Lessons from a Dead Girl (9 page)

As the weeks go by and she doesn’t return, more and more rumors spread about where she went. The ones I’ve heard so far are: she dropped out to go to modeling school; she transferred to a fancy all-girls’ finishing school; her parents sent her to a girls’ military school to straighten her out; she transferred schools because she’s already slept with all the guys in this school; and she got pregnant.

I haven’t spoken to Leah since the knife incident, so I have no idea what’s true. And even though I’m selfishly relieved that she’s gone, I worry. To feel better, I try to convince myself that if anything really bad happened, Mrs. Greene would tell my mom.

Some days, I still feel her watching me. Taunting me. Sometimes when a pretty girl walks by me, I can almost hear Leah’s wet whisper in my ear, “Checking her out, Lainey? She’s cute, isn’t she?”

But Leah’s not here anymore. It’s just me, beating myself up.

After Leah’s comments about soccer, I decided to prove her wrong by joining the team after all. I’m not afraid of the locker room. I’m not checking anyone out. Actually, I like getting ready in the locker room, listening to the gossip as we dress for practice, like I’m part of a group again, even if I’m outside the circle. It’s not all that different from the group of fake friends I had with Leah.

“I heard our new uniforms will be in Friday,” Jen Thomas says as she laces up her cleats before practice. She’s talking to Carrie Winters. They’re both juniors.

“I hope mine’s the right size,” Carrie says. “Remember how tight my top was last year? God, I didn’t even need a sports bra. I swear Ms. Sawyer does it on purpose so she can check us out.”

Ms. Sawyer is our coach. She’s openly gay and has a partner, so I doubt she’s interested in them.

Jen pushes out her flattish chest. “She’s not checking
me
out, that’s for sure. Unless she likes little boys.”

“Maybe little girls,” Carrie jokes.

I wish they’d shut up.

“This school is so whacked,” says Jen. “I can’t wait to get out of here.”

“No shit. Speaking of getting out, have you heard about Leah Greene?”

My ears get hot.

“She moved, right? That’s old news. And good news, if you ask me.”

I try to pay attention to my cleats, but I’m sure my head is leaning way too close to them as I hang on every word.

“No, she didn’t move. She’s just not coming back
here,
” Carrie says.

“Why not? Is she too good for us? God, she and her sister are so stuck-up.”

I act busy stuffing things in my backpack so they don’t think I’m listening.

“Actually, I heard that Leah tried to kill herself,” Carrie says.

I drop my bag and look up. Jen stops brushing her hair. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Carrie almost smiles, like she’s proud to know this top-secret news.

I pick up my backpack again and put it on the bench. My hands are shaking.

“Maybe sleeping with every guy in the senior class last year got to her conscience,” Jen says, brushing her hair again.

“Who knows. Why is it all the rich, beautiful girls who do crap like that? I mean, she has everything going for her, so what does she do? She sleeps with every guy on the planet and then tries to off herself. She probably just did it for attention.” Carrie stands up and looks at herself in the mirror. She tucks a few loose strands of hair back into her ponytail.

Jen rolls her eyes.

“I heard Leah transferred to private school over at Sheldon,” says Carrie. “All the rich fuck-ups end up there.”

“She’s just like her slutty sister, Brooke,” Jen says. “They think they’re so much better than everyone else.”

I see Leah pressing the knife against her wrist and look down at the scar on my palm. I squeeze my hand shut again. I feel dizzy. I pull off my cleats and put my school clothes back on. No one seems to notice or care. I shove my practice clothes in my backpack and stand up. The cement floor feels like it’s swaying underneath me. I wobble as I step forward. Carrie gives me a funny look.

I walk out of the locker room, out of the school parking lot, and away. Nobody tries to stop me.

It’s cold and windy outside. The sidewalks seem empty, even though they aren’t. I walk looking down at the pavement in front of me.

