What If

by Rebecca Donovan

  I let out a small laugh at the comparison. "Yeah, I guess." Rae didn't want to talk about Nyelle after we dropped her off Saturday night. I didn't push it. I knew she'd talk when she was ready.

  "But she's not the girl we grew up with."

  I scrunch my brow together in confusion. "You don't think she's Nicole?"

  "I'm saying that whoever she is now is not Nicole. She looks a lot like her. If she didn't have the same laugh, I might be convinced of the separated-at-birth theory. But other than that, there's nothing left of the girl we knew--not the bitch or the princess." Her voice is deflated. "I think we need to tell someone. Maura will know--"

  "No," I say adamantly. "Don't say anything to my mother."

  "What?" Rae stares at me like she didn't hear me right.

  "Not yet," I beg. "I just need a little more time."

  "For what? What are you waiting for? For her to jump off a bridge?" Rae says passionately.

  "She wouldn't--" I pause, thinking better of it. "Okay. Maybe she would. But not because she's suicidal."

  "No, because she's crazy. I'm serious. There's something wrong with her. She didn't even flinch when I talked about Renfield or when I brought up people she's supposed to know. There wasn't the tiniest tell on her face that she knew who I was talking about. It totally freaked me out."

  "What did you talk about?" I ask. I've wanted to know since the second they stepped out of the bathroom.

  Rae drops her serious expression, replacing it with a teasing smirk. "You're afraid we were talking about you, aren't you?"

  "Were you?"

  "Of course we were." Rae laughs.

  "What did you say?"

  "She wanted to know how many girls you've dated," she says, with a taunting smile. "I told her I lost count."

  "Rae!"

  She starts laughing at me. "It's true! Do you even know how many girls you've been with?"

  "Yes," I reply quickly, then clench my teeth together when I can't come up with the number right away.

  "Omigod, Cal! You don't even know!" Rae is laughing so hard now, she draws the attention of the man in the suit on the other side of her.

  "Whatever. It's not that many," I defend. "What did she say?"

  "She thought it was funny. Because it is."

  I groan. "Please don't tell me that's what you were laughing about for a half hour."

  "No." Rae takes a breath to calm her laughter. "She asked me a million questions about... everything. She pretty much wanted to know my entire life story from when we started..."

  Rae stops, her shoulders round like she's had the wind knocked out of her.

  "What just happened?"

  It takes Rae a minute to say anything.

  "She asked about high school. My brother. The band. You and me," Rae answers quietly. "Basically, she wanted to know everything that's happened to me since... we stopped being friends."

  Rae tips her head back and rests it against the seat, her jaw tight. I don't know what to say. I've never seen Rae upset like this before. This is about the time she usually shuts herself away in her garage.

  "We need to find out what happened to her," she says quietly. "Is she still friends with Richelle? Maybe she'll know."

  "I don't know," I answer. "They stayed friends in high school. But I haven't heard from Richelle in a few years."

  "Why did she stop talking to you?" Rae says harshly. "Oh yeah, that's right. Because you let her."

  "Hey! This isn't my fault." I'm suddenly on the defensive, and I don't even know what I did wrong. This is the most intense conversation I've ever had with Rae. I have no idea how to handle this surge of emotion coming from my best friend, who was okay with shutting everyone out up until two minutes ago. She's needing me to be her drums right now, and so if she needs to pound on me a little, I'll let her.

  Rae presses her palms over her eyes. "I know. Sorry. I'm just... angry. She was our friend. They both were. And now... I don't know. It sucks. I hate this."

  "Why didn't you ever talk to Richelle after she moved?" I ask, struck with the lingering guilt of letting our friendship slip away.

  "Richelle and I never really talked," Rae reminds me. "We... hung out. You know?"

  "Right." I nod. "Do you... still hate Nicole?"

  "I never hated her," Rae says. "I just hated who she became. And now I don't think she even knows who she is."

  Rae takes a deep breath.

  "One month, Cal." Rae turns to me, completely serious. "You have one month to figure out what's wrong with her before I bring Maura in on this."

  I nod. It's not that I don't trust my mother. I know she'll do whatever's right to help Nyelle. But maybe what's right isn't what I want. Or what Nyelle needs. Truthfully, I don't know if I want her to get "better" if it means not being Nyelle anymore.

