Jenna nodded and stepped back to admire her work. Maddy’s entire locker was covered with streamers and well wishes scribbled on Post-it notes. “Yeah, well, what did you expect? You kill your sister in a car accident, you’re bound to be a little messed up.”
There it was, that snap of brutal honesty that I’d always associated with Jenna.
I remembered asking my sister about her when we were freshmen. It was toward the end of the year. Jenna had become a constant fixture in my sister’s life and the bane of my existence. I didn’t get what my sister saw in her, and why she chose to surround herself with such mean people.
“She’s not as bad as you think. I mean, you don’t even know her,” Maddy said as she flicked through the TV channels. Mom had grounded us for arguing over whose turn it was to empty the dishwasher. We’d been arguing about everything back then, from who didn’t put the cap back on the milk to who was smarter. Our punishment was a weekend at home with nobody to talk to but each other.
I rolled my eyes. I didn’t need to know Jenna. I’d watched her flip off some random girl at school that day, for looking at whatever boy she had marked as her own, and heard her tear an exchange student a new one in the cafeteria the day before for accidentally sitting down in her seat.
“She’s mean, Maddy. No matter how you slice it, that girl is mean.”
“You would be too if you had her life.”
I highly doubted that, but whatever, I’d bite. “Why? What possible excuse are you going to make for her?”
“She went to the same elementary and middle school as Alex,” Maddy began. “She has lived next door to him since first grade, and their parents are good friends.”
I found that interesting, or at least it made sense as to why Maddy had started hanging out with her to begin with—they had Alex in common.
“Her mom is insanely neurotic about appearances and her dad is never around. He works overseas or something, barely even calls when he’s traveling.”
I shrugged. Josh’s dad was a pilot and was gone for days at a time, but Josh wasn’t a jerk because of it. “So?”
“Everything has to be perfect in their world. Her room, her hair, her grades, everything. I’m over there nearly every day and the only things I have ever heard her parents say to her are ‘Why can’t you be as smart as your brother?’ and ‘Why can’t you be as pretty as your sister?’ Never once have I heard them say ‘Good job’ or ‘It’s okay, we love you the way you are.’ Not once. But you know what Alex says?”
I shook my head. Alex never said much of anything to me, with the exception of “Hey” whenever he came to pick up Maddy. So no, I had no idea what his take on Jenna was. And to be honest, I don’t think I actually cared.
“Alex says it’s a show. That they borrowed money from his parents last week to cover their mortgage.”
“She told you this?” I asked, amazed that Jenna would show any vulnerability to my sister.
“No, Alex did, but he made me swear not to tell anyone, so you can’t either.”
Who was I going to tell? Josh? I doubted he cared about Jenna’s personal life any more than I did, which was already very little. “So you’re saying it’s okay for somebody to be mean because they have crappy parents?”
Maddy sighed and tossed the TV remote aside. She was irritated, as if trying to explain her best friend’s motives to me was a chore. “No, Ella, I’m saying her life sucks. Dad doesn’t care whether I make the varsity team this year or if you end up valedictorian. And Mom doesn’t swallow a handful of pills just so she can get out of bed and put her makeup on each morning. Jenna’s the way she is because not being the best at everything isn’t an option for her. It’s the only way to get her parents’ attention, the only time her father ever acknowledges her existence.”
I didn’t buy that excuse three years ago when Maddy first fed it to me, and I wasn’t buying it now. Sure, maybe Jenna became self-centered, competitive, and mean to earn her father’s attention, but somewhere along the line it stopped being about her parents’ approval and became all about her.
“She’s your best friend,” the girl said to Jenna as she smoothed out the wrinkles in the center of the poster. “Don’t you think you should talk to her? I mean, maybe see if you can help?”
I smiled at her words. I may not have known who she was, but the way she quietly tried to defend me made me feel better and more at ease with some of my sister’s friends.
