Dead Ringers 1: Illusion Read Free Page B

had an explanation for my temporary amnesia. She said I’d fallen on the slopes. The bump on the back of my head seemed to back up her lie, but I think someone knocked me out when I was walking to Becky’s.
    Even if the blow resulted in a concussion, though, it doesn’t explain my memory gap. It’s typical not to remember the accident. Not so typical to have no recollection of the following forty-eight hours.
    “I didn’t write that text. Someone must have gotten hold of my phone and sent it.”
    “Why would anyone do that?”
    “So nobody would realize I was missing and come looking for me.” I can tell Becky doesn’t buy that explanation. “C’mon, Becky. Why would I ever go skiing with Roxy?”
    “Her father went to prison when she was a kid, too.” Becky repeated the story that Roxy had told everybody. “She thought it would be good for you to get away for a few days.”
    “Roxy’s lying.”
    “We’ve been over this already, Jade. Why would she lie?”
    Maybe Roxy was disguised as the clown. Except that doesn’t sound right. What possible motive could she have? She was involved, though. Somehow.
    “I don’t know why Roxy’s lying.”
    “Do me a favor, okay?” Becky rubs her hand up and down my arm. “Don’t mention the evil clown to anybody. People are already talking. You can’t give them more ammo.”
    I shrug her hand off my arm. “About me being crazy? You think I’m crazy, too, don’t you, Becky?”
    “No! Of course not. I just think...” She pauses and the corners of her mouth turn down. “I just think you’ve been under a lot of stress.”
    “Hey, is everything all right over here?”
    My head whips around at the voice of Maia Shelton, who’s closing the distance between us. Like Becky, Maia has been my friend forever. Unlike Becky, she can’t keep a secret. She spends all her waking hours on the strip, either at her job at the arcade or hanging out at the carnival, collecting the news of the day and then freely sharing it.
    “I heard something about a bloodcurdling scream.” Maia tosses her beautiful black hair, which cascades down her back almost to her waist and is adorned with one of the chrysanthemums she’s taken to wearing. Today’s flower is purple.
    Becky sends me a warning look, then says, “People scream all the time at a carnival.”
    “The funhouse is too lame for screams,” Maia declares, waving a dismissive hand. “So, spill. What’s going on?”
    It’s time I entered the conversation with the truth. Seems to me I heard somewhere it was the best defense. “It’s nothing. I just got spooked by the clown in the funhouse.”
    Maia balances her hands on her curvy hips and tosses her hair again. “Oh, come on. You’re not afraid of clowns. Last year for Halloween you dressed up as that killer clown from the Stephen King miniseries. I can’t think of the name, but you know the one.”
    It . I’d read the book, too. Not his best work.
    “I saw the two of you huddled over here,” Maia continues. “You were talking about something important. I can tell.”
    Becky telegraphs me another silent message to keep my mouth shut.
    “We were talking about the clown,” I say.
    Maia blows air out her nose. “Bullshit! You think I can’t tell when you two are hiding something from me?”
    “What would we be hiding?” I ask.
    “How should I know? You won’t tell me.” Maia huffs out another breath. “Fine. See if I care.”
    She spins on her heel and stalks away, flipping us the bird as she goes.
    Becky waits until Maia is out of earshot before she turns troubled eyes to me. “I’m serious, Jade. You can’t say anything about an evil clown to anyone, not just Maia. If you do, people are gonna think you’re like...”
    Becky’s voice trails off, but I know what she means.
    I can’t afford to let people think I’m like my mother.

CHAPT ER FOUR
     
    When Becky pulls her little red Honda Fit into my driveway three hours later, my head hurts from trying