Gone (18 page)

“THIS PROM SUCKS,” MEGAN announced. “Who chose the music? The whole prom committee should be fired.”

Ed didn't even try to hide his smile. This was one of the few true pleasures he could take in this evening: watching the FOHs having a positively lousy time.

“I know,” Melanie agreed, leaning her face on her hand as she played with the ice in her empty glass. “Don't believe the hype.”

Ed leaned back in his chair and surveyed the entire scene. He had to admit, had the circumstances been a little different, he probably could have had a good time at this thing. The truth was, the FOHs were flat-out wrong. The music was dead-on, and the venue was actually pretty cool. The Supper Club was like a big royal blue throwback to the 1940s, with a huge twenty-five-foot ceiling and a sweeping balcony. The place was downright elegant. The vibe was art deco, but there was funky music booming through the room, and Ed could appreciate the hip combination of the old and the new. He could definitely understand why most of the senior class seemed to be having a blast, whether they were going nuts on the dance floor or hanging at one of the round tables. He couldn't actually feel the pleasure of it himself, but he could
understand it from anyone else's point of view.

He scanned around his table, noting the wide variety of moods from person to person. Kai was next to him, bouncing her head to the music and sucking down a Diet Coke—she could pretty much have a good time no matter where she was. Liz Rodke and her date were next to her. Ed couldn't remember her date's name, or more likely, he was trying to block it due to the incredibly annoying way he had introduced himself. He'd announced his last name with this blue-blooded snob inflection—like his name was supposed to mean something to Ed, which it didn't. Which was precisely why Ed had happily forgotten it. Judging from the look on Liz's face, Ed thought she liked her date even less than he did. They'd hardly spoken a word to each other except for a few three-sentence exchanges about tennis.

Next to them were the FOHs.
Just
the FOHs. No dates. Apparently Rob Preston had managed to sneak in a bottle of Jack Daniels, and he and his football buddies had all disappeared to get ridiculously hammered “
one last time!
” as Rob had so subtly put it. The football boys were far more in love with each other than with their dates. Team first, Jack Daniels second, and their dates in a very distant third—thus were their priorities. At least until they'd gotten sufficiently plowed and came back to the girls for the official last booty call . Ed figured two out of the
five guys
might
make it back for booty call, while the remainder would most likely be discovered in the bathroom at closing—their heads still hanging over the toilets—until the janitor, or possibly a chaperone, threw them out.

Once again Ed had to stop and take a certain pleasure in watching the FOHs' unbearably self-hyped evening go up in smoke. After all their endless bitchy speculation about a certain “other person's” prom date (Ed wouldn't think about that “other person's name), they'd basically ended up with no real dates of their own. Talk about poetic justice. Each one looked more miserable than the next, and it struck Ed as a most fitting end to their reign of bitchery. Although the true end to their reign was embodied in the girl sitting next to him on his right—Ed's one other true pleasure this evening.

Heather and Sam were having a genuinely good time, mostly due to the fact that Heather was as happy as Ed had seen her in a long while. Of everyone at their table Sam and Heather seemed to have the best understanding of this evening as a celebration. They had laughed and talked and even hit the dance floor, where Sam had kept her hand in his at all times just to avoid any potential head-on collisions. Ed had to admit, Sam had been a true gentleman.

Ed and Sam had already settled their “issues” (regarding the nameless person that Ed was very much
not
thinking about tonight—where the hell was she?), and so they could both relax to a certain degree and enjoy Heather's evening with her. Every couple of minutes another classmate would walk up to the table and ask Heather how she was feeling and tell her how thrilled they were for her recovery and how happy they were that she had graced the class one last time with her contagious smile and her beauty. Yes, they were mostly boys, which seemed to annoy the FOHs to no end, but still, Heather hadn't let it go to her head once. Her inner bitch seemed to have disappeared permanently, and it was a real joy for Ed to see. She'd accepted everyone's well-wishes with nothing but honest appreciation and humility. She reminded him so much of the old Heather—the sweet Heather that he'd fallen in love with freshman year, before she'd turned into a shallow, catty terror and made a certain someone's life hell for months (not that Ed was thinking about that certain someone, because he
wasn't
).

