Are You Still There (24 page)

“I gave you lots of opportunities to tell me. But you didn't and I wound up looking like an idiot in front of half the school. Thank you for that.”

“I didn't want to hurt your feelings,” I say again.

“Well, if that was your goal, you failed royally.” His tone is hard, and I'm tempted to cover my ears, like if I don't hear it, he's not saying it.

I close my eyes, listening to his voice and pretending it's on the other end of a phone receiver. He sounds nothing like my mystery caller.

“I'm sorry too. I didn't mean for it to play out that way,” I tell him, and I mean it. But I'm not sure he cares.

“Mom's been acting weird all day.” Chloe is lying on the floor of my bedroom with her butt against my closet door and her feet in the air. I'd thought she was already asleep, but I guess not.

“Apparently she's not the only one.” I step over her, thankful for two things. One, that Eric turned away and walked home. Two, that I piled up those pictures and hid them in my underwear drawer before I left to take Miguel home. “What are you doing in here? It's late. You should be asleep.”

“It's got to be the end of the world.” Chloe taps her feet against the closet door, and the whole thing shakes.

“Nice. That's just what I wanted to hear.” I fling myself on my bed and consider falling asleep right here, fully clothed. “What's she doing that's so strange?”

“I don't know. Asking me to order in for dinner because she's too busy to cook. Or order it herself, apparently.” Chloe flexes her feet.

“Whoa.” I unsnap my bra. I hate sleeping with my bra on. “She's really letting loose.”

“I'm serious. I ordered fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and about a gallon of Mountain Dew. She didn't say a word.”

“Maybe it's Alzheimer's, and she's forgotten that fried food and high-fructose corn syrup will make you fat.” I pull my arms through the straps and slip the bra off one arm at a time, leaving my shirt on. I'm talented that way.

Just then Mom pokes her head into my room. “Oh good. You're both here.” Now I feel supremely lucky that Mom didn't see me bringing Miguel up to my room. I'd assumed she was asleep.

Chloe's right. It
is
the end of the world. Mom hasn't sat us down together for a girl talk in years. And it's nearly midnight. Maybe they're getting a divorce. But wouldn't they tell us that together? Maybe she's got cancer or something. Maybe she's having an affair and wants us to know. Maybe she's decided to ship us off to a boarding school in England.

Mom must be anxious because she starts to drop the bomb before she even gets all the way into the room. “I have something important to tell you.” I look at Chloe, lying on her back on the carpet, and I can see her stiffening. Bracing herself.

Mom takes a deep breath. “I'm going back to school. I've only got a few classes to finish up my bachelor's degree, but then I have a graduate program I'm considering.”

That's it?

“I know you guys like having me home to support you …” she starts, not seeming to notice that Chloe's trying not to laugh. “But I've decided that I put my own life on hold for the last seventeen years, and now it's time for me to refocus on my education and career.”

“That's good, Mom,” I tell her. “We'll be okay.”

But it's as if she doesn't hear me. She keeps talking. “I'm sorry if I've been trying to sculpt you into perfect little people. I'm sorry if I've been living vicariously through you. I just wanted you to have good lives.” Her voice cracks. “Your dad's been telling me for years to loosen the leash, to let you make your own mistakes, but I just couldn't let go.” She taps her finger against the door frame. “I guess I imagined you to be an extension of me. I didn't count on you two being your own people. I'm sorry for not allowing you to be whoever you are.”

Neither of us says anything at first. What are we supposed to do, say, “Apology accepted?” Finally Chloe bursts out, “So does this mean you're cutting us loose? We can eat ice cream for breakfast and tattoo our tongues if we want?”

“Very funny.” Mom snorts, and somehow this is reassuring. “It means I'm giving you my word that I'm going to back off. I'll be too busy to micromanage your lives. You might be on your own for dinner a couple nights a week, but you're responsible girls. I know you can handle it.”

When Mom finally leaves, I lean over the side of my bed and stare at Chloe on the floor. “What the hell just happened?”

