Forget This Ever Happened

by Cassandra Rose Clarke

  “You look amazing,” Audrey says, her voice gushing with delight. “You’ll have the best costume there! I’m thinking of going as a hippie, so we can be like, young ladies through the ages.”

  Claire bends down, trying to catch more of a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The bodice of the dress fits as well as the rest of it, and the fabric shimmers as if threaded through with silver. Despite her damp hair and the nights of fitful sleep and her current lack of makeup, in the dress Claire’s skin seems to glow. She gathers up her hair and piles it on top of her head and for a moment she doesn’t even recognize herself.

  “This is going to be so much fun!” Audrey’s face appears alongside Claire’s in the mirror. The illusion shatters, and Claire drops her hair. “Now we’ll just have to get you a date! Don’t worry, though, I have a plan.”

  “What?” Claire straightens up and looks at Audrey. “No, that’s really not necessary.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Audrey claps her hands together. “He’s a trainee with the sheriff’s office named Christopher. He’s dreamy, although not as dreamy as Lawrence, of course.” She giggles. “I’m planning to meet up with him and Lawrence later tonight, if you want to come.”

  “I still haven’t decided if I want to go to the dance at all.”

  “Of course you want to go!” Audrey takes Claire’s hand and twirls her around. The dress flares out at the waist, the fabric stirring up a soft breeze in the hot room. “Look at you! When else will you have an opportunity to wear a dress like this?”

  Claire doesn’t have an answer to that. Audrey lets go of her hand and Claire sits down in front of her vanity. Claire stares at the glass, then lifts one shoulder as coquettishly as she can. A pretty dress and a date with a boy. Her thoughts are fuzzy with the promise of normalcy.

  “I’ll go with you tonight,” Claire says. “And meet this guy. And then I’ll let you know.”

  Audrey floats in the mirror behind her, and when Claire says that, Andrey’s whole face erupts into a dazzling smile.

  Audrey promised to pick Claire up around ten o’clock. Grammy usually goes to bed long before then, but tonight she stays up, the glow from the TV casting long, eerie shadows across the living room. She’s thin enough that Claire thinks she can see her skull beneath her skin.

  “I hope you girls have fun,” she says when Scattergories goes to commercial break.

  Claire looks over at her. “You’re not worried about me going out drinking? It’s so late.”

  “You’ll be with Audrey.”

  Claire sighs. They sit in silence until the doorbell rings. Claire jumps up to answer it, aware of Grammy leaning out of her chair to peer into the foyer.

  Audrey stands outside, bathed in yellow porch light, dressed in a lime-green minidress, body shimmer sparkling on her collarbone. Claire smiles at her, but really she’s thinking about the night that Julie knocked on her window and they stayed up late reading the letters Abigail had written Javier.

  She shouldn’t think about Julie. Audrey’s taking her to meet a boy, a perfect way to prove to herself that she’s completely normal, and that the daydreams about the kiss are just an ordinary part of growing up.

  “Ready to go?” Audrey asks.

  Claire nods, even if she isn’t so sure.

  “Have fun!” Grammy calls out from the living room.

  “We will!” Audrey calls back.

  Claire feels like plans are being made over her head.

  She and Audrey go outside and climb into Audrey’s car. Claire isn’t sure where they’re going exactly, only that they’re meeting Julie’s cousin, Lawrence. She really hopes Julie hasn’t told him what happened.

  “You’ll love Christopher,” Audrey says as she starts the engine. “He’s such a sweetheart.” She glances at Claire. “He just graduated this past May, so, you know, he’ll be more mature than a high school boy.”

  Claire gazes out the window as Audrey pulls onto the road. The streetlights flicker across her face. She wonders if Christopher will be anything like Josh, with his skinny build and long, dyed-black hair. She knows he’ll be nothing like Julie.

  Why should he be like Julie?

  Claire wraps her arms around her stomach and focuses her attention on the roar of the engine. Lawrence and Christopher. That’s totally normal, right? Two girls staying out late so they can meet up with guys. One hundred percent normal.

