“My friend is being awful.”
“Yeah, she really is. She do this a lot?”
I shrug. “Sometimes.”
“Why is she your friend?”
“Everyone keeps asking that.”
“You got an answer?”
“You don't know what she's going through, all right?” Even I don't know anything more than the circumstantial evidence, I think.
He shakes his head, disgusted.
“What did she text you?” I ask.
“Nothing. She doesn't have my phone number.”
That makes me feel a little better. Still, I'm thoroughly embarrassed now.
“Madison, is there anything I can do?”
“No. It'll be fine. I'm just really, really sorry.”
“Stop apologizing for something that isn't your fault.”
“That's nice of you to say.”
“I'm not being nice.” His expression is unreadable again as he looks down at me. “Listen, what has to happen in order to get her to stop?”
“I don't know.”
“Do you have a guess?”
“Well,” I try to keep my tone light, “we could just make it all go away by getting together.”
Alex lifts an eyebrow. “That a joke?”
“Y-yeah. I mean, totally. Of course.” It feels like the temperature in the room just climbed ten degrees, and my heart's beating like it wants to break my ribs.
He holds my gaze a moment longer, then looks down. “Anyway. I need to get to court.”
“Right. Good luck.”
“Thanks,” he says. He doesn't look me in the eye, and I sense as he opens the conference room door, that he just wants to escape.
I do my best to act casual when we emerge from the conference room. Ryan is gone, and Siraj is busy at his computer. “I better not see blood when I turn around,” he says. “I'm a librarian. I like the quiet life.”
Alex ghosts on past on his way out. I sit down in my seat.
“You realize that you just put yourself alone in a room with a boy who smashed up a police car less than two weeks ago?”
“He's fine.”
“Well, you may not be aware of this, but bashing police cars in public is frowned upon in this culture. That is why the USA made my short list of countries to emigrate to.”
“Everything's fine, okay? He thinks it's all a joke. Kailie's only hurting herself. It's all under control.”
“You call this under control?”
“Did Ryan say anything before he left?”
“Only that he would corroborate my story in a report to the police.”
“No, come on-”
“You are a good friend. Too good. I am going to do this, and I'm not asking for your permission.”
Great, I think.
At the end of the day, someone walks into the library just as we're about to close. I look up to tell them to come back tomorrow, but it's Kailie. Her arms are folded tight and her expression is serious.
“You okay?” I ask her.
She glares at me, then looks at the floor. “I'm sorry.”
“Did you get in trouble?”
“I got a warning, from the police.”
“Well, I'm sorry about that.”
Siraj makes a disgusted noise.
I finish clearing up my workspace and shoulder my backpack. With a wave goodbye to my boss, I take her by the arm and head outside. “Why do you have to do stuff like that?” I ask, once we're out of earshot of Siraj.
“Everybody loves you. No matter what. You're the perfect angel.”
“Well, they don't hate me for stuff I didn't do.”
“I need your help with something.”
“Yeah, sure. Anything.”
“I want to go see Kirsten, but I don't want to go alone.”
“I can go with you.”
There's more sunlight this evening than there has been in the past few weeks. It's actually noticeable today, and the air's a little warmer too.
But Kailie is all wrapped up emotionally. Her expression is tense and she only looks at the ground in front of her as we walk towards my neighborhood. It isn't like her at all.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Mmm.”
“No seriously. You okay? You need anything?”
“It's fine. Don't worry.”
If our roles were reversed, she'd throw her arm around me and try to physically shake me out of my mood. I don't dare try that with her. She doesn't seem like she'd appreciate it. Or maybe that's just me being a coward, but she seems like she's in a darker place than usual.
I'm glad it's a short walk past my house to Kirsten's. Even though there's more light at this hour than last week, the tall trees cast shadows slightly darker than twilight. The lights are on in Kirsten's house and a shadow moves across one of the windows.
Kailie hugs herself more tightly and stops at the edge of the yard.
I stop with her and wait to see what she wants to do next. It's a little hard to see in this light, but I get the impression that she's looking the house over, at the junked out yard, at the big patch of gray stucco and the screen hanging loose from one of the windows.
“You want to go in?” I ask.
“I dunno.”
“Listen, is everything all right?”
“I'm fine.”
“You want to spend the night at my place?”
“Um... could I?”
“Yeah, of course. Come on, and if you want to visit your sister later, you can.” Now I do put my arm around her shoulders and I notice how bony she is. “And I'm hungry,” I say. “You hungry?”
“Yeah.” That comes out as a whisper.
She leans her head on my shoulder and I lean my cheek against her forehead and we make our way back to my house. I stop to check the mailbox and find a letter addressed to me, which I tuck in my pocket.
Once inside the house, I open the fridge, get out all the bread and sandwich fixings, lay them out on the counter. Kailie makes herself one sandwich and eats it before I'm even done spreading mayonnaise on mine. I excuse myself to go read my letter, knowing that will make it easier for her to eat as much as she needs.
