Ashes to Ashes (17 page)

Oh my God. This is her funeral.

I snap my head around, fast. I don't want to see her like this. I don't want to see my mother's dead body.

Mrs. Tabatsky steps forward and takes my father's hand. She's crying. “Oh, Patrick. I'm so sorry.” Reeve leans against her. The other Tabatsky boys, along with Reeve's dad, stand silently behind them in their suits.

I realize I haven't seen much of Reeve since summer ended and he transferred to the Montessori on the mainland for seventh grade. Before he left, I teased him about going to a fancy school full of nerds and how he was going to turn into a huge geek. He acted all cocky and told me that when he was a millionaire, maybe I'd be lucky enough to fix his Lamborghini. Reeve was always fun to fight with, because he had comebacks as good as mine, and the two of us could rag on each other for hours.

He doesn't make eye contact with me. He keeps his eyes down on his church shoes.

Wait a minute. Is this a memory? Or am I dreaming?

“It's a dream,” Rennie confirms. She comes up beside me with a glass of water. “Isn't this dress the cutest?” she says, and does a spin. It's bright pink, sleeveless and short. “This was the one I wanted to wear to your mom's funeral, but you wouldn't let me.”

I remember.

Earlier that morning Rennie called to see if she absolutely had to wear black. She had something else in mind. I got so mad and said,
Of course you do, stupid,
and I hung up.

“I'm sorry I yelled at you, but come on, Ren. Who wears hot pink to a funeral?” I ask her, laughing.

Rennie starts laughing too. “Okay, fine. But your mom told me I looked pretty in this dress once, so I was going to wear it as a tribute to her.”

“After I hung up on you, I worried that you might not show up,” I say. “But you did. You and your mom were the first people here, and you stayed with me the whole day. I remember you always made sure you were blocking my view of the casket, because I didn't want to look. I couldn't handle seeing her corpse, painted in makeup she would never have worn, surrounded by that ugly silk liner in the coffin. Judy
wasn't silk. She was blue jeans.” I start to cry.

Rennie smiles tenderly and pulls me into a tight hug. “Of course I'd show up, dummy. I was your best friend.”

Rennie was a good friend, mostly. And she was there for me when it really counted. “I'm glad we made up before you died,” I tell her, hugging her back.

She groans, “Ugh. I freaking hate that girl.”

As soon as I let go, Rennie disappears. “Wait! Ren!”

I turn and see that the next person in line is Mary. “Why are you crying?” she asks in a very curt voice. “Rennie made your life miserable, remember? You said you hated her. You said you were happy that she was going to finally get what she deserves.”

“I—I know that. But we made up.” I wipe my eyes. “And she didn't deserve to die.”

Mary rolls her eyes. “You're such a traitor, you know that? You wanted this! Don't you remember our pact? You're a terrible friend who breaks promises, and you're a liar. I'm glad your mom gets to see who you turned out to be.”

It kills me to hear her say that. “Mary, wait. Come on, let me explain.” But she suddenly starts pushing me toward the casket. “No! I don't want to look! Don't make me look!”

But Mary is so freaking strong. And my shoes slip along the floor. I squint my eyes tight, because I can't fight her off. I feel myself hit the casket, the edge of it smacking into my stomach.

“Open your eyes!” she screams.

“No! Please!”

Her fingers peel apart my eyelids. “Look at what you've done!”

I'm hysterical.

And then, suddenly . . . nothing.

“Kat, sweetie, it's okay.”

I open my eyes, and there's my mother by my side. She looks like she did before she got sick. Healthy. And so beautiful.

“I don't know what's wrong with her,” I say, clinging to my mom.

“She's lost, Kat. And that makes her dangerous.”

*  *  *

I wake up in the den, sprawled out on the couch. Dad and Pat are standing over me with the weirdest expressions on their faces. Even Shep is there, barking like mad and panting his hot breath in my face.

“What?” I say, and wipe the drool off my cheek.

“That must have been some dream, daughter.” Dad says. “You were thrashing.”

It was a crazy-ass dream, and I know it ain't going to be in my dream dictionary. But as crazy as it was, I'm not happy to be awake. I wish I was still asleep with my mom next to me.

*  *  *

On my way to class the next day, Alex casually drops a paper hat onto the top of my head as he walks by.

