Black Tuesday (25 page)

Plus, Gen did not like random holes in her walls.

“What brought on the urge to rearrange stuff?”

“New year, new stuff.”

“‘Stuff'? And you're the wordsmith in the family?” Ellie pushed away from the door and walked down the hall. “Heaven help us.”

Jayne had one more drawer to clear out, then she'd be done.

Done with decluttering her room. And starting to feel in control of her own destiny.

She opened a desk drawer, and a black-and-white grainy picture of Brenda Deavers stared back at her. “Six-Year-Old Brain-Dead /Teen at Fault.”

It was time to make a fresh start. In every single dusty, murky corner of her life.

She grabbed the half-inch stack of clippings and shoved them into a shoebox decoupaged with roses. She took the box and her chair to the closet, stepped on the chair, and put the box on the top shelf.

In plain sight. But out of constant sight, too.

She was almost ready to call it a night when she saw the cream-colored envelope sticking out of the Arizona history book she'd put it in. It was made out to Donna Deavers in Jayne's all-cap handwriting.

She picked up the envelope, checking the back flap. Yep, it was securely fastened. All she had to do was mail it.

She stared at it. After a while, the letters started blending all together in a swirl of black ink. What was keeping her from mailing it?

Jayne knew the answer. The letter was supposed to make her feel better. But it hadn't. It still didn't. It sure didn't stop that little girl from being dead.

Like Maria had said, contacting Mrs. Deavers wouldn't do anything for anyone other than Jayne.

Before she could think about it anymore, she ripped the letter in two, four, six, eight pieces.

Then she went to her mom's office, adjacent to the exercise room. It was dark. Her parents were at some social event, as usual.

She put the pieces into the shredder, her hand underneath to catch the pieces.

She went back to her room, climbed onto the chair again, and put the pieces into the box on the topmost shelf.

43

SO HOW'D IT GO WITH THE FOLKS?”

Jayne worked on cropping another quarter inch from the photo, not wanting to answer Ryan's question until she'd finished running the sharp blade across the paper. The man's bottom hand was throwing off the proportions of the picture. Other than that, this picture was near perfect—the way it was taken, how it was developed. It was her only one with these specific blacks, whites, and grays, and she'd be really pissed if she screwed it up.

“We're good.” Jayne eyeballed the picture. It would do. “We're not perfect. We have too much baggage for that kind of Disney ending.” She picked up the picture, her hands cradling it from underneath so she wouldn't leave any prints. “But at least Mom only spent ten minutes trying to change my mind when I told her I wasn't taking all honors classes.”

“Only?”

“This was the woman who once spent two hours with me saying I should take seven honors classes rather than six.”

“Got it.”

They were both in Ryan's bedroom. Another surprise. The walls were light green, and there was a
Wizard of Oz
mural on one wall. All of the knickknacks covering Ryan's shelves were either memorabilia from that movie or textbooks.

Which wasn't surprising—Ryan, Jayne had found out, was valedictorian of her class at Cactus West High.

It'd been only two weeks since that weekend Jayne had crashed on Maria's cot, but it already felt like Ryan was an old friend. They both did honors classes and had an insane love of photography.

“What do you think? A black mat or a white one?”

“Trust your gut.” Ryan looked out her window. “You know something? We better do the spray adhesive downstairs. That stuff can asphyxiate us in here.”

Jayne was busy studying her picture and wasn't noticing how intently Ryan was looking out the window. “We're not going to interrupt your mom's party, are we?”

“They're just jocks Mom trains in the spring. They're playing with water guns and eating too many Cheez Doodles. They can survive two girls spraying some photographs.”

Jayne picked up the things she'd need. “Lead the way.”

One their way down, Ryan threw over her shoulder, “By the way, Maria told Darian that she didn't need him at Outreach anymore.”

“Really?” Jayne thought about that for a second. It'd be nice to have Darian totally out of her life, that was for sure. Even though they worked at different times now, she still got nervous whenever she saw someone from a distance who looked like him. “Did she tell Meadow that, too?”

