The truth sat between them—now that Ash’s dad was dead, he’d never get the chance to be the favorite. She scrambled for something to say, anything to keep Ash from bringing up the fact that her dad had died, too. Even though it was something they had in common, it wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have. Not then. Not ever. “Parents. Whatever.”
Ash’s gaze inched across her shoulders, the tension gone as one corner of his mouth lifted, revealing a dimple on his left cheek. “I bet your mom doesn’t understand you, not at all. I know what that’s like,” he went on, letting his gaze drop to the deep V of her sweater. “For people not to get you. But my mom is cool.”
Glad to have the topic of dead dads behind them, Lexi shook off the sadness that always came on the heels of thoughts of her dad as she smirked and rolled her eyes. “‘Mine’s got her own ideas about the way things are.”
And she could stay tuned to that imaginary station as long as she liked, but not Lexi. Reality wasn’t a problem for her. She had a plan. College was her ticket out of Cherry Grove. After she graduated from high school she’d get out of the place and be on to an actual life that meant something.
Thinking about all the mess with Monica, that last day in Cherry Grove couldn’t come fast enough. To make that happen, she had to keep up the I’ve-got-it-all-going-on act. The one she was in the middle of now.
“What about your stepdad?” Ash took another drink, studying her with curious eyes. “Does he understand you?”
The idea of Dale understanding anything at all almost made her laugh out loud. But that was another topic of conversation she wanted to avoid. Keeping the disgust off her face, she replied, “He got another out-of-town welding job, so he’s not around.”
Thank God. Even though her mom clung to the ridiculous hope that the three of them might be a family again someday, Lexi was glad Dale was trying out for Absentee Dad of the Year.
“Coach Filpot was asking about him the other day.”
“Dale?” Trying to wipe the very un-cute shock off her face, she added, “Why?”
Ash set down the milk, picked up his keys, started tossing them fist to fist. The light jingle created a soft rhythm. “Since Jon graduated last year, we don’t have him catching anymore.”
“So?”
“It’s gonna be a tough season, that’s all.” He started tossing the keys more quickly and the sound got louder. “Remember freshman year, when your stepdad assisted? He’s good. Knows how to make people do what he wants them to. Coach wants him back.”
As if she could forget Dale hanging around every minute of every practice. He’d only offered to help because at the time she’d been going out with the first baseman and being the assistant coach had given him the perfect opportunity to butt into her business. Unfortunately for her, he knew some stuff about baseball and had actually contributed to the success of the team.
“What about Jon?” Lexi asked, doing everything she could to keep the tension out of her voice. “You heard anything from him?”
Ash stopped tossing the keys. “Nope.”
“He’s freaked everyone out by running off like that. Just completely vanishing, without saying anything to anyone.” Anxiety made her ramble on. “That’s not really like him. Even though he’s kind of a nerd, he’s not a loner. Did somebody go with him, do you think?”
Smirking, Ash said, “Like he met someone while playing League of Legends?”
Jon the uber techy gamer. It was possible. Lexi hoped that was the case. It was way better than some of the alternatives she’d dreamed up. She reached up and swiped away the fine sheen of sweat on her forehead.
Ash tipped back in his chair. “His mom’s lost it.” He nodded to his cell sitting in the middle of the table. “She keeps calling me—and everybody else on the team—asking if he’s called or texted. Or been on Facebook.” Still chuckling, he dropped forward, then started flipping his keys again, the metallic jangle breaking up the silence.
Lexi couldn’t take talking about disappeared Jon anymore. “When does practice start anyway? Maybe I’ll come watch, cheer you on.”
“Not for months.” Still holding the keys, Ash set his left hand on his right shoulder and swung his elbow up. “I didn’t know you were interested in baseball.”
Lexi straightened, arching her back. “It’s the best sport to watch. A guy has to be really confident. It’s not like football, where everyone’s running around at the same time, hiding under those stupid helmets and pads while they smash into each other like idiots.” She tilted her head, hoping to look casual as she tiptoed around, testing the waters. “Besides, I’m a member of the athletic boosters. We’re all supportive of the players.”
