“What do you think Dee would like to do, if she were here now?” Lee leans the doll against the wall, so she’s facing us.
“She’d want to eat Red Vines,” I say. But immediately I know that’s wrong. It was twelve-year-old Dee who wanted to eat candy. Eighteen-year-old Dee would want to be making out with some boy in the back of a movie theater, or hanging out with her eighteen-year-old friends. I don’t actually know what eighteen-year-olds do. But Lee doesn’t care whether I’m right or not.
“Okay,” she says. “That’s what we’ll do. We’ll get some Red Vines.”
I never agreed to go with her. I know I can’t go, because she’s changed her mind about not knowing. But I don’t feel like I have any control over my body as I pull myself over the windowsill and land on the grass of our side yard. Lee has used the card with me that she has figured out will always work. Dee would want to live, and she would want us to remember.
LEE DRIVES FOR a minute in silence. It feels weird around her. Her silence makes me want to say something, and I want it to be something normal. I want to keep more of the truth from spilling out.
“I had a good time with Vinnie,” I say. “He taught me how to drive.”
“He told me,” she says.
I freeze. But he can’t have told her that.
“Maybe we should call him.” She hands me her phone.
“It’s late.” According to her phone, it’s 1:00 a.m.
“Dee wouldn’t want to just hang out with me,” she says. “She didn’t like me all that much.”
“That’s not true.”
“Sure it is. I remember she had this pair of shoes. They were too small for her. She grew out of them. She couldn’t have used them at all anymore, so I asked if I could have them. Because they fit me perfectly. But she wouldn’t give them to me. Not until Mom made her. She threw a fit about it, too. She threw them at me. Broke one of the straps.”
“It sounds different when you tell it,” I say.
“I’ll bet.”
“It was just a pair of shoes,” I say. “Sisters fight.”
“Usually they fight and then they make up,” she says. “Then they play a game of cards on the living room carpet and sneak candy into their bedrooms and talk all night. They band together to get their mom to make mac and cheese instead of tuna casserole.”
“She wanted to,” I say. “She felt bad about the fight, too.” I realize that I don’t know whether she did or not. We were never allowed to talk about the families we left behind. I felt bad about how I’d been mean to Jay, not letting him hang out with us. Did she feel the same way? She must have.
“Big sisters share makeup with their little sisters,” she says. “They teach them how to do their hair.”
“I think you would have been the one teaching,” I say.
“Then the little sister teaches,” she says. “Somebody teaches somebody.” She turns abruptly, and we’re heading down River Road. I take a deep breath, but we drive right by the place it happened. “Call Vinnie,” she says.
“I—”
“Just call him,” she says.
So I do. It takes me a minute because I don’t understand how her phone works. But finally, I call his number.
“Lee?”
“It’s Ch—Amy,” I say. “It’s Amy MacArthur.” I say my whole name more for my benefit than his.
“Oh, hi. Want a late-night driving lesson? Nobody out on the road. Smart.”
“No, it’s just . . .” I look at Lee, but her face is blank. “Lee and I are hanging out.”
“Meet us at the Publik Mart,” Lee says.
I repeat it for Vinnie.
“Okey-doke,” he says. He doesn’t ask any questions. I wonder if he’s used to Lee calling him in the middle of the night and insisting he show up someplace.
“You must be really good friends,” I say.
“We dated freshman year,” Lee says. “Nothing much happened, but yeah, he’s been a good friend. One of the best.”
“You dated Vinnie?”
“You probably think I’m out of his league,” she says.
“Well, I guess, I mean . . .”
“He doesn’t look like Marco,” Lee says. “But sometimes the hot guys, they expect you to be hot on the inside, too. They expect you to be pretty and perfect and well adjusted and normal. Vinnie would never expect that.”
