The Girl In White

by Shannon Reber

  The only problem with being at work that day was the fact that the news was being discussed by every single person in the store. It was like no one understood how their speculations were heard by others. The worst part was the comparisons.

  “It’s so sad that a boy in the prime of his life would make that kind of decision,” a middle-aged woman said to her friend.

  The other woman tutted in what she seemed to think was a compassionate way. “Oh, I know. It’s just like that Emma Gregory girl a couple of years ago. It’s such a shame for that kind of selfish decision to be made that will ruin the lives of everyone around them.”

  The first woman saw my eyes on them, so nudged her friend. “That’s the Meyer girl, isn’t it? She’s the one who found Emma’s body as I recall.”

  Her friend looked at me, her eyes going wide as she saw that I was within hearing range of them. She and her friend moved off, their voices lower which actually drew more attention.

  That was why I preferred computers to people. There were a lot of asinine people online, though I wasn’t required to listen to them. I could click out of the site and never be forced to hear, read, or see anything they posted.

  I fixed my eyes on the books in front of me, doing all in my power to pretend the books were the only things in the world. It would be a good world. Books were such an amazing escape, a good way of dealing with everything that went wrong. And if something about the story bothered me, I could put it away without ever having to look at it again. Why couldn’t real life be like that?

  A slight smile came to my lips at that thought. The idea of there being an escape button for life was fabulous. I would have hit it so many times over the years. Then again, I kept telling myself not to live in the past. I needed to move forward with my life. I had to for the sake of my own sanity.

  “If you did that more often, you’d be super hot,” a voice said from beside me.

  I glanced over to find Dylan standing there, a pensive look on his face. “What are you talking about, Dylan?” I asked, not sure at all why he would seek me out. He never had before.

  He motioned to my face. “Smile. You almost never do it, so you look bitter or something. Your scowl makes you look like your mom.”

  My heart began to pound as my hands clenched into fists. “I am nothing like her,” I said in a low voice, doing all in my power not to haul off and punch him for that kind of statement.

  “I never said you were like her. I said you looked like her,” he clarified, going on before I could say anything else. “Look, I wasn’t trying to insult you. I came because you and I both lost Emma. She was my girlfriend but she was your only friend. I’m as lost as you are.”

  I blew out a long breath and rested my hand on the book in front of me, not even aware what it was. “So you want to be friends?” I asked, skepticism in my tone.

  He snorted out a laugh. “Let’s not get carried away. Let’s just aim for not being enemies. Work for you?” he asked, his hand held out between us again.

  I looked at his hand before I slowly turned to face him. “I never thought of you as an enemy,” I said and wrapped my hand around his.

  He gave my hand a firm shake and let it go before he shot me a snide little grin. “So that hot black girl, her name’s Serena isn’t it?”

  I swatted at him playfully and rolled my eyes. “Yes, Dylan. Serena is a very good friend of mine so please, I beg you, don’t make me threaten your nuts on her behalf.”

  He let out a loud laugh. “That’s hardly your style. You’d hack the school’s mainframe and make all my grades D’s,” he said, that charm of his there in full force.

  I tipped my head to the side and cocked my hands on my hips. “Why would I raise your grades, Dylan?”

  “Right, because I’m SO stupid.”

  I gave a negligent shrug. “I’d be more likely to erase you from existence. There would be no record of you anywhere other than with the guys who’d think you owe them millions of dollars,” I said with a cocky grin. “What I’m saying, is never mess with my friends.”

  He made a face at me and saluted. “Yes, ma’am.” He couldn’t suppress his smile for long. “So does this mean I’m allowed to ask your friend out?”

  I had no idea why he’d ask my permission. It was kind of nice of him, though. I shrugged again and turned to the restocking of the shelves around me. “I’m not the one you should be asking.” I almost groaned as Jayden began storming his way in our direction. “Buy a book, fast,” I hissed under my breath.