  They drive for about ten minutes, and then Audrey pulls up to a playground next to a church. All the church lights are off except for a big spotlight focused on a cross, but a pickup truck is parked in the square lot, with two guys sitting in the back. One’s drinking from a can. The other’s Lawrence, his lanky frame familiar even in the darkness. So that’s how normal this is going to get, Claire and Audrey meeting boys to drink beer. And Grammy was worried about Julie getting Claire drunk. All she and Julie ever did was watch movies and play video games and go to the library, for God’s sake, speeding through microfilm to read about their ancestors.

  And Claire looked forward to those days far more than she’s looking forward to this. Her eyes are on Lawrence. It’s only been a day. Julie probably hasn’t told him.

  Audrey parks next to the pickup truck. Christopher looks nothing like Lawrence, although he is closer to Claire’s idea of a cop. He has muscular shoulders beneath his tight T-shirt, and heavily gelled hair and bland features. He lifts his can. “How’s it going?” he calls out, his voice muffled through the closed windows of Audrey’s car.

  “Look at Lawrence,” Audrey says with a sigh. He’s slouched down in the bed of the truck, looking uncomfortable. He doesn’t wave at them like Christopher does. It seems odd to Claire that Lawrence is sitting in that truck while an underage trainee drinks a beer. It doesn’t fit with what Julie told her about him.

  Then again, he hasn’t bothered to help with the monster attack, so maybe he isn’t the person Julie thinks he is.

  Audrey bounds out of the car. Claire waits a moment, watching Audrey run up to the truck, laughter trailing out behind her. She turns to Claire and gestures for her to join them. Claire knows she can’t sit in the car forever.

  She steps out into the warm night. Christopher reaches into the bed of the truck and extracts a couple of cans from some hidden cooler. He tosses them to Audrey, who catches them effortlessly. She hands one to Claire without asking if Claire wants one. Claire stares down at the can. The red-and-gold Lone Star logo stares back. Her face goes red; she feels like Audrey and Christopher are staring at her, so she pulls back the tab and takes a polite sip and manages not to make a face. But when she looks up, it’s Lawrence who’s watching her. She can’t read his expression.

  “Hey, babe.” Audrey swings herself up onto the truck bed and throws her arms around Lawrence’s shoulders. He turns away from Claire and buries his face in Audrey’s neck.

  “Get a room, you two.” Christopher jumps out of the truck and lands, cat-like, a few feet from Claire.

  “Shut up, Christopher!” Audrey shouts back, and then she’s kissing Lawrence, her hands running down his chest. Claire looks away.

  “Hey,” Christopher says. “You Claire?”

  Claire turns to him and smiles, feeling like an idiot. “I am.”

  “Cool.” Christopher doesn’t seem to mean this. He drains the last of his beer and tosses the can into the back of the truck. It bounces and hits Audrey in the leg.

  “Hey!” she shouts, extracting herself from Lawrence. In the icy light of the cross his expression looks glazed over. Possessed. Claire feels a nervous twinge in her stomach before remembering that his glazed expression has nothing to do with ghosts or demons.

  Probably.

  “Stop making out,” Christopher says.

  “I’ll do what I want,” Audrey says. “Isn’t that right, Lawrence?”

  “Whatever you say.” Lawrence gazes at her. He doesn’t seem to be aware that Claire and Christopher are even there.

  Still, Audrey threads her arm around Law
rence’s waist and then pulls him over to the edge of the truck bed. He jumps off first and helps her down, and then together they stumble over to the swing set. Christopher looks at Claire. For a moment Claire is afraid he wants her to squeeze his waist like that, but he just sips at his beer and says, “You going to that dance thing?”

  “What? Oh. Yeah, probably.” Did she decide to go to the dance after trying on the dress? Claire can’t remember. It’s frustrating how fuzzy her memory has been this summer.

  “You should come. They’ll be there.” He gestures with his beer can at Lawrence, who has settled into one of the swings. “Lawrence is a cool guy, even if Audrey’s got him whipped.” Another drink. Claire doesn’t know how to respond, but she doesn’t have to. Christopher ambles over to the swing set without waiting for a reply.

  Claire surreptitiously sets her beer can next to the truck’s tire and follows him.