Indeed, Heather had been like a queen at this school—a queen who had somehow been corrupted, leading to a cruel, despotic reign that had lasted almost a year. And when she'd been exiled to Carverton, that had pretty much left Megan and the FOHs as a sort of horrible provisional government.

But Heather had come back tonight to take her rightful place as queen. The
good
queen. The Village
School had been returned to a benevolent monarchy on its last day, and Ed was happy to see it. The FOHs had finally been unseated. They had been rendered irrelevant—demoted back to second-tier popularity—and they were pretty pissed about it, despite how much they loved Heather. Their reign had been brief, and they were feeling gypped. Not to mention being collectively dissed by their dates. Their resulting moods were so horrible that they chose to spew out one last round of bitch bile at the table and bring up the one topic Ed desperately did not want to discuss. They needed to feel superior one last time, so they brought up the name that Ed had been trying to forget all night.

“Um, you guys…” Megan was clearly addressing the entire table. She straightened her posture to make that clear. “Not that I
care,
but has anyone noticed who is notably missing from these tragic festivities?”

Ed winced and focused on his soda.

“Oh my God, yes,” Melanie replied. It was the first time she had smiled for most of the night, but it was a sadistic kind of smile. “I
knew
it. I knew she would bag. Where the hell are Gaia and Jake?”

“Or Gaia and
Skyler,
” Tammie added with a gossipy grin.

Out of his peripheral vision Ed could see that Sam was none too pleased to discuss the topic
either. Liz looked even more troubled than Sam—probably at the mention of her brother.

“Maybe she couldn't find her gray sweatshirt.” Laurie giggled. “And Jake and Skyler are helping her look for it* The ladies tittered.

“Or maybe she found her sweatshirt, but she couldn't find her cleats,” Tammie added, upping the laughter quotient.

“Or JC Penney might have been out of black potato sack—”

“Meegs,” Heather interrupted. “MeI. . .” There was an admonishing tone to Heather's voice that silenced all their laughter instantly.

“What?” Megan asked, shooting Heather a defiant glance back.

Heather gave her a long hard stare before speaking. “Nothing,” she said politely. “It's just that I got over my Gaia jealousy a long time ago, and I think you should all probably do the same. It might give you a better sense of closure.”

The FOHs went silent. Ed couldn't contain his smile at seeing them put in their place so handily by the benevolent queen.

“
Jealous?
” Megan finally huffed. “I'm not
jealous
of Gaia. That's ridic—”

“Meegs,” Heather repeated calmly, “do you really want to go there?”

They seemed to share a silent conversation with
their eyes. A conversation that perhaps involved certain things Megan had said to Heather in confidence. Perhaps at a confessional slumber party, Ed figured, or maybe a particularly penetrating game of truth or dare.

“Whatever,” Megan finally said, swallowing her word as she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, whatever,” Melanie echoed, stiffening her back. “The question still remains… Where are Gaia and Jake?”

Ed had been battling it like a warrior for the entire prom, but now Melanie had gone and weakened his goddamn resolve. He had very specifically
not
asked himself that question all damn night despite the fact that he had been asking himself that question all damn night. He didn't want to talk about it. And he desperately wanted to talk about it. Where was she?

“Maybe she had family stuff,” Heather offered, shrugging. “It's none of our business. Maybe she just wasn't in the mood. Maybe she just thinks proms are silly. What's the big deal? If Gaia doesn't want to go, she doesn't have to go. Who knows, maybe she was just—”

“You guys,” Liz interrupted. She was cringing slightly. “I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you all this….”

All heads turned to Liz. Ed nearly got whiplash. “Tell us what?” he asked.

Liz looked down at her drink for a moment, and then she raised her head back up with a sad sort of regret in her eyes. “Well… I don't know about Jake… but I sort of heard that Gaia was leaving.”

“What do you mean, ‘leaving'?” Now Ed was asking all the questions in spite of himself.