“But you—”
“I’m the girl whose sister was kidnapped,” she says. She turns the corner into the Publik Mart. It hits me that this is also the bus stop. This is the place I stepped off the bus into Grey Wood. This is the place I became Amy again. Amy MacArthur, I think. Amy. Lee’s face is lit by the overhanging lights above the gas pumps. Even with her hair pulled back and no makeup, she’s beautiful. If you look carefully, you can see the differences between Lee and Dee. Dee’s face was rounder and more childlike. Even at eighteen, even after everything that happened, she still looked younger than her age. Lee has more angles. She looks like she’s thinking something deep. Dee always looked like she was feeling.
Vinnie pulls in as we get out of the car. He gives Lee a hug and grins at me, arms open.
I lean in to him, and he gives me a quick squeeze.
“So what are we doing?” he asks. “I already took her to the library and Dairy Queen. If we want to take her someplace new, we’ll have to go to Portland.”
“We’re getting Red Vines,” Lee says. She leads the way into the store. We’re the only people in there, except for the cashier, a thin, balding man who’s practically asleep on his feet. He barely looks up as we walk in.
Vinnie hasn’t acted like he knows anything. I can trust him, I tell myself. Lee trusts him, so I can, too.
Lee buys three large packages of Red Vines. Vinnie buys a Coke. I don’t have any money, so I don’t buy anything. We head back out to the parking lot and stand next to Lee’s car. She tears the plastic off the box and puts a vine into her mouth.
Vinnie looks at me. Obviously he thinks Lee is acting weird, too. But I don’t know if I should tell him why, or if I even can. Instead, I take out a Red Vine and start eating. I used to love these as much as Dee did, and I haven’t had one in six years. Even though I shouldn’t be enjoying this night at all, I like it. I savor the texture of the candy, the taste of the sugar. Amy MacArthur, I think. I am Amy.
Lee eats another vine. Vinnie eats one. I eat another.
“When Dee disappeared,” Lee says, “Vinnie was the first kid to talk to me. Everybody else was afraid. It was like having a sister disappear was catching.”
“Since I’m an only child, I was immune,” Vinnie says.
“It was probably three weeks before anyone else tried,” Lee says, ignoring the joke. “I mean, people would say they were sorry or ask how I was, but it was just bullshit. Nobody wanted to know the answer.”
“Not everyone was like that,” Vinnie says.
“I don’t know,” Lee says. “Maybe not everyone. But most people. My friends stopped calling me. Right when you would think they’d be there, if they were your real friends. All the friends I have now are different. Christina and Kara, I met them once we started high school.” She swallows the last of a vine and looks at me. “I know it’s not the same. I know. I was the lucky one. But it was hard for us, too.”
“I know,” I say.
“That’s why Jay’s hurting,” Lee says. “He knows it’s not fair of him to complain, to be angry about what happened to him. But he’s only fourteen. And he was eight when his whole life fell apart.”
“I know,” I say. “He hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Lee says. “He missed you, too. Everyone was sorry for the parents, and they forgot about him. He’s mad because you were alive the whole time, and he thought you were dead. He was so sad, Amy.”
“I didn’t
forget him. I thought about him all the time.” I thought about those blackberries every day. I wasn’t supposed to think about him, but I did. When it was dark and everyone was asleep, that’s when I’d let myself remember.
“You tell him that,” she says. “You’re lucky you still have him.” She grabs another Red Vine and shoves it in her mouth. She chews and chews, and there is too much vine in her mouth, and if this were any other moment, it would be silly. If Dee were here, we would be laughing. Instead, our eyes fill with tears. Even Vinnie wipes a tear away as he puts an arm around Lee’s shoulder.
Lee finally swallows the last of it, and then she reaches for the half-empty box. She holds it up. “To Dee,” she says. “I know you’re dead. I’ve known it since the first day Amy came back, and you didn’t. I know horrible things happened to you that I can never even imagine, and he killed you. But I’m not going to forget. Mom’s not going to forget, ever.” She takes a breath and opens her mouth like she’s going to say something else, but then she throws the Red Vines on the ground. They spill out onto the pavement, and she folds her arms over her chest.
