Got my fourth review today so here's an update! Thanks to RHatch89, nick2951, and Fun With Typing for reviewing, and a special shoutout to Mr Tea The Dino for being my 100th reviewer! I can't believe that this story has reached that many reviews and I really appreciate it...keep up the feedback, I love hearing what you guys have to say!
Chapter 28
When I wake up the next morning, the pinprick on my finger still hurts. But I barely notice the stinging over the awful pounding in my head.
I groan, sitting up and falling right back onto the pillow again, only to stop my head from feeling like an arrow has just been shot through it. The pain is coming from my temples, but my forehead feels like it's burning.
Quietly, I brace myself and slip out of bed, swallowing hard, only to find that my throat hurts just as badly as my head. I trudge listlessly into the bathroom and shove the thermometer under my tongue.
Twenty seconds later, my fear has been confirmed.
102.3.
I'm sick.
I try to groan, but it only increases the ache in my throat. If ever there was a worse time to be sick, I can't think of one. Thankfully today is Sunday…but I don't have a day off.
The last thing I feel like doing is carrying out Mona's vague and somewhat frightening order. But I promised I would help, just like she promised that I wouldn't get hurt. I can't back out.
So I spend the next hour getting ready, careful to do my hair and makeup just like I would on any other day. What usually takes me twenty minutes ends up taking most of the morning, but aside from darker circles under my eyes and a slightly paler complexion than usual, I look totally normal.
But that doesn't improve how I feel. I sit down on the edge of my bed, my phone in one hand and the number I'm supposed to call in the other. After five glasses of water and more cough drops than I can count, my throat no longer feels like it's going to burst into flames, but there's no getting around the fact that I sound sick.
It takes me a few minutes to build up the courage to enter the number into my phone, and a few more to actually press "call."
"Hello?" a smooth female voice answers.
I clear my throat and try to sound as healthy as possible as I reply. "Um, hi." I pause, realizing with a pang of terror that I have no idea what to say next. I was too distracted by whatever flu I have this morning to plan out how to handle this conversation.
I panic for a few moments too long, and the girl speaks again, sounding irritated. "Hello? Who is this?"
"Um," I say again, just to fill the silence. Then I finally compose myself, and try to speak clearly through my aching throat. "Hi. Yeah. My name is Viola…I'm Mona's sister."
There is a long pause. I can tell that she's still there, whoever this is, but a good few moments pass before she finally replies. "Yeah, I don't think so."
I raise my eyebrows, pressing the phone harder to my ear. What's that supposed to mean, she "doesn't think so"? Even more desperate for an explanation, I let out an exasperated breath and say, "Seriously. I'm Viola Vanderwaal. I'm in the high school directory and everything." I'm not sure why, but I get the feeling that this girl goes to my school. Maybe it's the sound of her voice or something, but there's something familiar here that I can't quite put my finger on.
There is another hesitation, and when the girl speaks again, she sounds a little more uncertain. "Mona didn't say anything about a sister. I thought she'd be contacting me herself."
I know that I somehow need to offer an explanation for this, but I'm not sure how much this girl knows. I don't really want to involve another person in this mess, so I try and phrase my answer as vaguely as possible. "She's…unavailable right now. She gave me your number and told me to call you, that we need to have some sort of meeting."
"Yeah," the girl says slowly, and the familiarity is really itching at me now. I'm dying to ask what her name is, but somehow I know that even if I did, she wouldn't tell me. Not over the phone. Whatever deal is going on here, it's obviously pretty secretive.
"So…" I cut in when she doesn't elaborate. "The meeting?"
"Meet me at the Apple Rose Grille. In an hour." She pauses, then adds, "And make sure you bring the money."
My heart jumps into my throat, and I feel a new wave of headache coming on. "What – "
The line clicks and goes dead. I groan and drop the phone onto my bed, fighting down the urge to throw up, and not just from whatever sickness I have. Money? I didn't know anything about money, and I have no idea how much to bring.
For a moment, I stare helplessly down at my phone, wondering if I should call that number again and demand some more information, though I doubt she'd tell me more without meeting me in person and making sure I'm legit.
But I know my sister. She had to have known that money was going to be involved, and she always has a plan.
Hoping I'm right, I walk slowly down the hallway, trying my best not to make any sound. It's after ten, and I know that I can only get away with about another half an hour without my mother coming up to check on me. I need to do this quickly.
