you really think it’s through? Find the silent people waiting. Find the lies he wrote for you.

Nothing is more Hope-like than handling stress through intense research.

One Two Six Two Zeroes Four. You’ll find your clue behind this door. They say the truth will set you free. You’re getting close. Are you ready to see?

Past the bricks, before the fountain. Up the stairs, through a haunt. Time to see what really happened. Because your guilt isn’t what I want.

have breakfast, because I’m firmly convinced there is no food on earth that rivals the glory of pancakes, eggs, and bacon.

Seven went in. Six came out. And now it’s been a year. Think new clubs and old trains. You’ll find the rain drawn here.

Mom had carefully removed the few photos and things Declan had left in our house and mailed them back to his family. Other than an old Ange’s Pizza menu and a random fortune-cookie fortune, it had been an empty expanse, a few brightly colored pushpins dotting the pocked surface. But now it is covered with three plain sheets of typing paper, each one bearing a single word. Left. For. Dead.

“No, Hope. You asked me here, so I’m here,” he says. “We all went down there not knowing shit about the lunatic that was in the boat with us. Declan wasn’t supposed to be there.” He looks at me and holds up a hand. “I’m sorry, Cleo. I know what it’s like to be in a screwed-up situation, but none of us were part of that mess until you made us part of it.” He looks back to Connor and Hope, shaking his head. “Instead, we were dragged down to the middle of God knows where so we could play our parts in some desperate save-Declan Hail Mary when one look at that guy would have told anyone he was way past saving.” “Your compassion is touching,” Aiden mutters, looking venomous. Jack shrugs. “Look, I didn’t throw the guy in the water. I’m just not surprised he fell. He was wasted every minute of that trip. You both were.”

“We’ve all done stupid things for what we think is love,” Jack says. “What we think is love?” He shrugs. “Love doesn’t make us do stupid shit, Cleo. Fear does that.”

“Let me ask you something, Cleo,” he says. “Did you know that he’d hit you? When you first started dating him, did any part of you think that was possible?” My throat is thick and tight but I force myself to answer. “No.” “People choose, say, and do things you wouldn’t dream. That’s all I’m saying. You never know what a person is going to do.”

I know seven secrets. One caused the fall. One did nothing. One saw it all. One didn’t care. One used their head. One played the hero. One was left for dead.

He was good with apologies. He was even better at doing things that required them.

And then I hear the laughter. My stomach shrinks tight. That is the laugh I heard when my hands shook before he kissed me. The laugh I heard every time he called me names. That’s the laugh from the voicemail on my phone, and I’d know it anywhere. “Knock it off, Declan.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Connor says. “He almost killed her. Declan deserved what he got.” “No!” The shout comes from behind me. I turn and see a shadow peeling away from the wall. A voice roaring out wordless, bone-deep rage.

I see the cage. The edge of the bleachers. And then I see his feet and I want to be wrong. I want it to be Aiden. Even Declan. I want it to be anything and anyone but what I’m seeing. But as my eyes follow the black sneakers up to the familiar face, my heart shatters.

“You’re killing her!” Connor screams. “Nooo…” Bennett drags the word out, his voice low and sure. “I’m not killing her. I’m just not doing anything to help her. Nothing wrong with that, is there, Hope?”

He tilts his head and his smile, for the first time, is strange and cruel. Familiar in its coldness. He is familiar in a way I have never noticed until this moment. His broad shoulders. His high cheekbones. The way he tilts his head when he’s smiling. He looks like—

You would do anything for your brother, Cleo.” Brother. The word rings in my head over and over. Brother. He smirks. “I would do anything for my brother too.”

“My name isn’t Bennett,” he says, and then he steps back from the edge. Away from me.

Before my head goes under, I hear Bennett’s laugh. He sounds just like Declan.

I am thinking of Declan, and thinking I am the girl he always wanted me to be. Powerless and weak. But I wasn’t always this way. I’ve put in ten-mile running days in cross-country. I’ve lived on my own for weeks at a time while my parents were away. I’ve dreamed a future for my life, picked my place and planned my way. I was strong once. Is any of that left? We have to find a way forward.

“You’re supposed to be at Columbia.” He laughs. “I was. Six months ago. A few pictures is all it took to fool you. Ty and Owen were helpful with that post, though—giving me cover for a made-up girl on the side.” He winks, and I am repulsed.

“What’s your name?” I ask him, my voice like parched gravel. “Your real name.” Because I have kissed this boy. Held his hand. Stayed on the phone too late and shared pints of ice cream. Before tonight, he was good and kind. He was my way back to normal.

“His name is Shawn,” Aiden repeats. “He’s here because of me.”

“You could have grabbed him. You could have helped.” Hope doesn’t answer. Her face is schooled to blankness, her eyes flat and unmoving. I think of her cold fury in the car outside of Madison’s. And I know in this moment that none of us will ever know how close Hope was to the water or whether or not she could have saved Declan. My gut tells me she will take that secret to the grave.