Ash frowned as he set the keys next to the milk carton.
“You know,” she continued, artfully twisting a strand of hair around one pink acrylic nail, “we have that auction every fall. The one where you guys get to help us raise money for equipment by being someone’s personal assistant for the day? Since you’re the pitcher that kind of makes you the leader and—”
“Yeah, about that.” The light went out of his eyes. “Being someone’s personal ass is—” His cell’s ringtone, an old song from The White Stripes, cut through his words. He checked the display. “Jon’s mom. Again.”
He slid Lexi an apologetic grin, answered with an adult-friendly ‘hello’, and immediately started reassuring Jon’s mom that he hadn’t heard anything from the guy. Not one word. Email. Or text.
She shifted away from Ash, taking in each carefully coordinated inch of the Carpenters’ Home Channel kitchen. Yellow roses dotted the curtains and dishcloths, deep-green ivy crept up the walls. Tidy rows of white plates and matching mugs sat on the shelves. The desperately successful combination mocked her as minutes dragged by. Intentionally blocking out Ash’s end of the conversation with Jon’s mom, she stewed on the manageable part of her dilemma. The part that didn’t threaten to tear her world apart. The way she saw it, there were two possibilities.
Get Ash on her list—significantly increase chances of replacing Taylor as the athletic boosters’ president for next year.
Lose Ash to Monica—watch Monica accept the post. And the recognition and, more importantly, the instant respect that came with it.
The garage door opener clicked on, followed by the rattle of the door going up. Mrs. Carpenter. So much for using them being alone to her advantage. Despite what Ash said about his mom being understanding, Lexi knew having a mom around changed everything. Especially when it came to guys.
Lexi’s cell vibrated. She checked the screen—her best friend, Jasmine Panjiwani, asking for a status update. She looked back at Ash, ready to offer him a flirty grin, but his gaze was focused on the other side of the kitchen where Mrs. Carpenter was coming in.
He covered the phone with his hand, speaking softly to his mom, “Jon’s mom again.” Glancing at Lexi, he frowned, adding, “Sorry, I guess this is gonna be a while. I’ll get you tomorrow or something, okay?” He turned away, giving Jon’s mom his full attention.
“Sure.” This opportunity was over. She grabbed her bag then slid out of the chair, slowing only just enough to say hi to Mrs. Carpenter, but the woman cornered her.
“Isn’t it awful?” she said, clutching a grocery bag. “Ashton and I, with his dad gone, I don’t know what I’d do if he ran off like that. Left me all alone. Poor Mrs. Eagle.” There was an awkward pause while Ash’s mom stared off into space, thinking about God knows what. Then, just when Lexi thought she was going to get free, the woman leaned close enough to deliver a cloud of White Linen. “Are you and Ashton dating?”
Dating?
“Um, no.” She glanced at Ash but he didn’t seem to be paying attention to this super awkward moment. “We’re just talking about school stuff.”
“Oh. Well. That’s nice.” Mrs. Carpenter lowered the bag, took a relieved or disappointed—Lexi couldn’t tell which—step back, and started unpacking the groceries. “You come over any time, de
ar.”
Talk about weird.
Lexi called thanks over her shoulder as she rushed through the stiff, overdecorated living room.
Outside, she scurried to her embarrassing, beat-up blue Saturn parked by the curb. The car took two tries to get it started. Once the engine was rumbling, she switched the radio on, then pulled out onto Oak. Familiar houses blurred past and within ten minutes she was turning right, onto her street. The one street in picture-perfect Cherry Grove lined with shabby houses and punctuated by broken-down cars. Not even the charming fall trees made much difference. It was the section of town everyone else pretended didn’t exist.
