Girlwood (5 page)

***

Polly's dad didn't go home to his cabin. He set up his blankets on the couch, but mostly he prowled the streets or went door to door handing out flyers. They created the handout on the computer, using an old picture of Bree because she hadn't allowed anyone to photograph her in the last few months. In it, she was tan and smiling, still with some flesh on her cheeks. No one knew her weight now, so they guessed.

MISSING
9/28/07:
GIRL
, 16, 5'5".
AROUND
100
POUNDS
.
SHOULDER-LENGTH BLOND HAIR. BLUE EYES.
MIGHT BE WEARING A DARK BLUE JACKET. REWARD FOR
ANY INFORMATION! CALL
(208) 555-4301.

That first weekend, Polly's mom bombarded the police with calls. She wanted round-the-clock search parties and updates on every lead. When divers pulled nothing but a rusted Jeep from Miller's Pond, she stared blankly at the water as if
it had denied her its secrets. When the police tried to take her home, she ignored them and sat on the sand. She refused to talk to anyone, and by morning, when Polly's dad retrieved her, she was pale and silent as a ghost.

on Monday, there was no mention of school or work, and on Tuesday it was the same. By Wednesday, the visitors had stopped coming. Neighbors had done what they could, and the news must have gotten out that it was beyond grim in the Greenes' house. Polly remembered someone saying that it took three days for a spirit to rise. In their case, it took three days to turn their house into a tomb. The blinds were drawn, no one spoke above a whisper, and people turned their heads when passing on the street. Polly spent most of her time in her room, thinking that if she stood at her window and looked really, really hard, she could see a red light flickering in the boughs of the trees, a fairy coming to rest in the branches. She wondered if anyone out there could hear her mother's horrible cries coming from Bree's room, the Crying Room as she called it now.

***

Wednesday night, Polly cracked a window in her bedroom and thought enviously of Bree breathing in all that fresh air. If Polly had been the one to run away, she'd have loaded up
first with food and warm winter clothes. It was just like her sister to leave without figuring out how she'd survive, expecting Polly to swoop in and save her.

Polly walked into her sister's room and rummaged through the dresser, picking out socks, a turtleneck, and long johns. She'd just slipped Bree's mittens into her pocket when she heard voices downstairs.

"Polly?" her dad called up. "Olivia's here."

Polly leaned against the wall, weak with relief. She'd been waiting for Olivia to come to her senses about Carly and beg for forgiveness, but before Polly even had a chance to be gracious, she heard Olivia's voice followed by Carly Leyland's.

Polly reached out, knocking one of Bree's pictures from the wall. Kneeling to pick it up, she came face to face with a photo of the Fab Five grinning in front of Jenny Gardner's lakeside cabin. This was their Before shot. Before the drugs, before Aaron and Brad, before the lies.

As Polly hung the photo back on the wall, Carly laughed—actually
laughed
in Polly's living room while her sister was on a missing-persons list. They'd hated each other ever since Carly's father offered Baba an exorbitant price for her house, and Polly's grandmother told him that that kind of money was for people who didn't know how to be happy. Carly called Polly's grandmother a lunatic, a nut case, a tree-hugging, devil-worshiping hag.

"Don't stand too close to Polly," Carly liked to tell the other girls at school. "She's got her grandmother's fleas."

Now, Polly heard Carly's sticky-sweet voice downstairs, the one she used around adults. People over thirty loved her; she was so well dressed and polite. And her father did so much for the community, building affordable housing, setting aside land in his subdivisions for parks and libraries.

"Mr. Greene," Carly said, "I couldn't believe it when I heard. It must be awful for you. I really hope everything turns out all right."

Polly rolled her eyes. Carly just wanted to know when the search parties would be leaving the woods so her dad could fire up his bulldozers.

"I'd better go see what's keeping Polly," her dad said.

Polly got into Bree's bed. The sheets still smelled like her sister, kind of sickly but sweet. She heard her father in her room next door, then he tapped softly on Bree's door.

"Polly?" he said.

"Tell them to go away."

"But it's Olivia down there."

Polly shook her head even though he couldn't see her. That wasn't Olivia.

"Tell her to go," she said.