“No, she has about ten more hours left of her community service. But they'll be done soon enough.”

On the bottom step, Jayne dropped her mats.

“I've got it.”

Jayne's skin prickled at the sound of that voice. “Tom?”

“Hey.” He looked taller. And tanner. And goofy, like usual.

In a good way. A very good way.

And he didn't seem surprised to see her.

“Ryan.” Jayne's voice was more threat than question.

“Well, look at that.” Ryan grabbed everything from Jayne's hands. “You two know each other.”

“Don't play dumb. We know you're not dumb.”

“Well, since we've got that straightened out, you two go catch up. I'll put these in the garage.”

Halfheartedly, Jayne said, “The exhibit's tomorrow, though ...”

“And we both have more than enough time to finish these photos before we turn them in, don't we?” Ryan said smoothly.

Before Jayne could take a breath to say anything else, Ryan had disappeared.

“What exhibit are you showing at?”

Jayne turned back to Tom. They were standing only half a foot apart, but the chasm between them . . . it seemed like it stretched for a mile.

“At All the Sweet Tomorrows? You know that wall they have for all the locals' art? Ryan and I got the owner to put a couple of our things up.” She felt like the temperature was rising a good thirty degrees. “You want to see the pictures?”

She started toward the garage, not even waiting for a yes or no. She didn't even think to. She was single-mindedly intent on getting back to Ryan.

The light was on in the garage, and the pictures were propped up, but no Ryan.

“Is this one yours?” Tom was bent over the one Jayne had just been cropping a few minutes ago. Back when she'd been blissfully unaware Tom was under the same roof she was. Back when she was still able to think clearly.

“Yeah.” She moved next to him, wildly aware of how close their elbows were to touching. “How could you tell?”

“It's your style.” He pointed at the man in the center of the frame, asleep riding the bus, the name “Jose” on a patch over the shirt pocket. A pair of reading glasses was propped on the tip of his nose, a paperback open on his chest. “The irony of this guy riding the bus, probably a mechanic based on the shirt and the grease under his fingernails, reading a romance novel. It's amazing.”

“Thanks.” Her voice came out quiet and squeaky. Ryan had told her the same thing. Same with Mr. Carlson, her photography teacher, a guy who'd shot some pretty huge print campaigns in his life.

But these words now, from Tom, meant the most. She turned toward him, intent on telling him that.

He was already looking at her.

“Tom, I'm sorry . . .”

He put a hand on her arm, his thumb gently rubbing her skin. “No, I am. I didn't know how much Lori was bullying you. She was always asking me how you were doing, so I thought you were off her radar. Then Ellie told me a couple of weeks ago all the crap she's pulled, and I've been trying to dodge the girl ever since.” He looked down and then up again, his eyes bright. “You know nothing ever happened, right?”

Jayne nodded. She knew.

Somehow, their bodies were pressed together. His body was strong and warm against hers. He smelled like Bengay.

“Can I make it up to you?” The words were a whisper.

“How?” Another whisper.

“I was thinking”—his Adam's apple bobbed up and down—“that being your devoted boyfriend would be a great place to start?”

She leaned in. He leaned in.

The kiss was warm and gentle.

And the best one of her life.

44

HEY, LOVEBIRDS. Mom and Dad are home.” Ellie came into the family room and turned on the TV.

Jayne pulled away from Tom. She smiled, noticing the flush on Tom's cheeks. She wondered if she had the same rosy cheeks.

She looked at the clock over the TV. They'd been kissing for about an hour. Not their record, but definitely a high scorer.

“What are you watching?” Gen came in, a pile of mail in hand, flipping through it. “Is that a shark eating another shark?”

“Research. For a paper.” Ellie put up the volume with the remote.

Gen grabbed the remote from her and turned down the volume. “I'm glad everyone's here. Remember that dog trainer story I worked on a couple of months ago?”

Tom squeezed Jayne's hand. She'd told him about Gen wanting her to be on her show during sweeps and having to settle for the dog trainer instead.

