Ignoring Eli, she dried her eyes, then stared at herself in the mirror as she composed herself. In the past, whenever she’d been faced with the memories of what happened to her, she always did her best to stuff her feelings, often even trying to convince her inner child that none of it really happened. But something different was happening within her this time. This time she was filled with anger.
Fucking Eli. Leave it to him to make me think maybe I could handle this. His presence is no comfort. All it is is a reminder of what happened when we were kids. He was there. So many times. He was there.
Another knock. This time Jenna threw open the door and shoved right past Eli.
“Geez, Jenna. What’s up with you?”
August 11, 2017
Dear Diary,
I’m not doing so well right now. Yes, it has to do with that. Can you believe seeing a piece of furniture made me freak out?
I finally saw Eli and Hannah today. There wasn’t any avoiding it really. If I said I wasn’t feeling well like I did on Wednesday when they arrived in town, it would have given my mom a reason to not let me hang out with Dustin tomorrow night. I haven’t missed curfew in over two weeks now, but she’s still treating me like she doesn’t trust me. She says she does, but then why are there so many questions whenever I go somewhere, especially when I tell her Dustin will be there? It’s to the point where sometimes I don’t even mention him, hoping she won’t ask. But she always asks.
It was great seeing Hannah. She’s grown so much! As for Eli . . . things with us didn’t start or end well. I know it wasn’t his fault, but he was there so many times, so I can’t help but associate what happened with him. Hannah was too little to know anything. But for some reason, I feel betrayed by Eli. Like he should have known, and he should have helped me. Would he have, though?
What made me freak out was Aunt Lenore’s sewing table. I remember staring at the underside of it as I laid on my back on the floor of the extra room in their old house. It was where Aunt Lenore did her sewing and where they kept all their books and board games. That was the day he’d shown me the pictures. Some of them were kids, and some of them were doing things to each other. God, I feel like I’m going to barf just thinking about the images, not just because the people were naked but also because of the guilt I feel about it. I could have looked away or closed my eyes or told him I didn’t want to see them. Instead, I looked because I was curious. It was the first time I’d ever seen pictures like that, my first introduction to all the different ways people could have sex. Then remember in sixth grade when they split up the boys and girls into separate groups and we learned all about our bodies? We learned everything about puberty, and body odor, and hormones, and our reproductive organs. I don’t know about the boys, but us girls also learned about our periods and how we are in control of our bodies and who touches them. That’s when I realized just how wrong and disgusting those pictures were. I can’t remember if they were real, you know like pictures someone took with a camera, or if they were cut out from magazines. But what kind of magazines have pictures of naked kids with naked adults? I’ve wracked my brain over this a few times trying to figure out where those pictures could have come from or if I’m simply remembering them wrong. Maybe some of the people just looked young but were actually adults? The worst thing about this memory is that when I was lying on the floor after he’d talked me into doing something in one of the pictures, Eli started knocking on the door. He’d been sick that day and fallen asleep watching the movie Spiderwick. (I don’t even remember where the grown-ups were.) Eli’s knocking snapped me out of the dark place I was in, and the first thing I saw was the sticker on the bottom of Aunt Lenore’s old sewing table, which used to belong to my grandmother. There was a big S on it along with some smaller words and an image of a tiny threaded needle. I don’t remember what happened after that, but the next thing I knew Eli was in the room asking what we were doing and why the door was locked. He’d been told that we were just playing Uno and didn’t realize the door was locked. Eli believed the lies, of course, and I remember feeling so afraid that he’d hate me if he knew I lied to him. We were only eight at the time, so the thought of being caught in a lie scared me to death simply because lying was wrong and ‘do unto others’ was always being pushed on us.
Now, after lying for so long to everyone, including myself, I’m more terrified of telling the truth. Maybe keeping my distance from Eli will make it much easier to keep my memories and secrets locked away.
