But then, so am I.
Liana has lots of photo albums. The first is a series of her in her cheerleading uniform, doing split jumps and contorting her body in midair. There’s a shot of a squad of cheerleaders performing leg kicks in a line, then one of them lifting her onto a pyramid. Next, she’s on top, raising a pom-pom.
The next album is Liana with a litter of kittens around her. She’s holding one up, nose to nose. A little calico. The expression on Liana’s face is so serene. If Mom weren’t allergic, I’d have a houseful of cats.
A family album includes photos of people at Christmas. There’s a photo of Liana in flannel pajamas, sitting with a baby on her lap and opened packages all around. The baby has her dark hair and huge eyes. Is it hers? Is that why Swanee thought cheerleaders were sluts? Liana’s relatives, I assume, are hamming it up for the camera, and then the family is sitting around a dining room table with a turkey and all the trimmings.
There’s a wedding where Liana is one of the bridesmaids.
Then I see an album titled SWAN.
The pictures go on for pages and pages. The Smart car, Liana hanging out the window, waving to someone. Liana and Swanee wearing Joss’s wigs at a roller rink. I bet Joss was elated about that—if she even knew. How often did Liana go to Swanee’s house, or stay over?
I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care.
Another picture with Swanee pinning Liana’s arms to the ground. The two of them laughing, gazing into each other’s eyes. Kissing.
I know I wasn’t Swanee’s first, but it’s hard to look at the evidence of her loving someone else.
How long were they together? I wonder. Because I have maybe ten pictures in my Facebook albums. She was always telling me, “Don’t post my picture. I look fat.”
Which was ridiculous. She was a lean, mean, running machine.
Joss would know how long Swan and Liana were together. In fact, she might be the one who took all the pictures of Swanee and Liana.
I call Joss that night and the first thing she says is, “Did you get my stuff?”
“Yeah. It’s in your room. I didn’t find her cell.”
“It should’ve been there. I know she had it on her.”
“I’m sorry. It’s not there.”
“Look again.”
“Joss…”
“Never mind. I’ll find it myself. I forgot to add that I want Swan’s car keys. I get my permit this summer, and it’s only fair that I get her car.”
“I didn’t see the keys, either,” I tell her.
“Jewell or Asher must have them,” she says. “Did you look around the house?”
I did, but not for Swanee’s car keys. “No.” A half-truth.
“Look in Jewell’s purses.”
“Joss, I’m not about to go through Jewell’s belongings. Or Asher’s.”
The pout on her face carries long-distance.
“Well, that car is mine, and so is everything else of hers. She was my sister. Mine.” Joss’s voice cracks and she ends the call.
Damn. I didn’t call to upset her. I just needed to ask more questions about Liana.
My cell chirps. Same number. I answer and Joss says, “Check Jewell’s red leather hobo bag for the cell and keys. She had it with her at the hospital.”
Joss’s voice is steady and demanding. I don’t want to get into it with her again, but I’m not going to scrounge through Jewell’s purses.
“Can I ask you a couple more questions about Liana?”
Joss goes, “God. Can’t you just drop it?”
“How long did they go together?”
Joss says, “I suck at math.”
I grit my teeth. “I don’t. Tell me when they met and I’ll do the math.”
“I don’t know the exact date.”
“Approximately.”
She expels an exasperated breath. “Approximately August fifteenth.”
“Of this year?”
“No. Nineteen eighty-four.”
I ignore that. “How do you know?”
“I was there. It was during freshman orientation, and Swan volunteered to be my senior escort. We had this overnight camping trip in Estes Park, and Greeley West was having a cheerleading camp there at the same time. I guess their gaydars crossed.”
August fifteenth was two weeks before school started. “Wasn’t Swanee going with Rachel the first month of school or so?”
“Swan dumped her in October,” Joss says.
I hate that expression. “So Swanee and Liana didn’t start going out until after?”
Joss lets out a short laugh.
“What?”
“You might be good at math, but you suck at logic. Why do you think Swan gave Liana a fake name?”
I’m… stunned.
“Does that answer all your questions?” Joss says. “Aren’t you glad you asked?” She ends the call.
Mom opens my door and says, “What are your plans for the day?”
Sleep. I didn’t sleep all night, processing what Joss had told me. If Liana was the reason Swanee broke up with Rachel, does that make me “the other woman,” too? Joss said Swan and Liana were over, but were they? Liana’s text messages suggest otherwise.
“Alix?”
I’m still speechless.
“Your dad and I would like to go to a movie and were wondering if you’d mind babysitting.”
That word jolts me back to reality. “I can’t. Betheny asked me to help her with this… um… project.”
Mom looks at me—through me—and smiles. “Tell Betheny she’s welcome to come over and work on it here. I miss her. I’ve been wondering what happened between the two of you.”
“Nothing happened.” Swanee happened. I add, “We have to do it at her house because it’s on her desktop.” Where do I come up with this crap? Who uses a desktop anymore?
“Do you think Betheny would mind if you took Ethan with you?”
“Mom, we wouldn’t get anything done. He’s a total distraction.”
Her smile dissipates. “Fine. We won’t go.”