  Audrey swings back and forth, her hair streaking out behind her. Lawrence gives up on the swing and leans up against the structural pole instead, watching Audrey. It’s weird to think that this is the guy Julie claimed was so dependable, the guy she said would help them with the monsters. He seems so ordinary to Claire. So typical. Nothing like Julie.

  His expression’s still glazed, and with a start Claire is reminded of a hypnotist show she saw on TV once. The audience volunteer had the same expression.

  It’s a weird way of thinking about it, but it’s the only one that works: He’s hypnotized by Audrey sliding back and forth like a comet through the gloomy night air. Even Christopher watches her with that same softened expression. It’s like they aren’t really here at all.

  Audrey leaps off the swing. She lands in a crouch in the grass, and Lawrence gives a whoop and a holler and a round of applause. She stands up with her arms over her head like an Olympic gymnast. Claire feels like she’s watching some sort of mating ritual that she doesn’t understand.

  Josh and his mix tapes, that made sense to her. Julie kissing her in the dunes—that made sense too.

  She shakes her head to make the thought go away. It doesn’t. She had expected her summer to be more like this, and been pleased that it hadn’t—that she’d met Julie instead. And now she’s trapped in her own expectation.

  She feels a jolt of understanding. That’s why this whole thing feels so off: It’s exactly what she imagined Indianola teenagers to be like. Drinking, pickup trucks, blandly handsome older boys. It’s all here. And Audrey is acting like she’s already drunk, even though Claire knows she’s only had one beer.

  Despite the lingering heat, Claire shivers. She wants to go home. This just doesn’t feel right.

  “Claire! Come swing with me!” Audrey materializes at Claire’s side and drags her over to the swing set. Claire feels dizzy. Christopher and Lawrence stand next to each other. Lawrence still isn’t drinking, but Christopher moves with mechanical precision. An arm lifts, an arm drops.

  “No.” Claire pulls away, shaking her head. Audrey tilts her head at her.

  “What’s wrong?” she says. “Isn’t this what you wanted to do?”

  A chill ripples down Claire’s spine. She shakes her head again. “No, I don’t really—my grandma’s going to be so angry if I’m home late.”

  “You know she doesn’t mind! Not as long as you’re with me.” Audrey grabs for Claire’s hand again, but Claire snatches it away at the last moment.

  “I’m tired,” she says. “It’s been a long day.”

  Audrey doesn’t move. Her expression hardens into a cold, stiff mask. It’s just the moonlight, Claire tells herself. She just looks like that in the moonlight.

  “Everyone okay?” Lawrence shouts.

  “Fine.” Audrey drags out the word. She blinks and her whole face changes and she’s back to being the bubbly, pretty cheerleader. “Everything’s fine. Claire is kind of tired, so I’m going to take her home.”

  “Aw, too bad,” says Christopher. “You just got here.”

  It doesn’t sound like he really means it. Claire doesn’t care. She’s not sure Christopher or Lawrence care about anything.

  Audrey walks over to the car. Her hair swish-swishes against her back and it’s the loudest sound in the playground and Claire doesn’t know why. Lawrence lifts his hand in a wave and then Christopher does the same. She can’t stand to look at them.

  “See you at the dance,” Christopher says.

  “Sure.” She keeps her head down. Audrey’s car engine turns on and headlights flood across the parking lot. Her escape.

  CHAPTER

  Sixteen

  JULIE

  Julie starts her new job at the video store. It should be a condolence: Frank knows more about movies than anyone she’s ever met—except maybe for Claire, whom she tries not to think about. And it’s nice working for someone who actually likes her for once. But she just can’t conjure up any excitement. Instead, she sits at the front counter and stares at the rows of VHS tapes and thinks about the starlines tracing across the sky. Timelines. An intersection here, a divergence there. She and Claire have diverged.

  But she also knows that just because she screwed everything up with that kiss, it doesn’t change the fact that Claire is still in danger, from monsters or from astronauts or from both. Her dad said he’d talk to the committee, but she hasn’t heard anything from him, and she doesn’t trust the adults to do anything anyway.

  As much as Julie has always wanted to work in the video store, she hates that she’s stuck here now, unable to do anything to unravel the mystery and save Claire. Just like a freaking grown-up.

