The Unquiet

by Jeannine Garsee

  Nate groans. Before I can jump all over him for his maddening indifference, he takes my mug away and then jumps on me, pulling me to the floor. He rolls me onto the big dead bear by the fire and kisses me lightly.

  Then, less lightly.

  Breathless, overwhelmed, I forget to be mad at him.

  When things start to get wa-a-ay too hot, I reluctantly pull my cardigan back on. Nate watches with one of his hands resting on my knee.

  It’s too soon.

  How unlike the “old” Rinn Jacobs to think such a thing.

  His teasing fingers trail further up my thigh. “Are we finished here?”

  “Yeah, it’s late. I need to get home and—”

  The rest of it hits me like a bullet to the brain: TAKE MY PILLS!

  Why didn’t I put it together before this?

  “I’m stupid. I am so, so stupid!”

  “Little hard on yourself, eh, surfer girl?”

  “Nate, it’s the pills! Miss Prout sat by that pool every day and never said a word about Annaliese till she stopped taking her pills.”

  “What pills?”

  “I don’t know! Antidepressants? Bennie said she cried a lot after, and talked to herself, and then she got all hung up on Annaliese.” Words tumble out of me. “And Bennie takes stuff for seizures! You said yourself he hangs around the tunnel and nothing happens to him. Nothing happens to me, either. Because I take stuff, too.”

  It makes so much sense! All those mind-altering drugs to block out the Voices, to jolt my brain chemicals into alignment—how could anything, even a ghost, penetrate that fortress?

  “Like a safety shield, a gate,” I muse. “Bennie and me, we’re perfectly safe.”

  “You’re perfectly out of your skull.” Nate adds in a sexy growl, “I mean that, of course, in the most adoring way.”

  I stare at the popping embers in the hearth. “What about Jared?” Disgusted at my indifference to his attention, Nate scoffs, but with a tight, evasive expression. “What?” I tug his T-shirt and then straddle his lap when he ignores me. “You know, right? What does Jared take?”

  He rests his chin on my shoulder. I feel his muscles relax, and then I know, at last, he’s crossing over to my side. “Jared’s ADHD. He’s been taking stuff since kindergarten.”

  “I knew it!” Then I’m speechless, stunned by the clarity of the situation. The pure, absolute understanding of what I need to do next.

  Nate grasps my chin. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Aha! So you do believe me.”

  “Who cares? Don’t you dare stop your pills.”

  “But what if it proves …?”

  “Proves what? That you don’t have a brain in your head? I mean it, Rinn. Promise me.” At my disbelieving look, he warns, “You want me to tell your mom? You want her to count every pill?”

  “Then do something for me,” I beg. “I want to get back into that pool room.”

  “Why?”

  “To prove I’m immune. But I need you nearby in case … well, just in case.”

  Nate drags his shirt down over his head. “No way.”

  “If you don’t believe me, what are you worried about?”

  “Oh, where do I start?”

  “You don’t have to come in with me. I don’t want you to, anyway.” Yeah, just what I need: something to happen to Nate. “Just watch and wait. Tie something around me in case you have to pull me out.”

  “Tie something? No. No way.”

  “Nate, please.”

  Rigid, he moves away from me then. “I’m not gonna be a part of this, Rinn.”

  When he gets like this, I know better than to argue.

  “Okay,” I say casually. “It’s a dumb idea, anyway.”

  But even when he breaks down and smiles, satisfied with his victory, my mind is already racing with possibilities.

  4 MONTHS + 21 DAYS

  Wednesday, November 26

  Last night, I knew the exact moment Tasha broke the news to her mom: probably sixty seconds before our telephone rang. Mom spent an hour comforting Millie, assuring her it’s not the end of the world, to give Tasha some time, and maybe it’s a stage, yadda yadda.

  Needless to say, I went to bed early, kind of sorry I wasn’t there when the bomb dropped to offer Tasha some support. On the other hand, who wants to witness that?

  In school, Tasha’s surprisingly upbeat for someone who might be written out of her parents’ will by the end of the day. “It went fine,” she insists at lunch when I ask her about last night. “She took it better than I thought.”

  Could’ve fooled me. I wonder why she’s lying. Or if she’s lying. Maybe once the initial shock wore off, and she talked to my mom, Millie had second thoughts. Maybe she and Tasha made up?

  “Well,” I say. “I’m proud of you, Tash.” As long as you did this on your own, and not because of Annaliese.

  Tasha beams. “Thanks.” Then, “God!” she shouts, stretching her arms over her head. “I’m alive again! No more killing myself seven days a week. Ha! Now I can do anything I want. Eat anything I want.” She gasps, slapping a hand over her mouth. “Omigod, Rinn—I can even date now!”

  “I thought you said all the boys around here suck,” I tease.

  “They do, but who cares? At least I’ll be doing something else.” She jiggles in her seat, positively glowing. “Stay after with me and help me clean my lockers out. I’ve got, like, a thousand swimsuits to pitch. We can have a bonfire!”

