To Tell An Altswood Lie (The Altswood Saga #3)

Chapter 12 - Splatter

Chapter 12 - Splatter

The crate slipped from my hands again, dropping onto the floor with a brutal thud!

"Luca? Is that you?"

I whirled around, freezing at the sight of a faceless silhouette looming by the doorway. They reached out and flipped a switch, bathing the garage in a blue-white light.

The light switch had been on the other side of the door. Of course.

"You okay?" Livana asked, bouncing on her toes. I watched her approach, a sheer layer of golden glitter catching the light atop her reddened cheeks. I turned back to the picture and realised my mistake.

It wasn't Livana hugging Beatrice, it was Livana's sister. Now that it wasn't pitch dark, I could see several more photos of Livana's lookalike on the garage walls.

"Yeah," I replied. "I was just looking at this."

Livana stopped beside me, leaning in to squint at the picture as if she couldn't quite see it. Judging by the way she was swaying on her feet, her sight was probably more than a little blurry.

"I remember when this was taken," Livana said, amused. "Nida and Beatrice were having a slumber party. I wanted so badly to join in but they told me to go back to my twerp activities."

She grinned sloppily at the memory.

"Were they close?" I asked. "Your sister and Beatrice?"

Livana snorted, an action that almost caused her to tip backwards. "I don't think they were ever friends, to be honest," she said.

At this, I frowned. "What do you mean?"

How could they not be friends but still have slumber parties together?

"I mean, they were friends," Livana clarified. "Just not friends like—like—" She struggled to find an example, then clicked her fingers, "like Beatrice and Maire were. Genuine friends. My sister and Beatrice had one of those weird friendships where they were constantly trying to one-up each other."

Livana pointed to the photo's background, her finger twitching left, right, up, down because she couldn't keep her arm steady. I leaned in too, and realised she was pointing at a stack of standardised testing prep books lying beside them.

"I may have been a twelve-year old twerp back then but even I knew they had a competitive streak a mile long," she said. "They both wanted to get into the Ivy League or something after Altswood High, and you know how it is."

Especially in a tiny place like Bottle Island. One classmate helped was one competitor strengthened.

"And then Beatrice died," I said. "I'm guessing Nida got into the Ivy League?"

One of Livana's eyebrows disappeared beneath her bangs in confirmation.

"Livana, " I said slowly, carefully, "where is Nida now?"

Livana emitted a loud snort, long and nasal. I almost thought she had choked on something, until I realised she was just drunkenly laughing.

"In school. She graduates this year. If you're referring to Maire's murder and the shit that's been happening on the island recently, Nida has nothing to do with it. Here."

Livana dug out her phone and clicked into Instagram, finding her sister's profile. I peered over her shoulder curiously.

Indeed, for the past month, while strange things were happening in Altswood, Nida had been posing on a college campus.