The cold stings inside my ears and makes my head pound. I walk faster, finally ending up downtown, in front of the glass door of my parents’ antique store.

I stand outside looking in. My father is talking to a customer. They can’t see me out here in the dark.

I hold my hands in fists inside my jacket pockets. The air is cold and damp-feeling. But I can’t go inside. I’m supposed to be at practice. I’m supposed to be happy Leah is gone and out of my life. But I can’t stop thinking about the last time I saw her, pressing that knife to her wrist. Asking me if I would care. Telling me I passed a test I didn’t even know I was taking.

The woman shopper inside the store turns toward the door. I step aside quickly. The tiny customer-warning bell jingles as the door closes behind her. Her heels click steadily down the sidewalk as she walks away.

The store is quiet. I watch my father smooth his hand over a polished table. Then he walks to the back of the store, and I can’t see him anymore. When he turns out the store light, I see my reflection in the glass. It startles and sickens me at the same time.

I turn around and lean against the cold store window.

Leah tried to kill herself.

Leah tried to die.

I try to remind myself of all the mean things she’s done to me, but in the end it doesn’t matter. With Leah, it never did. Even from the very beginning. No matter how much she hurt me, I always came back. All she had to do was reach for my hand and pull.

I feel what I think is an emptiness in my stomach. I turn back toward the store window again, but as I see my pale reflection and the darkness behind me, I realize that what I’ve really been feeling is loneliness.

I’m crying when my father puts his hand on my shoulder.

“Laine, honey. What are you doing here?”

It’s the first time since I was really little that I’ve cried out loud. He puts his arms around me and squeezes me into his down parka. It smells like wood polish, and I cry on it. My hands are still shoved in my pockets, and with his arms around me, they’re stuck there. So I just stand and let him hug me. I’m glad he doesn’t ask what’s wrong. He seems to understand somehow that I don’t want him to. And, anyway, where on earth would I begin?

When I can’t cry any more, we drive home. I can’t eat, even though my mother tries to make me. My father gives her a look that tells her to leave me alone.

I go to bed and put the covers over my head. I think back to that night when Leah came over for the last time. How she looked at me and Christi as she held the knife to her wrist, like we were pathetic losers. How she laughed at us. For a second, I had wished she would just do it — plunge the knife in and get out of my life. But the feeling vanished when I heard the sound of the car horn and the stranger’s angry voice and I watched Leah disappear into the night.

Before I know it, it’s morning, and I have to go back to school and face all those girls who think they know Leah. Who hate her because they don’t understand.

I spend the following day at school walking from class to class feeling numb and alone. I rub the scar on the inside of my palm, trying to remember the details of that night. Was Leah really warning us? Was that supposed to be her cry for help?

When I get home from school, I decide to call her.

Mrs. Greene answers the phone.

“What a surprise, Lainey!” she says in her high-pitched voice. “So good to hear your voice. We’ve missed you!”

While I wait for her to get Leah, panic slowly creeps into my chest. What do I say? I heard you tried to kill yourself, and I’m calling to find out if it’s true?

“Hey, Laine,” Leah says.

I’m surprised to feel glad to hear her voice.

“Hi,” I say.

There’s a long pause. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“What’s up?” she finally asks. “Decide to miss me?”

“Um. Well. Of course I miss you,” I lie.

“Of course?”

I should hang up.

“I was just calling to see — to see if you’re OK.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

I should’ve known she wouldn’t make this easy.

“Um. Well. I heard this rumor.”

“A
rumor
?” she says in mock surprise. “About
me
? That’s shocking.”

“Yeah. Well. I guess it was only a rumor.”

Because you sound like your usual old self.

“What was it?”

“Oh. Nothing. It was dumb.”

“What was it?” she says, more demandingly. “Let me guess. I got pregnant?”

“No.”

“I got kicked out of school?”

“No.”

“I had an affair with one of the teachers? I got caught using drugs?”