Jenna
Chapter Eleven
Leighton
Saturday, October 28, 2017
One Day After Jenna’s Disappearance
I approach Sticks’ car in the grocery store parking lot and smile when I see him tapping on the steering wheel like a madman. He’s a drummer—not in a band or anything—but he’s always tapping out a beat with his fingers or hands or whatever happens to be nearby. And he’ll tap on anything. He once used tampons and a box of Hot Tamales when we were listening to old-school rock by Led Zeppelin and Rush in my bedroom.
Sticks gave band a try when we were in middle school and always had drumsticks in his hands or sticking out of his back pocket, which explains his nickname. By ninth grade, he was tired of band directors reprimanding him for throwing his own beats into rehearsed performances. In his defense, the spontaneity did make school concerts a lot less boring.
I open the passenger door, expecting to hear a metal or rock song. Instead, it’s something I never expected Sticks would be into: upbeat music with what sounds like an accordion at the heart of it.
“Dude, what is this?” I yell, arranging three full plastic grocery bags at my feet.
“Zydeco!” He reaches to turn the volume down.
“No, don’t,” I say, resting my hand on his for a second. “I kind of like it.”
As the music plays on, Sticks starts the car. After he pulls out of the parking spot, he starts dancing and tapping his fingers and thumbs on the steering wheel. I stare out the window and remain still because I don’t dance.
When the song ends a few blocks later, Sticks turns the volume down low so all we can make out is the faint rhythmic tapping. “My mom chaperoned a field trip to the performing arts center for my brother’s class. She got me this CD. It’s mostly a mix of Cajun and jazz, but it reminds me a little bit of reggae too.” He smiles and nods to himself, eyes still on the road.
“Cool,” I say.
“So? How’s school?”
“Fine.”
This is where I would normally ask Sticks about his friend Ross, who Sticks has been slowly feeling out to see if they could possibly be more than friends. Last time we talked, Ross had asked Sticks how he knew for sure he was gay and that led to an exciting line of questioning for Sticks because he’d been waiting for a reason to talk to Ross about his sexuality. I told Sticks to just come clean and tell Ross he likes him, but Sticks is acting like a wuss about it. I’m just not in the mood for relationship drama today.
He comes to a stop at a red light and looks over at me. “What about your mom? She still clueless as ever?”
“Yep,” I say with a brief chuckle, not because what he just said is funny but because sometimes it’s just easier to laugh. Besides, I ran out of tears years ago.
“What about Jenna?” He gives me a concerned glance. “Is she okay?”
I’m tempted to tell Sticks what Jenna did the night before. After all, he knows a little about her past. But just like with Keeley and Delaney, it isn’t my place to tell anyone Jenna’s business. “Yeah, dude. She’s fine.”
He nods as he accelerates into the intersection, immediately moving on to talking about how fucking stupid most of his co-workers at Chipotle are. This is what I love about Sticks. He’ll talk my ear off if I let him, making him the perfect friend for me since I prefer to listen.
“Hey,” I say, straightening my posture and leaning forward, “can you turn right?”
“Sure,” he says, glancing over
at me curiously. “Where to?”
“There’s a church up here on the left. Grace Community or some shit like that. There.” I point.
“You mean His Grace Community?” Sticks side-eyes me again as he turns on his left blinker and eases into the left turn lane.
“You been here before?”
“No. We’re Catholic. Not that it matters. My parents both work most weekends, so we hardly ever attend mass. I just drive by here sometimes on my way to a music store on the east side.”
I nod, but I’m hardly listening anymore because I’m focused on two figures walking along the pathway toward the front door. Well, three figures really, but one is a baby.
“Why are we here? Do you want me to park?” Sticks asks as he slows to a stop in front of the church walkway.
Thomas Steele glances over his shoulder at us as he holds the door open for his wife and child. There’s no recognition in his eyes, but he assesses us for a few seconds before raising his free hand in greeting.
“Never mind. Let’s go,” I bark. I still sense Jenna’s cousin’s eyes on us as Sticks punches it, causing his tires to squeal a little.
