Clandestine

seventy

-julia-

I need to tell Diane. I need to tell her that my mother is the murderer. That she killed her father, not some city guard. I've kept that secret too long. There's no more loyalty here. Not to my mother. Diane is the one that deserves my loyalty.

But we are in this cheery kitchen with the smiling woman called Kristy. Diane filled me in a little how Andrew was a close friend of her father. He's letting her stay in his house until she turns eighteen.

I dunk my chocolate cookies into my milk while Kristy blabbers beside me. I smile and uphold the small talk with her. I pretend that I wasn't just bawling my eyes out a second ago. I pretend that I haven't just run away from home, the first time I've ever done something so disobedient to my mother. I pretend that my mother didn't kill the father of the girl sitting across from me.

It's clear how uncomfortable Diane is. I'm not sure if it is because I am here or if she isn't used to Kristy yet. While Kristy is all smiles and small talk, Diane is hard stares and silence.

Kristy offers us more cookies and then says she has to run to the bathroom for a second.

Diane says, "You know what makes me the angriest? The fact that she thought to wipe her computer. If only I could have seen that video, maybe I would have known who murdered my father. Because if we throw Marcia Quintana into jail, we may never find out who did it."

I flinch when she talks about throwing my mother into jail. Because as much as I don't want to think about it, that is what's going to happen. We are going to admit everything we know. We have to. How else will we protect ourselves?

Then I think about how I did see the video. I did see the killer. And then it all comes bubbling up inside of me and tears are filling my eyes and I need to get the truth out, but I can't here. Kristy might come back any second and she can't find us talking about who killed Diane's father.

But Diane asks me what's wrong, and I have to tell her.

I wipe a tear away with the heel of my hand and say, "There's something I have to tell you and I should have told you a long time ago but I just had this deluded idea of what loyalty meant, so I didn't tell you, but I should have and..."

Diane shrugs, "Then tell me now. I hate suspense." The corner of her mouth lifts at this. She thinks she's making a joke about the message we left on my mother's cell phone. Instead she's making a joke about her father's last words.

I say, "I know who killed your father. I saw the video. I saw the killer. Clearly."

The color drains out of her face. "No."

I nod, "I didn't tell you because I thought I had to protect her. It turns out I should have been thinking about protecting myself."

"I know who it is but you need to say it. You need to say it otherwise I'll never believe it."

"My mother. Marcia Quintana. She killed your father."

Diane crumples into herself.