  At lunch, she walks down to the convenience store at the end of the street. The air is a little cooler than it has been—something about a thunderstorm working its way along the coastline. The sky is overcast, and the sea breeze is soft against her skin. At the store, she buys a rotisserie hot dog and a Slurpee while Billy Ray Cyrus blasts tinnily from the speakers overhead.

  “You sure your mother wants you eating that?” asks the guy behind the counter.

  Julie gives him a dark look. “You’re the one selling them.”

  He shrugs. “Just saying.”

  She slides her cash across the counter and goes outside. After being cooped up, she’s glad for the mild, salty air. It helps clear her head so she can think about the monsters and the timelines and the threat to Claire.

  Claire, who doesn’t even want to kiss me.

  She follows the street down to the empty field between the Ruizes’ house and the Locketts’ property and plops down beneath a sprawling oak tree. The hot dog is hot, greasy nirvana. Julie’s been craving junk food ever since Claire broke her heart, like the cholesterol can glue it back together.

  Julie finishes her hot dog and folds its cardboard carton over on itself. The sea breeze rustles through the field, stirring up the leaves of the oak tree. The clouds move against the sky. Julie leans back in the grass and stares up at them, looking for shapes and seeing nothing. The air’s heavy. It’s definitely going to rain.

  The wind gusts and the tree branches knock around and clatter like bones. An odd smell floats in on the wind, a chemistry classroom smell. Vaguely chemical. Vaguely metallic.

  Monsters.

  Julie sits up, her heart thudding. She doubts they’re stalking her because they want to rent Wayne’s World.

  The field is empty. The grass ripples like the sea. She twists, looking behind the tree. Nothing.

  When she turns back around a monster stands a few paces away.

  Julie shrieks and jumps to her feet, kicking the crumpled hot-dog container into the grass. The monster blinks at her. It’s almost human-sized, with a large bulbous head and too-skinny arms and translucent skin beneath which Julie can see the pulsing lines of veins, the blood so dark, it’s almost black.

  “Alvarez,” the monster says in a voice that bleeds in with the wind.

  Julie presses up against the tree, her vision blurring. It’s happening again. This isn’t some monster wandering in
from the power plant. It wants her. Just like the slug monster. Just like the monster that attacked Claire.

  “You aren’t supposed to be here,” Julie says, fumbling for her voice. “You’re too far into town.”

  “Looking.” The monster sways in place, as if it’s so light, the wind can blow it around. “Aldraa sent.”

  “Aldraa sent you?”

  The monster nods, looking like dandelion fluff on a stem. Julie’s almost afraid its head will fall off from the effort, since the movement is clearly not a natural one. “Thought you rather speak me.”

  Julie stares at the monster, not sure how to respond. Instead of the slug monster? Aldraa must have found out how badly that visit went.

  “More human, yes?” The monster lifts one of its skinny arms, and something clicks in Julie’s head. The monster looks closer to human than the slug. That’s why Aldraa sent it.

  “What does Aldraa want?” she asks. “Is this about the astronaut? About Claire?”

  “Da zsa ful zsu sho.”

  “I don’t know what that means!”

  “Astronaut.”

  Julie digs her nails into her palms. She flicks her eyes around, looking for the slug monster, for anything that could lash out and drag her away. “I said that.”

  “Yes. Astronaut.” The monster blinks its huge, round eyes. More human. Only on a technicality. Really, the distortion in its arms and head makes it painful to look at.

  “I didn’t understand before,” Julie says, “and I don’t understand now. What astronaut are you talking about?”

  The monster takes a moment to consider this. Watching it think, Julie realizes that, somehow, she isn’t as afraid anymore.

  “Is this why y’all have been coming into town?” she asks slowly. “Because of this astronaut?”

  The monster shakes its head, and this movement seems as unnatural and contorted as nodding. “Timeline,” it says. “Because. But da zsa ful zsu sho concern yes.”

  Julie slumps against the tree trunk. “This is pointless,” she mutters to herself. Then, louder: “You aren’t telling me anything new. Aldraa should know by now he’s got to send someone who can explain.” She stoops down and picks up her Slurpee, which is already starting to melt down into syrup. She stirs it around with her straw. “The last one, it said Aldraa didn’t know anything. But Aldraa sent you to me.”