The Tension of Opposites

by Kristina McBride

October 31

  9

  God Had Nothing to Do with It

  “My mom’s been running every day,” I said from one of the wooden stools at the island in the Pendeltons’ kitchen. My feet slid off the lowest rung for the third time, so I let them hang free.

  “Good for her,” Mrs. Pendelton said as she adjusted the thick headband in her hair and pulled five bowls from a cabinet near the sink. “I wish I had the motivation to exercise.”

  “Gimme those,” Coop said, taking the bowls from his mother’s thin hands.

  “She’s trying to guilt my dad into going with her.” I watched Coop place the bowls on the island.

  “Tell him not to fall into that trap,” Mr. Pendelton said as he filled water glasses with ice. “If he starts, she’ll never let him stop.”

  “Mike,” Mrs. Pendelton said to her husband, giving him a smack on the arm with a large silver spoon.

  I pulled at the sleeves of my green sweater, trying to keep myself from worrying about how it would go when Elle finally came downstairs. Elle, Elle, Elle. Remember to call her Elle. And I hoped that any lingering spirits creeping through the town in celebration of Halloween would help with our reunion.

  “It’s true. You’d never let me—”

  “What’s she doing here?” Elle’s voice rang through the air, a low pitch that resonated in my chest. I turned to find her leaning against the doorway that led into the front hall. Crumpled, I thought, taking in her slumped posture.

  “We invited Tessa for dinner,” Elle’s mother said without looking up from the loaf of Italian bread she was slicing.

  “She’s here to see you, moron.” Coop picked up the bowls and walked out of the kitchen, shaking his head.

  “You guys forget to tell me, or was this supposed to be some kind of great surprise?” Elle stood there in a baggy blue sweatshirt and ripped jeans, seeming to wait for an answer. She looked thinner than I had expected, and her skin was almost translucent. Especially without makeup. I tried to remember the last time she’d walked around without a hint of makeup and couldn’t come up with a memory later than fifth grade.

  “Hey, Elle,” I said, feeling the strange new name roll off my tongue.

  “Hey, Tess, how’s it goin’?” Elle batted her eyelashes. Like she always used to when she flipped into bitch mode, I remembered.

  I looked at Elle’s mother, who had taken her attention from the bread and was now staring intently at the bare feet of her daughter. “Okay, girls, I need some help. Tess, will you carry the salad? Elle, you get the dressing. We’ve got five kinds to choose from.”

  “Yippee.” Elle flipped her long blue-black hair over her shoulder and grabbed the bottles of salad dressing. I followed her into the dining room, where Coop was already seated with a napkin spread across his lap.

  “You could at least try to be nice,” Coop whispered.

  “You could at least try to keep your nose out of my business,” Elle snapped.

  “If you’d stop acting like an asshole, I would.” Coop glared at her. Elle stared back, her lips a tight line, until he looked at the salad I’d set on the table.

  I sat across from Coop, beside Elle, and counted the little rippling wrinkles in the tablecloth. Taking a few deep breaths (slowly, so neither of them would notice), I tried to clear my brain. But the questions kept poundingpoundingpounding. What does she think of me? What should I say? What will it take to be friends again?

  “You hear the news?” Coop asked.

  It wasn’t until I looked up that I realized he was speaking to me. Was he talking about something to do with Charlie Croft? Right in front of Elle? I’d figured the subject of that man was totally off-limits in this house.

  “Chip and Jessie …” Coop drew out Jessie’s name and widened his eyes.

  “Oh, that.” I unfolded the cloth napkin on my plate and spread it over my lap. “Who hasn’t?”

  “What?” Elle asked. “Are they gay or something?”

  Coop and I laughed. The sound was too loud and too free, and I didn’t realize it until too late.

  Elle sat back in her seat and rolled her eyes, her face tight, jaw clenched. “So are you going to fill me in or just make me feel like an idiot?”

  “Jessie’s a girl,” I said. “They’re seniors, and they’ve been dating since their freshman year. Well, off and on. He plays football; she’s a cheerleader. You know, totally stereotypical of every high school’s supreme order of popularity.”