  *

  "Who's picking us up?" Rae asks as we walk toward baggage claim.

  "Devin," I reply. She groans.

  I'm pretty close with my family, despite the age differences. Sean is older by six years, and Devin by four. They had each other growing up. And I had Rae. Jules is the youngest, born five years after me. She probably would've been friends with Liam, except he didn't move back until he was thirteen. And now they're way too different. Jules is the quiet, artistic type. And Liam's... trouble.

  Rae and I were the target of my brothers' torment whenever we crossed paths. They took pride in torturing us. It didn't really get to me. If anything, it helped me not to give a shit whenever someone tried to humiliate me in school. Whereas Rae would fight back every chance she got. She never won. They usually ended up laughing at her. But that didn't keep her from trying.

  "You can't still have an issue with Devin," I claim, weaving through the slow-moving holiday travelers. "He hasn't lived at home in more than two years. He has a real job now and is forced to wear a tie every day. I'm sure he's outgrown harassing you."

  "Doubt it," Rae grumbles.

  We reach baggage claim and find Devin leaning against a post with his attention on his phone. He glances up briefly, and his eyes pass over me at first. Then he looks up again. His expression changing from confusion to surprise.

  "What the hell happened to you two? I haven't been away that long."

  "Not long enough," Rae shoots back. He wraps his arm around her neck and aggressively rubs the top of her head. "Ah! Stop it!" she hollers.

  "Oh, Rae. I've missed your smart-ass mouth," Devin says, keeping her in the headlock until she punches him in the side. "You need to start hitting the weights if you ever expect that to hurt."

  He redirects his attention to me. "Geez, man, you're fricken taller than Sean now. And your hair seems to have grown with you. Maybe we can get Jules to braid it for you."

  "Hey, Devin," I say, holding out my hand, and he pulls me in for a one-armed hug with a firm pat on my back. "How've you been?"

  "Livin' the dream, baby." He smirks. "Except I miss Mom's cooking."

  "Yeah, looks like you've lost some weight," I chide, knowing he's more fit than he's ever been.

  "Dude, you've packed on some muscle. Finally!" He whacks me in the stomach as he leads us to the parking garage. "Been lifting?"

  "Eric and I go the gym a few times a week, yeah," I respond, rubbing the sore spot on my stomach.

  Devin and Sean were different from me in every possible way growing up. They were popular in school, involved in just about everything. They're natural athletes, excelling in every sport without an issue.

  I was always lost in their shadows, sucking at sports no matter how hard I tried. So even though we're probably about the same size now, I still feel smaller. Hell, I even look different, with my brown hair and hazel eyes, in contrast to their light hair and blue eyes.

  "Just to warn you, the uncles have arrived. They're not staying at the house, thankfully. But they're pretty much there all the time, so it's a fricken zoo."

  "Great," Rae responds unenthusiastically. "I'm not going anywhere near your house until din
ner tomorrow."

  We throw our things in the back of his Jetta and get in.

  "Have you two figured out what dessert you're making for tomorrow?" Devin asks, pulling out of the parking spot.

  "Shit," Rae breathes out. "I knew I forgot something."

  "Typical." Devin reaches into his jacket and handing me a folded piece of paper.

  Our family is huge--with aunts, uncles, and cousins coming to our house each year. And we only get half of them at a time. My mother is one of seven. Anytime we get together for the holidays, it's a monumental event. To keep it from being a nightmare for her in the kitchen, we're assigned dishes to make for dinner. Rae and I are responsible for a dessert this year. Which we aren't prepared to make.

  I open the paper Devin gave me and find a recipe. Thankfully, my mother has little faith in us. "Looks easy enough," I say. "Seems like it's basically just cake and pudding tossed together with whipped cream on top."

  "Thank you, Maura," Rae praises from the backseat.

  "We'll stop by the grocery store on the way home. Sean and I are in charge of the stuffing, and there's a few things I need to get."

  "If you screw up the stuffing, I swear I'll hurt you," Rae warns.

  "Relax, little one." Devin laughs. "We've got this. And unless you start eating whatever Cal's been eating, we'll always take you down."