“Lee . . .” What, Amy? I think. Are you going to tell her it’s not true? When Vinnie already knows? When really everyone already knows except Aunt Hannah, and everything that happens to Aunt Hannah happens to Lee? Am I really going to keep doing this to them?
Vinnie pulls Lee closer, but he doesn’t say anything.
“I said I didn’t want to know,” Lee says quietly, her chest heaving. “But I do. Not just for Mom, for me. I want to say goodbye to my sister. I want to have somebody to blame for what happened to us. I want to see this man in jail, to point my finger and say, He did this. I want whoever killed Dee to pay.”
The door slams in my face.
There is blood in Stacie’s hair.
I’m shoving things into the Safeway bag. I’m shoving the Stacie doll in.
Now Vinnie’s arm is around me. He has moved in between us and is pulling both of us close. I don’t know how much time I’ve lost, but it’s like Lee hasn’t moved.
“She’s dead,” I say. “But that’s all I can tell you.” My hand goes to my pink beads. But the beads aren’t for Dee; they’re for Stacie. Stacie’s not who we’re mourning. I reach up and unhook the beads. I let them roll around in my hands. Somewhere, there are two little girls who are worth everything. They are worth Lee’s pain, and Aunt Hannah’s, and mine. They are even worth everything that happened to Dee. I have to believe that, or I will die. I will fall down on the ground right here at the bus stop and I will never get up. Unless Lola and Barbie are alive, and they are a reason to keep standing.
“Where is she?” Lee asks.
I shake my head.
“I want to know where her body is,” she says. “Mom will never believe it without a body.”
“I don’t know,” I say.
Her face is calm and silent. Her eye is open, one blue eye staring up.
“You do know,” she says. “You know where he is.” Lee has turned toward me. Vinnie’s arm is still around her, and now it’s like he’s holding her back, like he’s afraid she’ll attack me. But she just looks.
Barbie is crying, but Lola has stopped. Lola is grabbing the back of my leg.
I put my hand over my face.
“Lee, come on,” Vinnie says. “You don’t know what she went through.” His voice is far away from me. I am far away from me. Kyle is crying. He is bending over her, feeling for a pulse. Baby, baby, he says. Barbie clings to me. There is blood on her face, too, a little stream coming from her hairline.
“Amy, come back. Chelsea.” Lee shakes me. It works. I snap back. Vinnie is behind her, staring down at us, hands raised like he doesn’t know what he should do. Lee’s face is on a level with mine. “If she’s dead, can’t we just have her body? Can’t my mom have that?” Tears stream down her face now. Her hands grip my shoulders.
“I don’t know where he buried her,” I say. “That’s the truth.”
“Lee, stop,” Vinnie says. He pulls her away from me. He pulls her all the way around the front of the car. “You’re just pushing her away. You’ll get your answers when Amy can handle it. Okay?” He holds Lee by both shoulders. “Okay?”
“Okay,” Lee says. She turns back to me. “I’m sorry. I know I promised. I wasn’t lying; it’s just hard. It’s hard to be there for you and my mom both. And she was my sister. Not just her daughter, not just your friend, but my sister. I get to care, too.”
“I know,” I say. I realize that I have admitted to another person that Dee is dead, and now it truly can’t be stopped. But it could never be stopped, really. When I decided to come home, I put everything in motion.
“I’m sorry,” Lee says. She walks back to me and puts her arms around me. She pulls me in, and I press my hands against her back. Here she is, comforting me, when I’m the one who has ruined her mom’s life, and hers.
After a long time, Lee finally lets me go. She reaches on top of the car and takes the second package of Red Vines, and then she sits down on the ground. The parking lot is gross with gas stains and dirt and who knows what else, but she doesn’t seem to care. She rips open the package.
Vinnie sits down next to her and takes a Red Vine.
I sit down, too.
“My mom planned Dee’s whole life,” she says, mostly to Vinnie. “What classes she was going to take in high school. And when she would be allowed to date, and what her curfew would be. And now that she’d be eighteen, we’re getting college brochures in the mail.”
