Impostor by Jill Hathaway Page A

be concentrating. I’m sure he’d try to stop me if he knew, say it was too dangerous or something. The best thing would be to wait until it’s already done and I’m home safe. Then we can laugh about it together.
    I slow down when I spot Rollins. He’s talking to Anna. I stop and watch. It’s painful to see them leaning together and laughing. She reaches out and touches his arm, shaking her gorgeous black hair back from her face. He bends down and whispers something in her ear, causing her to erupt in another earthquake of giggles, shaking her ample chest beneath her top.
    I feel sick.
    Before either one can look in my direction, I spin around and speed-walk in the other direction. I pass the bathrooms and the main office, and take the far exit so I won’t risk running into Rollins and Anna in the parking lot.
    It’s been a long while since I walked home alone. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I didn’t ride with Rollins. The path I usually walk, once so familiar, seems to take longer than I remember. I turn at the blue mailbox and watch my feet as they carry me toward home.
    A yellow school bus passes me. I don’t look up.
    Finally, I reach my street. The houses all look dark and empty. Even though it’s spring, the afternoon is gray, and everything seems muddy and drab.
    I cheer slightly when I see that Lydia’s car isn’t in our driveway.
    Hurrying up the sidewalk, I reach into the pocket of my hoodie to pull out my house key. As I slip it into the lock, something blurs in the corner of my eye. I turn my head quickly and see a blue station wagon at the intersection a few houses down. It pauses at the stop sign and then continues on.
    Behind the wheel is a woman with her hair pulled into a bun.
    Before I know it, the car has disappeared.
    It’s a coincidence, I tell myself.
    There are probably plenty of women with buns in Iowa City, driving blue station wagons, creeping by my house.
    Stop it. You know it was her.
    Diane.
    If I’d been thinking straight, I would have looked at her license plate, memorized the numbers and letters. I could have slid into Officer Teahen at the police station and had one of the secretaries look up the woman’s last name and address.
    But it all happened too fast.
    Next time I see her, I will be prepared.
    But I’m hoping there won’t be a next time.

Chapter Thirteen
    Approximately an hour before Regina and Scotch are supposed to meet up, I am standing in my room, pulling a black T-shirt over my head. I’ve also found a black wool cap to pull over my blond hair to make sure no one will see me.
    “So what’s the plan again?” I ask Mattie, prompting her to repeat the details we’ve gone over several times already.
    “I’ll tell Dad you weren’t feeling well and went to bed early.” She glances over at the blankets on my bed, which I’ve arranged to look like a sleeping body. “Sorry, Vee, but it’s all over if he comes in here. That doesn’t look like you at all.”
    “Then don’t let him come in here,” I say. “Make it believable.”
    She frowns. “I wish I were going with you. This job sucks.”
    “Look,” I say. “I’ll tell you everything as soon as I get home. It’ll be just like you were there.”
    She crosses her arms and taps her foot.
    “Hey. Do you want me and Rollins to go to the movie with you and Russ this weekend or not? Dad won’t let you go otherwise.”
    Mattie glares. “That’s low.”
    “Come on. I need you here.”
    She sighs and finally says, “Okay. Fine. Just make sure you’re not too late.”
    I give her a quick hug. “Thanks, Matt. Okay, you know what to do.”
    Mattie grabs her math homework and opens the bedroom door. I follow her downstairs. She takes a right and goes into the living room, where Dad and Lydia are watching TV. I hear Mattie loudly ask my father if he could help her with an equation, and I take advantage of that moment to slip out the front door.
    Samantha is waiting a few houses down, as we