  Dylan picked up the first book he saw and gave me an elaborate wave. “Thanks for your help finding the book, Madison,” he said loudly and moved up toward the register.

  I continued in my work, praying Jayden would keep walking. I had no luck.

  “This is not social hour, Madison,” he snapped, his eyes fixed ferociously on me.

  I nodded, doing all in my power not to say the things that roiled around in my brain. I needed the job so had to keep my mouth shut.

  Like he heard the nasty thoughts which played through my mind, he shot me one of his meanest looks. “When you’re done here, I want you in the storeroom. I’m tired of listening to the gossip about you and your past.”

  I took in a breath and counted to three, not meeting his eyes as I spoke. “No problem,” I said in a choked voice. I wanted to tell him precisely what I thought of him. I wanted to but since he was my boss, nothing could be said. He could be as nasty as he wanted and I could either take it or quit.

  I turned to the shelves, continuing to count in my head. The temper I fought so hard to suppress rose to the surface. I pushed it away, my eyes fixed on the books.

  Jayden turned to walk away, glancing at me before he was gone. “I can put you on the schedule full-time after your birthday,” he said like it was supposed to be a treat of some sort.

  I inclined my head to indicate I’d heard him, my mind too far away to care about much at all.

  I had never imagined it would be possible for me and Dylan to be friends. We had already begun to edge toward it. Maybe that was an indication I had been too hard on Ian.

  A lot of people were jerks when they were kids. A lot of them grew up. It was obvious that Ian had indeed grown up. He was far more patient than he ever had been before.

  I gave an internal groan. I owed him an apology. I had flipped out for no reason when he had been perfectly nice to me. Yeah. I owed him big time.

  Even though Jayden hadn’t sent me to the storeroom out of the goodness of his heart, it was the nicest thing he’d done for me the entire time I’d worked there. To be away from the prying eyes and speculative glances made me feel far more human than I had in a long time. Maybe to annoy him, I should tell Jayden how much I’d appreciated his gesture. That made me smile.

  The idea of seeking out my sullen boss was indeed laughable. I’d actually rather speak to almost anyone other than him. My mom would be preferable and that was saying something.

  The rest of the day turned out to be nice. I unloaded boxes, organized shelves, and was able to chat with my coworkers without any interference from our boss at all.

  By the time work was over, my mood had improved to a level I almost felt cheerful. It was such a nice feeling after all the darkness in my mind. Right then, all I wanted was to bask in the glory of my surprisingly bright outlook.

  Since I did owe Ian an apology, it seemed like a good idea to get that done when my habitual brood had taken a hiatus. It was far easier to handle such things in a bright frame of mind. I wasn’t sure if he’d be at the coffee shop. I decided to try it out. I was hungry, so it was a good place to go even if he wasn’t there.

  It didn’t surprise me as I walked into the place a few minutes later, to find a gaggle of girls congregated around the counter where Ian stood. There was something magnetic about him, something that made even me feel drawn to him. His eyes flicked in my direction as I stepped to the end of the line and a shiver worked its way up my spine.

  S
omething was wrong. Ian had always been an open book. He had never been able to lie, his eyes telling the truth no matter what his mouth said. Right then, his eyes spoke of grief as though he’d come right out and yelled the words for the whole coffee shop to hear.

  It was a poignant thing. Ian Gregory was in pain. I didn’t know why but it was like I had the power to help him.

  He kept his eyes fixed on mine as I stepped up to the register, then utterly unexpectedly offered his hand. “I was a jerk when I was a kid. I’m sorry,” he said in an earnest tone.

  I wrapped my hand around his wrist and shook my head. “I was overly sensitive. You were never mean. You were an older guy saddled with keeping an eye on his little sister and her best friend. You were far nicer than most guys would have been. I’m sorry I went off on you,” I replied, giving his wrist a friendly little squeeze.

  “The fact I was able to walk out of here under my own power tells me you grew up quite a bit in the last few years.”

  “And the fact you let me walk out of here without wanting to cry for a few weeks tells me you did the same.”

