I swallow the lump in my throat. “You’d think I could at least see them in my dreams.”
Aunt Meg sniffles and dabs at her moist blue eyes. “Oh, sweetie,” she whispers in a choked voice.
I slip my hands into my jeans pockets. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
“No, no … I want you to talk to me. About your parents, about your dreams, about school … about everything.”
Then she hugs me, smelling all fresh and floral, and I think fleetingly, Who knows. Maybe I can.
Maybe this is a start.
Six
Blake tosses a candy wrapper into the bonfire and we watch it crackle and burn, our fingers dangling over our knees.
We got here late, opting for an impromptu frozen yogurt run, so the crowd has largely dispersed. People are still milling around on the football field, chatting with friends, sipping Cokes, or pouring some rum into their cups after surreptitious glances for chaperones. This is an official school function, after all, but even the adults seem mellow on this balmy starlit evening, a sea breeze occasionally wafting through the air from the Atlantic Ocean a few blocks away.
The six of us are sitting on a blanket: Blake, his brother Garrett, Jamie, Melanie, Lauren, and me. The vibe has been totally casual all evening—just a group of friends hanging out, although Melanie is subtly amping up the flirting with Jamie. A few guys have exchanged daps with Blake and offered him the obligatory pity smiles I’ve grown to know so well, but they’re otherwise giving him a respectful distance. No wonder Blake was ravenous for a friendship with no baggage. Being pitied is exhausting.
“Man, toss me a piece of gum,” Blake tells Jamie.
All eyes fall expectantly on Jamie, who pretends he didn’t hear.
“Dude,” Blake says.
Jamie’s eyes flicker in his direction. “What? ” he says.
Blake pauses a beat, then says, “Gum. Toss me a piece of gum?”
A long moment passes before Jamie reaches into his jeans pocket and produces the stick of gum. He holds on to it for a moment, then finally tosses it to Blake, his face inscrutable. He picks up a nearby stone and tosses it into the embers with a quick flick of his wrist.
I’m so confused. This is the friend who, I’m told, practically worships Blake? The sidekick who’s happy to bask in his way-more-popular friend’s afterglow? Jamie’s behavior doesn’t compute at all. He acts like he despises Blake. Or resents him. Yes, definitely resents him. I guess that makes sense; he was probably happy for Blake to call all the shots in the friendship when he was a scrawny, invisible little nobody, but now that he’s a ripped River Phoenix look-alike, he’s no longer interested in settling for Blake’s scraps. Is that what’s going on here? But it just seems so insensitive, given what Blake has gone through. I mean, it’s easy enough to hate the best-looking guy in school, unless he happens to be a cancer survivor whose girlfriend just died.
“So … I heard about your folks,” Garrett tells me, sneaking a glance at me. “It’s … just awful. I’m so sorry.”
I smile at him. “Thanks.”
“I can’t imagine one of my parents dying, let alone both of them at the same time,” Melanie says.
“Yeah,” I say. “Sucks.”
Silence.
“Didn’t mean to bring everyone down,” I murmur, but then I look up brightly. “You know what? There’s an upside. When life throws you the biggest curve ball you can imagine, you realize you’re stronger than you thought you were. You realize you’re a survivor.”
More silence, and now my eyes dart anxiously from one face to the next. Was that the wrong thing to say? I mean, considering that Blake’s girlfriend wasn’t a survivor? The guys are all staring at their hands, but Melanie and Lauren offer supportive smiles.
“That’s a good thing to know about yourself,” Lauren says.
I suck in my lips as I realize a tear is rolling down Jamie’s cheek. Melanie notices too, and she moves in closer. “You okay?”
He nods, rubbing his cheek roughly with his fist.
“Dude,” Blake says quietly.
“What? ” Jamie snaps at him, making us jump.
Blake’s palms fly in the air. “Nothing, dude, nothing. Just trying to be supportive. We’re cool … okay?”
Jamie holds his gaze, his eyes tear-stained but steely.