She parked on the side of the driveway closest to the neighbor’s house, right next to their tattered basketball net. A cat screeched, the wiry hound dog across the street barked then howled. Some kids were shouting from a yard a couple houses down. It was the usual thing. Trying not to look at the drab ordinariness, she stomped through the crunchy leaves scattered across the walk and headed for her door.
No matter what it took—hiding secrets, avoiding reality, dealing with Monica—she’d get away from Cherry Grove. No way in hell was this place going to be her future.
Chapter Two
Another Day in Cherry Grove
Sunday night, Lexi sat cross-legged on the couch staring at the television, idly flipping through the lame basic cable channels. Weather, news, sports talk shows, reruns of stuff nobody really wanted to watch in the first place.
Her mom rattled around the kitchen, starting their usual late dinner. Probably Hamburger Helper or some other uninspired meal-in-a-box. “That surprise I told you about will take your mind off him—and those auction sign-ups.”
Lexi never should have told her mom about waiting to hear from Ash, but she’d had to do something to distance her from talking about still-missing Jon. Just because her mom worked at the school superintendent’s office, she thought she was part of everything. So she always wanted to talk about school, kids and the teachers.
“There’s more to life than guys, honey,” she said, ignoring Lexi’s silence.
“Oh, really?” Lexi mumbled over the whine of the can opener.
She loved her mom, but the woman was a disaster when it came to men, relationships and understanding what mattered. And Lexi was past hoping things between her and her mom could be the way they had been before her father had died, or even right afterward, before Dale Welks had weaseled himself into the picture. Right after her dad had died, Lexi had felt important, needed. She’d helped her mom sort through his clothes and the other stuff he’d left behind. It had been sad, boxing things up and taking them to the Salvation Army donation place, but her mom had needed her then. During that time before Dale, the two of them had been close, spending weekend afternoons watching movies, baking or going to garage sales. It had been simple, ordinary stuff but it had been just the two of them.
Then along came Dale, filling her mom’s head with a bunch of daydreams. Fantasies that he’d destroyed then rebuilt over and over for the past couple years. This time he’d been gone long enough that it seemed like he might actually be gone for good. Even though her mom couldn’t see it, they were both better off without him. If he stayed gone long enough, maybe things could go back to the way they had been before.
Her mom gave the oven door a final push then joined Lexi in their small family room. “Could you put on the news for the weather?” she asked, dropping into her favorite, brown plaid chair. “Maybe you want to help with raking tomorrow after school? We could do it together when I get home. It might take your mind off—”
“I’ll put the news on,” Lexi sighed. “But I’ll pass on raking leaves.”
After stopping on channel seven, she tossed the remote onto the table and leaned forward to grab the notes for her US history quiz, but paused.
Familiar trees. And those benches.
Where?
Then she knew.
Morgan Park.
Speaking blandly, pointing over his shoulder, the newscaster continued with his update. “The body was spotted by a nearby resident who saw the man seated on the park bench around ten in the morning then again later when she went out to walk her dog. The woman approached the man, then called nine-one-one when he was not responsive.”
The image of the reporter shifted to the side and a second reporter, back at the station, popped into view.
“The body has been identified as Mr. Filpot, Cherry Grove High’s popular baseball coach.”
Her mom gasped then mumbled something.
The reporter said more things that didn’t register with Lexi, then concluded with, “I’m sure we’ll be hearing more about this as additional information is released.”
Coach Filpot dead?
As in, like, never coming back?
Lexi blinked. Her mom murmured something about the coach’s poor family.
Dead was dead.
What’ll happen to the player auction?
The stab of guilt that came on the heels of that thought made Lexi wince, but the question didn’t go away.
Neither did the shivers that sent her heart skittering.
The next morning, outside science lab three, thick gray clouds smothered the sky, threatening to explode with plump pellets of rain. The oranges and yellows of the early-turning trees gleamed like liquid fire, and the branches swayed and spit leaves onto the ground. Inside the school, everyone hunched over their work, half awake, struggling along with the assignment. The whisper of conversation was light, even for first hour Monday morning. Thanks to Taylor’s Twitter, Instagram and Facebook blitz, red and black ‘school spirit’ outfits acted as a constant reminder that Coach Filpot had died just the day before.