The envelope is plain and white and my address is typed. There's no return address. The letter inside, though, is printed on heavy, cream colored paper with “Wilkstone Foundation” embossed at the top. When I unfold it, my check flutters to the floor. I stoop to pick it up and see that someone's written “VOID” across it.
Dear Ms. Lukas,
The Foundation has reviewed your family's financial situation and has elected to award forbearance of rent for six months. Thus, no more rent payments will be required for the next three months, at which point the Foundation will review your family's situation once again.
Sincerely,
The Board of Directors
cc: LLW
RMW
AWK
JDW
Forbearance? I wish I could Google what that word means. I fold up the letter, stick it in my pocket, and get out my phone.
“Hey, gorgeous,” John answers.
“What does forbearance mean?”
“In what context?”
“Rent. Paying rent.”
“It means you don't have to pay it. How'd you score that?”
“The landlord gave it to us. Mom must've applied for it or something.”
“That's a relief.”
“Yeah.”
“How're things?”
“Normal.”
“Mom still being cold to you?”
“Yeah, that’s normal. It’s that or rage, and I prefer cold.”
“Are you sure you're safe? I-”
“Listen, everyone's been saying that my whole life. Don't you start too.”
“Fine, sorry. Everything else all right?”
I lower my voice. “Kailie's gone on another of her hate campaigns against me-”
“By another you mean to say this is a recurring thing?”
/>
“And everyone says I'm stupid for staying her friend. But the thing is, no one else knows her like I do. Mom doesn't care. Her parents are really strict and kinda cruel, and she doesn't have a whole lot of other friends.” These words sound strange as I say them, but I realize they're the truth. Kailie's popularity has taken a real hit over the years. “Something's wrong in her life. Really wrong.”
“Wrong how?”
“I think her parents are abusive.”
“Okay... you should not be dealing with that on your own.”
“There's no one else-”
“Not a high school counselor?”
“No. She'd never talk to a counselor.”
“The police?”
“I'm not gonna talk to the police.” I think of how Officer Li handled Alex's mother.
John exhales right into the phone with a blast of static. “Okay,” he says. “You know the situation better than I do. I'll trust your judgment. Call me anytime you need.”
“Thanks, I probably will. Love you.”
“Love you too, Sis.”
Back out to the kitchen, Kailie's polishing off another sandwich. I finish making mine without even glancing at hers, though from how much bread is gone, she's scarfed at least three, and as soon as I sit down, she stays in her seat and does not go to make herself another, though I suspect she could eat it. I convince her to split a bag of potato chips with me. Her eyes seem so big and her skin translucent.
At just after seven, the doorbell rings. Kailie looks up from the bag of chips and her eyes widen a little.
“Stay here,” I say.
I go to open the door, just enough to peer out, and I wedge my foot against it so that it'd be hard to push open any further.
Mr. Beale stands on the doorstep. “Kailie here?” he asks.
For a moment, I debate how to answer that. “I've asked her to help me with something.”
“We need her to come home.” He doesn't even look at me, just stares at the door as if willing himself to have x-ray vision.
“No,” I say.
That gets him to look at me. “Beg pardon?”
“No. I need her for something.”
His face folds into a scowl and he looks me up and down, as if sizing up how much trouble I might give him if he tries to force his way in.
I wedge my foot more firmly, crushing my own toes.
“Madison, I'm worried about her. Nothing we do seems to make the slightest impression, and I know you'll deny it, but she's done criminal things to you in the last week.”
“Just let her stay here tonight. One night.”
“Coddling her-”
“I'm not going to get her for you.”
He breathes out a sigh of disgust, looks the house over, and stalks away, casting several angry glances back at me as he goes to his car and starts the engine.
I shut and lock the front door.
In the kitchen, Kailie sits with her forehead resting on her hand. She doesn't say anything.
I return to my seat and eat another potato chip. I don't say anything either.
That night she sleeps like the dead, limp as a ragdoll and unmoving. I wake up once when I roll onto her hand, and again when my leg jerks and I kick her, but each time she lays in the same position, on her back, mouth slightly open. The next time I open my eyes, my alarm is blaring and she's gone. On my desk is a note that reads:
I think of her father stalking off towards his car and get dressed and ready as fast as I can, worried that I'll have to stand on the corner for fifteen minutes or more to see if she's coming, but as soon as I set foot outside, I see her standing in our usual meeting spot, her cellphone in her hand, an amused half-smirk on her lips as she taps away on it with her thumb.
My knees go weak with relief. I run to join her. “Hey.”
“Hey, hey. I slept so well last night.”
“I'm glad. You want breakfast before school?”
She opens her backpack to reveal a greasy paper bag. “I brought you breakfast. EVOL does breakfast burritos, don't you know?”
“Deep fried breakfast. Perfect.” I can't help but glance to see if she's soaked her notes or textbooks in oil, but her backpack is empty, which is strange. Her parents insist she bring home all her homework and do it every night.