“Alex will make sure she’s okay,” Jenna replied as she adjusted one of the streamers so it didn’t cover the poster. “And, according to him, she’s steps away from a total breakdown. I’m supposed to give her some space and not bother her too much.”
She was right, I’d give her that. Since I’d come home from the hospital, I’d refused to leave the house, refused to see anyone but my parents and Alex. He’d been given depressed-Maddy duty. Jenna had called a million times the first few days, but I’d either let her calls go to voice mail or had Alex talk to her. The longer I refused to answer, the fewer calls came. Or so I thought at first. Then I realized the calls had kept coming, but they were now going to Alex’s phone and not Maddy’s.
“Wait. What? You’ve been talking to Alex? We asked him how she was doing, but he won’t tell any of us a thing. He keeps saying she’s fine. How did you get him to talk to you?”
“I’m her best friend, remember?” Jenna’s sarcasm had me wanting to reach through time and space to grab my sister and shake her. Maddy could have done better than this, she’d deserved a better friend than Jenna. “Plus, I have known Alex since first grade. I probably know him better than Maddy does. Of course he talks to me. About everything,” Jenna added.
I didn’t know Alex well, but I’d stake my life on the fact that he didn’t tell Jenna much of anything … not when it involved Maddy, anyway. He kept her secrets safe, protected her with a fierceness that almost made me jealous.
I watched as Jenna unrolled a giant poster, one that, from the looks of it, had been professionally printed. She had matching tape, too—the exact same shade as the pink block lettering she’d used to spell out her name.
“You sure that’s the best place for that?”
“Hallways are fair game,” Jenna said as she reached up and put her Snow Ball queen poster dead center above Maddy’s locker. “The only place we’re prohibited from soliciting votes is in the field house and the locker rooms, although—”
“I think you’re wasting your time. Maddy’s gonna get so many pity votes that you won’t be able to compete. I mean, she may look like crap, but who wouldn’t vote for her after what happened?”
“You, for starters,” Jenna said. I heard the calm threat in her voice. Somehow she’d figure out who would vote for her and who wouldn’t. For that girl, casting a vote for Maddy would be equal to social suicide.
“Besides,” Jenna continued, “Maddy can’t be the Snow Ball queen if she’s not going to the dance. Alex will only coddle her for so long, then eventually he’s gonna get tired of tiptoeing around her.”
My sister’s image, the one she had meticulously crafted, was being torn apart while I stood here hiding. I knew what Maddy would do. I knew without a doubt that she’d walk down that hall and call Jenna out. They’d argue and threaten each other with useless pieces of gossip, then come four o’clock, it’d be over. Whatever nasty words had passed between them would be forgotten and someone else’s misfortune would take the spotlight.
Not me. I’d quietly walk away without ever letting Jenna know I’d heard every backstabbing word that came out of her mouth. I’d plot and plan, sit at home and stew, rehash everything Jenna Fredricks had said about me, then I’d let it go. I’d pick up my sketchbook and lose myself in the drawing of a dead tree while I tried to forget that Jenna even existed.
20
I turned back the way I’d come, my head down, my mind completely focused on the texture and shade of the dead tree I was already sketching in my mind. No colored pencils for t
his picture. There was going to be nothing but black charcoal intermingled with gray smudges.
I felt someone’s hands reach out and brush my arm in an attempt to stop me before I plowed her over. It didn’t work, and I found myself staring up at Molly, my books scattered everywhere.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, and quickly turned to look over my shoulder.
Molly shrugged and looked past me toward Maddy’s locker. I turned and followed her gaze, hoping to God Jenna wasn’t still standing there. The last thing I needed was an audience, an audience that Alex had insisted I play nice with.
“You okay?” she asked, her eyes still trained on Maddy’s locker.
“Yeah. I guess so.” I didn’t know whether she was referring to Jenna’s comments, the bathroom episode, or the accident in general. Probably a combination of all three. I quickly gathered my books and shoved them into my bag. “Were you … uh … listening to them?”
