by Lisa Jackson
I wish they’d both die.
“You don’t mean that,” Zora said on a gasp.
Delta hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud.
“No, I don’t,” she murmured miserably, walking away, nearly blinded by tears.
Somehow, she found her parents and managed to get away from the crowd without being seen falling apart. Her parents assumed she was thinking of Carmen and let her be. And then she did think of Carmen, and she felt small and petty, and she decided to go to the service. Her parents offered to take her, but she turned them down. Finally, in the depths of her own personal despair, she was able to really feel the anguish of losing her friend forever. Carmen had been a member of the Five Firsts. Without her, there was no clique. Without her, the sun had dimmed a little. Delta was ashamed she hadn’t been able to really see that till now.
Bailey was at the church when Delta arrived, standing just inside the door, possibly working up her courage to enter the lion’s den, so to speak, since she’d been treated so unfairly by the Proffitts.
“Hey,” Delta said to her.
“The reverend isn’t here. He’s left the church. The new minister is a woman,” Bailey said. She was pale, wearing a plain, midi-length black dress, her ponytail limp. But there was a determination in her set jaw that spoke of a stiff spine.
Delta peered through the doors to the pews, which were filling up with her classmates and other students from the school. There were parents there, too, but by far this was an event for the kids.
“They’re moving away,” Bailey went on. “Leaving West Knoll. It’s too much to bear.”
“They shouldn’t have blamed you,” Delta said.
“They didn’t like what I had to say. It hurt them too much.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think Carmen’s death was an accident. I pushed for an autopsy. They thought it was blasphemous.”
“Bailey, you were there. Carmen drowned.”
“Did she? Something happened. She was with the guys, following Tanner around . . .” She made a sharp movement with her hand, indicating they didn’t need to go further down that road. Carmen’s obsession with Tanner was well known. “They’d gone and had something. I didn’t think Carmen imbibed, but maybe . . . She said she saw something. She didn’t want to tell me, but she almost did, and then we were interrupted, and she never said what it was.”
“Okay, but—”
“It was something about Tanner and some of the other kids. But she was focused on Tanner. What he did mattered to her, and he did something that really bothered her. Maybe he realized she saw and he spiked her drink and she couldn’t swim as well as she could have and she drowned.”
“Tanner wouldn’t spike her drink!” Delta defended, affronted.
“Something happened!”
“Well, he wouldn’t do that. You’re way off. He never even paid attention to Carmen. Never looked at her. Why would he spike her drink? She didn’t . . . she wasn’t his type.”
It was cruel to say and made Delta sound like she thought she was so much better than Carmen, but it was also the truth. Bailey was talking crazy, which maybe she was . . . crazy with grief.
“Somebody did something to her,” she insisted stubbornly.
“You’re blaming Tanner for going under the rope. They were all stupid. Stupid! Tanner too. It was just this terrible tragedy, and I can’t believe Carmen’s gone. I just want to . . . scream.” Tears sprang to her eyes at this admission. She felt terrible. She looked down at her feet. The black flat on one foot, the other in a now thinner bandage and a black sneaker. She’d really messed up her foot and had finally gone to the doctor, who’d undone the bandages and added a line of stitches that she hoped would not leave marks as they marched across her sole and curved around her ankle.
“I know that you love Tanner,” Bailey said. “But he’s a shit, Delta.”
Delta fought back an instant denial. “I guess you’re entitled to your opinion.”
“I guess I am.”
At that, Bailey entered the church ahead of her, and Delta, after a moment, slowly followed. But now she didn’t want to sit by Bailey. She wanted to be magnanimous and give Bailey a pass, but she was getting pissed and hurt and worried, which was better than the despair that had filled her for weeks.
The Five Firsts were officially dead. Carmen was gone, and Bailey was making wild accusations about Tanner.
Delta saw that Tanner had squeezed into a pew between McCrae and Justin Penske. Brad Sumpter was next to Penske, and then the do-gooders, Trent and Rhonda. There was no room for Delta next to him, but then he’d been distant since the barbeque, and she didn’t know where she stood. A couple rows behind the guys were Amanda and Zora. Zora spied Delta and indicated there was just enough room for her between them and the rest of the kids, a group of underclassmen Delta recognized but didn’t know well, crushed together on the bench.