She sensed him hesitating, then heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs. Maybe she'd been wrong about him needing her
to grow up and be strong for him, because he did the most remarkable thing. He went down there and lied for her. He protected her the way he would a baby and told them both that she was asleep.

***

Polly had stopped setting her alarm for school, but on Thursday her mother came in at seven, dressed in her work clothes. She'd missed a button on her blouse.

"All right," her mom said. "Time for school."

Polly rubbed her eyes. She was still halfway in a dream where she and Bree were in the woods picking mushrooms. Polly had to constantly knock the poisonous ones out of her sister's hands and ask her how she could be so stupid.

"What? I thought..."

"I have to go into work for a few hours." Her mom twisted her hands. "There's no choice. And you need to go to school. You need some normalcy."

Polly could have told her there was nothing normal about junior high, but she was still groggy, and her mother's deadened eyes stopped her.

"What about Dad?" Polly asked.

"Your dad went home."

Disappointment hit Polly in the stomach. She hadn't said
anything, but she'd thought it: with Bree gone, maybe her dad would stay. It wasn't so improbable. The day her dad had moved out, he'd told Polly he would always love her mother, but people change, lives head in different directions. Sometimes love isn't enough, he'd said, which to Polly seemed like the worst thing of all.

Still, if people could grow apart, then Polly thought they should also be able to grow back together. For the last week, her dad had made the coffee again and checked all the locks before going to bed. He had looked at her mother like he wanted her to ask him to stay; the problem was that her mother had never looked back.

Now, her mother sat on the edge of the bed, stiff and untouchable. She hadn't let anyone comfort her, not even Polly.

"I'm not ready," Polly said.

Her mother turned away. "Believe me," she said, "neither am I."

Goldenrod grows by rivers and in meadows and fields; the Latin name,
Solidago,
means to make whole or heal. Goldenrod's leaves can be cooked and eaten like spinach, the seeds are a thickening agent, and the flowers can be used as salad garnishes. Goldenrod tea is an effective flu and cold remedy, and the dried leaves and flowers help stem bleeding.

On a good day, seventh grade at Laramie Junior High was merely unpleasant. After Bree disappeared, it qualified as a sick joke.

Kids Polly had known all her life gawked at her, while others whispered Bree's name along with words like
kidnapped
and
hacked up.
Her first-period teacher cried whenever she looked at Polly and ended class early just to wrap her in a hug.

"Oh, you poor, poor thing," Mrs. Ivie said as Mason
Halberton, one of Polly's classmates, walked by pretending to play a violin.

Polly tried to make a dash for it, but the principal was waiting in the hall with his condolences, along with the school secretary, who said she prayed for Polly's sister every night. Then Mandy Aloman and Bridget Stork showed up.

"Oh my God," Mandy said between bites of her Mars Bar. "Everybody's talking about it."

"Everyone needs to get a grip," Bridget said. "I'm
sure
she'll be back."

"Unless she was crushed by one of the giant troll people," Mason Halberton cut in. He had appeared behind them and hopped around as if he couldn't see past Mandy's backside. "Move it, troll."

Mandy's cheeks reddened, and Bridget whirled around. "What are you?" she said to Mason. "Blind, deaf,
and
dumb?"

Mason shrugged. "Yeah, well, at least I'm not a freak of nature. All brains and no beauty."

He plugged his nose, but when Bridget stepped toward him, he took off running down the hall.

"Idiot," Bridget said.

The girls walked together to debate class, but Polly held back at the door. She still hadn't worked out what she wanted to say to Olivia, but she needn't have worried. Her former best friend didn't even look at her. Olivia had moved her desk beside Carly Leyland's, and, worse than that, she'd cut her
long brown hair into an exact replica of Carry's stylish chin-length bob.

Carly smiled like the cat who'd swallowed the canary. She leaned over to Olivia and said something that made the traitor laugh while Polly stumbled to her seat.

Mrs. Finch wrote the topic of the day's debate on the board, but Polly had trouble making sense of it. The floor was newly mopped, and more A papers had been pinned to the wall. She wanted to silence the students noisily taking out sheets of paper, but it appeared that no one had skipped a beat since she'd been gone. The PA speaker crackled to life, and Miss Galloway's disembodied voice burst into the room announcing an outdoor assembly. Mrs. Finch sighed and told them to follow her onto the soccer field.