  He shrugged and released my wrist. “I’ve learned to shut up every once in a while.” He glanced over my shoulder when a woman in line behind me cleared her throat. “I’m off in five minutes. Will you hang around?” he asked as he pulled an Italian soda out from under the counter and set it down on the counter between us.

  I narrowed my eyes as I took out my wallet to pay for that drink. “You’re the reason my dad came to see me, aren’t you?” I asked, shocked it had taken me so long to put it together.

  He raised his brows, his lips quirked in a tiny grin. He didn’t answer, instead motioning to one of the tables. “Five minutes,” he said and looked away from me.

  “Remind me to sucker punch you,” I said with a smile, my mood so bright it was the least threatening statement I ever made.

  He laughed, a touch of the grief in his eyes diminished.

  I walked to a table on the other end of the café than he’d pointed me toward and sat down at a table. I really did want something to eat. Maybe I should go back up.

  It was strange as I thought about what Ian had done. He had gone to my dad and told him I was in town. I hadn’t intended to speak to my dad at all. Because of Ian, I had a far better chance of a relationship with Dad.

  Why had Ian done it, though? He’d been a completely normal little boy. He’d been nice occasionally and scornful the other part of the time. There was nothing wrong with that. Was his good boy nature that guilty about small unkindnesses when we were little?

  I took a drink from that soda and smiled. It was nice to know that he remembered things which weren’t all childish wrongdoings. I needed to do the same for him.

  If Ian and I could actually be friends, that would be amazing. He was the kind of guy who was the ideal friend, both caring and forgiving.

  The chair next to mine was pulled out and a tray was set in front of me. I didn’t look at him, my eyes fixed on the window that looked out onto a busy street.

  “Why are you being nice to me, Ian?” I didn’t want to pick a fight, only to know the truth.

  He picked up a cup of coffee from the tray and took a slow drink. “I’ve seen you around a couple of times since you came home. Every time, it was like I saw something new about you. You looked a lot like the little girl who was always around my house when you were little but you’re nothing like that anymore. You were trouble through and through as a kid. Right now, you’re wounded, fragile, as damaged as I am,” he shook his head when I shot him a glower, going on before I could correct him. “I thought of you as a little girl but what I saw at that party, was a woman forged by grief and loss.”

  I stared at him, his eyes captivating me for a moment. “I’m not wounded and broken, Ian,” I almost whispered, feeling exactly that way.

  “I am,” he said and nudged one of the sandwiches on the tray closer to me. “You want to sucker punch me, go ahead. I can handle it.” He picked up his own sandwich and took a bite, those eyes fixed on the food.

  I picked up what he’d gotten me and took a bite, shocked by how good it tasted. It was heaven in between two fresh-baked pieces of bread. I would most definitely become a frequent visitor to that place.

  After most of my sandwich had been eaten, I looked at him again. “What’s wrong, Ian? You have ghosts in your eyes,” I said, unsure if he would talk to me or not.

  He leaned back in his chair and gazed into his coffee. “I’ve seen Emma,” he said in a quiet voice, almost like he thought I was about to laugh at him.

  I took in a shaky breath and nodded. “Yeah . . . so have I,” I whispered, my eyes fixed on the bottle in my hand.

  “So you did see her, the other night when we left the party?”

  I turned my head to meet his eyes full on and nodded. “That wasn’t the first time, either.”

  “Yeah. I’ve seen her other times too.”

  I turned my eyes slowly to meet his. “Is that why you came to our spot in the woods?” I asked, having wondered why he would show up there.

  He didn’t speak although his eyes told me the truth.

  “Did you know Manuel Brumoso?” I murmured, the food in my stomach beginning to churn.

  He sat still for a bit before he picked up his coffee and drained it. “I did,” he said shortly, pain written all over his face.