Delta squeezed past the underclassmen, murmuring apologies as the service started. A middle-aged woman with graying hair and a wide girth took her place at the podium. She introduced herself as Pastor Stevens and gave them a soft smile of greeting before launching into a healing prayer. When it was over, she said that, though she hadn’t known Carmen Proffitt personally, she’d heard only good things about her. As she went on in that vein, Delta glanced around, wondering, like everyone else, what had happened to the reverend. He’d given a brief eulogy for his daughter right after her death, the words clearly wrenched from his soul.
Zora leaned toward her. “I heard the reverend took his family to Colorado, which is where they’re from. The mom was good friends with Bailey’s, but that’s over, too.”
“Shhh,” Amanda said loudly, shooting them a dark glance.
Pastor Stevens next invited the kids from their class to come up and talk about Carmen, tell a story, a remembrance, anything they wanted. This was a far cry from the fire and brimstone that was Reverend Proffitt’s brand of delivery. Delta didn’t expect anyone to go up to the dais, and she was shocked and riveted when the first person to head up the steps was Tanner.
Chapter 7
Tanner looked out at the sea of faces, knowing he had a lot of ground to make up since, in his father’s words, the “head-up-your-ass stunt you pulled at that barbeque!”
“Um . . . I guess you all know what happened to me,” he began. “I’m still recovering from hitting the rocks with my head. Thank you, Freddie. Sincerely. You saved my life . . .” He swept an arm toward the teacher’s aide who, he’d been told, kept his head above water—otherwise, he would have drowned, like Carmen. Freddie Mouton stood up and balanced on his crutches. The church exploded in applause. There was a lot looser vibe now that Reverend Proffitt was gone.
He glanced at the pastor, who smiled at him encouragingly. Swallowing, he was determined to soldier on, though he’d been half-sick at the thought of getting up in front of the school. Grades, school, learning . . . it was all easy for him, but public speaking, not so much. Still, he knew that he needed to tell his story and change a few minds about him. He could see Brad, who’d walked to the back with his video camera. He wanted this on record.
“We’ve all already said good-bye to Carmen, but I wanted to say to her family and all her friends how sorry I am personally. It shouldn’t have happened the way it did.”
His heart was pounding, and he made a point of not looking at the camera. He felt bad about Carmen. He hadn’t known her all that well, really, but he’d been aware that she had a big crush on him. Anytime he looked up, she was staring at him, and though he would never say so, he’d found it creepy. Like she was almost a stalker.
But he never thought she’d die . . . that she would follow him under the rope. God, he’d been messed up. The letter he’d been waiting for from U of O’s athletic department had come that afternoon and dashed all his last dreams of making the team. His dad didn’t care. He was only interested in Tanner’s scholastics. He didn’t understand about footb
all.
Now he exhaled. With his apology out of the way and the sympathetic nods of the crowd, some of them wiping away tears, he could relax a bit. His gaze searched the crowd, and he found Delta. Part D of the Five Firsts. Dark haired, dark-eyed with smooth skin, the most gorgeous girl in the whole class. His stepmother, Lori, had smiled at Tanner in that silky way of hers when she’d first seen Delta and said, “Mmm-mmm,” which had made him feel weird at first, until he’d learned that was just her way.
And there was Amanda, Part A. He briefly thought of her blond head lying on his stomach, her tongue moving downward while her fingers unbuckled his belt . . .
“I remember Carmen in fifth grade,” he said, quickly pushing that dangerous thought aside. “She was the best soccer player on the team. The girls went undefeated that year, and their team was on the reader board outside Palisades Market.”
There was a rumble of conversation, a bit of laughter, and one of the girls raised her fist, pumping it a few times. Bailey Quintar. Tanner’s lifting mood took a tumble. Bailey blamed him for Carmen’s death. He’d tried to tell her it was just an accident, but she wouldn’t listen.
