The After Girls (23 page)

But in the hall, she heard footsteps, and she realized that Jake wasn’t going to let her just hang out in here forever. She carefully put the key back in its place — she could think about that later — she needed to get the journal before she worried about anything else.

Ella ran her eyes along the top of Astrid’s dresser.

But the journal wasn’t there.

Ella heard more footsteps, and she didn’t stop to think. Grace had hidden it somewhere. She knew that she had. She opened the top drawer.

She flipped through, nothing but t-shirts and tank tops. One from the fair. Another for River Deep that the two of them had hand-made with those felt letters you get at the craft store. She pushed the drawer shut, moved on to the next one, whipping it open.

There were dresses, lots of dresses. Beautiful ones that Ella had borrowed, cotton and silk and polka-dotted and striped. Ella flipped through every one, each bringing to mind a memory, a dance, a party, a day in the woods. And in an instant her finger felt something smooth. She quickly pushed the clothes aside and there it was. A thick, beat-up, leather-bound notebook. The one that Astrid was always scrawling in. The one Ella had seen so many times — in classes, when they were at the lake, on a long car ride — the one that seemed to steal their friend sometimes. The one that took her to another world, took her inside her Astrid head, shut them out.

Ella took the notebook out of the drawer with shaking hands. A part of her almost hated it. Maybe if Astrid hadn’t been so devoted to it, to this thing, this inanimate, falling-apart thing, then maybe she would have told them something. Maybe they would have been able to actually help her. Maybe they wouldn’t be in this mess.

Maybe Ella wouldn’t be sneaking in rooms, weighing the importance of skeleton keys. Maybe she’d be spending one last high-school summer with her best friend. Maybe she wouldn’t be left chasing after a ghost.

Ella’s heart raced as she stared at the book.

“You okay in there?” she heard Jake through the door, and she jumped, dropping the journal on the floor.

“Fine,” she said, and without hesitating, she slid the drawer shut, picked the journal up, and tucked it safely in her purse.

Sydney woke up missing Carter.

She didn’t expect it — it surprised her, really. It’s just that the morning before had been so nice. She liked waking up with his arm still snugly tucked around her. Slowly dragging herself out of bed and looking at him as if they had a secret. Their awkward high-five goodbye because what else could she really do? Softly opening the window and watching his lanky body climb down the tree.

She liked the way a day later her bed still smelled a little bit like boy.

Sydney reached her arms above her and stretched her legs across the bed. There was so much space without him in it.

She knew that she didn’t like him like she did Max — her heart didn’t quicken when she looked at his face — he wasn’t nearly as beautiful — he wasn’t nearly as smooth. Instead, she liked his gangliness, his silliness, the way he could hold her and make it all better, even if just for a second. She liked the fact that he was Carter.

Sydney rolled over and grabbed her phone off the nightstand. It was noon already. She almost wanted to send him a message. They hadn’t spoken since he’d left yesterday morning, and they’d see each other again at practice tonight — she wanted to make sure they were still on cool, friendly terms. No matter what may or may not be going on, she wasn’t ready to process it. Not yet. But what would she say?

Thanks for staying over — you were decidedly not creepy about it.

I don’t think I like you, but I don’t think I don’t like you either. What do you think?

I might have been just leading you on to get back at Max — let’s not take it too seriously.

Promise me this won’t ruin our friendship.

Maybe we should just pretend we didn’t cuddle?

Do you need any more socks?

But it didn’t matter, because her phone rang then. It was Ella.

She held the phone in her hand, deciding whether to answer. They hadn’t talked since she’d stormed out. She didn’t know what to say, how to say it. Part of her felt that Ella wouldn’t even listen to a word she had to say — and certainly not to reason. But the other part of her — the
I want to be a good friend
part — knew that Ella needed her now more than ever.

She clicked answer. “Hey.”

“I’m glad you answered.” Relief flooded her voice.

“Is everything okay?” Sydney asked. “I meant to call yesterday …” her voice trailed off.

“It’s okay,” Ella said quickly, almost dismissively. “I have something to show you. Can I come over?”

“Uhh, sure,” Sydney said reluctantly. She was afraid to deny Ella anything right now. Anything that could help her even a little bit. “Just give me like an hour to shower and stuff. I’m still in bed.”

“I’m outside your house,” Ella said.

“What?”

“I came straight here. I need to come up.”

“You said everything was alright.”

“It is,” Ella said. “I just have something to show you. Trust me, I’ve seen you without makeup before.”

Sydney couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay,” she said. “Come on.”

Almost instantly, she heard the doorbell ring and her mom’s footsteps. Ella wasn’t kidding when she’d said she was right here. She was up the stairs and in Sydney’s room in seconds.

