Frozen Beauty Read online

  making ash of all that was August.

  The lake winks, like it knows I’m on the brink,

  like it can see this invisible spark:

  I’m waiting for you. You’ll be here by dark.

  Chapter Two

  Now

  FEBRUARY 7

  THEY’D BEEN SHOVELING DIRT OVER the coffin for what felt like hours.

  The priest said they couldn’t have an open casket, or maybe it’d been the coroner. Her body was too . . . blue. Her lips, her fingertips.

  Tessa never saw it—her, Kit—that way, only heard the facts listed in a bland sequence, each one contained and separate: a dot unconnected to any other dots.

  The torn clothing and lacy bra.

  The truck, abandoned at the edge of the nature preserve out on 28.

  Lilly’s frantic confessions, her babbling, all adding up to what the woman in the fitted suit called “a formal accusation,” “a potential testimony.”

  And, of course, Boyd’s name, on repeat, in hushed tones, in voices of shock and anger.

  It was only the first week of February, and last week had seen some of the coldest nights in years. But winter out here had a funny way of shifting underfoot, and this weekend the ground had started to thaw and the snow to melt—like it remembered its past as disconnected, unwhole, just a collection of molecules that had stuck together for a while and were now content to part.

  And so the service, taking advantage of this brief reprieve from the frigid temps, would be held outside, where Kit would have wanted it. She wasn’t outdoorsy per se, but she always talked about the beauty of nature, wrote poetry about it. Still, they should have thought it through first. Tessa had never realized before how these things are planned in such a rush. All the details—the flowers, the chairs, the music—coordinated in a sickening daze within hours of the worst moment of your life.

  They should have realized it would be way too cold for this. Tessa couldn’t feel her body, couldn’t feel much of anything.

  Maybe that was for the best.

  The fog, winding its thick, lazy way along the mud and frost, nearly muted the minister’s voice, calling her name. Tessa. Tessa.

  It was time.

  Her hand plunged into her pocket . . . but the speech she’d written—about what a perfect older sister Kit had always been—was nowhere to be found. She dug her hand deeper, feeling a small hole in the satin lining of her navy peacoat, the width of a couple of fingers, big enough, she realized with a sudden jolt of panic, for a note that’d been wadded up over and over again in her sweaty palms to have fallen through.

  A string of alarmed curses flew through her brain and she froze, unable to come forward. She’d never been a good writer anyway—that had always been Kit’s job. And she never wore this stupid peacoat—it smelled like the musty walls of the hall closet. She’d forgotten how beaten-up it was, full of tears and holes—mostly on the inside, where no one could see.

  Okay, stay calm.

  But after fishing around in the other pocket, it became clear: the note was definitely gone.

  “Tessa.” Her name rang out again, and she shivered, feeling everyone’s gaze turn her way. Now would be a great time to perfect her disappearing skills.

  Yet another area where Kit had her beat: this time, she’d pulled off the kind of disappearing act where you never, ever come back.

  Tessa swallowed the lump in her throat. She should probably be crying now, but her eyes remained a stinging dry and her chest tight, trapped under a thick layer of ice. All she could think was how weird this felt, everyone staring at her.

  Most of the time, people overlooked her—and she was fine with that. In between her two sisters, she was the least remarkable. People who didn’t know the Malloy sisters often saw them as variations on the same theme. After all, they were each born only a little over a year apart and shared an uncanny resemblance in the eyes and cheeks. But the differences outshone the similarities when you looked closer.

  Lilly: the unpredictable one, the selfish one, the baby of the family—all brawl and tears and flash and fire—hated discord and caused nearly all of it. Kit, to the contrary, was—had been—the good girl, the oldest, the one to whom everyone turned in a time of crisis. Kit was butter melting into toast. She was light through a high stained-glass window or a cat curled on a lap. Everything comforting. When they were kids, their dance teacher called what Kit had “grace.” But it didn’t just appear when she danced. It lived in the way Kit moved through the world—with ease, like she had some sort of privileged arrangement with gravity.