Miss Galloway was already there, encouraging everyone to form a circle and hold hands. She was twenty-eight, Miss Galloway, a lover of wooden-bead necklaces and ponchos, rumored to be from Southern California.

Only the cheerleaders held hands. "Well, let's just be still then," Miss Galloway said. "I thought it only fitting that we take a moment to join in a prayer for Polly Greene's sister, Brianna. I'm sure you've all heard about the tragedy of her disappearance."

There were more stares and whispers, and Polly studied the ground. Someone giggled, and Miss Galloway glared in Carly Leyland's direction. Polly was surprised to see Joe
Meyer, Carly's boyfriend, telling Carly to be quiet. He glanced at Polly apologetically before Carly grabbed his arm and turned him around. Joe was Brad Meyer's younger brother, "an annoying little tattletale," according to Bree. She used to complain about the scenes Joe would make whenever he caught them doing drugs. "You'd think it was the end of the world!" Bree had once said.

Miss Galloway moved to the center of the circle. "Let's bow our heads now and offer a silent prayer for Brianna's safe return."

The silence became a rumble as people tried to get a good look at Polly. She felt like a whale that had washed up on the beach—a horrifying sight, but something everyone had to see, just the same. Embarrassingly, her legs began to tremble, and when she tried to still them, an elbow twitched. By the time Miss Galloway suggested a song, Polly's whole body had the tremors. It was almost a relief when Carly Leyland laughed again, because when everybody's gaze turned, Polly bolted.

Miss Galloway tried to call her back, but Polly was already into the thicket of raspberry bushes that lined the tiny creek behind the school. For a whole eight feet, it was like a mini-wilderness, thorny but green, and then the concrete began. The stream had never been more than a six-inch trickle, but when the Wal-Mart went in behind it, it was lined with
cement to keep it in check. Miss Galloway found her by the stream later.

"When Bree comes back I'm going to kill her," Polly said. The counselor put a hand on Polly's shoulder and led her back to class.

***

Things didn't get much better when school let out. Polly used to meet Olivia by the water fountain, but today she put on her backpack and headed out the back door alone.

When she reached the forest's edge, she dashed into the woods as if it were her grandmother's arms. It was October, but the sun was warm and the scent of pines still thick in the air. Polly set out through a tangle of huckleberry bushes, their leaves already a glorious crimson. Huckleberries were always the first to change color, sometimes starting as early as July. Farther ahead, a meadow of goldenrod still bloomed. Polly picked a leaf and touched it to her tongue.

"Ugh," she said, puckering. Plenty of plants were edible, but Polly had found very few that tasted good. Still, according to Baba, goldenrod leaves could be added to soups and had been used by soldiers in the Crusades to stop bleeding on the battlefield. If Bree was in a fight for survival, she'd need a plant whose name meant "to heal."

Polly stuffed her backpack with leaves, then looked up to see her grandmother stepping out of the deep woods.

"Baba?" she said.

Her grandmother glanced behind her, and Polly quickly followed her gaze, wondering if she'd see a flash of blond hair or a blue winter coat.

"What are you doing out here?" Polly asked.

Baba stepped forward, tapping her medicine bag. "Gathering supplies, of course. And you?"

Polly looked up the mountain to get her bearings. Her mom always worried that she'd lose her way in the woods, but even in an unfamiliar part of the forest, Polly never panicked. Rivers lead to civilization, and trees lead away. Baba had taught her that.

"I'm going back to that grove you showed me," Polly said. "I've got some of Bree's clothes in my backpack, and I'm going to leave her the goldenrod, too."

Baba stared at her a long time, then at last she smiled. "Good," she said. She touched Polly's cheek and headed back toward her cottage, singing her favorite song, a poem she had set to music years ago.

Honey, child, honey, child, whither are you going?
Would you cast your jewels all to the breezes blowing?
Would you leave the mother who on golden grain has fed you?
Would you grieve the lover who is riding forth to wed you?