A knot of guilt forms in my stomach because they never go out together. “Can’t you call Jennifer?” She’s the owner of the day care where Ethan goes.
“I did. She’s busy. We’ll just go to the children’s museum. Again.”
Guilt-trip overload.
I can’t babysit. The last time I did, I almost killed my baby brother. It was that day Mom and Dad left me and Swanee alone with Ethan. Swan was watching Pirates of the Caribbean for, like, the fifth time, and I was bored, so I had all my jewelry makings spread all over the floor.
It seems Swanee wasn’t as into the movie as I thought because as soon as Mom and Dad left, she pushed me over and started kissing me. She had her hand up my shirt, tracing the outline of my bra and sticking fingers inside, and it felt so good, and I was losing control and just about to push her off when Ethan started choking.
His lips were turning blue and he was gasping for air and I freaked. I dug in his mouth but couldn’t feel anything, so I bent him forward over my arm and began to pound his back. Hard enough to crack a rib, but I was panicking.
“Call 911,” I told Swanee.
She just sat there.
All at once an object flew out of Ethan’s mouth and he drew a deep breath. As if in reflex, he began to wail. I lifted him up and carried him around the room, trying to calm him. I’d never seen him cry so hard.
I warmed a bottle and he finally settled back in my lap, but I couldn’t stop shaking.
“What did he swallow?” I asked Swanee.
She got up and found a slimy button on the carpet. All I could think was, I’m so irresponsible, I’m so irresponsible.
And Swanee… She wanted to pick up where we left off.
After that Ethan always looked terrified whenever I came close. Like he knew he was in imminent danger.
I take a shower to wash the memory away, and it helps. A little. Lying on my bed, I log on to Facebook and se
e that no new condolences have been left on my wall. I don’t know if I’m thankful or not. It’s like Swanee’s being forgotten, and it’s only been two weeks.
There is a message waiting for me.
It’s from Liana. One sentence: I don’t understand
She must’ve seen the few photos in my album, and read my relationship status. I message Liana back: She lied to you. I almost add, She lied to both of us, but I have this revelation: What if Swanee did break up with Liana and Liana couldn’t, or wouldn’t, accept it? She might’ve been stalking Swanee. Swan never mentioned it to me, but maybe she didn’t figure it was my problem. Or she ran out of time.
I go to unfriend Liana and see she’s already responded to my message.
We need to talk. Call me?
She’s included her phone number.
I don’t want to call her. Now I just want her to go away, to never have existed. There’s nothing and no one who can fill this void that’s expanding inside me day by day. Knowing Swanee’s past will only make the present more real.
I go to log off and see another message has arrived.
It’s her again. Please?
Shit. Why did I start this? Now I’m obligated to end it.
I nearly make the mistake of using Swanee’s cell. Liana answers my call on the first ring. I say, “This is Alix.”
She inhales and exhales a stuttered breath. “I can’t believe she’s dead.” Liana barely gets the words out before she hiccups a sob. “I found her obituary online, and the date matched the one you said.”
Her pain travels through me, and my eyes pool.
“Did you know Joss was texting me all this time?” she asks
I cringe. “No.”
She starts sobbing again.
There’s no way we’re going to be able to talk on the phone. I say, “Do you want to meet?”
She blows her nose. “I have to work at two.”
“Where do you work?”
“In Greeley. At the mall.”
I check my clock and it’s a little after ten. Mom and Dad will probably be gone until early afternoon.
“We could meet now,” I say.
“Where?” She sniffles.
“I don’t know.”
“There’s a McDonald’s in Broomfield right off 287. Do you know where that is?”
“Yeah,” I say.
She adds, “It’ll probably take me twenty or twenty-five minutes.”
“If I get there first, I’ll wait.” I owe her that.
She stays on the line, like she wants to say more. Or is waiting for me to speak. This sensation floods through me like when a roller coaster begins its ascent and you can see the top of the rise and you know any second the bottom is going to drop out from under you.
She starts crying again and disconnects. I hang on a moment longer, regaining my equilibrium.
Chapter 9
For some reason I take my time getting ready. Combing my hair into a ponytail the way Swanee usually wore hers, and then taking it down. As if it might remind Liana. As if I care. Putting on makeup. Trying different outfits.
“For God’s sake,” I say aloud. “It’s not a date.”
When I get to the McDonald’s, she’s huddled in a corner booth, hugging her knees, her face buried between her arms. There’s a Coke cup with a straw on the table in front of her, but nothing else. I approach and she lifts her head slowly. Her face looks drained and her eyes are red.
I slide in across from her and she hides her face again.
This is going to be a waste if she’s not even going to talk to me. Suddenly, she twists her head so her cheek is resting on her knee and says, “When did you know?”
Know what? Oh. “The day she… it… happened.”
Liana’s eyelashes are wet and she wipes a tear from under one eye. Blinking up at me, she says, “Why would she tell me her name was Swanelle Delaney and that she went to Cherry Creek High?”
I don’t want to touch that. “Why does—did—Swan do anything?”
Liana doesn’t seem to register the remark. She looks off, out the window. “I called her Swan, too.”
Oh, God. I fight for control over my emotions.