  Then there was Tessa, known for tripping on her own feet, a clumsy shadow in Kit’s wake. Not a shadow, actually, but a negative, all bleached out and odd to look at. She had Kit’s blond hair, but paler, and Kit’s big eyes, but wider spaced, one blue and one green, more alien than pretty. Even down to the cells, Tessa was a kind of genetic mash-up. She had this thing called chimerism—which meant that some of Kit’s DNA had slimed off on her when she was still developing in their mom’s womb, left over from Kit’s stay in there. She was mostly Tessa, sure—that’s what the doctors had told her when they discovered the condition, more common than most people think. But she had real hints of Kit within her, too—strands woven through, making Tessa not really, wholly Tessa, but a mess of her and not-her.

  Right now, she wished she was anyone but herself.

  She pulled her traitorous peacoat tighter around herself and stepped in front of the first row of plastic chairs, turning to look at the crowd gathered in the graveyard behind the church—her mother’s tear-streaked face, Lilly wrenching her threadbare beanie down around her ears.

  You can still take it back, Tessa wanted to shout at her.

  Lilly’s best friend, Mel, sat beside her, shaking in the cold and looking pale as the snow. Tessa glanced around for Patrick Donovan—she would have expected him to be here, but then again, she didn’t know him that well. He was Lilly’s problem. And he wasn’t here.

  Next to Mel came several of Kit’s teachers—her Spanish teacher, Ms. Luiz; her English teacher, Mr. Green, and some pretty woman who must be his girlfriend. A few neighbors.

  Incredibly: Innis Taylor, Boyd’s dad. Red-eyed and openly weeping.

  And the notable, gaping absence beside him: an empty spot where his son should have been. Would have been, if he weren’t, right now, sitting in the county jail, awaiting trial for Kit’s murder.

  He did it, Lilly had told the cops, the special investigator, their parents, through the spinning, sickening blur of the last two days. I saw it. I saw them.

  And even if her younger sister hadn’t seen a thing—Boyd’s fingerprints everywhere told the story for her.

  Boyd. Her Boyd.

  No—not her Boyd.

  Staring at the empty chair, Tessa knew she couldn’t go through with this. That saying a bunch of fake words about Kit now would be the worst lie she ever told.

  Or it would be the worst truth.

  So she did what any sane human would do, or even any half-sane half human, like her.

  She ran the fuck out of there.

  Chapter Three

  Before

  9/6

  Dear Diary,

  Ah, the first day of school. Nothing’s quite like it. That’s why I’m finally writing in you. Kit’s the real writer in the family, but it seems like a waste because nothing interesting ever happens to her. Or to any of us.

  This year is going to be different, though.

  Hopefully.

  Everyone’s awake, and it sounds like the house is going to come down in all the commotion outside my door. Tessa has spent all morning moaning about how she lost one of her shoes or something (how do you lose just one, by the way?), while sucking on a giant mug of black coffee (which, ew). Kit keeps racing up and down the stairs, putting in her earrings while sorting through notebooks while also carrying on a full conversation with Mom about her after-school plans—some dizzying combo of volunteering, tutori
ng, and babysitting.

  Diary, I don’t care about any of that.

  Diary, I have locked my door, and I plan to lock you, too, which is why I can first tell you this:

  I’m naked right now. (!!!!)

  Not to be vain (vein?), but I’ve been staring at myself in the mirror, feeling ready, finally. I mean, not ready for school, obviously. (!!!) But ready-ready. As in, ready for things to start happening.

  I’m a sophomore now. My face is still too big for the rest of me, and the gap between my teeth has not disappeared, despite what Mom keeps saying. As for my boobs, they are bigger than plums but smaller, I think, than oranges. My hips are rounded at the sides but sharp in front. The carpet, newly trimmed, matches the drapes. (Ugh, I really hate that phrase, it’s so gross!!! And why are our bodies supposed to be compared to stuffy old living rooms? Anyway, I finally decided last night that if I’m going to be stuck with fire crotch my whole life—and everyone being able to guess at it—then it may as well be a neat and tidy fire down there!!)

  I wonder whether anyone can see me through the window blinds right now.

  Okay, not anyone. (Boyd.)

  Here are the reasons BND (Boy Next Door) is fated to be my boyfriend:

  He once rescued me from an angry pit bull.

  He protects me from my sisters during snowball fights.

  He lets me go first in board games.

  I’ve just always imagined that he would be my first! Do I need more reason than that?