Lexi’s sketchpad was covered with lousy attempts to recreate the microorganisms clinging to her microscope slide, and the drawings were getting worse by the minute. Each time she looked at the slide the stupid things blurred together, turning themselves into pinkish, shapeless blobs. How was she supposed to draw that? Somehow she had to get motivated. Every grade mattered and all those grades together were her ticket out.
Jasmine was perched on a tall stool across the lab table, her notes scattered over its enameled surface. She kept shuffling the papers around, putting them in order then rearranging them. She wasn’t the only one showing signs of stress. All around the room people were halfheartedly flipping through textbooks, sitting with their chins low, and tapping their pencils against notebooks.
Jazz waved her hands. “This is ridiculous. Nobody’s getting anything done. They should’ve canceled school,” she whispered to Lexi.
Lexi twisted away from the microscope. Jazz’s usually perfect ebony bob lay flat against her scalp, and the flawless makeup was missing from her thickly lashed, sable eyes. Not even her bright red, mini-cable cashmere twinset made her look decent.
“You guys still doing the auction?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Lexi whispered back. “Taylor put up a post last night. It’s still on. That’s what Coach would’ve wanted.”
“She’s right.” Jazz rolled her pencil across the black table, the tiny rattle loud in the hushed room. “At least they know what happened to Coach. He had a heart attack or something. But what about Jon? He could be hurt or—or—”
What could Lexi say that wouldn’t freak Jazz out even more? Or, worse yet, reveal what she knew? “He hasn’t really done anything since graduation. Maybe he just wanted some time to himself before he left for the navy. Isn’t he supposed to leave around Thanksgiving?” Lexi offered, even knowing how lame she sounded.
“The cops are wrong, nobody knows anything. Alan and I talked to everyone on the team. Trust me, if there was someone who knew something we would have found it out.” Jazz frowned and leaned forward. “It’s not like him to go somewhere without telling anyone. And leave alone? No way.”
Too true. Jon Eagle was the kind of guy who’d text his mom from a party to let her know when he’d be home. Not the kind to run off
without telling anyone. But then again, how well can you ever really know someone?
“I called his house again this morning—still nothing. The cops aren’t actually doing everything they can. They’re just saying they are to shut people up.” Jazz started pushing her papers around again. “We’re going to add more stuff to the Facebook page we made, more pictures, and list the places where he hangs out.”
Awesome.
A virtual milk carton.
Thinking of Jon’s frantic mother, Lexi shoved her notebook across the table. “Good idea, maybe it’ll help.” She hopped down from the high stool in front of the microscope. “Go ahead and take your turn—everything I’m drawing sucks.”
Jazz shrugged and changed seats. “Might as well try to get something done.”
Lexi set her pathetic drawings aside, pulled out her chapter questions and flipped through the overloaded textbook. As the bright photographs and glossy diagrams flashed past, her attempts to concentrate were ruined by a pair of seniors speculating about Coach Filpot.
Dead Coach Filpot.
“It’s wild, him dying like that. I could see him getting a heart attack running around, cussing out umpires, but not sitting on a park bench.”
“What makes you so sure he had a heart attack? They didn’t say how he died.”
“What else could it be? He was sitting there, had a heart attack, and croaked.”
One of them snickered. “Maybe that missing guy—Jon Eagle—killed him!”
“Yeah, Cherry Grove’s own serial killer.”
“Shut the hell up,” a red-haired jock growled. “Not everyone around here is like morbid like you losers.”
Other kids joined in and the room swelled with speculation. Some stupid, some grisly.
After a moment, a carefully pitched voice sliced through the chatter, worming its way straight into Lexi’s ear. “Hi there. Aren’t you the picture of the serious student?”
Best Friends Never Page 2