I slip into Mona's room and look around, for any sort of note or, I don't know, stack of cash, maybe? But after scanning the surfaces of the room, it becomes apparent that it's not going to be that easy.
I search through the dresser drawers, most of which are halfway empty, and then tackle the desk, starting with the bottom drawer. It's still filled with notebooks and papers, but when I lift them up, there's no old BlackBerry this time.
I smile to myself, as if this is some sort of real confirmation that Mona is really no longer working with "A." I realize that this is ridiculous and drop the stack of notebooks back inside, opening the next drawer up.
By the time I've gotten to the top, I'm almost at the end of my rope. This is absurd. Why am I even spending my time with this, when I should be in bed, with my mom bringing me soup or something? I decide right then and there that if I don't find anything in the last drawer, I'm giving up, promise or no promise.
I pull open the drawer and begin shifting around, through pencils, pens, little cups filled with paper clips, and other odds and ends, like the little sewing kit from yesterday.
Wait.
Yesterday the case containing the sewing materials was clear. But now, it's obvious that something white has been stuffed inside. Curious, I open the kit and pull out the paper, which turns out to be a folded up envelope. Bingo.
Feeling triumphant, but a little disappointed as well, because part of me was hoping that I really would have an excuse to give up, I smooth out the envelope. There is a short note written in neat handwriting on the front.
Thanks, Vi. –M
I open the flap and feel my dizziness increase at what I see. By "money," I assumed that the girl on the phone had meant a few twenties, maybe a few fifties. But there must be at least several thousand dollars crammed in here, judging by the thick layer of bills that all look to be hundreds.
Gaping, I close the envelope quickly, careful not to twist it or bend it any more than it already has been. The larger part of me wants to shove the money back into the hiding place and pretend that I never even thought to look there. I've been so happy to stay out of the drama for the past few weeks, and this has "A" written all over it. Shouldn't I be chomping at the bit to remove myself from this mess?
But that strange phone call…and all that money…there must be something behind this. Something important. And I know that even if I try and forget about it, my curiosity is eventually going to win out.
Fighting it isn't going to help.
So I walk back to my room, shove the envelope into my wallet, and head downstairs, pulling on a jacket. "Hey, Mom," I say as cheerfully as possible, forcing back a cough.
"Morning, honey," my mother says tiredly, not looking up from the newspaper she's reading. I notice the dark circles under her eyes that rival my own. But that's no big surprise – her oldest daughter just confessed to a murder and was taken back to a mental institution. I probably wouldn't be sleeping, either.
"You slept in late today," she goes on, finally glancing up. Her eyes widen. "Are you okay, Viola?"
I think back to the thick layer of foundation that I put on an hour ago and wonder just how sick I really am. "I'm fine," I say lightly, taking the carton of orange juice out of the fridge and pouring myself a glass. "I just, um, didn't sleep too well last night, you know?"
My mother casts her eyes downward, nodding. "I didn't either, sweetie. It's so hard, I know, especially with your father being away again. Do you think…do you think talking to someone might help?"
I am so caught off guard that for a moment, even my pounding headache goes away. "What? You – you mean, like, a therapist? No. Not at all."
She frowns contemplatively, setting down her mug of coffee. "I was just thinking, with everything you've been through…especially with Mona back in school now…"
I shake my head, hard, and instantly regret it. "It's fine, Mom. But I get it. Let's just see what happens once her psych hold is over, okay?"
My mother pales a little at the word "psych," and I decide that it's time I make my exit. "I have to go," I say, gulping down the last of my juice and grabbing my car keys off of the counter. "I'm…I'm meeting Justin, over in Brookhaven."
"Are you sure that's a good idea, Viola? You really don't look well."
Sometimes I wish my mother would stop being such a…mother. It gets a little inconvenient, having a parent who cares. I force a smile and slip on my sunglasses, mostly to hide my red-rimmed eyes. "I'm fine, really. It's only, like, a ten minute drive. I'll be back in at least two hours."
Unless whoever I'm meeting kills me first.
I shake that grim thought from my head and give my mom one last reassuring smile before I head out, climbing into my car and pulling out in the direction of the Apple Rose Grille.
I can't help but wonder if I'm making a big mistake.
...
Let me know what you think! Next chapter, Viola finally meets the mysterious caller. Let me know in the reviews who you think it's going to be.