“Knowing will help her,” Vinnie says. He pulls Lee close, and she puts her head on his shoulder.
I don’t know what to say, so I chew a piece of candy. Even through everything, it’s still sweet.
“Now I have to tell her,” Lee says. “I know Amy can’t do it, so I have to. But unless she sees the body, she’ll never believe. She’ll keep on looking through those college brochures, trying to find the right one for her. Last month it was Reed. This month it’s Stanford. Dee got a lot smarter since she died, I guess.”
“She could have gone to Stanford,” Vinnie says. “She was smart.”
“She didn’t even like to read,” Lee says. “She couldn’t stand sitting alone and being quiet.”
“She would have been in every club,” says Vinnie. “Wasn’t she in a play over the summer? Maybe she would have been a star.”
“She would have tried,” Lee says. “Even if they didn’t give her the part she wanted, she would have kept going back. She never gave up. Never let all the shitty things about life get her down.” Lee folds a Red Vine and chomps through it. There were days, even weeks, even months, when I’d forget that Dee used to be like that. The kind of person who kept trying, who cried easily but then smiled. The person who would love a doll named Poopa and a little girl learning to say brilliant. She was buried inside Stacie, but she didn’t disappear forever. Maybe not until Barbie was born, maybe not even ever. If it had been her who came home, she might have recovered. Even after everything, she still could have had a chance.
“She deserved to go to college,” I say. It’s just one of a million things she deserved, one of a million things that Kyle took.
Vinnie holds up two Red Vines. “To Dee Springfield, superstar,” he says.
“To Dee.” Lee lifts her candy.
“To Dee,” I say. Across the parking lot, a car turns in. It drives slowly toward us and pulls into the nearest parking spot. A man gets out and heads for the Publik Mart while the woman sits in the passenger seat, checking her phone. Ordinary people are living their lives. All around town, people are sleeping through a regular, mild summer night. Tomorrow morning, they’ll wake up and go about their days. In the morning, Aunt Hannah will wake up, too. Lee will tell her that I admitted that Dee is dead, and there will be more questions. I know I can’t keep my secrets forever.
&n
bsp; I watch the woman get out of the car as the man returns. He hands her a pop, and she twists the top off. I haven’t had a pop in six years, and now I may never have one. Now I know that the life with candy and pop and family and friends isn’t something I can ever have.
My knuckles are bleeding, and the door is closed. Kyle won’t let me back in. Not tonight, maybe never. It’s not until I reach the edge of the tree line, until I pass the place that was the end of our world, that I realize I’m free. Kyle has let me walk away. And I was from a town called Grey Wood.
I didn’t know where else to go. But I should never have come back here.
• • •
Once Kyle found out Stacie was pregnant with Lola, he began bringing home dresses. They were pink and frilly and looked like they cost money. Stacie wore the dresses, but she wore her sweatpants under them. Stacie hadn’t been eating very much, but now Kyle made her sit at the table until she ate every single thing on her plate.
“Come on, Stacie,” he said to her. He picked up her fork and stabbed a piece of chicken with it. “Don’t you want our little angel to be strong?” He said it with a soft voice and a weird cadence, like he was already talking to a baby.
She ate mechanically, whatever he put in front of her, and she barely ever said a word.
Kyle began taking us both out for walks, because fresh air was supposed to be good for the baby. He held Stacie’s hand like she was his precious little girl who might get hit by a car while crossing the street, even though there were no streets because we were in the middle of nowhere. He held my hand tight because he was afraid I’d run away. He held my hand so tightly that he was cutting off the circulation.
But I had been inside that cabin for months, and I was so happy to be outside that I was about ready to laugh and also about ready to cry from joy. I didn’t care that Kyle was holding my hand, because we were getting close to the river, and it wasn’t that different from the river back in Grey Wood. I pulled them forward, trying to race for the riverbank. Kyle followed me, gripping my hand, and Stacie shuffled, almost letting herself be dragged.
Amy Chelsea Stacie Dee Page 13
