Out of Order (18 page)

Ten Years Ago

“S
AY
GOOD
-
BYE
to Erica, Kitten, her daddy’s here for her.”

I got up from sitting cross-legged on the rug to hug Ricky good-bye. She was still smaller than I was, despite being eight months older. She was one of the first friends I’d made after the move from the city, and one of the few people who didn’t think it was weird that I’d skipped a grade. I walked with her to my front door, leaving Katie and Jessa sitting together.

“Have fun being seven,” she said, her words whistling through the gap where she’d lost her front tooth. “Being seven is awesome.”

I nodded, my mouth hanging open. I’d just spotted her father standing in the doorway. Like all grown-ups, he was huge—but unlike all grown-ups, he was missing one whole arm. I shut my mouth quickly. It was rude to stare at people who are different than you.

“Thank you for the present,” I said politely, as much to Erica as to her father, who had likely bought the puzzle she’d given me. My father had had to prompt me to say thank you when the first few guests were picked up, but I’d gotten the gist of it soon enough. “I like it a lot.”

My dad shook her dad’s one hand, and then he left with Erica. I closed the door behind them, looking to my father with bewilderment. “Why hasn’t he got an arm?” I asked. He hushed me and then crouched down to my height.

“We’ll talk about it once everyone’s gone home, okay?” he said. I nodded and then ran back to my last two guests to rejoin them on my living room floor.

We got through only one more party game before the doorbell rang again, and my dad left the room to answer it. He returned to announce that it was Katie’s turn to go home. Jessa stood up first and hugged her tightly before Katie put her pink backpack over her shoulders.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Katie said as I walked her to the door.

“Thanks for coming,” I said, and hugged her. “And thank you for the present. You should come over, and we can paint our nails together.” My mother would never allow such a messy activity in the house, but I kept the faith that she’d let me keep the nail polish if I had her help me paint my nails.

“I’d love to!” Katie said when she let go of me. She turned to the person who had come for her, clearly expecting someone else when she put her hands on her hips and demanded, “Where’s mom?”

“She went out,” said a boy’s voice, and I craned my neck to see the face of the incredibly tall teenager. He was much taller than my dad, maybe even taller than Ricky’s. “You’ve got me instead.” Katie sighed in a put-upon way and then hugged the boy’s knees. He had spindly legs, like he was made of Play-Doh and had been stretched upward.

My dad was frowning. “Do you guys need a ride home? We’ve got one more kid waiting for her parents, but if you stick around I could drive you.”

“That’s okay. It’s not a far walk. Thanks anyway. Can’t wait until I get my driver’s license next year, though.”

“Dustin says that once he’s got his license, he’ll drive me to dance class every week!” Katie said proudly. “Because he’s the best brother.”

“Because mom said she’d pay me to,” Katie’s brother laughed, ruffling her wild blonde curls before reaching down to take her hand. He had to stoop. Katie waved back at me as her brother led her out of the house. I ran back to the living room, and Jessa and I climbed up on the couch to watch them walk away through the front window, our arms crossed over the back of the couch.

“Who’s that? Her dad doesn’t live with her anymore,” Jessa said. “That’s a secret, though. Don’t tell anyone.”

“That’s Katie’s brother,” I said.

“That’s her brother?” Jessa gasped. She sounded impressed. “He’s so old! I wish I had a big brother. I don’t have any brothers. I just have two sisters and one’s still a baby.”

“He’s really big,” I said. I thought he was the tallest person I’d ever met.

“Gracie started walking the other day. Mom was really surprised because Mary-Ellen and I both didn’t walk until we were a year old, and Gracie’s birthday isn’t until September!”

Jessa was the oldest of my friends, having turned eight before I turned seven. Katie was next oldest. She turned eight in July, making her eleven months older than me. Erica’s birthday wasn’t until October. We were the most alike and also the closest in age. Sometimes I felt like the baby of the group. I hoped that I wouldn’t feel like that forever.

I rested my chin on my hands and watched as Katie and her brother turned the corner. Jessa did the same, leaning down until we were the same height. Jessa was the tallest of the four of us, but only by a little. I had a feeling, after seeing Katie’s brother, that
she
would be the tallest once we’d stopped growing.