“I mean… leaving town,” Liz said. “I heard that she'd sort of had it with New York and that she was going to just skip graduation and prom altogether. I think she was going to Florida or something?”

The sudden silence at the table was like lead. Thick and heavy and impenetrable. Ed felt all the blood drain from his face, leaving his mouth slightly agape.

Heather was the first to finally break the Silence. “Wait,” she said, looking confused. “Wait, she's leaving… or she left?” Ed was glad she had asked. Because he very much wanted the same clarification. He just wasn't able to speak at this particular moment.

Liz clearly hated being the messenger on this one. Not to mention her own apparent melancholy, which seemed to be growing. “The sense I got… I think she's probably gone already.”

Ed suddenly couldn't feel his fingers or his toes. Or his tongue, for that matter. In fact, he couldn't feel, period. His emotional mechanism had just overloaded so fast that he'd blown some kind of fuse. He could only sit there like a statue. Half the table had become
statues. Ed and Sam and Heather and Liz. The FOHs didn't seem to know what to feel. Kai seemed to be silent out of some kind of respect for the other statues. And that left Liz's date.

“Who's Gi-yah?” he asked loudly. “What kind of a name is Gi-yah?” He looked around the table with a half smile of snobitude.

Ed excoriated him with his eyes. “
Gaia,
” he snarled. “It's from Greek mythology. She was a goddess, she was the earth, she was life.”

“Oh… ‘Gaia,'” No-Name muttered. “I knew that.” He retreated back into his chair.

Ed finally released the guy from his harsh stare. The deeply uncomfortable silence returned to the table. Until Sam finally broke it.

“Well… I guess…” Sam took a breath. “I guess I could understand that. Her leaving.” His eyes looked empty as he said it.

“Yeah… ,” Heather uttered, looking at the tablecloth. “I mean, I guess I could understand it, too.” She turned to Sam. “After everything she's been through here, I don't know if I would want to stick around either.”

“What has she been through?” Liz asked with concern.

Sam, Ed, and Heather all shared a series of awkward furtive glances.

“A lot,” Sam breathed. He didn't seem quite sure
where to look when he said it. “She's been through a lot.”

“Yeah.” Heather sighed, slumping back in her chair. “I mean, if anyone deserves a vacation… it's Gaia Moore.”

Sam coughed out a sad little blip of a laugh. “Amen,” he mumbled.

The mood at the table grew more and more and somber.

“Um,
hello,
” Tammie chimed in, shrugging. “The girl's not
dead,
you guys, she's just in Florida. What's with all the sad faces? Florida…? The Sunshine State…? She's lying in some hammock somewhere, eating oranges, with a Corona in her hand. What's the biggie?”

“Well, yeah…,” Kai offered tentatively. “I mean, we should just be happy for her then, right?” Leave it to Kai to look on the bright side. “I mean, I love Florida. Florida's beautiful this time of year. It's always beautiful there. I'm jealous.”

“You know what? I am, too,” Heather declared. “She's out there on some white sandy beach, just kicking back. If she can be happy there, then I think that's great. She deserves it.”

“She does,” Sam agreed. “She deserves it. All I ever wanted was for her to be happy.”

Now all eyes seemed to be on Ed. As if they were waiting for him to concur. Like they needed him to
make it unanimous that this was just great news.
Gaia has run off to sunny Florida! Hip hip hooray! Aren't you happy for her, Ed?

But Ed wasn't there. He wasn't at that table anymore. His eyes were fixed on a dark corner of the Supper Club. That's where Ed was now. In that corner. His arms were firmly wrapped around Gaia's waist. Her arms were wrapped around the back of his neck. Her hair was falling into his face as she kissed him. He was breathing in her warm breath. She was pressing her body against his with more and more force. They had made it through every imaginable disaster together. They had made it to the finish line, and they were sharing one long, perfect kiss to prove it.

But then… piece by piece, Gaia's image began to disappear. Like a ghost. It wasn't just sad, it was disturbing somehow. It was ugly. She was fading away in chunks—first her head, and then her arms, then her torso, then her legs. She was being ripped apart and ripped away.