My mind reviews the information I’ve learned about Cara’s death: some friends were at a bonfire, Cara took off for a late-night swim, Blake and Jamie jumped on a jet ski and took off looking for her when they realized she was in trouble …
Right. Blake and Jamie. This was Jamie’s tragedy too. And yet he’s probably been barely an afterthought in people’s minds. It was Blake’s girlfriend, Blake’s loss, Blake’s heartache. Once again, Jamie was relegated to sidekick. Maybe that’s where all this hostility is coming from …
“Oh. My. God.”
We all glance up and see Natalie staggering toward us, the contents of a plastic cup sloshing in her hand.
“Hi, Natalie … ” I say.
“You really did it,” she says, her words slurred. “You dragged this poor guy to a bonfire. Brilliant, new girl, brilliant.” She juts out her chin. “Well, let me tell you something, Miss All-That: you don’t breeze into town messing with my friends. Got it?”
“Natalie, what are you—”
“You don’t have to defend her, Blake,” Natalie tells him, her tone shrill. “I know a conniving bitch when I see one.”
Garrett jumps to his feet and faces her. “Time for you to move along, Natalie.”
“Oh, please! She’s got you snowed too?” she asks Garrett, her words thick and sloppy. “You, of all people? Nobody knows better than you how devastated Blake is. You too, Jamie. A real friend would protect him from some slut trying to move in on him when he’s still totally—”
“Go home, Natalie!” Garrett snaps. “You’re drunk.”
Two girls timidly approach her from behind and start pulling her arms.
“No!” Natalie protests, shaking them away. “I won’t let my friend get his heart broken all over again.” She locks eyes with Blake. “I care about you!”
The girls are pulling her harder now, but Natalie breaks free again.
“You don’t even know for sure that she’s dead!” she tells Blake. “I mean, they never found her body, right?”
She jerks around toward me. “The love of his life might still be alive, you moron! Still think it’s a cool idea to throw yourself at him? Just because you look like Cara doesn’t mean you can step right into her life. And stop boring everybody with your sob story, by the way. Yes, everybody’s heard by now, Anne. Dead parents? Whatever. Parents are supposed to die before their kids. It’s not the same thing as what Blake is going through at all. You leave my friend alone! ”
Now, all three guys are on their feet. When Jamie reaches for Natalie’s arm, she splashes her drink in his face. “Some friend you are.”
The plastic cup falls from her limp hand as Jamie wipes the drink from his face. Her friends start pulling her insistently, and Natalie, now heaving throaty, jagged sobs, reluctantly lets herself be dragged away.
Everyone is frozen in place for a solid minute. The guys stay on their feet, the girls and I sit stunned and saucer-eyed on the blanket.
It’s Blake who finally shakes us from our stupor by throwing his hands in the air. “What the hell … I hardly even know that lunatic!” he sputters.
“I knew she was an idiot, but I didn’t know she was unhinged,” Lauren says, her voice somber.
The guys exchange charged glances.
“Oh, Anne … ” Melanie says. “I can’t believe what she said about your—”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I say.
“But to talk about your parents that way … ” Melanie mutters, her words trailing off.
“I barely even know her!” Blake repeats, clenching his knuckles as a vein bulges in his neck.
Jamie studies him evenly. “Yeah, well, she sure as hell knows you.”
“So … that was fun.”
Blake drops his head and laughs sheepishly. He’s dropped off everyone besides his brother and is lingering at my aunt and uncle’s front door, occasionally swatting a moth as it dives for the porch light.
“I dare that psycho to ever speak to me again,” he says. “Or to you.”
I wave a hand breezily through the air. “Aw, I’ve been through worse,” I say. “A girl in second grade cut off my braid one day in art class. True story. Although ragging on me for having dead parents … that’s a close second.”
Blake’s closed-mouth smile is showcasing a dimple I’ve never noticed. I squelch the impulse to reach out and touch it.
“Let me make it up to you,” he says. “Dinner tomorrow? I know Jamie had a good time with Melanie; we could make it a foursome.”
