Faces of Fear

EPILOGUE

One Year Later

ALISON DUG HER TOES INTO THE WARM SAND AND LAY BACK ON HER beach towel. It was the kind of perfect day in Santa Monica that had always made her love living there; not too hot, but far from cool, with the breeze off the ocean keeping the smog well back from the coast.

Not like Bel Air at all, or at least not like she remembered it. In fact, she was already forgetting a lot about those weeks when she’d lived up in the hills above Westwood Village and gone to Wilson Academy and lost not only her mother, but even herself and all her real friends as well.

The memory of her mother’s death still caused her a pain that was almost physical, and thinking about what had happened up in Conrad Dunn’s house seemed to make the sunlight dim, as if a cloud had drifted over it. But when she looked up into the sky, it was as clear as it had been a few minutes ago.

So much of it was like a bad dream, and sometimes when she woke up in the middle of the night, she still had the awful feeling that she was back up there in the hills in Conrad Dunn’s mansion instead of in her bedroom in the house her father and Scott had bought — and insisted on moving into even before they’d sold Scott’s house above Hollywood. The new house was perfect — an easy walk to Santa Monica High, and an even shorter one to Cindy Kearns’s house.

On an identical towel next to her own, Cindy rolled over, propped herself up on an elbow and looked at Alison, her expression serious. “I have to tell you something.”

Alison reached into the cooler for a bottle of water while she tried to decide what Cindy’s look meant. With Cindy, of course, it could mean almost anything, since Cindy not only liked to surprise her, but was a good enough actress that she could almost always do it.

And her expression now didn’t give anything away.

Still, she looked serious enough that it might be bad news. Maybe boyfriend problems? “You’re going to break up with Justin Rhodes?”

Cindy rolled her eyes. “Not until the end of summer — guess again.”

Alison cocked her head quizzically. “You already tell me everything as soon as it happens. So what is there I don’t already know?” She handed Cindy the bottle, then grabbed two more and handed them to her dad and Scott, who were sprawled out next to them in their canvas beach chairs, both of them buried in books.

“I got my letter.”

My letter. In the spring of their senior year, that could only mean one thing: college. They’d both applied to half a dozen schools, and Alison’s acceptance at Stanford — her first choice — had arrived two weeks ago. Now she tried to analyze Cindy’s expression — and her tone — one more time. Cindy wasn’t even looking at her anymore, and Alison thought she saw a tear glistening in the corner of her eye.

But it wasn’t fair — it seemed like it had only been a few weeks since they’d put their friendship back together again, and—

“I got in!” Cindy shouted. “I got into Stanford!”

“Shut up!” Alison looked squarely at her friend. Was she kidding? She had to be kidding. But if she was, Cindy was an even better actress than she thought.

Cindy shook her head. “Don’t have to shut up — it’s true!”

“No way. Really?” Alison sat up. “I didn’t even know you applied.”

“I didn’t think I had a chance, so I didn’t want to tell you, but I went ahead and applied anyway. And I got in!”

“We’ll be roommates!” Alison shrieked, grabbing Cindy in a bear hug.

“Hey, watch those boobs,” Cindy said. “Those ought to be registered as lethal weapons.”

Alison’s grin faded and she adjusted her bikini top.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” Cindy said, her eyes tearing. “How could I say something that stupid?”

“It’s okay,” Alison sighed. “I’m just still not over it all.” She took a quick glance at her dad, and was almost certain he was pretending he hadn’t heard. Scott, however, made no such pretense.

“It’s just going to take time — after my mother died, I was a wreck for two years.” Scott said.

“But you’re a big sissy,” Michael said, finally putting down his book. “And you were five years older than Alison, too, which is really pathetic.”

“It wasn’t pathetic,” Scott began. “It was very tragic. Alison has a right—”

Alison suddenly found herself laughing. “Will you two stop it? Yes, I really miss Mom, but I’m okay. But let’s be honest,” she added, looking down at her breasts. “Cindy’s not that far wrong. If I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t, but at least Conrad gave me good ones. So let’s talk about something else, okay? Like Stanford.”

“Well, I didn’t get a scholarship like you did,” Cindy said, “so I’ll have to find a job.”

Alison brightened. “Oooh, I’ll get one, too, and then we can live off campus.”

“Slow down, amigos,” Michael said. “I think you can both live in the dorm, at least for the first year.”

“I say we celebrate with a frozen yogurt,” Scott said. “Ladies? What’s your pleasure?”

“Vanilla,” Alison said, lying back down on her towel as Cindy ordered chocolate. Typical — best friends and total opposites.

With Cindy on one side and her two fathers on the other, and with the warm Santa Monica sun shining down on her from above, Alison felt some of the weight of her grief for her mother lift.

Scott was right — it was going to take time. But she had time, and for the first time in a year, she was starting to see that in spite of everything that had happened, she still had the future stretched out ahead of her.

If only her mother could be here to be part of it…

“Hey, Mom,” she whispered. “Did you hear that? Cindy and I are going to be roommates at Stanford.” Then, realizing she’d actually spoken the words out loud, she opened her eyes and found her father smiling at her. “I’m going to make Mom proud of me,” she said. “I really am.”

“She already is, cupcake,” Michael said. “She always was.”