“Did she even live in Greenwood Village?”
“No,” I say. “She lived in Arvada and went to Arvada High.” My stomach rumbles and I say, “I need something to eat or drink.”
Liana shoves her Coke across the table. “Take mine. I haven’t touched it. I’ll buy you something if you’re hungry. And pay for your gas, since I made you come.”
“That’s okay. You didn’t make me.” It’s nice of her to offer. I don’t want her to be nice. I want her to be a stalker. And a bitch. But I do accept the Coke.
The cold, fizzy liquid feels soothing to my dry throat as I sip from the straw. She watches me intently with her big brown eyes and says, “Joss always hated me. Swan said she was prejudiced against Mexicans. But it goes beyond prejudice to text me for two weeks and make me think Swan was still alive. That’s just cruel.”
I choke. Set the cup down.
I’ve never known Joss to be racially biased. She pretty much loathes people across the board.
I open my mouth to tell Liana it was me, and I’m sorry, and I don’t know why I did it except I wasn’t in my right mind at the time.
“I didn’t even get to say a rosary for her.” Liana swallows hard. “Did she have a service?”
I nod. “More like a party.”
Liana frowns. “Why would you have a party when someone passes?”
My question exactly. “Jewell and Asher wanted to celebrate her life.”
“Who are they?”
Is she serious? “Swanee’s parents.”
Her eyes widen. “You know them?”
“Yeah. They’re cool.”
She just looks at me. “I don’t get any of this. Swan lies about her name and where she lives and goes to school. She tells me her parents don’t know she’s gay—”
I laugh a little. Liana’s eyes harden. “They knew,” I say. “She’s the outtest person in the world.”
Liana’s head drops back against the seat. I swirl the straw in the Coke and look at her. She’s beautiful, even though she’s wrung out. Liana lifts her head. “It says on your Facebook profile that you were in a relationship with her.”
I can’t hold her eyes. “I was.”
“For how long?”
“Since Christmas break.” I should’ve cherished every moment like it was our last. You never think… “How long were you with her?”
Liana watches me draw Coke from her straw. “The twentieth of February would’ve been our six-month anniversary. We were planning to get married after graduation.”
I cough and Coke comes up my nose. “Joss said she broke up with you.”
“Joss is a liar, in case you haven’t figured that out by now.” In a murmur she adds, “A heartless liar with no soul.” She pauses. “I assume you found out about me through her. She must’ve been jumping with joy to let you know Swan was cheating on you.”
The statement strikes me like a blow to the chest.
I say, “It wasn’t like that. I found clues. Stuff in Swan’s room. Your poetry book and your CD. I had to drag it out of Joss.”
“Right,” she says, like she doesn’t believe me.
Our eyes meet again.
Liana’s well with tears. “I can’t do this.” She slides out of the booth, racing to the exit.
I’m paralyzed. Not only was Swanee dating Liana behind my back—cheating—she told me I was the love of her life and that we would always be together.
My cell rings on my way home, but I know better than to answer while I’m driving. The ringtone indicates it’s Mom or Dad, so no emergency, other than checking up on me. I hope to God they didn’t call Betheny’s house.
I pull into the garage and check my voice mail. It’s Mom telling me they’ll be home around five and to please figure out something for dinner.
Swanee never had to cook dinner for her family. I don’t know of one time they even ate dinner together as a family.
Swanee.
I’m so baffled now I’m not even sure who’s lying to who. If Swanee had given Liana her real name, she’d have known about Swanee’s death. I wonder if Swan gave a single thought to how much pain it would cause both Liana and me if either of us found out about the other.
Why I care about Liana’s feelings is a mystery. Except I know how much I’ve been hurting since Swanee died, and I’d only been going with her for a few weeks. We hadn’t even slept together.
Mom calls again and I answer, feeling numb. She says, “Did you get my message?”
“Yes.” Marching orders received.
“How was Betheny’s?”
“Fine,” I say.
“Did you finish the project?”
Rather than lying, I say, “I better get started on dinner. Do you care if it’s edible?”
I hear amusement in her voice when she replies, “You’re a great cook and you know it.”
At least I like to cook. Betheny and I used to watch the Food Network a lot, so I’ve developed a small repertoire of recipes. In the freezer I find a package of chicken breasts, which I microwave to thaw, and all the makings for panko-crusted chicken and scalloped potatoes. After I assemble everything and get it in the oven, I realize I’m starving. I grab a bag of Double Stufs to take to my room.
Swanee loved Oreos. We had this sexy way of eating them where she’d separate the halves, take a long lick of the frosting, and then hand it off to me to do the same. We’d repeat this until all the frosting was gone. Then she’d cover her eyes with the cookies and say, “Kiss me, Cookie Monster.”
I almost laugh at the memory, but it catches in my throat.
I make myself a PB-and-banana sandwich for lunch and throw in a handful of Oreos. Then I take the Oreos out and stack them back in the package.
At school, as I’m about to enter the media center to eat, the librarian is locking the door.
“Oh, Alix,” she says. “You can’t eat lunch in here every day. I thought you understood that.”
I did, of course. I do. It’s the rule.
Lies My Girlfriend Told Me Page 6
