He squeezes his eyes shut, shifts his weight again, then looks at me again. “Anne, I love my brother. I really do. I just don’t always … trust him.”
I consider his words, then say, “Because?”
He grips his hands together. “Blake is used to things going his way. I know that sounds crazy after everything he’s been through, but it’s true. His ego has always gotten a lot of stroking. He … I dunno, there’s, like, this air of entitlement. I just like to … keep an eye on him.”
I stand there quietly, waiting for him to continue.
“He’s always been the golden boy,” Garrett says. “Then, when he got cancer, it’s like his popularity went into overdrive. He became the town celebrity or something. And my mom … I mean, he’d always been spoiled, but when he got sick, he … he could do no wrong, you know what I mean?”
I nod. Yes. Spoiled. Entitled. I’ve finally started seeing that clearly. How could I have been such an awful judge of character? Was I really that desperate to postpone my future, or maybe to jump-start a new post-parent life? I feel like such an idiot.
“Garrett,” I ask him softly, “does Blake volunteer for the children’s hospital?”
Garrett’s eyes crinkle. “The children’s hospital? I mean, he was treated there when he had cancer. Is that what you mean?”
No. It isn’t what I mean. I sigh defeatedly.
“Anne, I don’t think you should date Blake.”
Garrett says these words so fast that it takes me a moment to process them.
“Why is there such a weird vibe between Blake and Jamie?” I ask him.
He averts his eyes and mumbles something I can’t understand.
“Why did you rush over here in such a panic?” I continue, then slowly step closer to him. “What did you think had happened with Blake and me?”
“Nothing, nothing,” he murmurs. “I didn’t know … ”
“Did you think I was … in danger?”
He doesn’t answer, so I answer for him.
“You sure as hell did. You flew over here in a pouring rainstorm like some kind of maniac. You thought something had happened to me. Like … like something happened to Cara … ”
He looks at me intently for a moment, then shakes his head roughly. “I don’t know what I thought. I didn’t know what was going on. I just overheard my brother leaving you some voicemails and sounding upset. I just thought—”
“You’re afraid of your brother. You were afraid for me.”
Garrett’s face darkens. “Dammit, Anne, quit putting words in my mouth! I just dropped by to check on you! Stupid, right? I mean, you’re a big girl. I don’t know what I was thinking. Now your whole family thinks I’m a maniac. Classic. Great. Whatever. It won’t happen again. Just … just stay away from Blake. Okay?”
But before I can answer, Garrett has opened the front door and dashed back out into the storm, the raindrops pounding his bare head as he runs to his car.
I squint, watching him as he pulls out of our driveway and tears away.
But through the blinding rain, all I can see is a blur.
Twenty-Two
I’m in the back seat of our minivan as Dad drives Mom and me to the beach. We’ve headed out for our annual summer vacation, and I roll down my window to enjoy the breeze. My hair’s still long; I haven’t cut it yet. I flick it out the window and let it fly through the air. Mom and Dad are murmuring something in the front seat. I can’t understand what they’re saying, but they’re clearly content, smiling and lightly clasping each other’s hand. Dad’s listening to a Braves game on the radio, and Mom holds a crossword puzzle in her lap, filling out the answers in ink.
I hear a plane overhead and wave at the pilot, whose face I can somehow see clearly. He waves back, a Snoopy-type scarf wrapped jauntily around his neck.
I hum a tune, my hair still blowing in the breeze, then lean up and say, “Hey, it just occurred to me that you guys are here with me.”
Dad says, “Of course we are, sweetheart. We’re always here.”
“Well, this is great!” I say, the full implication finally dawning on me. My parents are here! With me! We’re all together! Yes, I know they’re dead, but we’re together right now, and although I realize I’m dreaming, it’s okay, because, oh my god, we’re together!
I finger a strand of my hair, then tug on the full length of it. But it isn’t long anymore. Now it’s short.
