Mom gave me a look.
I sighed. "I need to talk, too, you know?"
Her face softened. "Is he a safe driver?"
Bingo. "I wouldn't know. I've never been in the car with him before. I wouldn't do that without asking you first."
Mom smiled. Points for me.
I chewed my muffin, waiting for Mom to tell me she'd drive, or she'd come with us, or something equally embarrassing.
"You have to be home by dinner," she said. "And be sure you have your cell phone on. Call if you don't feel safe in the car with him."
I looked up from my muffin. "I can really go?"
Mom nodded reluctantly. "I'll need to know where you're going before you leave, and it needs to be a public place. But yes, you can go."
I didn't tell her about the things I'd seen Bradley and Fiona do in public places.
I was upstairs putting on my jeans when the doorbell rang. I looked at the clock. It was only eleven. Bradley shouldn't be showing up until noon.
Mom answered the door, and I waited at the top of the stairs, listening. Could I have gotten the time wrong?
I couldn't hear who was at the door, but I did hear Mom say, "Kira's upstairs. I'll go get her."
I glanced around. There were so many things I hadn't debated yet. Purse or no purse? Wallet? Keys?
Mom came to the bottom of the stairs and looked up at me. "Nick's here to see you," she said.
My pulse quickened. "Nick?"
"Nick. Haylee's cousin."
I rolled my eyes. "I know who he is. What does he want?"
Mom waved a dismissive hand at me. "I'm sure he'll tell you when you come downstairs." She walked off into the kitchen, where no doubt she would listen, just out of sight.
I ran downstairs and into the living room, and found Nick looking at my baby pictures, which Mom had lined up on the wall. He was holding a bouquet of daffodils in his hand.
Um, I thought. Why would Nick have brought me flowers? And right before Bradley showed up to take me out? He can't have come just to stare at my baby pictures.
"It's the curse of being the only child in a two-person family," I said.
Nick looked up at me. "What?"
I pointed to the wall of photos he'd been looking at. "The pictures are all me, all the time. I swear, I didn't hang them."
Nick laughed. "You were a cute kid."
My stomach squeezed. I was cute, but now I'm not? Or I was a kid, equally cute then and now? Or I'm still a kid, and just not as cute as I was?
I was a total freak. On that point I was clear.
I glanced down at the flowers. Nick lowered the flowers to his side, revealing the design on his shirt. This one was a picture of some kind of amorphous green blob creature holding a cannon. I didn't ask.
"I was just heading to Haylee's grave," he said quickly. "To take these to her. Do you want to come?"
Oh. Right. Of course the flowers weren't for me.
I thought about his offer. Me and Nick. Alone. I could text Bradley and tell him something came up.
But I needed to talk to him about Haylee. And with Christmas and New Year's and then school again, I didn't know when I'd get another chance. Besides, Nick and I wouldn't really be alone, would we? We'd be going to see Haylee. This was about her, not me.
Nick was the one thing in my life that still hadn't changed. "I can't," I said. "I already have . . . plans."
Nick nodded quickly. Maybe too quickly. "Sure," he said. "I figured you'd be busy, but I thought I'd check. Maybe some other time?"
"Yeah," I said, trying not to sound too eager. "Some other time, for sure."
Then we just stood there, nodding at each other. Nick turned to go.
"Wait," I said.
He looked back at me. Was I imagining it, or was that hope on his face?
No way. He was just being nice. Like always. "Maybe we could go tomorrow," I said. "I mean, if you want to go back that soon."
Nick stood by the front door, his hand on the doorknob. "Maybe Sunday?"
"Sure," I said. "Sunday works."
"Great. I'll come by and pick you up."
"Have fun at the cemetery," I said, like an idiot. "I mean—"
Nick gave me a sad smile. "I know what you mean," he said. "See you Sunday."
He opened the door and stepped out, shutting the door behind him.
I chewed on my lip. I had . . . still not a date . . . plans with Nick.
And with Bradley.
If ever there was a moment when I needed to call Haylee to sort things out, this was it.