  “Disgusting.” Elle propped one elbow on the arm of her chair and started twirling a strand of that blue-black hair between two fingers. “So what about them?”

  Everything about her had flipped into this nonchalant mode, but something was off. I couldn’t decide if she really didn’t care, or if she just wanted me to think she didn’t care. Maybe she sensed what I already knew. That this would take the focus off her kidnapping and return like nothing else could.

  “In what could be called the biggest breakup of the year, he dumped her at lunch yesterday. Right in front of everyone, which is totally rude, if you ask me.” I sighed, fluttering my hand to my chest in fake empathy. “All for some other girl.”

  Elle raised her eyebrows. “Well, that makes it a little more interesting.”

  “Hell, yeah,” Coop said, and then whistled. “So … you think I have a chance, Tess? If I move in while Jessie’s feeling defeated, I could do the whole concerned-and-supportive thing for a few weeks and then, when she’s crying on my shoulder, make my stealth move. She’d never know what hit her.”

  “Because you’re such a stud, right?” Elle laughed. It was a real laugh and caught me by surprise.

  “You haven’t been around for a while, Elle.” Coop leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “I am the most sought-after freshman in the building.”

  Elle threw her napkin. It soared across the table and landed in Coop’s face.

  “It’s not nice to lie to your sister,” Elle said.

  As Coop threw the napkin back at Elle, Mrs. Pendelton made her way into the room with a casserole dish full of steaming manicotti, followed closely by Mr. Pendelton, who was carrying an open bottle of wine.

  “We’ve been having all of Elle’s favorites,” Mrs. Pendelton said as she placed the dish on a metal stand in the center of the table. “Dig in, everyone.”

  When the doorbell rang, Coop jumped up and ran for the door. Elle’s shoulders stiffened as several children’s voices sang out, “Trick-or-treat,” the sound echo-echo-echoing off the walls of the dining room.

  “I thought you were going to keep the porch lights off.” Mrs. Pendelton’s eyes narrowed, directed at her husband. “With all the media, the last thing we need is—”

  “I put the candy away.” Mr. Pendelton sighed, pushed his chair back, and stood, heading for the door. “I made sure the switch was down.”

  “Dad.” Elle’s voice was hard, the word short and sharp. “It was Coop’s idea, and I told him it was okay. Just leave them on.”

  The front door clicked shut, and Coop rounded the corner, bumping into his father. He looked at all of us, silent and tense. “What?” he asked. “What’d I do?”

  Mr. Pendelton shook his head, the creases around his eyes making him look sad and old. “Nothing, Cooper.”

  “Sit.” Mrs. Pendelton waved a fork in the air. “Eat.”

  We all served ourselves in silence and began eating. Elle’s father and I made the obligatory comments about how wonderful everything tasted, while Coop and Elle kicked each other under the table.

  “So,” Elle’s mother said into her napkin as she wiped her mouth, “how have you been, Tessa?”

  “Fine,” I said. “Doing the whole school thing, and that’s pretty much it.”

  “Oh, now, don’t lie,” Coop said. “There’s a guy in her life.”

  Elle stopped chewing and turned her head sideways slightly.

  “Isn’t that neat?” Elle’s father smiled and drummed the table with his fingers.
/>   “Neat?” Elle asked, her voice low. “You’re kidding, right?”

  I took a bite of manicotti, wishing Coop had kept his mouth shut.

  Elle put her fork down and pushed back in her seat. “What’s he like?” she asked.

  “He’s not my boyfriend or anything.” I shrugged. “We’re in the same photography class.”

  Elle stared at me and said, “Hmm.” Then she picked up her fork and took another bite of her food. “Finally decided to give yourself up?”

  I moved a bite of salad to the back of my mouth and forced myself to swallow. “What is that supposed to—”

  Elle’s mother cleared her throat and sat up straighter in her chair. “Elle will be going back to school in a few weeks. Isn’t that good news?” Her voice was high pitched and a little shaky.

  “Yeah. I’m flat-out giddy,” Elle said under her breath.