“It's all because of you,” Chloe tells me like it's a compliment. “You standing up to her about Georgetown. Dating the maid's son.” I make a face at that. “You coming home in a cop car, and with new friends with crazy hair and piercings. You're rocking her world.”

“All I know is this day could not get any stranger.” I kick off my shoes. “Why are you lying on my floor, by the way?”

“I'm decorating. You know you're going to have to redo this room so it matches your updated identity.” She turns her attention to the walls. “I can brainstorm better from this angle.”

“Enjoy.” I can't even see straight anymore. I want to tell Chloe all about the cards and pictures in my locker, but I can't even keep my eyes open. “I'm going to bed right this minute. I'm not even going to get up to brush my teeth.”

“Gross. Now I know we're in a twilight zone.”

I'm not sure if I even smile at that one. All I know is I feel the heaviness of sleep sucking at me, pulling me down, down, down. I don't have the energy to fight it.

Stranger's Manifesto

Entry 21

When I say I'm watching her,

Leaving things for her,

I'm not trying to be a creep. Honest.

When you're invisible like me,

A dust parachute,

A particle in the sky,

You're watching all the time.

She just happened to catch my eye.

But things happen for a reason. At least that's what people say.

Granted, I've
made
a reason,

Because now she's an integral part of my plan.

Of course, she helped matters a bit

By being one of those people who types her locker combo

Into her cell phone

Just in case she forgets.

The thing that bugs me

Is my parents.

You know they'll blame them after it's over.

They'll say they screwed me up

Because it's way easier than seeing the truth.

But you know what they say—

When you point a finger at someone else,

There are four more fingers pointing back at you.

37

I let Chloe and Janae walk ahead. Are we being cruel to bother these people after all this time? Miguel is by my side, half a step ahead, but he keeps slowing down to match my pace. The yard is overgrown. The grass has grown in all directions, sprouting left and right, and it's at least as tall as my knees. The trees are dropping fruit that lies rotting on the ground. The flies buzz around, diving in and out, having a feast.

Janae is the first up the steps. Pressing her finger on the doorbell, ringing it once, twice. I cringe. What exactly are we going to say? Chloe looks back at me now, and I see a glimmer of what I'm feeling in her face. Miguel moves closer to me, protective-like, as if he can sense my hesitation.

A woman lumbers up to the door, her steps heavy on the floor, making it creak and groan in anticipation. I want to leave. I don't recognize her at first. Her hair is greasy, thinning on top, and her body is bloated, like what's inside her has swollen up and stretched out her skin. She pushes her face up to the screen door, and I can see her irritation.

“Don't you all see the sign here?” She points her thick finger at the “No solicitation” sign by the doorbell. “I don't want to be disturbed.”

“Oh, we're not soliciting,” Janae promises. “We just came to talk.”

Now the woman's face darkens, and her lips tighten. “You kids never change. Always want to come around here on the anniversary, poking your fingers at our pain.”

“No, ma'am,” Chloe begins, and I realize I have never in my life heard her use the word “ma'am” before.

“Don't you ‘no, ma'am' me. We all get our just deserts here on this earth. So did my daughter. She got her punishment for her own sins. And so will you if you keep messing with people's pain.”

This is not going well. I step forward, hoping my voice won't shake as much as it feels like it will. “Mrs. Moon, I'm trying to find your daughter's friend.”

This catches her attention. She wags her finger at me. “She didn't have no friends. She was a loner. Never interested in the activities the other kids did. No Girls Scouts for her. No soccer or piano.”

“I remember her. I remember your daughter.” Dust curls around my shoes as I edge closer.

“So does everyone.”

“No—not in that way. I really remember her. I remember who she sat with at P.E. I remember all the times I could have reached out to her and I didn't.” I stumble through my words, awkward. “I'm sorry for that.” Miguel touches my hand, his skin soft, reassuring.

Her eyes get all watery now, and she pushes her face closer to the screen door.

“The school is holding a memorial for her this year,” I say because I have to say something.