At noon I went into the bathroom, ran a brush through my hair, and made sure I didn't have anything awkward stuck in my teeth. 12:02. I found a beige purse and stuffed my wallet and keys into it, then debated about whether it clashed with my sweater. 12:04. I picked up a magazine and read half an article about spring fashions. 12:07. I listened to thirty seconds of a song on the radio before I got sick of the lyrics. 12:09. I picked up some laundry and made my bed. 12:17. I was about to pull out some homework when the doorbell rang again.
I ran down the stairs, but Mom got there before I even reached the living room. I should have been stalling closer to the door. She must have been lying in wait.
"Hello," I could hear her say. "I'm Kira's mother, Ms. Turner."
Ugh. She always made Haylee call her that, too, in a jab about how inappropriate it was that Aaron told me to call him and Hazel by their first names. Please, I thought. Please don't let her say anything too embarrassing.
I ran around the corner just as Bradley stepped inside. He had his hair slicked back, and wore a polo shirt and dark, dark jeans—the kind that probably bled in the wash. He shook Mom's hand. "I'm Bradley," he said. "Nice to meet you."
He looked her straight in the eye, and I saw her shoulders relax a bit.
"Okay, I'm ready," I said, more to Mom than to Bradley. "See you later."
Mom raised her eyebrows at me over her shoulder.
Right. We had to pick a public place.
Mom put a hand on her hip. "Kira says you have your license."
Ugh. Could we not grill him like a flayed fish? "Mom," I said.
But Bradley nodded eagerly. "Yeah. I've had it for six months. I'm a really good driver. I've never been in an accident."
Mom did not look comforted. I guessed six months wasn't as big a sample size as she would have liked. "Where will you two be going?"
"I was thinking we could go to the arcade at Golfland." He glanced at me. "They have some batting cages."
I nodded. That was the kind of activity Mom was looking for. "I think I have some quarters upstairs."
Mom followed me up the stairs, rather than cornering Bradley. I could hear her rattling around in the change jar in her office.
I opened my desk drawer and scooped out some coins. Mom appeared in my doorway holding some change. "I'll be home all day," she said. "You have your phone? It's charged?"
"Got it," I said.
"Call if you need me to pick you up."
"Thanks." I took the change and headed for the door before she could change her mind.
The car Bradley was driving was a slick, shiny stick shift. I was reasonably sure it was a sports car of some kind, but beyond that I was clueless.
Bradley unlocked the passenger door for me, and I climbed in. The car smelled like new leather.
"Did you pick Haylee up for the dance in this?" I asked as Bradley climbed into the driver's seat.
"Yeah," he said. "It's awesome, huh? Didn't she tell you about it?"
I dug my nails into my palm. Of course. He probably thought I'd heard all about it. Haylee lived for a whole weekend after the dance. She should have called me. She should have told me everything. "We didn't talk," I said. "You saw her more recently than I did."
Bradley paused with his keys in the ignition. He reached his hand over and placed it gently on top of my wrist, which hadn't felt awkward on top of my knee until that moment. I tried not to move. I tried
not to breathe.
What was he doing?
"I'm sorry," he said. "I bet everyone's bugging you to talk about her. We don't have to if you don't want to."
Then he moved his hand from my wrist, and turned the key. The engine roared to a start.
I did want to talk about Haylee. She was all I wanted to talk about. Did that mean he didn't want me to bother him about it? I couldn't exactly follow that up by peppering him with questions, which was the whole reason I was here.
But if he didn't want to talk about it, why was he here?
"Okay," I said.
I fiddled with my arm rest. What else would I talk to Bradley about? Baseball? There wasn't a lot to say about that since the season hadn't started yet.
No. We were here to talk about Haylee, and that's what I had to do, even if I offended him.
"Actually," I said, "I had some questions for you. Is that okay?"
Bradley raised his eyebrows, but he nodded. "Sure. Fine. Whatever you want."
I tried to reconcile this new, accommodating Bradley with the guy who defiled my locker. Though, I guess he did move when I asked him to. I had to give him that.