He went on, “Carmen, though, gave up soccer for volleyball.” “And softball,” a guy yelled from the back. Trent Collingsworth. At one time, he and Tanner had been good friends, but they’d split around junior high. Trent, really more religious than Carmen, had become one of the do-gooders. It was a wonder that Carmen, being the minister’s daughter, had veered away a bit, but then maybe that was the way it always was.
“Yeah,” Tanner agreed. This was way better. He was on familiar ground.
He saw Zora, tucked in between Delta and Amanda. She was petite and cute, and he suspected she would lie down for him anytime. They’d already indulged in a heavy make-out session once, but she’d sworn him to secrecy, saying he could never, never, never, tell anyone, that being in the Five Firsts was the most important thing to her, that she would be kicked out, so he could never tell.
His gaze swept over some of the senior faculty—Principal Kiefer, Ms. Reade, and Mr. Timmons—were they really a couple? —Counselor Billings in that pink sweater that showed off her breasts, Coach Sutton, whose hangdog face had grown even longer...
Then he glanced at his friends: Penske with his freckles and cowlick, Sumpter the steroid buff. McCrae and Woody Deavers were there, too, but he’d never been real bros with them.
His father had said all his friends were chaff. Not a wheat stalk among them. Tanner had argued and fought for them, but in the end, he sensed his father was right. He, Tanner, was going to med school. Sure, his old man had fucked up, had gotten his medical license suspended, but it had turned into a blessing in disguise. His father’s line of energy products, vitamins, and stuff was in all the regional stores, part of the “natural” section, and he was making a small fortune.
“I just wanted to say we all miss her,” he finished. “She was one of us, and it shouldn’t have happened this way.”
He felt something and saw Bailey’s eyes burning into him. His spit dried up, and he wrenched his gaze away. She knew something, and she was blaming him. What did she know? Had Carmen said something to her? Carmen should have never followed after him into the woods . . . She sure as hell got more than she’d bargained for. He felt a flash of rage at both Carmen and Bailey. It wasn’t his fault things had happened the way they had, and it sure as hell better not become a problem.
“Thanks,” he said, abruptly, needing to get away. His head throbbed.
As he was walking down the steps and back to the main floor, he saw Ellie O’Brien rise from her seat and pass by him on her way to the podium. She was a redhead, and he sensed she was readily available, too. She sent out that vibe. Was she as fiery as her hair suggested? His cock stirred a bit at the thought, and he quickly forced his mind away from her.
At his own row, Tanner worked his way back into a spot that McCrae had damn near overtaken.
“Move,” he muttered, shoving in.
McCrae grudgingly gave him room.
“Everyone liked Carmen,” Ellie’s voice was saying in a commanding way. “She had lots of friends.”
Yeah, right.
He saw her gaze settle almost accusingly on Amanda, Delta, and Zora. “She was a best friend to everyone, but especially Bailey Quintar. I remember horseback riding with Carmen. Neither one of us was any good—well, at first—but Carmen caught on right away and helped me stay on my horse, which really wanted to scrape me off his back. I know it’s been said before, but she was a natural athlete . . .”
Tanner lost the thread of what she was saying. Ellie was too skinny for his taste and too serious, but she always had a way in front of a crowd. He could give her that. She told a couple more lame stories that the church crowd appreciated with laughter and tears. Pretty soon she finished up, but then Bailey took the microphone from her.
Tanner braced himself. Here we go . . .
“Only the good die young,” Bailey stated flatly, her gaze laser-focused on Tanner in a way that made his heart galumph.
Jesus. He could feel her hate. He’d apologized, hadn’t he?
“What the fuck,” he muttered.
McCrae slid him a sideways glance but didn’t say anything. Woody, on the other side of him, said, “Lesbian grief’s the worst. Ow!”
McCrae had elbowed him hard. Tanner was glad. He didn’t want Woody screwing things up. This was a solemn affair, and Tanner had done his part. That’s what he wanted people to remember.
Crystal Gilles, Woody’s girlfriend, who’d recently traded in a Goth look for something more hippie-like—“bohemian,” Delta had told him—looked past Woody to catch Tanner’s eye. “Let’s all act like adults,” she said in a speaking voice, which kind of pissed Tanner off. She wasn’t part of the popular crowd, and Tanner suspected Woody was only with her because he couldn’t get any other girl. Tanner wished Woody would kick her to the curb.