  "Oh, I don't need strength to get you," Rae threatens in a low voice.

  Devin flashes me look of concern out of the corner of his eye. I laugh.

  *

  The grocery store is worse than the airport. Last-minute shoppers crowd the aisles.

  "You've got to be kidding me," Rae complains when we walk into the bedlam. "They've only known that Thanksgiving was coming since last Thanksgiving."

  "So did you." Devin chuckles.

  "Yeah, but I'm twenty. Procrastination is considered a life skill. These are grown humans with families and shit. What the hell?"

  "C'mon, Rae. Let's get what we need before you start biting people," Devin says, leading us through abandoned shopping carts and shoppers absently stepping out in front of us.

  At the far end of the spice aisle, I spot Nicole's mother with her smooth black hair tied back in a low bun. I nudge Rae and nod in Mrs. Bentley's direction.

  "Devin, why don't we split up and meet back at the car," Rae suggests, keeping her eyes locked on Mrs. Bentley.

  "Yeah, sure," he agrees. He leans in and says to me, "Keep her close." He smirks at Rae. She sneers back.

  "What should we say?" Rae asks as we start down the aisle.

  "I have no idea," I mutter. "Maybe we shouldn't..."

  Too late. We're standing in front of her, and she's looking at us curiously like she's trying to place us. I want to turn around, and Rae must sense it because she grabs ahold of my elbow, digging her fingers in.

  "Hi, Mrs. Bentley," Rae says with a charming smile.

  Mrs. Bentley's eyes twitch, probably trying to decide if she should run away or return the greeting. "It's me, Raelyn Timmons. I live on your street. I was friends with Nicole growing up."

  Mrs. Bentley's eyes widen in recognition. She smiles sweetly. "Hi, Raelyn. My, you've had a little makeover. I barely recognized you." She laughs uncomfortably.

  "Yeah, it's a phase I'm going through," Rae replies in a mumble, squeezing my arm a little tighter. I press my lips together to keep from smiling.

  "And you're..." She looks to me, trying to come up with my name.

  "Cal Logan."

  "Cal!" Mrs. Bentley says in a surprised tone. "Well, you've both changed so much over the years."

  "I haven't seen Nicole around in a while. Is she home for Thanksgiving?" Rae asks.

  The corners of Mrs. Bentley's smile tighten ever so slightly. "No. She's staying in Cambridge with friends for the holiday. She has a lot of work to do at Harvard. But we're hoping she'll make it home for Christmas."

  "So how is she liking Harvard?" Rae continues with the questions. I'm studying Mrs. Bentley's face. She maintains the plastic smile that's she's perfected over the years. Now I know why Nyelle can fake it so well.

  "It's kept her very busy, and unfortunately, away from home. But I know she's doing what she needs to do to make something of herself," she answers stiffly.

  "Have you been to see her? Like... in person?" Rae fires as soon as she's done answering. I want to elbow her to shut it, fearing she's crossing the line.

  Mrs. Bentley eyes us curiously. "I have. Her father and I visited during parents' weekend. She's getting along quite nicely." Her frozen expression never falters. "Well, it was lovely to see you two. I have to hurry home to start prepping for tomorrow. We're hosting the family this year, and my house is nowhere near ready."

  "When is she--"

  "Happy Thanksgiving, Mrs. Bentley." I cut Rae off and smile politely as Nicole's mom pushes her grocery cart past us.

  "What are you doing?" I demand, pulling my arm out of Rae's claws. "You might as well have just called her a liar."

  "But she is lying! She thinks she's hiding it with that stupid Barbie smile," Rae grumbles in annoyance. "Her daughter's at Crenshaw. She has to know you're at Crenshaw from talking to your mother. She wouldn't have tried to pull all that Harvard shit with us if she knows where her daughter is."

  "So you think they're covering something up?" I ask, continuing toward the bakery.

  Rae stops in the aisle, making irritated shoppers walk around us, her face distorted in anger. "Hell yeah. Something's not right, Cal."

  I exhale slowly. Things just got way more complicated.

  *

  Sitting around the mile-long Thanksgiving table, filled with my family, I'm caught up in the buzz of voices, laughter, and bickering--like every holiday in my house.