Dad pulls into Uncle Mark and Aunt Meg’s driveway. He and Mom are still smiling, still relaxed, but I’m getting nervous. Why isn’t Dad turning off the engine? Why aren’t they getting out of the car?
“Why are you dropping me off? Why can’t we all stay here together?” I ask.
“Can’t, honey,” Dad says. “Sorry.”
I’m stammering around trying to object, but Mom is already ushering me out of the car, putting my hand in Aunt Meg’s.
“Can I at least hug you before you leave?” I ask her, and her face beams.
“Oh, sweetie, of course you can!”
I hug her tightly, savoring every second. I know it won’t last—it can’t last, as much as we all want it to—but this moment is sheer perfection.
For one golden moment, I’m in my mother’s arms again.
“Morning.”
Uncle Mark lifts his cup of coffee as a greeting.
I join him at the kitchen table. “You’re usually long gone by the time I get up,” I say in my scratchy morning voice, flicking my bedhead bangs off my forehead.
“And look what I’ve been missing,” he teases, sweeping his arm toward my shlumpy flannel pajama pants and wrinkled T-shirt.
“Hi, honey,” Aunt Meg says, walking from the stove to present a stack of pancakes. “I cooked this morning.”
“Gee … ”
As she puts three of the pancakes on my plate, I observe her and Uncle Mark warily. “Is this some sort of intervention?”
I expect a chuckle, but instead, Aunt Meg pulls up a chair by mine and leans into her elbows. “I told Mark you were breaking up with Blake today.”
“O-kay … ” I say. “So he’s gonna come to school with me and, like, be my bodyguard?”
Again, nobody laughs. “If need be,” Aunt Meg says gravely.
I laugh lightly at their earnestness. “I’ll be fine,” I say. “God, it sounds so stupid to even talk about ‘breaking up’ with him. How long have I known him? Two weeks?”
“I overheard you talking to his brother last night,” Aunt Meg says, then adds breathlessly, “Anne, we’re worried about you.”
Hmmmmm. It takes me a moment to process being eavesdropped on.
“If you were so worried, why didn’t you talk to me as soon as Garrett left?” I ask.
She chews a nail. “I don’t know … we weren’t sure what to do. We don’t want to intrude, or push you away, or—”
“We just want you to know we’re here for you,” Uncle Mark says quietly. “If you need reinforcements, you know … we’re your guys.”
I study Uncle Mark—so steady, so caring, so much like my dad—then smile wanly at him.
“Anne,” Aunt Meg says, inching her chair closer, “I had a boyfriend in college. He seemed like a really nice guy at first, but he was actually very controlling and manipulative. It didn’t go well when I broke it off; it was a blow to his ego, and he couldn’t stand that. So he started stalking me, calling me in the middle of the night commenting on what I’d worn that day, even though I hadn’t known he was anywhere around … things like that.”
“And then you married him?” I ask, gesturing toward Uncle Mark, desperate to lighten the mood.
Uncle Mark chuckles gamely, but Aunt Meg stretches her lips into a grim straight line.
“This is no laughing matter,” she tells me. “I ended up having to get a restraining order. Honey,
Blake … he reminds me of that guy.”
I sigh heavily. “I’m sorry I’ve got you guys so worried.”
“No, no,” Aunt Meg insists.
I tap my fingers idly on the tabletop. “I feel like such an idiot. What did I see in him in the first place? Garrett called him spoiled and entitled last night—not that I have to tell you that, I guess—but I just thought, you know, ‘Duh. Of course. Why didn’t I see that right away?’ I thought I was a better judge of character.”
“Honey, you’ve been through so much lately,” Aunt Meg coos, but I shake my head.
“Having your parents die doesn’t give you a pass to be stupid. I was such an idiot. And now I’m wrapped up in a bunch of ridiculous gossip and rumors. This is so not me.”