  “Tessa, I was thinking it might be nice if you could drive Elle to school.” Elle’s mother looked at me, her chest puffed out from holding her breath.

  “I’m not going to school with her,” Elle said. “I’ll ride the bus.”

  I heard Coop snicker, part of a joke that none of us knew.

  “You,” Elle’s mother said, her voice taking on the authoritative tone from years ago when she’d caught Noelle and me watching an R-rated movie, “will not be riding the bus.”

  “Didn’t you know?” Coop turned a bitter smile toward Elle. “Pendeltons don’t ride the bus. It’s not safe.”

  “Give me a break, Mom.” Elle flung her fork onto her plate, and it clattered noisily. “It’s not like I’m going to be kidnapped again. Jesus.”

  “You, young lady, will not speak like that in my house.” Mr. Pendelton’s deep voice boomed from his mouth. “You should thank God for bringing you home safely.”

  “Is that what you think?” Elle stared at her father, her eyebrows pulled tightly together. “That God brought me back? God had nothing to do with it, Dad. And sometimes”—Elle stood from the table and threw her napkin on top of her manicotti—“I wish I hadn’t had anything to do with it, either.” She turned and ran from the room.

  We all listened in silence as her feet rumbled up the steps. I watched the bright tomato sauce soak into the cloth napkin and hoped it wouldn’t stain and be a permanent reminder of this disastrous meal.

  “Another peaceful dinner at the Pendelton household.” Coop looked at me. “Aren’t you glad you came?” He raised his eyebrows and sighed.

  “I think I’ll go up,” I said softly. “If that’s okay.”

  “I’m guessing it can’t make matters worse.” Elle’s father took a sip of his wine and placed his glass on the table. The thick red liquid swirled around the inside of the wineglass until it lost momentum.

  I didn’t knock. I just walked in. She didn’t hear me at first, and I stared at her for a minute or two. She was on her bed, propped against a pile of pillows that was stacked against her headboard. The white eyelet canopy that her parents had given her for her tenth birthday was still suspended above her bed, making her seem innocent and untouched. With one hand, she was writing furiously in a spiral notebook that she balanced on her lap. With the other, she wiped tears from her cheeks.

  It shouldn’t have surprised me to see her crying, but it did. She’d seemed so hardened that I’d thought the only emotion flowing through her was hostility. I felt a little sick as I realized that she might be struggling with feeling anything real again after shutting down for the last two years.

  She looked up. Her face was red and splotchy, her eyes slightly swollen.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Do I look okay?”

  I started to turn away and then forced myself to keep facing her. This is Noelle, I reminded myself. The girl who has been your best friend since before you knew what it meant to have a best friend.

  “No. You don’t.”

  “Well, I’m not.”

  I looked away, finding the cold stare of her eyes too oppressive. The room seemed to be floating in the past. Except for the clothes piled on the plush carpet, which were larger and more grown-up, it hadn’t changed one bit since the last time I’d been here. The butterfly border still fluttered around the top of the walls, the lavender paint still made me feel as if I were standing in the middle of a spring flower, and the music box Coop had bought Elle for Christmas one year with his allowance was still planted in the middle of her dresser. I studied the two windows in her room, their curtains drawn tight. The one above her desk, looking out over the front yard, was where Noelle had peeked out at me the day I’d brought her gift. The other window, next to her bed, faced the side of the house. Staring at it brought back a wave of memories.

  The last summer we’d spent together, Noelle had pulled me out that window and across the roof of her garage several times. She was all legs as she climbed down the fence that butted up against the back of the house, me fumbling behind her, both of us trying to stifle laughter as we went. It was during one of those nights that I had my first and only kiss with a boy. I wondered if she remembered all of that. Then I looked at her, crumpled on her bed, and wondered how this girl in front of me could possibly be the same person.

  “This whole thing sucks.” She choked on the words, trying to contain her sobs.

  “Yeah.” I stood there, unsure of what to do with my hands, so I shoved them into the pockets of my jeans.