My eyebrows arch. “That was Jamie having a good time?”
Blake shrugs. “He’s just a little … edgy lately. But he’s a good guy. Really.”
He snatches my hand and kisses it. Then he leans in and kisses my lips.
It’s crazy … I barely know him.
But suddenly, kissing him back feels like the most natural thing in the world. His lips are warm and salty, like the sea air. He presses me tighter as I kiss him back. I love the feel of his arms around me, strong yet gentle. We kiss for a long moment—his head tilting right while mine tilts left, then vice versa—before we reluctantly pull away.
That’s when I glance at the driveway and notice Garrett looking at me from the front seat of Blake’s car. I clear my throat and point discreetly at the car.
“Your brother … ” I say.
Blake smiles his dimpled grin. “Yeah, I’ll definitely leave him home tomorrow night,” he says.
I smile back, yet feel a chill run up my spine. I can’t quite shake the look I just saw on Garrett’s face when I pulled away from Blake. Yes, having Garrett share our private moment was clearly awkward, but his expression registered something else as well. What did I see in his eyes as he watched me kiss his brother? Worry? Concern? Protectiveness? Yes, all those things. But it was the underlying emotion that made me shiver.
I saw fear in his eyes.
Uncle Mark is reading a book on the couch when I walk in.
“Hi,” I say, straightening my shirt.
He puts his book aside and sits up straighter. “Hi, honey. Have fun at the bonfire?”
I nod, feeling my cheeks flush as my mind races anxiously. From this vantage point, Uncle Mark couldn’t have seen Blake kiss me on the doorstep … right? And so what if he did? Is it a crime to kiss a guy on the doorstep, even after knowing him only a week? Still, it seems so … frivolous. My parents just died, for crying out loud. His girlfriend just died. Christ!
“I’m glad you’re making friends,” Uncle Mark says, seeming to intuit my thoughts. “It’s what your mom and dad would want.”
Would they? Would they be okay with my kissing a guy I barely know? Especially a guy who’s so … I dunno … complicated? Or are our mutual tragedies the ingredients that are somehow drawing us together, that make it right for us to be together? I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know … It’s just that nothing feels quite right anymore. Everything seems somehow … off.
Quit overthinking, I snap to myself.
“You know, your parents met in high school,” Uncle Mark says.
I nod and settle into a chair. “I know. Partners in the frog-dissecting lab.”
“The formaldehyde fumes must have jumbled your mom’s brains,” Uncle Mark teases. “Otherwise, your dad wouldn’t have stood a chance. She was so pretty. Just like you.”
I smile, staring at my lap.
“And she was so smart,” Uncle Mark continues. “Always way more mature than the other girls. She just had kind of this way about her … very confident and self-assured, even though she never seemed snobbish or anything. She just kinda … knew who she was and felt really comfortable with herself. You don’t see that every day in a teenager.”
I nod wistfully.
“Again,” Uncle Mark said, pitching forward in his seat, “just like you.”
I can’t meet his eyes. “That’s not like me at all,” I say softly.
“It is, honey,” he insists earnestly. “You are the most together girl I know … even after what you’ve been through.”
Then why do I feel so confused? I ask myself. Why can’t I get my bearings?
I just can’t quite wrap my head around how I feel about Blake.
And I can’t get Garrett’s expression out of my head.
Seven
“That was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.” Melanie taps her straw idly. “I mean, I knew Natalie was screwy, but— ”
Blake signals for the waitress. “Coke refill, please?” The waitress nods and grabs his empty glass, then heads toward the back of the restaurant with it.
“I knew she had a crush on you, but who knew she was, like, psycho?”
I roll a bit of paper from my straw between my fingers and bite my bottom lip. Granted, Natalie’s meltdown last night was legendary, but I wish Melanie would change the subject. Can’t the four of us just have a fun, relaxing evening? Maybe talk about the movie we just saw?
“Hey, did any of the rest of you notice the preview for the horror movie during the—”
“And what’s really weird,” Melanie says to Blake, “is that she acts like the two of you have some kind of a past. Like she was your girlfriend or something.”