Uncle Mark gets out of his chair, walks over, and puts his hand on my back. “Annie, you’re spectacular,” he says softly, and I feel tears welling in my eyes. “You are amazing. You met a guy who’s been through a tough time, and your heart went out to him. That’s it. Now you’re realizing it’s not a good fit and you’re moving on. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
A long moment passes.
“But that won’t keep Blake from potentially flipping out,” Aunt Meg finally says, putting her hand on my knee. “That’s what we’re worried about.”
I swallow hard.
“How about if I take you to school today and pick you up this afternoon?” Uncle Mark says. “I could step inside and give the principal a heads-up … you know, just ask him to keep an eye on things.”
I sit up straighter and look him in the eye. “I’ll be okay. I promise. I’m afraid if we all start changing things up, it’ll make it seem like a big deal. I don’t want this to be a big deal. I just want to not be dating some guy I’ve barely been dating anyway. I want to be done with drama.”
Uncle Mark considers my words, then nods. “I get that.”
“And I’m really not afraid of him,” I say. “I’ll just tell him when I see him at my locker today that I think we need to cool it. Seven hundred people will be right there with us. And I’ll have my cell phone in my purse, so if I need you … ”
“Call us any time,” Aunt Meg says.
I nod. “I will. And, guys?”
Their eyes prod me on.
“I really am sorry I worried you. I hate to cause you any more trouble than I already have. You know, the whole dumping-myself-on-your-doorstep deal … ”
“Ah, that,” Uncle Mark says teasingly. “Yeah, when you put it that way, I see that taking you in kinda filled our quota for good deeds. Shall I start keeping a tab of all the extras we’re throwing in?”
I giggle at him, and then Aunt Meg starts giggling too. It feels so good to laugh.
“No tabs,” Aunt Meg says, her eyes sparkling. “Families don’t keep tabs.”
I pull into the school parking lot, turn off the engine, glance at myself in the rear-view mirror, and take a deep breath. I glance around anxiously at the other cars. No Blake. Good. I’ll see him soon enough at our lockers. I’m ready to get this over with, but I’m grateful for a few more minutes of peace.
I get out and start walking toward the entrance, straightening my shirt, then pressing my parents’ rings against my chest. I notice a cardinal flying through the air—Mom’s favorite bird—and give it a little wave. I finger my short hair and smooth it into place.
“Anne!”
I jump a little, then turn around toward the sound of Melanie’s voice.
“Hi, Mel.”
She catches up with me and matches my stride. “Well, today’s the big day.”
We start walking up the steps leading to the entrance. “The big day?”
Melanie smiles mischievously. “The day Natalie unveils the mystery woman.”
I force a smile, but truly, I’m so beyond ready to stop talking about this crap. I briefly consider the implications: Will breaking up with Blake mean breaking up with Melanie? Do I want it to mean that? After all, it seems like my social life is one big package deal. What happens now that I loathe the package?
I feel guilty for even thinking it. Melanie’s been a good friend these past couple weeks. She accepted me from day one, made room for me at her lunch table, took me into the fold. Lauren, too … even if grudgingly. And really, I’m the one who pulled them into the drama with Blake and Jamie, not the other way around. They’d probably jump at the chance to dump me. But who knows—maybe no dumping will be required. Maybe I can just settle back into my old familiar role, the one where I live my life and mind my own business, with everybody around me minding their own business. Maybe Lauren and Mel and I can keep eating lunch together, only grousing over English Composition tests from now on instead of pondering the intricacies of mystery notes and moody boyfriends. That sounds like heaven right now.
Lauren trots up and joins us.
“Hi,” she says. “Think Natalie will have the nerve to leave a note today?”
“Oh, she didn’t write the notes,” Melanie says sarcastically. “She’s just the messenger. Remember? Today’s the day for the big reveal. Can’t wait to see what random name she comes up with. Oh, assuming she gets the fantasy girl’s permission, of course.”
“Here’s hoping she just slithers into oblivion,” Lauren says as we walk through the school entrance.