“Do you think we’ll still be friends when we’re grown-ups?” I asked Jessa, sighing.

Jessa nodded vigorously against her hands. “Of course. We made a pact, remember? Best Friends Forever doesn’t just go away. That’s why it’s
forever
.”

“I’ve never had a best friend before,” I said.

“And now you’ve got three of them forever!” Jessa laughed and I smiled. I really liked the idea of having friends forever. I leaned my cheek against my hand and watched as Jessa’s parents’ big SUV came around the corner and then pulled into our driveway. I wasn’t ready to say good-bye yet.

T
HE
SKY
was the color of gutter water through the parted beige curtains of our living room. I was sitting in front of the big front window, resting my chin in the crook of my elbow, which hung limply over the hard back of the couch. My fingers had long ago gone numb from the awkward position.

Thunder rumbled far off in the distance; the sky threatened rain. I flinched every time a firework went off, streaking the gutter-water sky with bright colors for a moment before they faded away, lingering in my vision like the rainbows in an oil slick on the road.

A splash of sparklers burst across the sky, mimicking the sound of a reloading shotgun:
chinch, chuh-chinch
. A crackle followed it—I imagined gunpowder burning. Then, finally, another of the loud ones went off. There was a whistle, and then the sound of a gunshot cut the night air. I flinched and shut my eyes before the starburst of color that followed it, shaking against the back of the couch until I could catch my breath.

The report sounded so much like a gun going off that it took my breath away. With every bang, my body shook, expecting a scream to follow. Even the rolling thunder made my breath stop for a moment. Still I waited, my forehead pressed against the cool window glass.

The road lit up suddenly with headlights as my mother’s Volvo turned the corner and then pulled into the driveway. I was nearly blinded by the light before she shut off the car. I sat up and ground the heels of my hands into my eye sockets, trying to rub away the spots in my vision. As I blinked away stars, I saw my mother put her briefcase over her head and then dash for the front door.

“Is it raining?” I asked dumbly as she burst into the hallway. She poked her head around the corner, and I could see her red hair was frizzled with damp.

“It’s just starting,” she said, wiping the few drops of rain from her leather briefcase with the inside of her jacket. “But it’s humid as hell. There’s going to be a big storm tonight.”

My dad, hearing us, appeared at the top of the stairs. He had a split lip. He didn’t ever say that I’d done it, but I must have hit him at the funeral. I’d fought and flailed hard to get free, but most of it was a blur of adrenaline and panic.

“How’d it go?” he asked, slowly descending the stairs.

My mom took off her coat and hung it by the door. “Better than I expected, after that kerfuffle at the cemetery,” she began, unlacing her boots and stepping out of them. She crossed the room and sat in the armchair across from the couch that largely went unused. “Dustin Adams signed a full confession.”

I didn’t know what I expected to feel when I heard the news, but more anger wasn’t it. I clenched my hands into fists. My nails dug into my palms hard enough to leave marks, but I couldn’t unclench them or my jaw, which had locked tight.

“Does that mean there won’t be a trial?” my dad asked. A firework went off behind us, screeching into the air before exploding in a dozen little whizzes and bangs. I held my breath.

“Probably not. They’re going to move him in the morning to a station better equipped to handle his case. Apparently, the murders are connected to some other criminal activity and they’re going to pursue Adams as a witness. The district attorney will probably offer him a deal for cooperation.”

My jaw unhinged, and I managed to gurgle out a question. “A deal?” I asked, having watched enough
Law & Order
to know that meant reduced jail time. “What could he possibly say that’s worth making a deal for?” My lower lip began to tremble uncontrollably. I sucked it into my mouth and held on to it with my teeth so it would stop.

My mom sat primly on the armchair, looking like she was in a job interview rather than in her own living room. She looked deeply uncomfortable.

“I don’t know everything,” she said, “but they’re saying this is gang related. A hit.”

My dad, hovering between the two of us awkwardly, beat me to the punch when he gasped, “A
hit
? The girls aren’t in a gang!” A slip of the tongue, his use of the present tense to refer to the four of us. I felt a tug of nostalgia for a time when I could say “we are” instead of “we were.”