The Fives thought Woody was annoying, and, yeah, he could be. But he was funny. It was Crystal who was the problem.
Tanner flicked McCrae a look. Everyone thought they were good bros, but McCrae was really kind of a pain in the ass as well. Too intense. Sure, he could cut loose sometimes, but overall he had this “do right” thing going. Tanner could admit that it had kept them out of serious trouble a time or two, and God knew he couldn’t afford to get caught seriously fucking up, not with college and his whole future in front of him, but did McCrae always have to put the kibosh on the good stuff?
You shoulda listened to him at the river . . .
That was true, sure, but Carmen had made her own choice. It wasn’t his fault.
But that’s lucky for you . . .
He shut his mind down on that, shaken by his thoughts. I’m a good guy, he reminded himself. I’m a really good guy.
Bailey’s homage to Carmen was half teary reminiscence, half call to arms. She finished with, “I made a promise to Carmen to do everything in my power to find out how this could have happened. A lot of people are saying it’s God’s will. If that’s so, I’ll accept it. But if it’s not, if there was someone’s hand in this, whether they meant it to be or not, I will find that out, too.”
There was silence as she walked away, making the sound of her footsteps loud beneath the cathedral ceiling of the old wooden church.
Tanner made certain he didn’t look her way as Bailey walked past him . . . and right out of the church.
McCrae let out a long breath.
Tanner said, “She’s kinda outta control.”
Woody leaned forward so he could look around McCrae at Tanner. “Ya think?”
“Give her a break,” Crystal said on a sigh.
The room grew restive when, after Bailey, no one else went for the podium. Pastor Stevens stepped in and hurried up the steps, addressing the room with her somewhat sad smile.
“If no one else has something to say, I’d like to finish with a hymn and a prayer.”
Tanner
stared straight ahead through both, moving his lips through the hymn though he didn’t know the words. His mind was back at the barbecue, in the woods, kids all laughing softly, secretly getting high . . . the feel of warm lips around his cock . . . He’d looked over, and there was Carmen. They’d locked eyes. Through his haze of weed and alcohol, he’d seen a tall, somewhat gangly, kind of plain girl staring at him with betrayal.
She’d seen. She’d seen him with her . . . and she’d seen him earlier, too . . .
He’d thought, I could still have her right now, and he made up his mind then and there to pop her cherry before the night was over.
Only things hadn’t quite worked out that way. He’d gone under the rope, and so had Carmen, and only one of them had survived.
Bailey knows.
He swiveled around to look at her, but Bailey hadn’t gone back to her seat. She’d left after her speech.
No . . . if Bailey knew, she would have said something.
The pastor made a few closing remarks, and then the crowd slowly exited the church. Penske caught up with him on the way out. He was a loser with girls. Too awkward to get anybody hot. But he was a good friend.
“Hey, man,” Tanner said. “Keep an eye on Bailey, okay?”
“Yeah?” Penske asked.
“Yeah.”
They looked at each other. “She gonna be a problem?”
“Nothing to be a problem about.”
“Sure.”
Sumpter wandered over. He’d once been a big, affable guy, but lately he’d had a flash temper. ’Roids, Tanner suspected. He’d thought about going that route himself, but his dad’s mistakes, coupled with a healthy fear of what that would do to his long-term career plans, had kept him straight.
“Gotcha,” Penske said.
“What’s going on?” Sumpter asked.
Tanner clapped him on his broad shoulder. “Come over to my place. Play some video games. Put this damn chapter behind us.”
* * *
Three weeks later, Delta was working at the store, running the cash register while Mom took a break in the back room with Dad. She could hear the murmur of their voices but couldn’t make out the words. She knew that they were talking about her, about her desire to move into an apartment with Zora. If Tanner was going to Oregon, she needed to at least be able to go visit him without her parents waiting up each night for her to come home. She’d asked them for some financial help. Not a lot, as Zora was, as expected, being super great about keeping her portion of the rent something she could handle. She had some savings and would use them to pay for tuition and books and most of the rent, but maybe they would help her on other expenses?