  I kept my eyes down. “What if they weren’t suicides? What if Emma is coming to both of us to tell us—”

  “Maddie, stop it,” he snapped, his voice full of derision. “You found her. You saw. I don’t know why she did it. Why doesn’t matter. She’s gone and you and I seeing her is just wishful thinking or something.”

  I shook my head. “I saw her in my room and all of a sudden, my laptop, phone, and tablet all turned to the news story about Manuel.”

  “I ignored her,” he snapped, his hand balled into a fist on the table. “She asked me to come and pick her up. I ignored her. I came home thinking my bratty little sister was going to sulk and find some nasty way to make me pay. What I found instead was you looking like your soul had been torn out of your body and my sister’s body being loaded into an ambulance.” He thumped his fist on the table. “I think Emma found the perfect way to punish me.”

  Tears burned my eyes as my throat went bone dry. Anguish tore its way through me. I didn’t want to think about it. It wouldn’t release me, though.

  I saw her body as it hung from the rafters of their garage. I saw the purple shade her face turned. I saw the chair tipped over next to her feet. I saw the chips in her nail polish and the two broken nails.

  Wait. Broken nails? Emma never went anywhere unless her manicure was perfect. She wouldn’t do that. Why hadn’t it occurred to me before?

  I pushed my chair back and rose slowly. The happiness that had been mine half an hour before was gone. “Emma had her faults. I know that. So do we. You’re wrong about her, though. She wouldn’t have done something like that. I should have known it all along. So should you.” I turned and walked out of the coffee shop, determination like an unbreakable wall in my mind.

  EIGHT

  I felt like an intruder. The people around me had all known Manuel. I had never met him. They grieved for him. I grieved for someone else entirely.

  His parents looked broken, like Emma’s parents had looked at her funeral service. The rest of his family looked as baffled as I felt. Nothing made sense, nothing at all.

  From everything that was said about Manuel, he was a good guy with plans for his future. He hadn’t been depressed. He hadn’t been drunk. So why did no one ask the questions I was determined to ask? Why was everyone so willing to believe that he had killed himself?

  It shouldn’t have surprised me to see my dad in the crowd. He had specifically said that Manuel had been his TA. And from the college students who hung around him, it was clear my dad was a good and well-liked professor.

  He stepped over to where I stood, his hands in
his pockets as he gave me one of his usual frowns. “I didn’t realize you’d be coming,” he said, his head tipped in a questioning way.

  I looked from him to the pictures of Manuel that were set out everywhere, my heart in my throat. “I had to,” I said quietly, my body on alert. It was like something was about to happen. I didn’t know what it could be.

  Dad stood quietly before he made a small motion with his chin. “Take a walk with me, Madison.” It wasn’t quite an order though neither was it a request.

  I blinked, ready to refuse without a single thought. The thing was, he had known Manuel. I could talk to him without hurting the family in their time of mourning.

  After a moment, I agreed. It had been wrong of me to come to the memorial service. It was time for his family to grieve, not for me to try and tell them Manuel had not died in the way they believed.

  It was one of the weirdest feelings to walk out of that church with my dad. It was like we were important to each other, as we hadn’t been all of my life. Mom had seen to that.

  I closed my eyes and blew out a slow breath. This had nothing to do with Mom. I had to find out what was going on. If Emma hadn’t killed herself, that meant someone had killed her.

  She had shown herself to me, asked for my help. She had shown me Manuel’s story. Did that mean that whoever had killed her had killed him as well? A shiver worked its way up my spine.

  Emma needed me. I had to find out what had happened before any other lives were lost.

  “Professor Hopkins?” a guy called out as he began to jog toward us.

  I glanced at Dad, surprised by the look that came to his face. It was like he had caught the guy doing something disgusting.

  He looked like he was a year or two older than me, with light brown hair, blue eyes, and the kind of spare build that made him look like a model. He looked familiar in a slight way, though I had never met him. I would have remembered. He was not the kind of guy who was easy to forget.

  I stopped when Dad did, my eyes still fixed on him. Something was wrong. Or maybe I was being paranoid. I had no idea anymore.