  Nate kisses me good-bye at my own locker; he and his dad are leaving for their trip almost immediately. “I’ll miss you,” he assures me.

  “I’ll miss you, too.”

  “You can come along,” he offers with a wink. “I’ve got a big enough tent.”

  I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. “Thanks, but no thanks. Have fun.” I don’t understand that whole shooting-animals-for-fun thing. Then again, I eat meat. Who am I to judge?

  I’m staring longingly after Nate when Tasha, brandishing a black trash bag, rushes up behind me. “Got this from Mr. Lipford. C’mon!”

  First we do her hall locker. I thought we’d be done in five minutes, but Tasha’s a slob. Not only is her locker crammed with stuff like swimsuits and towels and flip-flops and rubber caps—all handy for the days when Millie drives, uh, drove her to practice directly from school—but also months and months of old homework, used notebooks, and a hundred candy wrappers.

  “My secret stash,” she whispers, though there’s no one around. “My mom never lets me eat this stuff at home.”

  I count eight swimsuits in all, half of them blue and white, the colors of the Kellersberg Diving Team. When I hold open the bag, Tasha doesn’t so much as flinch as she dumps them all in.

  “Hasta la vista, baby,” she croons, flinging armfuls of all the regular old locker trash on top of her swim stuff. When her locker is relatively clean, she stops me from tying the red plastic drawstring with, “Wait, not yet. I’ve got to do my gym locker, too.”

  “Can’t you do it after vacation?” The halls are dead, the lights already dimmed. Everyone booked out of here as fast as possible today, to get a head start on their four-day weekend.

  “C’mon! It’ll just take a minute.” She dances off, and I follow awkwardly, lugging the bulky trash bag. She’s gonna owe me for this.

  Her gym locker, also packed, positively stinks. I hold my nose while Tasha rips out all her extra clothes, more towels and swimsuits, and a pair of damp, moldy sneakers. I open my mouth to make my opinion of this known—and then a distant sound makes us freeze in unison.

  “What was that?” Tasha whispers, staring at the door to the tunnel.

  I relax, realizing. “Probably Bennie. No biggie.”

  “Shouldn’t we check?”

  “Check? Why? We’re not even supposed to be here.”

  Tasha ignores this. Tiptoeing in a playful, exaggerated way that, sadly, reminds me of Meg the day she first showed me around school, she pushes open the d
oor and steps into the tunnel. “Yooo-hooo!”

  “Are you high?” I demand, hoping I know her better than that.

  “Yeah, I’m high. High! High!” Evidently pleased with the echo, she shrieks, “High, high, hi-i-i-igh!” Then, in a normal tone, “Oh! Hi, Bennie.”

  I knew it. I stomp in after her. Bennie, down by the pool room door, points in our direction. “You girls ain’t supposed to be here!”

  “We know,” I call back. “We’re just on our way—” I shut up as Tasha, with no warning, skips down the hall toward Bennie. Maybe she is high. I hope it’s on freedom.

  I hurry after her. Bennie doesn’t look pleased at our intrusion. “You ain’t supposed to be in here,” he repeats. “You’re supposed to be home.”

  Tasha eyes the open door to the pool room. “So, Bennie … what’re you doing in there?”

  “I’m fixin’ to put a new lock on this door.” He holds up a shiny new dead bolt to prove it.

  “About time,” she chirps. “I mean, now that Dino’s dead.”

  Bennie gapes. So do I. But before I can call her on this, Tasha darts into the pool room.

  “Hey!” Bennie shouts. “Nobody allowed in there!”

  “No kidding,” Tasha merrily calls back.

  The last thing I want to do is walk into that pool room again. Already a blanket of cold air drifts through the door, wrapping me in icy tendrils.

  Poor Bennie’s so beside himself, he drops the dead bolt on his foot. “She’s gonna get me fired, all right. Mr. Solomon, he’s still here. He’s not gonna like this one bit, not one bit!”

  “I’ll get her,” I promise.

  After all, if I’m right, and it’s my meds, I’m safe anyway.

  If I’m wrong, I’m screwed.

  At first I can’t see her. The lights, what’s left of them, flicker and hum overhead. It’s like being in a fun house, strobe lights and all. I scan the length of the fence and spot her halfway down. “Tasha, what’re you doing?”

  “Omigod, look at this!” Her voice trembles with excitement. “Hurry! Omigod …”

  Wary, I advance, aware of Bennie’s heavy footfalls behind me. I reach her, and stop, and stare at the hole in the fence. My throat swells. My hands turn to ice. The rusted metal links have been clipped away, forming a rectangular passage. The fence sags on either side of this hole, the raw, jagged links threatening anyone stupid enough to slide through.

  This is how they got Dino off the fence. They had to cut part of it down.

  If I look at floor, will I see dried blood smeared on the tiles? Or did Mr. Solomon make Bennie mop it up?

  Holding my gaze firmly up, I turn to Tasha who, without warning, slips through the hole, barely scraping the sides.

  Okay. Now I’m mad. “Hey!”