“Well, my producer—Cameron—sent that tape to one of the cable news stations.” She held her breath before blurting out, “And I got a call today to do a once-a-month slice-of-life segment about Phoenix.”

“And . . .” Sean Thompkins came in just then, grabbing his wife's shoulders from behind. “Tell them the rest.”

“Well, the segment's only five minutes, so how much can you really do in five minutes . . .”

“Not that. The other thing.”

Gen looked at him, confusion on her face. He rolled his eyes and pulled a letter out of the pile she had. “This. Tell them about this.”

“Oh. That's right.” She pulled out a letter from the envelope. Jayne saw the green palm in the upper-left-hand corner. She clutched Tom's hand between both of hers. “It says, ‘Dear Parents of Jayne Thompkins: We are pleased to announce that your daughter has won Senior Student for the class of 2007...' ”

Gen looked up. “Nice work, Jayne. I knew you'd do it.” She looked at her watch. “If you'll excuse me, everyone, I have to call Atlanta before their segment producer leaves for the day.”

And with that statement, she left.

Jayne was still in shock. Not about her mom. She was used to her. But the award. She'd totally forgotten about having applied for it.

“Wow. Mom really is self-centered, isn't she?” Ellie shook her head before bouncing off the couch and crashing into Jayne. “Congratulations! I guess this means no Jayne at summer vacation.” In a whisper, she added, “Lucky dog.”

“Yeah, kid, nice work.” Her dad waited his turn and then enveloped her in a big bear hug. “What do you want to celebrate? Pizza, dinner out, a movie?”

“Sugar-free cake!” Ellie and Jayne said it in unison.

“Cake it is, then.” He kissed Jayne's forehead. “I'm very proud of you. Remember that, okay?”

She nodded and started to tear up when she saw him tear up.

“Get out of here, Dad. Go on, before we all just fall into a huge, teary mess.”

He left to go to All the Sweet Tomorrows a few minutes later. Ellie turned up the volume and switched on the Style Network.

“I knew that if anyone got the Senior Student award, it would be you.” Tom whispered this in her ear.

“Honestly, I forgot about it. So much crap happened and it kind of fell to the wayside.” In a whisper, she added, “Plus, I didn't think I deserved it anymore.”

He held her hand tightly. “You deserve it, Jayne. You're an amazing girl, you know that?”

“Not really.” She pressed her lips to his cheek. Her mouth turned up into a smile. “But then again, you're a pretty smart guy, Mr. Valedictorian, so you'd know.”

45

JAYNE.”

Jayne looked up from the computer. Maria had her looking up stats to put into a grant proposal to ask for more money for Outreach. Then she could get more phones. Another person to run things when she was out of town.

And a new door for the back that locked.

“Are you ready for your test run?”

“Test run?” Jayne's voice squeaked out. “I don't think I'm ready for that. Isn't there a test I should take first? An essay to write, maybe?”

Jayne was grasping. She felt it. Maria probably could hear it in her excuses.

“No test, no essay. Just some phone time, with me on the other end monitoring the call and stepping in when I need to.” She put a hand on her shoulder. “You'll do great, Jayne. I can feel it.”

Jayne nodded mutely. The only thing she felt was sick.

“Wh—when do you want to do the test run?” Fear had made Jayne's mouth go dry and her mind blank.

“Next call.” Maria tilted her head toward her office. “I have two phones in there. Ryan will patch the next call through to me.”

Ten minutes later, when the phone finally rang, Jayne's heart about jumped out of her chest. She wasn't ready for this. Was Maria a crazy nut job?

Maria answered the phone on her desk. “Who do we have today, Ryan?”

She nodded while getting the information. Jayne wiped her palms on her jeans. She sat at the conference table adjacent to Maria, a tan rotary-dial phone in front of her.

Maria covered the mouthpiece. “It's a girl named Tammy. Write it down so you remember it.” Jayne did as instructed. “It makes the person feel more secure talking to you if you call them by their name and not something else or nothing at all because you forgot. Of course, it's probably going to be a fake name.