“I heard.” There are dead bugs stuck in the screen door. Now she's close enough for me to see how dry her lips are. They're all cracked in the corners.

“And I want to make sure we reach out to her friend. This has to be a hard time for him too.”

Mrs. Moon pulls back. “I don't know who you're talking about. She never brought any friends around.”

Miguel clears his throat. “You don't remember her talking about anyone?”

“She didn't talk much. Not to me.”

“Oh.”
Bummer
. What else can we say? “Well, thank you for your time.”

As we turn to walk away, she pushes the screen door open. I see her in plain light for the first time. Her skin is gray. Flaky. Like she hasn't showered in a long time. “That neighborhood kid hung around a bit. The quiet one. We used to call him the Stray.”

“The Stray?” I try to act all casual, but I know immediately that this is who I'm looking for.

“Yeah. Like he didn't have a home. No place to be. Only saw him a couple of times. Scrawny kid. Looked like a stray puppy. He hung around the yard, picking fruit. Sometimes him and Jo'd talk a bit. Play some chess out in the yard. He'd beat her every time. I don't know if they hung out at school though.”

“Do you remember his name?” Chloe asks, standing behind me.

“Nah. Don't know if I ever knew it. Just called him the Stray.” Mrs. Moon moves forward.

Janae asks, “Would you recognize his picture in a yearbook?”

“Doubt it.”

“Would you be willing to try?”

“If it'll get rid of you all, I will. I'm missing my favorite program.” As Mrs. Moon steps out onto the porch, I see she still curves forward into herself. Stooped over like she's protecting something, as if her insides will spill onto the floor if she dares to stand tall.

I hand her my yearbook from tenth grade. I flip to the sophomore section. Mrs. Moon runs her finger down each page, looking at every face. “Don't recognize none of them.”

“Are you sure?”

“I'm sure. Never did get to know that kid too well, you know. Maybe I wouldn't recognize him if he was standing in front of me. But none of those pictures there ring a bell.”

We thank her for her help. She nods. Her eyes have glazed over, and I'm not even sure she knows we've gone.

I leave a message for the bomber in the only way I know how. I stand in front of my locker for a good ten minutes, hoping he's watching me. I carefully post my own playing card in my locker. One of a queen with the words, “You can trust me. I will help you get your message out. Be patient.”

My locker is still bare bones empty.

I have a feeling he will look in there.

As I click my locker shut, I see the preppy wrestler guy getting a drink from the water fountain. A likely excuse. Just a reason to stand near my locker. As I walk past him, I drop my water bottle by his feet. It rolls into his sneakers. He bends to pick it up, and he avoids my eyes.

“Thanks.” I say, my voice cool.

He nods his head.
Rats
. I wanted him to talk so I could hear his voice.

“I haven't seen you around before,” I add. “What's your name?”

He hesitates. My internal alarm is blaring.
This has to be him!

I can end this here and now. Maybe I don't have to wait until the moment of silence. Maybe I can scream bloody murder and get campus security over here, and leap on his back and get him in a choke hold.

He does speak though, and it stops me. “I'm a friend of Al's.” His voice is quiet. He looks at me directly when he says “Al,” like it's some kind of cloak-and-dagger message. He hands me my water bottle. “Just visiting for a while.”

Crap
. Al is my father.

This preppy wrestling boy is watching me because he's my bodyguard. An undercover cop trying to fit in at high school. Trailing behind me everywhere I go on campus. Just in case.

I should've known Dad was being way too chill about this whole thing.

Nice. So now I've figured out my mysterious stalker.

I just hope the bomber hasn't figured it out too.

Student government decides we need a pep rally. The moment of silence turned memorial will now be a pep rally. First they'll plug the two clubs (LGBTQ and Suicide Prevention), then we'll have the appropriately somber moment of silence-memorial, and finally we'll end with the spirit-building pep rally.

Chloe and her new boy-toy Jason (who looks surprisingly normal) have joined the Red Ribbon Committee. They seem to be sucking face more than they're working, but hey, it's the thought that counts.