  Hold on, Diary, I’ll be right back. . . .

  Yeah no, his blinds are down.

  Whatever. Hold on, again. I need to get dressed. . . .

  Okay, I’m back. Sorry that took so long. I spent all my school-clothes money (and part of Tessa’s leftover budget since what does she need it for when she literally only wears those ratty jeans with tank tops every day?), but it still took me forty-five minutes to decide what to wear. Here goes: a floral jumper from Lupine and a blazer that used to be Mom’s, with the sleeves rolled up. It’s a mix of retro and easy!

  I just heard the screen door slam.

  And now Boyd is outside honking his truck. He seriously almost made me mess up my eyeliner.

  Another honk.

  Deep breath.

  It’s Go Time.

  Lilly slammed her diary shut and shoved it under her mattress. “For fuck’s sake, I’m coming!” she called out.

  “Let’s have less cursing, sweetie,” her mom said as Lilly burst out of her room with her bag in one hand and took the strawberry Pop-Tart wrapped in two layers of napkin her mother held out to her with the other.

  “Sure, Mom.” What the fuck had she even said?

  She jogged down the driveway and hopped up into the cab of the truck. Even though Kit had scooted over as far as she could, Lilly still had to shove her way in so she could fit her entire butt and shoulder bag in the car. “This is getting cozy,” she said to everybody.

  “You’re welcome to walk,” Tessa replied, taking a sip from a giant to-go mug. The scent of her coffee filled the cabin and probably ruined the smell of Lilly’s hair forever. Tessa was squeezed on the bench seat right up next to Boyd, who sat, obviously, behind the wheel. Next came Kit, and Lilly on the end.

  “You’re welcome to not be a bitch,” Lilly told her, shuffling her bag down near her feet so she could finish her breakfast.

  Tessa grinned from the corner of her mouth. “Touché.” She sighed dramatically, resting her head on Boyd’s shoulder while he pulled out of the driveway. “Another year. Another opportunity to revel in the glory of DLHS.”

  Boyd laughed. “We’re halfway through, Tess. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel.”

  Kit put one arm around each of them, and Lilly got a whiff of her perfume—something with jasmine. “What’s everyone most excited about?”

  Boyd shrugged. “Seeing Mrs. Barrington.”

  They all laughed. Mrs. Barrington was one of the lunch ladies, and she had eyes only for Boyd.

  “Learning geometry,” Lilly said. “Just kidding. Probably wearing all of my new clothes.”

  “Advanced English,” Kit said.

  Lilly had to snort, despite what Kit said about snorting (that it is not classy).

  Tessa sighed. “Well, I’m most looking forward to it all being over in two hundred and eighty-eight days.”

  “Tess.” Kit rolled her eyes.

  “Okay, then, I’m most looking forward to winter break.”

  Classic Tessa. Boyd laughed.

  “It’s going to be a good one. I can feel it,” Kit announced to no one.

  Tessa sniffed—which was apparently classier than snorting. “Easy for you to say. You’ve aced all your classes. All you have to do is coast this year.”

  “Yeah,” Boyd put in. “Didn’t you get like only one B?”

  “It was a B-plus,” Lilly said, finishing her Pop-Tart.

  Kit turned to her. “How do you know?”

  “Because I looked at your report card.” Lilly rolled down the window for some air, trying to not ruin the first day of school by showing up wrinkled and sweaty.

  Kit pulled her arms back to her sides. “Lilly, no one gave you permission to do that!”

  “Since when do I need permission? We’re flesh and blood, right?” It was hard to explain, but Lilly kind of liked it when Kit yelled at her. Like something she’d done mattered. Besides, it was not fair that Tessa always seemed to know things about Kit instinctively, without even having to ask. It was their whole chimerism thing, which Lilly had honestly never totally gotten. Tessa shared some of Kit’s DNA from birth, and the result was that Tessa had a built-in excuse to act like a moody brat whenever she felt like it, and to claim she “understood” Kit better than anyone. It went beyond biology to more eerie stuff. Like, even though they had different personalities, sometimes they’d say the same thought out loud at the same time. And occasionally when Tessa woke from a nightmare, she’d find Kit was having the same one—or so they claimed.