Damn it. Why didn’t I just get out of the car and ask him if he knew where Jenna was? It’s not like he’d do anything to me with Sticks watching.
“What was that? Did you know that guy?”
“No, I just . . . feel like I need to talk to someone, but there’s no way I’m going back to that therapist my mom made me see last year.” The words tumble out way too easily, and I feel bad for lying to Sticks. He’s pretty much my only friend—besides Jenna.
Sticks looks relieved and says, “Yeah, maybe an exorcism would do you some good. I told you that old Ouija board you used to mess around with was bad news.”
“You’re such a dick,” I say with a laugh.
Sticks smiles and then gets serious again. “You know you can always talk to me about anything, right?” he asks as we pull up in front of my townhouse. “I mean . . . you’re not thinking about hurting yourself again, are you?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head rapidly. “It’s nothing like that.”
He nods and says, “Cool.”
“Thanks for the ride, dude.”
We fist bump, and Sticks has the Zydeco music blasting before I even close the passenger door.
As soon as I get inside, I dial Jenna.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I whisper as I slip off my shoes and the call connects. I feel a flutter of anticipation during that short pause before hearing either a ring or a voicemail greeting. I immediately feel pissed off when the default greeting on Jenna’s phone kicks in. “Damn it.” It beeps, and I disconnect.
As I put the groceries away, I can’t stop thinking about the way Thomas Steele stared at us. His expression seemed inviting, kind even, which pisses me off even more than Jenna not answering her phone. If I didn’t know who he was and what he was capable of, I might mistake him for a good guy or a real man of God.
Finally, I admit to myself that if Jenna doesn’t turn up soon, I need to say something. But before I do, there’s something else I need to look into. Jenna’s cousin Thomas isn’t the only guy I’m concerned about when it comes to Jenna.
After I finish putting the groceries away and eat a few spoonfuls of peanut butter out of the jar, I go to the office and turn on our computer. Jenna used it to log into her ChillChat.com account a couple of times, and I know there was one guy in particular she’d been talking to.
Chapter Twelve
Saturday, August 12, 2017
Two and a Half Months Before Jenna’s Disappearance
“. . . It’ll be fun, just us girls,” Bonnie said as she plopped a hot pancake onto Shaina’s plate. Then she turned back to the stove and slipped the spatula under the next one. “Are you ready for another, Jenna?”
“What?” Jenna asked, looking up at her mom.
Bonnie glanced down at her daughter’s untouched breakfast. It was unusual for Jenna to not gobble up pancakes, but Bonnie shrugged it off since Jenna had been complaining of not feeling well lately. “Never mind.” As she slid the pancake onto an empty plate, she turned her attention back to Shaina, who was adding even more maple syrup to the puddle already surrounding her food. “Seriously, Shaina? I think that’s enough.”
Shaina shrugged and looked over at Jenna. “Why aren’t you eating?”
“Not feeling well,” Jenna said, poking at the pancake and strawberry chunks on her plate.
“Is it still your stomach?” Bonnie asked, trying to sound oblivious. But she wasn’t entirely certain it was Jenna’s physical health that had her claiming not to feel well over the past couple weeks. Something was going on, and she was concerned it had something to do with Dustin. She thought Jenna was just too young to be depressed over a boy.
Jenna nodded despite not wanting to be questioned. Then she forced herself to take a bite, even though her stomach was still in the same knots from the day before. She had to snap out of it. “I’ll be fine.”
“Well, good, because Aunt Lenore and Hannah are really looking forward to spending time with us. Like I said, it’ll be fun.”
“What’ll be fun?” Jenna asked, confused.
Bonnie stared blankly at Jenna for a moment and then glanced at Shaina who appeared to be just as perplexed. “Jenna, weren’t you listening to a word I just said? We’re going shopping with them to get everything for the party tomorrow. Then we’re going to take everything over to the church to get things set up. Others have volunteered to help with food prep after the service so we just need to make sure we have everything ready. It shouldn’t take too long. Then maybe we can have lunch somewhere.”
