Hush (2 page)

She glanced at the rain squiggling down the windows. Well, at least that had been the plan.

Maybe she would be looking for a motel, if she ever got to the beach.

The beach . . .

Tell me what happened, in your own words.

She didn‘t want to think back. She didn‘t want to relive a past she was trying really, really hard to put aside forever. But it was not to be, apparently, and giving in, Coby closed her eyes and thought back to the night that had changed the lives of everyone there. . . .

June 14: Just after school was out at the end of junior year
Coby had been seventeen—well, at the time all the girls were either seventeen or eighteen.

None of them had wanted to be at the beach party where it had all started. They weren‘t even really friends, and they never had been. It was just that their dads had formed friendships back when the girls were all in grade school and they‘d never gotten the memo that their daughters didn‘t care whether they hung out together or not.

But the beach trip happened anyway. And so there they were, sitting in a circle on the sand around the sputtering flames of a campfire that was feeding on driftwood and the pilfered sticks from a broken-down laurel hedge near Coby‘s dad‘s beachfront home. They‘d added some leftover brown paper grocery bags that they‘d discovered stacked on shelves in the garage to use as kindling, and now the fire smoked and crackled and burned their eyes.

They were seated directly on the sand. June sand. Coby could feel the damp and chilling cold seep through the bottom of her capris. She wished she‘d worn jeans. Even with the fire‘s warmth she shivered—they all shivered—and they stared at each other through drifting smoke that the wind occasionally, gleefully, snatched away and then tossed back into their faces, rife with sand.

Several of the girls had pulled their sleeping bags around themselves like blankets, and the collective thought on their minds was whether they really, really, really wanted to spend the night on the beach or go back to the house where it was warm and light.

But nobody wanted to be the one to wuss out first. There was some strange need to prove something to each other that no one was copping to. They‘d told themselves they were here to have fun. F.U.N. So, maybe they weren‘t the best of friends. So, maybe they didn‘t even really like or know each other. It didn‘t matter. They‘d been on soccer teams and softball teams and participated in student body functions and pep rallies together and they‘d weathered the years of grade school, junior high, and now high school together. And though it was their fathers who‘d bonded in those early years, forming a group of Dads and Daughters, organizing trips and functions for them all, clinging to their male-bonding while the girls drifted further and further away from their second-grade selves, the girls let it all happen and went along with it. They had determined, by tacit understanding, that they could keep up the facade for their dads‘ sakes by handling this beach trip and even pretending they were having a good time. Maybe they even would.

The fact was they were facing their senior year. The last year of high school before they would all be launched into adulthood where a whole new horizon awaited them. For some, it might be a tragedy, but for Coby it was all she‘d been waiting for: the beginning of a welcome future where she could shake off the sticky remnants of her youth and run toward something totally new and fabulous.

She was lost in happy thoughts about this unwritten future when Genevieve Knapp slowly stood up across the campfire from Coby, her right hand cupping the flame of a candle that she held in her left. Coby regarded her suspiciously. What the hell was this? Genevieve was cool, blond, and one of the most outspoken of their group, and the way she was standing regally, chin jutted out, did not inspire confidence. Coby glanced to her left, to petite Ellen Marshall, and they exchanged a worried look.

―It‘s time to play Pass the Candle,‖ Genevieve intoned. She gazed in turn at each of them seated in the circle around the ragged campfire that had been dug into a pit in the sand. With the wind snatching at her hair and the smoke funneling around her, she looked like some kind of spectral being arisen from the ashes.

Pass the Candle? Coby didn‘t much like the sound of that.

One of the girls, Dana Sainer, a small, birdlike brunette, coughed several times and waved away the smoke. She blinked up at Genevieve. ―What?‖ she asked.

―Yeah, what?‖ Rhiannon Gallworth cut in. ―What does that mean?‖ Rhiannon had dark eyes and pale skin and a doelike look about her that was belied by her sharp chin and faintly militant manner.

―Yeah,‖ Coby said, not to be outdone.

―We‘ve all known each other since forever, but do we really know each other?‖ Genevieve asked, in lieu of answering directly. ―Everyone has secrets. Some we can‘t wait to tell. Some we never want anyone to know. This is about those secrets that are buried deep. Each of us needs to tell one now. Our deepest, darkest secret. And once told, it never leaves the circle of this group.‖

―Like, oh, sure,‖ Coby sputtered, half laughing. She expected all the others to go along with her on this, but no one said a word. They all looked at each other, or the fire, or the ground, or the ocean, its dull roar a constant background noise.