  “Kit, we all know your grades,” Boyd said. He lifted a hand off the wheel to run it through his floppy hair, causing Tessa’s head to bob away from his shoulder and sending a domino effect of shuffling throughout the cabin of the car. “Pretty sure the whole school knows. It’s kind of like a thing.”

  Lilly grinned, giving herself an internal high five like she did whenever Boyd took her side.

  Kit leaned forward to look at him. “A thing?”

  Lilly could practically hear Tessa’s eyes rolling. “Yeah,” Tessa clarified. “An everyone-knows-Katherine-Malloy-is-King-Midas-and-everything-she-touches-turns-to-gold thing.”

  “That’s absurd,” Kit said as the truck turned into the parking lot and Boyd swung them into one of the few remaining spots. “And let’s hope it’s not true. Didn’t Midas die alone and unloved?”

  “Whatever,” Tessa replied.

  Lilly had no answer—she was barely listening by then.

  Kit shrugged. “Well, lucky for you guys, I saved all of my notes and study guides.”

  “Yeah, lucky us!” Lilly said, already halfway out of the truck. She didn’t care that much about grades, and knew she had a full year before testing for colleges would even matter. She hoped to focus on other types of scoring in the meantime.

  And as much as she would have liked to linger and quiz Boyd about the status of his blinds this morning, it wasn’t going to happen with both of her sisters around, like always.

  She spotted Melissa and Darcy sitting on the front steps and headed their way, slowing down when Mel noticed her and Dar waved.

  Eager was pathetic.

  She was working on being less eager.

  As she got closer, she noticed Dar had gotten thinner since she’d left to spend all of August at her dad’s house; an overlarge black sweater drowned her frame. Mel looked exactly the same as always—in fact, she appeared to be wearing a favorite outfit from freshman year, consisting of tight red jeans, a striped button-down, and a silk sc
arf Lilly had given her last Christmas. But her smile looked more like a smirk.

  Lilly bent for a three-way hug, then dropped her bag and took her spot, a step lower than the other two. Mel passed her a half-finished diet Dr Pepper. It was their tradition to share one before school every single day of the year. It had started sometime in eighth grade and just stuck.

  Lilly took a big slurp, then passed the can to Dar. “So what did I miss?”

  Dar blew her blond bangs out of her face. “We were just talking about the Donovan kid.”

  “Kid?” Lilly knew of the Donovans—the elderly couple who lived on the little cul-de-sac right off 28, at the edge of the preserve. They were on Kit’s volunteer circuit and pretty close to Mel’s house as well. Liam Donovan was losing his mind, Kit said. And the wife—Lilly couldn’t remember her name—had apparently gone half blind. Lilly had heard nothing about a kid, though.

  “Dude, get with it!” Mel said, grabbing the soda from Dar, taking a huge sip, then burping. “He’s in our grade.”

  “How can the Donovans have a kid in our grade? They’re like four hundred years old.” Lilly rolled her eyes. Mel was always dramatic.

  “Not their actual offspring,” Dar explained. “Nephew or grandson or whatever. His family tree’s not the point.”

  “Right,” Mel added. “The point is, he’s supposed to be hot. And also a criminal of some sort.”

  Lilly leaned back as Mel handed her the soda can again. Across the parking lot, Olivia Khan stepped out of her mom’s old Camry in tall espadrilles, her shiny black hair and bright red lipstick accenting her pale brown skin. According to online rumors, Olivia had lost her virginity over the summer, to Jay Kolbry, her new boyfriend, who was known to be a dealer. This was long after Olivia dated Boyd (which was back when Lilly and Olivia were both in eighth grade and Boyd and Tessa were in ninth). Still, Lilly experienced a pang of envy as Olivia walked toward the building, a sly grin on her face.

  She turned back to her friends. “Where did you guys hear all this?”

  Mel shrugged. “My mom.” Mel’s mother, Joanna Knox, reported for Devil’s Daily, the local paper that, as far as Lilly could tell, mostly ended up being used to cover the floors in Boyd’s house to form an impromptu shit pad when his dog couldn’t be let out for long stretches. Lilly had never read it, come to think of it. Anyway, the line between journalism and gossip was fairly nonexistent in the Knox household. “I would have texted you guys as soon as I heard, but I was grounded from my phone all day yesterday.”