She nodded, and held out her hand to help me up. I took it, grateful that at least one of my sister’s friends didn’t seem to be completely self-absorbed.
Molly stood there staring at me, her lips parting as if she was debating whether or not to tell me something.
“What?” I said, wanting her to come out with it. I was tired of trying to piece things together, guessing my way through Maddy’s life. For once, I needed someone to tell me how it was.
“Nothing.”
I sighed and walked away, disgusted with myself for foolishly hoping one of Maddy’s friends could be honest.
“I ran into Jenna last weekend at the game.” The words spilled out of Molly’s mouth as if she wanted to say everything before she had a chance to change her mind. “They were standing outside by the field house. She didn’t see me there.”
I turned around to face her, fighting my curiosity to ask exactly who “they” were. I doubted it was Alex. He’d shown up at my house twenty minutes after the game ended, still wearing his grungy soccer cleats and grass-covered shorts. He smelled, too, like sweat and dirt.
“She was talking to Eva.”
The blank look on my face must have clued her in. “You know, the freshman? Crappy midfielder on the JV field hockey team? Idiot who actually thinks that hanging with Jenna will somehow get her a spot on the varsity team?” She tilted her head and stared at me when I didn’t respond. “You know, the one who was at your locker with Jenna?”
I nodded, grateful to finally have a name to put with the voice. Then I lied: “I know who she is. What about her?”
“She and Jenna were talking about Alex and how Jenna thinks he’s wasting his time with you.”
I shrugged. “So?”
“She’s after more than Alex, you know. Jenna wants the Snow Ball crown and since you haven’t played in almost a month, she is trying to get Coach to replace you as co-captain of the field hockey team. Jenna pretty much promised it to Eva. I felt like I should say something because—”
“My life already sucks?” I finished for her.
“Well, yeah. I didn’t want to see it get worse. I mean, I’ve been there. I know what it’s like.”
Been there? According to Alex, she was still there.
I watched her eyes glaze over and could tell she was remembering something that neither time nor distance could make disappear. I knew because it happened to me every day. Every hour. Every minute.
“That night at the party, you were crying,” I said. “Why?”
A brief flash of confusion crossed Molly’s face at my question, her eyes quickly softening. I knew in that instant what the look meant, the mistake I had made. Maddy would know why she was crying. She would have made it her business to know.
“You don’t remember?” Molly asked.
I shuffled my feet as I tried uselessly to come up with something to say, an excuse or a lie that would keep everything intact. But I came up empty. I could do nothing but stare blankly at her.
“I get it,” Molly said. “I had a hard time remembering ever taking any drugs. But then again, everybody said it was because I didn’t want to remember, that I was denying it to save myself. At least you have the accident to blame for not remembering stuff.”
My hand automatically went to my head, to the scar where my stitches once were. I rubbed it, thinking how much easier it would be if what she said were true, if in fact my mind had stayed as empty as it was when I first woke up, and I didn’t know a thing.
I remembered the rumor that had circulated about Molly last year. People said she’d been taking pills for months, that that was why she was so good on the field, why she had an insane amount of energy. When she denied it, carrying on about the drug test results being wrong or about being set up, people said she was crazy and that she was paranoid and delusional. I guess she was. She used to sit in the cafeteria and zone out, not talk to anybody. One time I saw Alex try to talk to her, and she’d lashed out at him, jumping up from her seat and staring at him like he was a psycho. He’d done nothing but gently shake her arm to get her attention, and she freaked, accused him of somehow being involved.
The same thing happened the next weekend at the state championship. She went to watch. The coach let her sit on the bench, but she wasn’t allowed to wear her uniform or even her practice shirt. She stared off into space as the game was played around her, never once acknowledging the players sitting next to her. They lost; with Cranston High’s best player benched, they didn’t stand a chance.