Overhead there was a crescent moon and stars glimmered, as if offering their own comments. Coby looked skyward herself, thinking,
Good God,
before the wind tossed more sand into her eyes, forcing her to turn away.

She didn‘t want to do this. She wanted to run away screaming, right now. Surreptitiously, she threw a glance at her watch and wondered when she could legitimately leave, but it was too dark to read the tiny clock face.

Rhiannon‘s brows were lifted in disbelief, but it was Wynona Greer, whose dishwater bro wn pageboy locks fell across her cheeks, obscuring her features except for the tip of her sharp nose, who demanded belligerently, ―Oh, yeah? Well, who‘s going to start? You?‖

―I‘ll be last,‖ Genevieve answered, and there was something about the way she said it that made Coby think she possessed some big secret, or at least thought she did, and wanted to wait to spring it on all of them. But that was kind of Genevieve‘s way. High drama, even when there was none. Especially when there was none, actually.

Wynona repeated, ―So, who‘s going to start, then?‖

―I will.‖

They all looked in the direction of the determined voice of Yvette Deneuve. Yvette was one of five sisters dubbed the ―Ette sisters‖ by their friends and classmates because the sisters‘ first names all ended with
ette
: Nicholette, Annette, Yvette, Juliet, and Suzette, in that order. All of them were dark-haired and dark-eyed with mocha-colored smooth skin, a gift from their French father, Jean-Claude Deneuve, one of the dads currently back at the beach house and best friend to Coby‘s own dad, Dave Rendell. They were all staying at Coby‘s family‘s beach house—now her father‘s house, since the divorce—and back at that house Coby‘s sister, Faith, and Yvette‘s sister Annette Deneuve, both a year older than the group on the beach, were hanging out together. In fact, Jean-Claude had brought all of his daughters, except Nicholette, the eldest, and Coby suddenly, fervently wished she‘d stayed back at the house with the rest of the Ettes.

But Genevieve had been insistent, so here they were.

Now Yvette took the candle. Her dark hair was held back in a ponytail and the candle‘s uncertain light cast deep shadows, hollowing out her cheeks. ―I‘ve kept this secret for years. I‘ve never told anyone.‖ She inhaled and exhaled several times, as if seriously considering backing down, then said quickly, ―I had sex with a nineteen-year-old neighborhood friend when I was thirteen.‖

Coby‘s brows lifted in spite of herself.
Whoa. That sure sounds like statutory rape.

Thirteen?

―You mean like sex, sex?‖ Wynona asked, looking scandalized. ―Or just a blow job or something?‖

―You want an anatomy lesson?‖ Yvette demanded. ―Yeah, sex, sex. Like in you can get pregnant from it. That kind of sex. Jesus.‖ With that she thrust the candle to McKenna Forrester, who was seated on Yvette‘s left, then sat back down, frowning, her arms wrapped around her knees, her chin resting on them.

It was clear to Coby that Yvette was already regretting her revelation, and she totally understood. Coby had no idea what she herself was going to say. What the hell! She didn‘t have any deep, dark secrets. But McKenna was only two people to Coby‘s right, so that meant that after McKenna, then Ellen, it would be Coby‘s turn.

Maybe I should just run away now!

Wynona threw Yvette a
look
. Her father, Donald Greer, was the vice principal at their high school, and Wynona had always been the goody-two-shoes type, even looking that way with her pageboy and conservative clothes. It sort of surprised Coby that Wynona seemed to think a blow job was somewhere further down the sex scale from going all the way. As far as Coby was concerned, she didn‘t want any part of any kind of sex unless that sex was with either Lucas Moore or Danner Lockwood. Danner was a few years older than Coby, long out of Rutherford High, and didn‘t know she was even alive. His brother, Jarrod Lockwood, was in Coby‘s class, but he was just a friend and Coby didn‘t feel the same way about him as Danner. But Danner was about as attainable as a movie star, where Lucas Moore, her other crush, was a classmate and kinda available. He‘d made out with practically all of the girls in this group at one time or another. Currently he was hooked up with Rhiannon, but with Lucas, who knew?