It doesn't even occur to me that it's a note until I pull it off my head at the insistence of Mrs. Hetzel. That's when I see Alex's handwriting on the underside. I peel back the folds and find an invitation to join him and his friends on a boat trip for spring break. As part of his graduation present, Alex's uncle Tim hired a crew to sail his boat around and basically attend to our every whim. Alex can invite whoever he wants.

I find him practicing his guitar in the chorus room during his free period. Right away he grins at me and is like, “Are you in?”

“Maybe.”

He's surprised. “Why not?”

“First off, I said maybe! Are Lil and Reeve coming?” Alex looks away. “Did you even invite them?” When he doesn't answer, I flick his ear, hard. “You invite all their other friends but not them? Oh my God, you know what, Al? This vindictive thing you're doing”—I wave my finger in a circle—“is not a good look on you. I get it. Reeve stole your dream girl and Lil picked another guy. But also, BFD. Don't hold on to this shit and let it turn you into something you're not.”

He sighs. It probably is exhausting for Alex to keep up this
level of anger. It's not in his nature. “Do you want to come or not?”

“I'm not friends with your friends,” I remind him.

“They aren't that bad. Plus, I'm inviting a couple of kids from chorus too.”

I roll my eyes. “Ashlin
is
that bad.” Last week, as I was walking through the school parking lot, I spotted her picking the pennies and nickels out of her center console and tossing them out the window like they were old gum wrappers or something. I mean, I get that pennies are basically worthless, but nickels aren't. Who in their right mind throws away nickels? A homeless person would love him some freaking nickels.

Alex shakes his head, like I've got it wrong. “She's nice. And she'll be nice to you. I promise. It won't suck. I mean, you do remember my uncle's yacht, right?”

I have to laugh, because of course I remember. That's where we hooked up last summer. “Eww, dude. Please. You're like my brother. I don't want to think about kissing my brother.”

“Fine, fine. I'm just saying. What else are you going to do?”

I open my mouth, but close it just as fast. I don't have jack shit going on for spring break, besides obsessively checking my mailbox for word from Oberlin. Danner said she'd send in my letter after the benefit, so I'm assuming I'll hear something soon.

“I'll think about it,” I say. “But I want to talk to Lil about it
first, because I'm not a jerkface.” I emphasize the last part for Alex's benefit. It feels weird to say yes, to go away with Alex and his friends, when I know she isn't invited.

*  *  *

When I see Lil next period, I get right to it. I tell her about Alex's spring break invite and watch her face closely for any signs that she's pissed. But she doesn't give me any.

“Yeah, you should go,” she says. “Definitely.”

So, looks like I'm going. I guess it'll be fun.

I guess.

The only thing that sucks is that if Lillia was going, I know it'd for sure be a good time.

T
HE VERY FIRST DAY OF
spring break, I get the news—I got in to Boston College! My mom and I jump up and down and scream our heads off when we see the big envelope. Daddy's at a conference now, but he's flying in on Friday, so we can do a celebratory dinner at Uni Sushi, which is easily the most expensive restaurant on the island. There's only a tasting menu, and it's incredible. I've been there once, for my fourteenth birthday. My mom took Rennie and Nadia and me. The best part is, my mom said I should invite Reeve too, so he and Daddy can properly meet. It will be perfect, because my
dad will be in a good mood, and there will be amazing sushi, and it will just be really easy-peasy. Fingers crossed.

I spend the week riding Phantom nearly every afternoon and working on my tan. If I can't tan on a yacht, I can at least tan by my pool. I'll be damned if they come back all golden brown and I'm pasty like sugar-cookie dough.

One day Reeve and I go get mani-pedis at the salon, and the ladies at the salon go gaga over him. The whole time, Reeve flips through fashion magazines pointing out possible prom looks for me. He finds one I really love, so I rip the page out when no one's looking.

As soon as I get home, I start calling stores in Boston, and I find one that carries it—this fancy boutique on Newbury Street near our apartment. It's call C'est La, and it carries a lot of French designers. My mom buys all her bras there, because according to her, only the French know how to do lingerie.

The next day Reeve and I wake up extra early and head into Boston. We go straight to the boutique, and I run and try the dress on. It fits perfectly, but I'm still not sure.