“Anne!”
We glance to our left and see Blake rushing toward us. Oh god.
“Hi,” I say tersely, without slowing my stride.
“Anne! I tried calling you all night!”
“Yeah, my phone was charging … ”
“Anne! I’ve got to talk to you, baby.”
Please stop calling me baby.
Just as we approach Melanie’s locker, we see Jamie walking toward us from the other end of the hall. Melanie smiles coyly at him and reaches out to hold his hand. He reluctantly lets her.
“Well, today’s the day Natalie reveals the—”
Melanie stops in mid-sentence as we see Natalie running toward us breathlessly, a panicked look in her eyes.
“Speak of the devil,” Melanie murmurs.
“Did you hear?” Natalie tells us, clutching her chest as she pants.
We exchange puzzled glances.
“Hear what?” Lauren asks.
She pauses to catch her breath, then looks frantically from one of us to the next before answering:
“They’ve found Cara’s body.”
Twenty-Three
“What? ”
“It’s true,” Natalie repeats. “They’ve found Cara’s—”
Jamie’s face turns ashen. He lurches down the hall toward the restroom.
“Jamie!” Blake calls after him, but Jamie keeps running, pushing past the people in his path.
Melanie’s brow furrows as she asks me, “Should I go after him?”
We watch him dash into the men’s room, the door swinging closed behind him. “You won’t be following him in there,” I say.
Melanie swings toward Natalie, her face contorted with rage. “Why are you doing this? Why are you messing with us?”
“Because she’s insane!” Blake bellows, making me jump. “She’s a goddamn loon! A nutcase!”
Natalie’s face shrivels. “I just thought you’d want to know.”
By now, a crowd has gathered, and the guy from the picnic table steps forward, the one who insinuated Blake was full of crap when he talked about volunteering at the children’s hospital. “They’ve found her body,” he clarifies, the statement a challenge.
Natalie shrugs, her chin quivering. “That’s what her family says. It happened last night. They haven’t released the information yet to the—”
“They found her body last night,” the guy repeats. “And she drowned, what, almost three months ago? During the heat of summer, no less? What exactly do you
think is left of her body at this point?”
Natalie shakes her head pitifully, seeming to shrink before our eyes.
The guy turns to the crowd, now holding court. “The ocean water’s around eighty degrees right now; it was even hotter over the summer. You think a body just drifts around pristinely in conditions like that? Even assuming the sharks haven’t devoured—”
“Stop it!” I say, clapping my hands over my ears.
Blake charges the guy, butting him with his chest. “You shut the hell up!” he shouts.
The guy backs off and presents his palms as stop signs. “She’s the one who started this,” he says nervously, gesturing toward Natalie. “I’m just pointing out a few scientific —”
“I don’t know what exactly they found,” Natalie sputters. “Maybe a bone, or her bathing suit, or a piece of jewelry or something … I don’t know. I just know from a very reliable source that her body—some part of her body, something identifiable—has been recovered.” She looks at us pleadingly. “I’m not just making all this up!”
“The hell she’s not!” Blake says. “She’s always looking for ways to worm her way into my life. God, I couldn’t get through a single day in the hospital without her bringing me a plate of mushy brownies, or some corny card, or a stupid stuffed bear, or—”
Natalie drops her face in her hands, emits a piteous moan, then runs down the hall.
I stare at Blake evenly. “What a cruel thing to say.”
His hands fly in the air. “It’s true! And now I’m supposed to sit back while she makes my life hell, peck-peck-pecking at me until she gets some little morsel of attention?”
“Shut up, Blake,” I mutter, then run down the hall after Natalie.
I follow her into the women’s restroom, reaching her just as she’s about to slam shut the door of a stall. I block the door from closing.
“Natalie … ”
A couple of girls applying lipstick in front of the restroom mirror glance at us and discreetly slip out.
Tragedy Girl Page 14