Blake snorts. “In her dreams.”
My heart sinks a little. I’m not about to start a fan club for Natalie, and I totally understand Blake’s bitterness about the way she acted, but she’s clearly a troubled, insecure girl. What’s the point in taking potshots?
“She is delusional,” Melanie agrees, the word rolling on her tongue.
“A total wacko,” Blake says, smiling at the waitress as she returns with a filled glass.
“Please,” Jamie mutters under his breath.
Blake levels a steady gaze at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jamie’s eyes skitter away, but then he meets Blake’s gaze. “It means don’t act like you don’t love the attention,” he says, jerking his head to toss his blonde hair from his face.
Blake’s eyes narrow. “Love the attention? Love a girl coming up and throwing a tragedy in my face?”
“She wasn’t throwing it in your face,” Jamie corrects him, his voice unsettlingly soft. “She was throwing it in our faces.”
“So creepy that Cara’s body was never found … ” Melanie muses, more to herself than anyone else.
Jamie’s eyes fall, and Melanie finally notices the tension. She touches Jamie’s arm. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I know this is a terrible memory to dredge up.” She looks at Blake. “I’m really sorry.”
The moment hangs in the air, then Melanie asks Blake, “So … how long did you two date?”
Blake rubs the back of his neck. “Can we change the subject, please?”
Melanie blushes. “Yeah, sure. In fact … ” She takes Jamie’s hand. “Wanna play pool, Jamie?” She nods toward the poolroom in the back.
Jamie and Blake share another glance before Jamie nods ever-so-slightly. “Okay,” he says.
“Mmmm … bathroom first?” Melanie says to me, which I guess is my cue to accompany her.
The guys step out of the booth to let us pass, and Melanie and I head to the restroom.
“Sorry,” she tells me as we go inside. “I’ve never been in this kind of situation before. My natural instinct is apparently to blab incessantly.”
> I smile. “It’s okay. I guess you have to feel your way along. Hey, Mel?”
She glances at me as the door closes behind us. “Yeah?”
“Why do you think Jamie is so hostile to Blake?”
She leans into the mirror over the sink to touch up her lipstick. “I dunno, but I see now what you’re talking about. It’s a whole new vibe for them. They used to be total goofballs … very light-hearted. I guess the drowning really did a number on them.”
I shake my head. “But why would Jamie be mad at Blake?”
Melanie shrugs, pressing her lips together and tossing her lipstick tube back in her purse. “I don’t know that he’s mad … more like on edge.”
“That’s what Blake said,” I say. “That Jamie’s been really edgy since the tragedy. Understandable, I guess … ”
Melanie spins on a heel to face me. “Well, good news: I intend to do everything in my power to help Jamie relax. God, he’s hot. Think it’s premature to post pictures of us together on Facebook?”
“Um … ”
“Too late. I already did. Don’t you think he’s cute?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“There’s something so … vulnerable about Jamie. I think I’m in lust.”
I squeeze my arms around my chest. This is all so new to me, since I always steered clear of banal chatter about alpha males and Facebook photos. With Sawyer as my best friend, I enjoyed a comfortable and, okay, somewhat condescension-filled distance from the angst and drama of high school, even when I was dating someone. Now I feel I’ve been thrust into a leading role. A little exhilarating, I guess—Blake is definitely a hottie—but I can’t help feeling like I’m playing a part. Add a poor girl’s drowning as the backdrop, along with my own raw grief, and life has never felt more surreal.
“Well,” Melanie says, “I’m outie. Will you tell Jamie I’ll be waiting at the pool table?”
“Sure.”
As she leaves, I glance at my own image in the mirror. You’re the most together girl I know —Uncle Mark’s words ring in my head. If only he knew how much clatter was in my head.
I exhale through puffed-out cheeks, open the bathroom door, and head back for our table. As I get close, I hear Blake talking in a tight voice to Jamie: “Just cut it out, for god’s sake.”
Tragedy Girl Page 4