  Across the table, my ten-year-old cousin, Tommy, is daring our eight-year-old cousin, Henry, to eat the mashed potatoes without hands. Just as Henry bends down to shove his face into the whipped pile, I hear, "Henry David, don't you dare!" The voice rises above the noise from the other end of the table before he's even done anything. I let out a short laugh and lean back in my chair, soaking in the chaos. It's comforting in a weird way. The holidays wouldn't be the same without it. I wonder what Nyelle's doing right now.

  "What are you thinking about?" Rae asks from beside me, unplugging an earbud from her ear. She claims that listening to music, instead of my younger cousins, keeps her from stabbing someone. Her family has become an extension of ours over the years. Although her mother usually has to leave early, preferring the double time of a holiday shift over our Thanksgiving madness.

  "My family's insane," I tell her.

  "Truth."

  "But I couldn't imagine not having this every year," I continue. "So... what is she doing right now? We know she's not with her family. So she's probably at Crenshaw... alone."

  "Yeah. I was just thinking that," Rae says quietly.

  We pick at our food without another word, the weight of that probability robbing us of our appetites.

  My mother's loading the dishwasher when I enter with my plate and Rae's.

  "Thank you, Cal," she says as she takes them and sets them in open slots. "Would you mind covering those bowls in plastic wrap and putting them in the fridge?"

  I take a deep breath to gather my nerve before saying, "Mom, I'd like to get back to school a little early."

  "What do you consider early? You're only here for the weekend."

  I swallow. "Tomorrow."

  My mother rolls the rack into the dishwasher. "Why do you need to go back so suddenly?"

  I expected her to question me, and it's the reason I hesitated to ask. But then I think of Nyelle by herself and... I can't stay here.

  I scan the kitchen floor, not wanting to lie. I hate lying to my mother, but I can't tell her the entire truth just yet. "There's a friend there I'm worried about."

  "In what way?" she asks, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed, focusing on me.

  "Ready for
dessert?" my aunt asks, walking into the kitchen with the last of the serving bowls.

  "Not quite yet," my mother responds politely. "I'll call you once we've finished in here, and we'll get the coffee brewing."

  Mary looks between us and nods, leaving us alone again.

  "Why are you concerned about this friend?" my mother pursues.

  "She stayed on campus for the break, so she's alone today, and... I don't think she should be," I answer as honestly as I can.

  "Ah." My mother nods. "This friend's a girl." I avoid her assuming gaze. "Now I understand."

  After a moment of consideration, she says, "Okay. I guess you can go back tomorrow. You'll be back here in less than a month, so I can't be too upset that you're choosing a girl over your mother. Go ahead and change your flight." She smiles teasingly.

  "Thanks, Mom," I reply with a small smile. "You know you're the only woman in my life who matters."

  "Yeah, right." She laughs lightly, swatting me with the dish towel.

  *

  "I've been trying to find a way to make fun of you for doing this," Rae says as she pulls up along the curb at the airport. "But I can't. I like that you're going back to be with her."

  "But I'm not sure where to find her when I get back."

  "Start with the first place you saw her," Rae suggests. When she sees I'm confused, she says, "Bean Buzz. Not the party."

  "Right." I nod.

  "Here." Rae reaches in the backseat for a small bag from RadioShack.

  I take it from her and look inside.

  "It's a drug phone... for Nyelle, one of those disposable ones like they use in the movies. We need to be able to get ahold of her."

  "I think they call them burner phones, but whatever," I say with a laugh. "How did you buy this anyway? I mean, you don't exactly have a job other than being your brother's parole officer."

  "Yeah, well, I didn't pay for it. You did," she replies. "I stole money from your wallet while we were at Brady's last night and went out to buy it this morning at the ass-crack of dawn with all of the Black Friday lunatics."

  I laugh. "I didn't know you had it in you."

  "Me either," she admits with a smirk. "I don't know what the hell's going on, or what happened to make her act like she doesn't know who we are, but she shouldn't have to go through it by herself. Oh, and I went on Brady's Facebook account last night. Nicole hasn't posted anything since graduation."

  "Really?" I can't ignore the bad feeling in my gut. "Since graduation?"