  She turns back, face shining. “How did they do this? How?”

  “Do what?”

  She waves her arms in two wide arcs as if embracing the black pit only yards in front of her. “This! Are you blind? How’d they keep it a secret?”

  Bennie, puffing hard, plants himself beside me, his fists raised, though more comical than intimidating. “You crazy girl! You get outta there now!”

  Instead, Tasha pirouettes around and runs farther away, careening around the corner of the empty pool. “This is amazing!” she cries. “I can’t believe it!”

  Then she throws off her coat, kicks off her boots, and jumps onto the ladder of the diving board. The ancient rungs creak under her weight.

  “Tasha!” Unthinking, I throw myself through the fence, but something yanks me backward. “Let go!” I scream at Bennie before I realize it’s my jacket, hooked to the fence. I struggle madly, but all that does is grind the nasty iron link into my shoulder blade.

  Bennie, who can’t get around me, curses as ferociously as me while he twists my jacket, trying to free me. The fence rattles in my ears as I stare, transfixed, at the pool straight ahead with no crisscrossed links to hinder my view. What are you doing? I scream, maybe out loud, maybe not, because all I can hear is the thunder of the fence.

  Tasha reaches the top of the ladder.

  I wise up at last and barrel out of my jacket, leaving it behind.

  She steps onto the diving board and walks purposefully forward.

  I stumble around the pool, barely avoiding the edge.

  She bounces gently, as if testing the springboard.

  Reaching the ladder, I grab a rung and shake it fiercely, knowing I’ll never make it up there in time. “Tash, stop! STOP!”

  I can’t see her from down here, yet I imagine it perfectly.

  Tasha, gracefully raising her arms.

  Tasha, arching her back.

  Tasha, lifting her heels off the board.

  Tasha, singing out, “Oh, I can’t wait to tell my mom I changed my mind!”

  The rush of wind from her body brushes my face.

  4 MONTHS + 22 DAYS

  Thursday, November 27

  I wake up when something crawls through my hair. Nate catches my batting hand. “It’s okay. It’s me.”

  It’s 7:12 a.m. Is this a new habit of his, sneaking into my room? I’m too miserable to be flattered. Plus I’m wearing SpongeBob boxers and a yellow T-shirt. Not the sexiest night-wear in the world.

  Nate works his fingers through my knotted hair. Then he slides in next to me, staying on top of the covers. Our noses touch. “My mom’s downstairs,” I warn with a hiccup.

  “Nope, she called Dad. She wanted to check in on Millie and didn’t want to leave you alone.”

  “I thought you were going hunting. Why are you here?”

  “We just got done packing the truck and we heard the sirens. We canceled the trip. My dad said to keep an eye on you.” He squeezes his right eye shut and bugs out the left. “So that’s what I’m doing.”

  Tasha’s dead. I should not be staring at Nate’s gorgeous hazel eyeballs, remembering how we made out at the stable.

  Your eyes are the windows to your soul, Nana once said.

  I swear I can see it: Nate’s soul. I stare up at him till his mouth lands on mine. He yanks back the covers without breaking our kiss and wraps himself snugly around me. I dissolve into a hot puddle as he smooths my breasts and casually toys with the drawstring of my shorts. Not untying them. Merely testing the waters.

  Tasha’s dead and I’m horny. How very, very wrong.

  He gets a load of my attire. “Whoa, SpongeBob?”

  “My mom bought ’em.” Weakly I drag up the sheet. I’d like to curl into a ball here and never move again. “Nate. It wasn’t suicide.”

  “She jumped in.”

  “But it wasn’t suicide.”

  “Did you …?”

  I know what he wants to ask, and that he’s afraid to ask it.

  “I didn’t see it,” I say softly. “I covered my eyes. Then Bennie grabbed me and dragged me down to the office. Mr. Solomon called 9-1-1.”

  And I couldn’t stop screaming. I screamed so much, my throat’s raw this morning.

  “She jumped in,” I say loudly. “She dove in. B-Bennie saw it. He said she landed on her h-hands.”

  I hide my face, glad I didn’t see it. But I’ll never forget that rush of air. Or the sound she made when she hit the bottom of the pool.

  “I don’t know why she did it,” I say through my fingers. “But I told you what she said. So it wasn’t a suicide.”

  “This is crazy!” he explodes. Like me, he’s trembling. “First Dino. Now Tasha? What the hell is going on around here?”

  “You already know,” I whisper.

  This time he doesn’t argue. He only holds me tighter.

  “Nate … what we talked about … I still want to do it.”

  “And I still say it’s stupid.”

  “If she’s there, we have to know. You’ll help me, right?”

  Nate blows out his breath. “Rinn, it makes no difference what Tasha said. Bennie saw it. Nobody pushed her in.”

  I shake my head stubbornl
y. “It’s not just what she said. She saw something, something Bennie and I didn’t. And she was happy, Nate. Happy! She wasn’t thinking about dying.” I draw his head closer to make him look me in the eye again. “It was Annaliese. Don’t you believe me yet?”