Bradley drove to the edge of my neighborhood and waited to turn right onto the first major street. He didn't look at me, but his fingers tapped the steering wheel. Waiting.
I wasn't sure how to begin. This wasn't like getting the story from Haylee, where I could have just sat her down and said, spill.
I finally settled on, "Did you have fun at the dance?"
Bradley ran a hand through his hair. "I guess," he said.
I chewed on my lower lip. The way he said that was pretty dismissive. Obviously he didn't want to talk about it. I was as bad as my mother, trying to drag information out of him that he didn't want to give. He'd had to talk to the police, for goodness' sake. Hadn't he been through enough?
I should have gone to the cemetery with Nick.
Then Bradley said, "I thought we had fun."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I mean, Haylee's kind of quiet, you know? But once she loosens up, she's a lot of fun."
"Huh," I said. I bit my lip. I shouldn't have sounded that incredulous out loud. It wasn't that Haylee wasn't fun. She was. When it was just her and me, and no one else around who would make her self-conscious.
I ran my hands over the smooth leather seats, trying to imagine Haylee sitting where I was, talking to Bradley, laughing, being fun.
It wasn't coming.
"What about you?" Bradley asked. "You miss her, yeah?"
Of course I missed her. But I hadn't spent the last few years acting like I didn't know she existed. What right did Bradley have to think she was fun? He couldn't know. Could he?
I'd been quiet for too long.
"Hey," Bradley said. "I told you we didn't have to talk about it."
I squirmed. If we weren't going to talk about his date with Haylee, what was I doing here?
The batting cages smelled like motor oil and new rubber. We shared a machine, taking turns, though Bradley hit twice as many balls as I did. I'd never been the best batter on the team. It was my pitching that kept me in the line up.
Bradley started coaching me on my form on our third swap. "Choke up on the bat," he said.
I was choked up, but he stepped right up behind me, putting his arms on either side of me, and his hands over mine. He gently slipped the bat between my fingers, his body pressing against me from behind.
My heart pounded so hard I was sure Bradley could feel it through my spine.
What was he doing?
"Like this," he said, patting the bat firmly.
I gritted my teeth. As if no one had ever taught me to hold a bat before. As if I hadn't been playing for seven years.
"I'm thirsty," I said, turning and stepping to the side. Bradley took the hint and dropped his arms, letting me put some space between me and him. "Want a Coke?"
He nodded. "Sure."
I fed my quarters into the vending machine and came up with enough for two sodas and a bag of Doritos. I found a bench next to the pink plywood windmill where the families filed past to get to the first hole. Bradley sat down next to me and I handed him one of the Coke cans. He popped it open and then extended his arm along the back of the bench behind me, so that his fingers brushed my forearm on the far side.
My skin tingled where his fingers touched it. I leaned away ever so slightly, breaking contact between his fingers and my arm, but they nudged back again. Goosebumps broke out down my arm.
Focus, I thought. This was about Haylee. That's why I was here. "So did you and Haylee dance a lot?"
Bradley shrugged. "Yeah," he said. "It was a dance, you know."
"Dancing in front of people usually made Haylee nervous," I said.
"Yeah, well," Bradley said, "is anyone really comfortable at those things?"
I'd have thought Bradley Johansen would be comfortable anywhere.
Bradley took a long drag of his Coke. "She seemed fine to me, but maybe I didn't know her well enough to tell the difference."
There it was. My opening. "Tell me more about it. Maybe the details will mean something to me, even if they didn't to you."
Bradley squeezed my shoulder. He was like the anti-Nick, touching me when there was no reason to. "Okay," he said. "Ask whatever you want."
Down to business. "Tell me about your date," I said. "Tell me everything."
"Like what? We went to the dance. We danced."
I sighed. "Start with when you went to pick her up. Tell me about that."
"I picked her up in my car. My dad bought it a couple days before, so she was the first girl I got to pick up in it."
I'm sure Fiona loved that. "So the car is actually yours?"
Bradley grinned. "As long as I keep my grades up."
I didn't know anyone else from school who owned a car. Nick was the only upperclassman I was friends with, and he drove his mom's. "And then what?"