  “People are walking on eggshells around me. Even my shrink.” Elle wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “And me. I just want to see something break.”

  “Yeah, I can kind of tell.” I smiled, and the corners of Elle’s mouth pulled up a little, too. It made my heart stop, because she almost looked like the old her.

  “I know I need to chill. It’s just that … God.” Elle slid the notebook and pen onto the comforter and sat forward, grabbing a pillow from behind her and squeezing it to her chest. “It’s hard.”

  “Maybe if you think more about how glad we are to have you home …”

  “For two years”—Elle pressed her palms into her eyes—“all I thought about was everyone I’d left behind.”

  When she lowered her hands and looked at me, I reached out to touch her, but I didn’t know if I should go for her shoulder, or her arm, or her hand, so I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear instead.

  “Everyone’s judging me, you know?” Elle looked down at the bedspread, waving her hand at the TV on her dresser. “Reporters who’ve never met me are saying I should have talked. I just want to scream at them. It may have looked like I could’ve gotten away, but it’s like I was tied to this invisible leash.”

  “It was weird.” I rubbed my wrist, scratched at my thin, pale skin. “Hearing that you weren’t actually locked away the whole time.”

  “The thing is … I was,” Elle said.

  Her words hit me hard and made me feel like I was sinking. Like I couldn’t get enough air.

  “I wish I could explain it. But I lived it, and I really don’t understand.” Elle looked up at me.

  “Elle, I’m sorry—”

  “I’m so sick of that!” Elle slammed her fist into the mattress. “Everyone’s sorry, pitying me and trying not to say anything that might upset me. Jesus, I wish people would just act normal for once. Coop’s the only one who has the balls to say what’s really on his mind.”

  “You want to know what’s really on my mind?”

  Elle’s head snapped up. “Yes.”

  “I missed you. We all missed you.” Tears welled up in my eyes. “And now you’re back, and we’re still missing you. As long as you keep this wall around yourself and refuse to let anyone in, he wins.”

  Elle nodded. “Okay, maybe.”

  “Unless you speak up and tell us, we’re not going to know what to say or do. Nobody’s psychic.”

  “We used to be.” Elle smiled, and I felt a little surge of my old friend coming through. “Psychic twins?”

  So there was hope after all. Thi
s was the first time she had referred to anything from our past.

  “You don’t have to remind me.” I smiled back, remembering all the mornings we’d arrived at school wearing almost identical outfits, in the exact same color, accessorized with shoes and purses so similar they could be interchanged. Then there were all the times we’d called each other at the same moment, only to get a busy signal. And the zillions of times we’d finished each other’s sentences.

  I decided to sit on the bed. When I did, the notebook between us slid toward me, and I looked down at the familiar writing, catching three words—can’t believe I’ve—before Elle grabbed it and flipped it shut.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Homework.” Before she threw the notebook on the floor, I saw a flash of a huge butterfly in the center of the blue cover. It was some kind of fabric patch, the raised wings stitched with varying shades of blues, greens, and purples.

  “Are you totally dreading going back to school?” I traced my finger along a thread in the bedspread.

  “Yeah. Everyone’s going to stare and whisper like I’m some freak. Plus, I’ll be in all freshman classes. I don’t know which part will suck more.”

  “I didn’t even think about your being held back.”

  “Me either. Not until my tutor came in and started testing me. She’s cool, though, says I’ll be able to catch up with my own class—your class—after summer break, if I keep working hard.”

  “I guess so, if you’re throwing yourself into homework like that.” I pointed toward the edge of the bed, where the notebook had disappeared.

  “What?” Elle’s nose crinkled up. She looked to the floor and waved her hand. “Oh. That’s different. It’s for therapy. I’m supposed to keep that notebook with me and write down anything that comes up. Like if something happens that’s frustrating, or that brings up a bad memory. How the scent of coffee reminds me of his sour breath … stuff like that.”

  I listened to Elle breathe, watched the digital clock on her nightstand for two minutes, tried not to think about how close she’d had to get to smell his breath.

  “And she gives me assignments, too,” Elle added.