Reeve knocks on the dressing room door. “Come on, lemme see.”

“No, I want it to be a surprise,” I say.

I'm still staring at myself in the dress, looking at it from every angle, when it occurs to me—what's holding me back. Why I'm
uncertain. It's the first dress for a school dance that I'll have bought without Rennie beside me telling me it's the one.

I have to bite my lip not to cry. I look into the mirror and whisper, “Ren, what do you think? Do I have your okay?”

I close my eyes and imagine that Rennie is next to me, smiling, saying, “Yeah, beotch, you have my okay.”

It's silly, but when I open my eyes, I know this dress
is
the one, because Rennie said so.

After we leave the boutique, I take Reeve to the place where all the food trucks park near the BC campus. Sausage-and-pepper sandwiches are Reeve's favorite, and supposedly this one cart serves up the best ones in the entire country. It's hilarious, watching him eat it. He keeps making these
Mmmmm
sounds. Then we walk around campus for a bit before we drive back to the ferry. I point out the dorms and the library, and we stop in the student store and I buy a BC sweatshirt. I imagine it'll be just like this when he's visiting me on the weekends when he doesn't have football.

*  *  *

On Friday I'm on my computer looking at pics people are posting from Alex's uncle's boat. Ash just posted one of some crazy chocolate dessert with whipped cream and cookie crumbles. There's another one of her with Derek. She's sitting in his lap, and she's got on a wide-brimmed hat, and her hair is braided in
pigtails. I'm scrolling through Alex's feed when I see a picture of Kat in a bikini with a captain's hat on and a cigar hanging out the side of her mouth. She's super tan too.

I pause on a picture of Alex and Kat. They've got their backs to the camera, and they're dangling their legs over the water, cracking up over something. I'm glad she got to go on this trip. The old Kat would never have gone on vacation with any of those people.

I helped her pack the night before she left, and Kat kept saying how this was her first real spring break trip, how she'd hardly ever even left Jar Island. It definitely made me stop and think about how I've taken for granted the vacations my parents have taken us on—Paris, Hawaii, Japan, Korea, even just those weekend jaunts to New York. I doubt Kat's ever been to New York. Rennie had never been before we took her. The next time we go to New York, I'm going to invite Kat. It's her kind of city.

I snap my laptop shut and put on my favorite bikini, the one with the daisies. Then I grab an Orangina and a towel and head out to the patio. Nadia and her friends Janelle and Patrice are floating around the pool with the outdoor speakers on blast. It's not that warm out, but the sun is bright and our pool is heated. Janelle and Patrice chorus, “Hi, Lillia!”

“Hey, guys,” I say. I go turn the music down, and Nadia rolls her eyes but doesn't say anything. She knows better than that. She
can be mad all she wants, but she knows that if she dares cop an attitude with me in front of her little friends, I am not having it.

I've got my eyes closed when I feel someone picking me up. My eyes fly open, and it's Reeve grinning at me. He's in his swimming trunks and sunglasses. I thought he was at the gym! That's what he's been doing every day when I've been at the stables. Now that he's gotten his playbook and workout routine for Graydon, he's always in the weight room lifting weights. It shows, too. He has a serious six-pack now.

“Hey, you,” I say.

“Hey, you,” he says, and he scoops me up and carries me over to the pool like I weigh nothing.

“Don't you dare!” I scream, flailing my arms and legs.

“Do it, Reeve!” Janelle shrieks.

“I'm serious, you better not,” I warn him.

Reeve winks at me. “I won't,” he says, and then he jumps into the water with me in his arms. We land with a big splash, and I'm still screaming with my arms tight around his neck. Sputtering with laughter, he says, “You're choking me!”

I splash him right in the face and paddle away from him. “Everybody, get Reeve!”

Janelle and Patrice dive toward him, but Nadia hangs back. Reeve swims right for her and picks her up like he's going to throw her into the air. She's screaming her head off, and for a
second I worry that she's mad. I'm about to tell Reeve to put her down, when she starts cracking up. And then everybody's splashing everybody. Us girls get him good, and Reeve starts circling like a shark, throwing all the girls around. They love it. I swim to the edge of the pool and hang off the side and watch. I haven't seen Nadia this happy since before Rennie died. “Lilli, help!” she screams, giggling so hard, she can barely stay afloat.