My friend is in high spirits, though, and we crunch our way through our burritos as we walk to school. Warm egg, sausage, and salsa with gooey cheddar cheese taste so good with the deep fried shell that I'm to the end of mine before we even reach the high school. How embarrassing.
“Okay, so I've decided,” says Kailie. “I'm gonna go see Kirsten today after school.”
“You want me to go with you?”
“Please?”
“Yeah, of course.”
The sight of her smile makes me feel like a big, constricting rubber band around my chest melts away. Kailie's fine. The strangeness with her parents is just that, family strangeness. It'll all work itself out.
It isn't until we get to school, cross the parking lot, and go inside that she unzips her jacket and I see she's wearing the same clothes as yesterday. I avert my eyes and pretend not to notice. Alex is just inside the doorway and I stop to ask him, “How did it go?”
He looks down at me, surprise flitting across his expression. “I got community service. They're gonna see if I can volunteer at a group home.”
“That is awesome. So your mom?”
“Still working on that one.”
“Do you know which group home you'll work at?”
“I dunno, probably one with a lot of violent patients. Officer Li was not happy.”
“I'm happy, though.”
“Well, thanks.”
Kailie grasps my arm. “What are you doing?” she whispers, her breath hot against my ear.
Alex looks at her and I see his usual anger flare up. But then he takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, and says, “She's talking to me. You got a problem with that?”
“Yeah, I do.”
I switch her grip so that I'm holding onto her arm instead. “She doesn't mean that.”
“Yes I do. He’s a psycho!”
“She means that as in psychopath. And she says congratulations, right?” I turn and peg her with my best stop it now look.
“And you-” she turns to Alex “-you can’t be friends with her.”
Alex lifts an eyebrow. “So, Madison, I got all these text messages saying you wanted to do some stuff for me.” He keeps his voice level, no hint of irony.
“Right, those,” I say. “Yeah, what's a good time?”
“I've got detention this afternoon. Maybe after. That enough time?”
“I don't know.” I bat my eyelashes. “How long does it usually take? I don't actually know what half the things in those text messages are.”
At that his facade cracks and he laughs. “I'll see you later.”
“Later.” Only then do I look around and see that everyone is staring at me. Alex ducks his head with embarrassment as he retreats down the hall.
Kailie rears back and punches me in the chest, hard enough to knock me back. “I hate you,” she screams.
I stumble into the doors where several pairs of hands grab my shoulders and help me up again. Before I can even lift my gaze, I'm surrounded by people and Kailie's being restrained by Ryan and another one of his friends.
I glance around, confused, but within minutes I'm in the nurse's office, where she checks out the bruise on my sternum and Kailie's in the principal's office, being given detention. And I thought nobody ratted on anyone in this school. I now know what she was mad at me for, though. Maybe it wasn't Ben that Kailie was looking for at all those midnight beach parties. Clearly, she's got a thing for Alex, and who can blame her? He's beyond gorgeous, and so is she. Cold fear settles in my chest. If Alex had to choose between me and her, I just can’t see him choosing me.
I don't see Kailie for the rest of the day, except in passing, and she glares at me each t
ime. A text to her phone goes unanswered, so I just decide to leave it. I don't forget about her desire to go visit her sister, though.
At five o'clock, I can't help but stare out the front windows. Maybe, I tell myself, she went to see Kirsten on her own. She doesn't need me, right? The two sisters are probably sitting and chatting.
I try to focus on my homework, which I’ve laid out on the kitchen table.
At five thirty, I find myself staring out the window again. Something feels all wrong. The Kailie I know would have come by to apologize by now and tell me how things went with her sister, if she even went to see her sister. Maybe she had to go straight home from detention, which would have ended an hour ago.
Even though I know it's not entirely rational, I get up, put on my jacket, and head out, tapping out a quick text to my friend to let her know that I'm looking for her.
I take my time, as I walk towards the Inn. On my way up Ridge Road I crane my neck to look at the Inn, as if by staring at the outside I can figure out whether or not my friend is or was there. Her car is.
The wind goes from cool to sharp and biting cold as I draw closer to the bluffs, and when I reach the door to the residence, there's no answer when I knock. I consider knocking on the back door of the Inn itself, but recall my tense encounter with Mr. Beale yesterday and think better of it.
Kailie still hasn't answered my text, so I mull over what to do next. Maybe she went to Kirsten's without me, I reason, so I head out in that direction.
Again, I take my time and search the sidewalks with my gaze for any sign of my friend. When I reach Kirsten's house, I can tell, just from the way people move around inside, that Kailie isn't there. I'd expect the two sisters to sit down and talk, but the shadows inside move around, as if doing evening chores.
I backtrack to my house, the library, then back to the Inn before returning to search around my neighborhood some more. I don't know why I'm searching like this, but everything looks wrong, even though I can't put my finger on why. It's as if I've been taken from my world into a world that is almost identical, but not quite. The houses seem to have more cracks than I remember, and the sky less light at this hour. I pull out my phone and call John.
Shattered Castles 1 : Castles on the Sand Page 16