“I heard Adams raving about how ‘
they
’ were going to kill him if he didn’t kill Kate before they hauled him off. And one of the cops told me it was drug related—that he runs cocaine for some big dealer. That’s all I know, guys.” Mom held up her hands in defense. “That’s all I could get out of anyone.”

A stone settled in my stomach. I thought I might retch and puke it up; I imagined it getting caught in my throat and choking me to death.

I could see it clear as day: Dustin’s stash of cocaine, dipped into by Kate for a bit of reckless fun. Angry gang members coming after Dustin for the drugs or money or both. Dustin telling them his sister must have stolen the missing product. A shotgun put in Dustin’s hands;
either she dies, or you do
. Jessa and Ricky the unfortunate bystanders, Jake Hastings the witness. And I, consumer of the cocaine that got my friends killed, hid in the bathroom.

I felt a cool hand on my forehead and jerked away from it just as another set of fireworks was shot into the air.
Bang!
One of your friends is dead. You have just seconds to react, what do you do? Go and hide, you coward!
Bang!
Another dead friend’s body hits the floor, her blood on
your
hands.

“It’s my fault,” I moaned, covering my face in my hands.

“It isn’t your fault. How could it have been?” My dad sat on the couch next to me and began stroking my hair. “Kate’s brother was involved in some—” He paused. “—frankly terrifying criminal activity, but he chose to do what he did. You didn’t make him do it.”

“I knew about it,” I said, pulling away from his soothing hands. “I knew about the drugs, and I didn’t do anything.” What could I have done? Called the police? To what end—getting
Kate
arrested for possession? “Kate took them from her brother’s room when he was home in March. I didn’t tell anyone.”

The last words were barely whispered, my voice breaking. It had all been a game to Kate; a little bit of recklessness while we had the chance. She’d been so sure we couldn’t get in trouble for it. She’d been so sure her brother wouldn’t do anything.

“If Kate was doing cocaine,” my mom said, breaching the thin veil of my misery. “Then it’s no wonder she—” She stopped. I took my hands off my face. My cheeks burned, and my lower lip quivered—not with grief, but with rage.

“It’s no
wonder
she got herself killed?” I asked. My voice was much steadier than I thought possible. “Is that what you were going to say?”

My mom looked to my dad, her eyes wide with regret. Rarely did my mother not filter carefully her words and render them in the most PC way possible. Rarely did she fail to showcase herself in the best possible light. Rarely did she let her true colors shine through like she did then, with one careless phrase. Blaming the victim for her own murder.

“Corinna—”

I shook my head. Her apology died on her lips. “Kate was not a bad girl,” I said. “She did some stupid things, she cared way too much about what other people thought of her, and she was reckless with her own safety sometimes, but she didn’t deserve to
die
for it.”

I stood up from the couch slowly, staring my mother down. She had an unreadable face. I didn’t know what she was thinking.

“My friends are dead, and you dare blame Kate for her
own murder
rather than the man who shot her?” I asked. I shook my head. “If you’re going to blame her, then you might as well blame me too, because I’m the one who got high with her.” My whole body was shaking. I couldn’t believe I was standing in front of my parents with those words in my mouth.

“And she was my date to prom,” I added, because why the hell not? “We only did the group thing so it wouldn’t be so obvious. She and I were a
couple
.” This was not strictly true, but I felt like Kate would forgive me for saying it. We might’ve been a couple, if we’d had time to sort ourselves out. If we’d gotten out of this small town, where gossip spreads like the common cold.

Before either of my parents could say anything, I marched out of the living room and up the stairs to my room. My eyes were burning and my legs felt like jelly, but not a single tear had fallen during the entire exchange. I was proud of myself. I had never once been in a fight with my parents without crying before.

I didn’t quite know what I was doing, but I grabbed my cell phone from its charging hub and the heavy comforter off the foot of my bed, dragging it behind me down the hall to the bathroom. I could hear my parents arguing in the living room, their voices low and angry. I locked myself in the bathroom, the one place they couldn’t get to me.