Molly wasn’t at school that next week. None of us knew where she went, but we had our assumptions. Six weeks later she showed up, quiet and withdrawn. Everyone avoided her. My sister, Jenna, Alex—they let her sit at their table in the cafeteria, but they stopped including her in their conversations, stopped caring enough to ask what she thought. Maddy claimed that was the way Molly wanted it, that whenever anybody tried to talk to her she’d tell them to go away and leave her alone. I refused to believe that. My guess was that they didn’t know what to say to her, how to make things go back to normal, so it was easier for Maddy and the rest of them to shut her out.
“I won’t tell anybody that things are still hazy for you if that’s what you’re worried about,” Molly said. “I get what it’s like not knowing exactly what happened, trying to solve a puzzle when you’re not even sure what the pieces are.”
I wasn’t worried about figuring things out. With the exception of Alex, I think everybody already assumed I was one step away from losing it.
“Thanks,” I said, and waited to see if she would tell me about the party. Tell me why she was crying. Why Maddy was sitting alone in the backyard. Why Jenna was in a particularly nasty mood. But she said nothing, let the awkward silence between us grow to a suffocating level.
Searching for something to say and coming up empty, I did the one thing I could. I started to walk away.
“You asked me to go to that party, said it wasn’t fair what had happened to me and that these were my friends and you were going to make it right.”
I stopped dead in my tracks and turned around.
“Alex whispered something to you when I walked in. I don’t know what it was, but he seemed pissed. You had a fight later that night, but I don’t know what it was about. Maybe about me being there,” she said as she took a step in my direction.
I didn’t know what the fight had been about, but rather than admit that, I asked again, “Why were you crying? What happened?”
“Jenna. She was there being her usual self.”
Molly didn’t need to explain that. I’d been on the receiving end of Jenna’s nasty comments for years. I was well aware that she had probably taken Molly’s tears and used them as a way to gain the upper hand, remind her that she was different. Damaged. Useless.
“Jenna’s a self-serving wannabe. I don’t get why you—” I paused for a second to correct myself. “I don’t get why we hang out with her.”
“I don’t anymore. You do.”
I shrugged, not knowing what to say. I guessed, at the end o
f the day, I would classify Jenna as my sister’s best friend. I’d gladly go the next seven months, the next seven years, my entire life as Maddy, but there was no way I was putting up with Jenna in the process. “Yeah … well, I have a feeling that’s gonna change.”
Molly smirked, no doubt understanding exactly what I meant. “I figured that much at the party.”
I cocked my head, pretended I was searching my mind for a lost piece of information. “I … uhh…”
The amusement faded from Molly’s eyes, a pain I was familiar with replacing it. “You heard her prodding me and lost it, said you were done with her treating me that way. Done pretending that none of this was your fault.”
I didn’t dare ask what “this” referred to. Besides, the look on Molly’s face told me she wouldn’t know the answer anyway, that she was as confused, as curious as me about what Maddy had been so upset about. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the answer either.
“I’m sorry. There is a lot of stuff from that night I still can’t remember.”
“Alex heard you yelling at Jenna and came in,” Molly said. “He grabbed you and told you to be quiet before you ruined everything. You screamed at him to let you go, to leave you alone. I went to help you, but he told me to stay out of it, that you were drunk and that he’d take care of it.”
“I wasn’t drunk.” That was the one thing I was certain about. I’d seen Maddy drunk plenty of times, stumbling and giddy as I handed her ibuprofen and Gatorade at two in the morning, then lied to my parents about her having cramps the next day when she could barely move. That night, Maddy wasn’t drunk. She was upset, maybe a little bit scared, but not drunk.
Plus, I had the hospital’s blood test to prove it.
“I know you weren’t drunk, but to Alex—”
“A drunk, rambling Maddy is easier to explain than the truth.” I finished the thought for her.
She tossed her hands out in agreement, and for a moment, I remembered that she knew these people, these so-called friends better than I did. Probably better than Maddy did. “You think if I ignore them, if I give it a little bit of time, things will go back to normal?” I asked.
The Secrets We Keep Page 10