"We met up with some people at Ruben's house and hung out for a while before we went to the dance."
Ruben Hernandez was the shortstop for the boys varsity baseball team. He was a junior—the same age as Nick—and his parents lived in a huge house in a neighborhood up on the hill. I'd never been there, but he hosted a lot of parties—I guess his parents were out of town a lot.
"How long were you there?"
"I don't know, an hour? Long enough to get some drinks, and to help get stuff ready for the after party."
"Drinks, like, alcohol?" I cringed at how surprised I sounded.
But if Bradley thought I was naive, he didn't show it. "Sure. We both had a couple."
My dad was a drunk, which is why he and Mom never got married, and why I don't even know who he is. But Mom says it's genetic, and the only way to be sure I don't turn out like him is not to drink. Not that I mind. Beer smells like fermented body odor mixed with cat urine.
But I knew Haylee drank sometimes when I wasn't around. It would explain why Haylee was cool with the dancing.
For a moment, my mind raced. Maybe the alcohol mixed with her anti-depressants. Maybe she hadn't meant to kill herself, she'd just died of the bad combination.
But she'd died on Sunday night, not Friday. That was too long for a drug interaction. Wasn't it?
"Were you drunk?"
"Not drunk drunk. I could still drive just fine."
Great. If my mother heard that, she'd never let me in the car with him again, and I'd hardly be able to blame her.
"So," I said, "did you, you know, kiss her?"
Bradley withdrew his arm, planting his elbows on his knees. "Jeez, Kira."
"What?" I asked. "Is that too personal?"
"It's kind of grotesque," he said, "talking about kissing a dead girl. Besides, isn't it wrong to kiss and tell?"
The guy whose tongue I'd seen inside Fiona's mouth at every possible angle was suddenly shy about kissing. "Sorry," I said.
Maybe Haylee had been different for him. Maybe he tho
ught she was special. He better have, because if he treated her like Fiona, I'd kick him in the balls.
Either way, I couldn't exactly fault him for being careful with her memory.
Now the big question. The one I'd been asking myself for weeks. "Why'd you ask her out in the first place?"
Bradley leaned his head back, looking up at the spinning blades of the windmill. "What do you mean?"
"She doesn't seem like your type."
He gave me half a smile. "And what, exactly, is my type?"
"Um," I said. "Fiona?"
Bradley laughed. "Maybe I was looking for something different."
Couldn't blame him for that.
"Look," Bradley said, "this is way worse for you than it is for me. I went out with her once. You guys were like joined at the hip."
When Haylee was alive, that comment would have made me crazy. We were separate people, after all. But now, I guessed we were a little bit joined.
"Come on," Bradley said, grabbing me by one of my hands and lifting me to my feet. Once I was standing, he held onto my hand longer than he needed to, pulling me toward the car. "I better get you home before your mother freaks out."
We hadn't been out that long. Mom was probably fine. But I let him lead me toward the car. I'd done what I came for, hadn't I?
But what about Bradley? What did he want?
Bradley drove me home, obeying the speed limit and stopping for stop signs and traffic lights. At least when he was sober, he actually was a decent driver.
He parked in front of my house and stretched his arm across the back of my seat, not touching me this time, but still hanging there, like he might at any time. I already had my fingers on the door handle. As I opened the door, Bradley said, "Did you hear about Catherine's party?"
"No," I said. Catherine Kandinsky was on the softball team with me, and she had English with Bradley, Haylee, and me. But we were softball friends, not hang-out friends.
"It's tomorrow night," he said. "Open invitation. So maybe I'll see you there?"
See me? There? Open party probably meant no parents, and lots of booze. Mom would definitely not be up for that.
"I don't know," I said.
"Because I'd like to. See you again, I mean."
He smiled with his whole face, his eyes crinkling. A cold rush washed over me. I looked at Bradley, wide eyed. And for a moment, I saw what Haylee used to see in him: His eyes were so blue that I felt like I could fall into them. And he sat in my driveway, telling me he wanted to see me again.
Everything's Fine Page 6