McKenna stood up slowly. She wore camouflage pants and a T-shirt and her short, dark hair was covered by a baseball cap. She dressed like a boy and was androgynous enough to make them all wonder if she was gay. The fact that the issue was unaddressed showed how little they all really knew about each other. McKenna cleared her throat several times and Coby wondered if they were about to have that question finally answered. ―I don‘t want to do this,‖ she said.

―Oh, come on, McKenna,‖ Genevieve cajoled. ―Yvette spoke the truth. You can‘t do the same?‖

McKenna pressed her lips together, thought hard for a moment, then suddenly burst out, ―I wrecked the car when I was fifteen and my brother took the blame for me. I shouldn‘t have been driving alone. Mom and Dad still don‘t know. I don‘t think we woulda got the insurance money if they reported me, and we didn‘t have the money to fix the car otherwise. I owe my brother big-time.‖ Quickly, she sat back down and handed the candle to Ellen, who cupped the wildly jumping flame until it smoothed out.

Coby glanced sideways at Ellen, who carefully uncupped her hand but didn‘t stand up.

Everyone in the group stared at the mesmerizing flame.

Ellen said in a hypnotic voice, ―I had an abortion.‖

Coby‘s lips parted in pure shock and it was all she could do to keep from jerking around to stare directly at her.
Ellen?
Petite blond, blue-eyed Ellen, who was the quietest of the group? Coby knew next to nothing about her other than her parents were divorced, like hers, and she lived with her dad.

But an abortion?

―It was a guy I met last summer,‖ Ellen went on in a barely audible voice. ―Summer camp.

We hung out and . . .‖ She trailed off and deep silence lasted for about five seconds, then she added,

―I had it done right before school started last year.‖

―I thought you went out for cross country last fall,‖ Wynona said breathlessly. ―How‘d you do that?‖

―That was the year before,‖ Ellen answered, lips tight. ―Last year I couldn‘t.‖

She carefully passed the candle to Coby, who gazed at it with an escalating heart rate. She had nothing to say.
Nothing!
Her parents were divorced and her dad had won the beach house, while her mom got the Portland Heights home that looked over the city. But the whole divorce thing had been a fairly businesslike transaction, it seemed to Coby, who, though she hated the fact that they‘d split, sort of got it that they‘d just moved emotionally apart from each other. Coby had one older sister, Faith, who was a bit of a goody-two-shoes like Wynona, so there was no drama there. The rest of her extended family weren‘t scandalmongers, either. Well, except for Great-uncle Harold, the lech, who‘d laid a couple of disgusting kisses on Coby‘s and Faith‘s lips—yuck!—and had made kissing attempts with any other female within reach, but Uncle Harold had died a few years earlier with no serious incidents to report, so he was out.

So, no . . . there was nothing, really. Coby wildly thought back to the night she‘d shared some rotgut wine with her best friend, Willa, and they‘d both puked in the backyard. But last year Willa had moved to the East Coast, and what could have been a long road of merry transgressions and exploits together had left Coby pretty much alone and partnerless in crime.

The girls were all looking at her expectantly. She was annoyed to see her hand tremble slightly as she stood up. But one thing she wasn‘t, was a wimp. So if this campfire required a story, she would come up with one.

If you don’t have anything bad to say about anybody, make up something.

―I caught my father in bed with another woman before my parents‘ divorce was final,‖ she announced, the lie tasting bad on her tongue.

―Daddy Dave?‖ Genevieve said with a squinty look. ―You caught Daddy Dave with another woman?‖

―I don‘t believe it,‖ Yvette stated flatly.

Coby was instantly pissed off. ―Why am
I
the liar?‖

―Because your dad‘s just a really good guy,‖ Yvette said on a huge sigh accompanied by major eye-rolling and a switch of her ponytail. ―We all know it. That ‘s why we‘re here, isn‘t it?

Because Daddy Dave wanted to get together with my dad, his best bud?‖

―Well, it‘s true,‖ Coby insisted stubbornly, passing the candle on to Dana Sainer, who stood up to take it from her. Coby sat down hard. Even though she‘d made the whole thing up out of a tiny incident where she‘d caught her father at a café with a woman she hadn‘t recognized—a coworker, it turned out later—during the final stages of the divorce, Coby was bugged that they didn‘t believe her. It was a dumb game. Dumb, dumb, dumb!