The Voice inside My Head Read Online Free PDF Page B

even.
    Tracy takes a sudden interest in a thread that’s come loose on her T-shirt.
    “Maybe you should talk to her boyfriend,” Pete says.
    “Mark?” This is the weirdest conversation I’ve had about my sister yet.
    Tracy snaps to attention. “Who’s Mark?”
    “Her boyfriend since eighth grade, but she broke up with him before she came down here.” I want to add “What’s it to you?” because she seems way too interested and is now sending so many messages to Fishboy with her raised brows and rolling eyes that they might as well be tapping out Morse code.
    “Jamie,” says Pete.
    “Who?” I ask.
    “She was going out with a local boy, Jamie Greenfield.”
    “So she’s a skank because she had one boyfriend?” I choose to ignore the sting that Pat didn’t bother to mention her new boyfriend. Things were a little strained between us just before she left home, but Pat and I have always been close. Having messed-up parents will do that for you.
    “Well, he was the most recent,” Tracy explains carefully and steps away from me when I whip round to glare at her.
    “Look, maybe we’re wrong.” Pete holds up both palms. “You should talk to Jamie. But Tricia was a pretty girl, and she always had a ton of guys hanging around her. That’s all we’re saying.… ”
    He turns to Tracy for confirmation and she gives a small nod.
    “Where does Jamie live?” I demand.
    “It’s a blue house up the hill from the fire station. Just ask for Miss Bertie — she’s his grandmother. Any local can directyou. But there’s no point going until this evening. He works pretty much 24/7, and he’s a carpenter so he’s all over the island and the little cays. He won’t be home much before seven or eight.”
    “Thanks,” I say more politely than I’m feeling and stalk out to the street. These two are so far off base about my sister, it’s laughable.
    I check my watch and realize I have a few hours to kill while I wait for Pat’s boyfriend to come home. I could walk around seeing who else on this island knew her, but it’s been a long day and I have a sudden and overpowering need to get high. I know it’s the last thing I should be thinking about at a time like this, but Pat’s the responsible one in our family, not me. She took care of all of us, even more than Dad, sweet guy though he is. He’s a photographer, so he doesn’t make great money and often has to work long hours, which left Pat making sure dinner got made and Mom’s car keys were hidden when she’d had too much to drink, which was practically every night. Pat held it all together and was surprisingly good at making it all look easy.
    I knew, though. Always having to be vigilant cost her, and sooner or later something was bound to go drastically wrong. The cracks were beginning to show, even before Mom did what she did and Pat took off to Honduras. I wasn’t expecting Pat to completely disappear off the radar, but for ages I’d been anticipating disaster, like a Mayan awaiting the apocalypse. Maybe that’s why I like to get high. When I’m stoned is about the only time I don’t feel scared. And right now, in this moment, when everything I hear about my sister makesher sound like a stranger and no one can tell me where she is, the fear is suffocating.
    I just need a couple of hours of peace. But where am I going to score weed on an island where I don’t know a soul?
    And then it comes to me.
    Zach.

CHAPTER 4
    “D ude, are you sure they said Miss Bertie’s house?”
    I slow down for a minute to tug on Zach, who’s stalled again in the middle of the road. We’ve passed out of the main part of town. It’s dark, with no streetlights, and the houses, crouching in overgrown yards, are dimly lit or shuttered and empty. Massive trees, with thick leafy branches and hanging vines, cast shadows that seem to move with a life of their own. Bats swoop overhead, and the occasional scuttling noises make us both jump; but something else, beyond the