Jenna nodded robotically, holding eye contact with her mom and debating whether or not to protest. She decided on the latter because she sensed one false move could ignite an argument. Tiptoeing around her mom had become exhausting, especially with so many other things weighing on her lately. Was dating Dustin really that important? she wondered.
“So,” Bonnie checked the clock on the microwave, “if you both could be ready to leave by nine, that would be great.”
Shaina nodded and continued eating while Jenna shrugged and continued poking.
Bonnie continued talking as she poured the remaining batter onto the griddle, making one giant pancake. “What are your plans for tonight?” She snuck a quick glance at Jenna before turning the burner flame down as low as it could go.
“Dustin and I were thinking of going mini golfing.”
“Just the two of you?”
“Not sure yet,” Jenna said with a shrug.
“Well, you and Dustin have been spending an awful lot of time together lately. Wasn’t it just the two of you when you went to the movie in the park on Tuesday and then to the lakefront last night? Maybe it would be a good idea to invite some of your other friends tonight.”
Jenna inhaled deeply in an attempt to keep her cool. She knew exactly where this conversation was headed. Before she could respond, Bonnie continued.
“You know, one thing I wish I’d done when I was your age was spending less time worrying about boys and dating and more time just being a teenager and hanging out with my girlfriends.” Bonnie chose her words carefully, knowing that other recent attempts she’d made to dissuade Jenna from making the same mistakes she’d made had led to unintentional arguments.
“Mom,” Jenna said with an edge to her tone, “Dustin is my friend just like Keeley or Delaney, and it’s not like I haven’t done things with them too. Remember? Keeley, Delaney, and I went to the mall and out for gelato.” Dustin and a few others had met them for gelato too, and then they’d all gone to Jolliet to hang out in the woods, but her mom certainly didn’t need to know about that. “And I ran with Keeley three times this week.”
“Jenna, it doesn’t matter how long you and Dustin have been friends. A childhood friendship with a member of the opposite sex changes when you reach a certain age.”
“And I have
n’t broken curfew for weeks,” Jenna went on, ignoring what her mother had said. “So, can you please just trust me to decide how and who I spend my free time with? It’s not like I’m ditching my friends for some random guy—not even close.”
Shaina had gotten used to her mom and sister arguing more and more lately and was beginning to feel invisible at times. She took advantage of her mother’s current distractedness and drowned another pancake in syrup. The chocolate sauce and whipped cream went unnoticed too.
Bonnie rubbed her temples then slid both hands down the sides of her face. She knew Jenna had a good head on her shoulders, but she was also fully aware that teens usually didn’t disclose the full extent of their activities to their parents. “Jenna, I don’t want to argue with you,” she said with a sigh. “I’m just trying to do my job as a parent here, and part of my job is to make sure you don’t do things you’re going to regret. I remember what it was like to be young and caught up in my emotions. That’s what it was like with me and your father.”
“Are you three talking about me behind my back again? Is that why my ears are ringing?” Joseph gave Shaina’s earlobe a gentle pull as he entered the kitchen and headed straight for the coffee maker.
Shaina giggled and said, “No, they were talking about Jenna’s other dad.”
Joseph paused for a beat with his hand on the handle of the coffee pot, then sprung back into action. He turned, holding a full mug of coffee, and smiled. “Everyone having a good morning so far?”
“Yep,” Bonnie said with a smile that screamed we’ll talk later. “Do you want some pancakes?”
“I’d love some, thank you,” Joseph said, kissing Bonnie on the cheek and then rounding the island to take a seat next to Jenna. He opened the news app on his phone and sipped his coffee. Moments later, Bonnie slid the giant pancake in front of him then began cleaning up the kitchen. Jenna slid the syrup and bowl of quartered strawberries across the counter so her dad could reach them. Shaina delivered her dirty dishes to the counter and rinsed her sticky hands.
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