“No. It wasn’t any of those things.”

Please stop.

“Then what? I’ve heard them all, Lainey. You can’t surprise me.”

Fine.

“They said you tried to kill yourself.”

I listen to her breathe. I wait. I count her breaths. Six, seven, eight — I can’t take it anymore.

“Leah? It’s not true, right?”

“Of course not,” she says. But her voice sounds different. “God, Lainey. You’re so gullible. I’m glad you give a shit, though — I really am. I could use a friend like you at my new school. But, Laine, we’ve both moved on, you know?”

This time, I’m the one who doesn’t say anything. Is this really it? Is Leah letting me go for good?

“Yeah. Um, OK,” I finally say. “Sorry to bother you. I’m glad it was only a rumor.”

“Thanks, Lainey. Hey, have a good life.”

She hangs up before I can say good-bye for real.

I don’t know how many times I’ve wished I’d never met Leah Greene. I don’t know how many times I was sure I hated her.

I should be thrilled to be set free at last.

So why do I feel so empty?

For months after I talk to Leah, I have the same dream about her. She’s in a black sports car with a faceless man. She lifts her arm to wave good-bye. As she does, blood starts to gush out of a slit in her wrist. She’s crying. I try to open the door to let her out, but the car is moving, pulling away from me, down a black dirt road. Leah keeps waving at me. And now I can’t tell if she’s waving good-bye or gesturing for me to come after her. The blood starts to cover the window until I can’t see her face. I run after them, but the car disappears. Then I wake up, sweating. Feeling sure the rumors were true.

One day I’m home sick from school with a bad cold. I’m lying curled up in a ball on the couch with my favorite old quilt wrapped around me, watching old
Real World
episodes, when the doorbell rings. I waddle to the door, still wrapped in my quilt. I assume it’s my mother coming home from work to check on me. She’s always coming to the door with her hands full, pressing on the doorbell with her elbow so someone can come help her. I swing open the door without looking to see who it is first.

Standing there in a shiny sweat suit that looks brand-new, and certainly hasn’t been sweated in, is Mrs. Greene.

“Oh, Laine!” she exclaims when she sees me. “This is grand!”

“Hi, Mrs. Greene,” I manage to say to her heavily made-up face.

“Are you under the weather or something, Laine? I didn’t expect to see you.”

I nod.

“Oh, I’m sorry. But I’m glad, too. Not that you’re sick, I mean. But that you’re here. I’ve been meaning to bring this to you for weeks. But, you know, things get busy. I’ve been carrying it around in my purse for days, and today I
finally
remembered to do something about it.” She’s made her way inside, closing the door behind her.

It occurs to me that we’ve probably never been alone together before, and it feels a little odd.

Mrs. Greene rummages through her large black patent-leather purse.

“Ah,” she says. “Here it is.”

Before I have time to guess what it could be, out comes the nesting doll that Sam gave me all those years ago. As soon as I see it, I can almost smell that night: the candles, the food, the wood polish on the floor.

“It’s your nesting doll, Laine! Remember?”

“Yes.” But I don’t hold my hand out. I just look at the doll sitting quietly among Mrs. Greene’s perfectly manicured fingers.

We’re still standing in the hallway. My head feels like it has doubled in size, and I can’t close my mouth because I have to breathe through it.

“You must have left her at the house, Laine. And then forgotten about her? Anyway, when I was reorganizing some of Leah’s and Brooke’s things, there she was. And I thought, well, that was Laine’s doll! Leah tried to tell me that you gave it to her, but I know Leah. Sam meant for you to have it.”

She presses the doll into my hand.

“Thanks,” I say. I try to imagine Leah being caught in a lie, but I just can’t do it. Leah is the best liar ever. She told me once it was OK to lie as long as you asked God to forgive you right away afterward. Sometimes I thought I knew when she was lying because she’d pause for a minute and I thought maybe she was saying a quick, silent prayer.