“Geez,” Sydney said, pushing back the covers and hopping out of bed. “You don’t waste any time.” She pulled on a pair of pants while Ella caught her breath. “Okay, okay,” she said, flopping back down on the bed. “What is it?”

Ella threw her bag down and pulled out a leather-bound book. It looked familiar. It looked like …

Ella tossed it over.

“Whoa,” Sydney said. Her hands began to shake as she realized what it was. “Is this — ”

“It’s Astrid’s,” Ella said, her voice shaking as much as Sydney’s hands.

Instinctively, Sydney threw it back on the bed. It was her friend’s. It was probably one of the last things that she had laid her hands on. It was her personal property, her deepest darkest secrets. It was everything Sydney hadn’t asked her, everything she’d been dying to tell. Everything she’d died without telling. Sydney felt scared and dirty and curious all at once.

“How did you get this?” she asked.

Ella paused — it looked like she was weighing whether to tell her the truth or not. “I took it from her room,” she said finally.

Sydney shook her head. “How did you even — ”

“I needed to read it,” Ella said, and in that moment she seemed so genuine, so real, that Sydney almost believed that it was that simple. But then she thought of the cabin and those horrible flowers and every theory and story and she knew that this was just another step down a dangerous path.

“But how?” Sydney asked.

“Jake let me in,” Ella said, calmly. “I found it, and I just came here.”

“I should have known,” Sydney said, and she felt sick all of a sudden. Somewhere along the line, things had gotten way out of hand. Playing around the cabin was one thing, but sneaking into a dead friend’s house was another. “El, this is going too far.”

Ella sighed. “Since when are you the voice of reason?”

“Since you seemed to have lost yours,” Sydney said.

“That’s not fair,” Ella snapped. “You’ve never cared about the rules.”

Sydney shook her head. “I’m not breaking into people’s houses, Ella.”

“I didn’t break in. Jake let me.”

“Okay,” she said. “And he let you just take her journal?”

Ella rolled her eyes, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course he didn’t. I stuffed it in my bag and came straight here.”

Sydney looked down at the journal, scooting back on the bed, further away from it. “Ella,” she said. “Why did you bring this to me?”

Ella flopped back on the bed, and her eyes crinkled up and Sydney thought that she might cry. But then she took three deep breaths and she closed her eyes and she spoke. Her voice was soft. “I couldn’t read it,” she said. “I thought about it, but I couldn’t. Not alone.”

Sydney stared back down at the journal, thinking of everything it could hold. “Ella,” she said. “I don’t think I can, either.”

Ella sat up straight then, her eyes wide again. “Please,” Ella said. “I just can’t. Please.”

Slowly, Sydney picked it up, feeling the width, the weight, of it in her hands. She was terrified, she wanted to make it disappear — to burn it, mail it, put it in some safe deposit box and swallow the key — but yet she couldn’t help wanting to know what was inside.

“Please,” Ella said. “She was our friend.”

Sydney hesitated. “It doesn’t belong to us.”

Ella’s eyes got wide and her voice got louder. “It doesn’t belong to
Grace
either.”

“We don’t even know if she read it.”

“She did,” Ella said. “Trust me. I just know. Why shouldn’t
we
?”

Sydney took a breath. She knew that in some weird way, Ella was right. If anyone should read it, it was them. “Okay,” she said slowly, her hands beginning to shake. Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t condemn her. Maybe even if it did, it would feel better than this — this heavy, abstract guilt.

“Okay.”

She flipped it open. “Property of Astrid” stared back at her. Sydney felt the knots tighten in her stomach.

“No,” Ella said. “Don’t start there.”

“What do you mean?” Sydney asked.

“It won’t be there,” Ella said, her voice raising. “Turn to the back.”

She stood up, began to pace back and forth.

“What do you — ”

“Just turn to the back,” Ella said, her eyes wild, her breathing growing quicker. “If she wrote anything, any note or anything, it would be in the back.” Her voice trembled. “Whatever she wrote last.”

“Okay,” Sydney said. “Just calm down, please. I can’t do this if you don’t calm down.”

“I can’t calm down,” and her voice was almost scary now, and Sydney couldn’t tell if El was about to scream or cry but Sydney looked in her eyes and she felt like if she didn’t do it now, Ella would truly be lost.

She turned the book over quickly. Opened it. Stared at the page.

Ella looked away. “Just read it,” she said, almost as if she were in pain. “Please just read it.”

Sydney’s eyes scanned the page, and she felt instant relief. She didn’t know how to tell Ella that there was no answer — that this wasn’t what she wanted. It wasn’t their reason. Their goodbye. It was dated the night of their graduation, a few weeks before Astrid killed herself. But she cleared her voice and read anyway, trying to stay steady. Trying to stay calm.

We graduated tonight. We put on our caps and gowns and we walked along to the silly music. Everyone pretended like we were starting some great chapter, but I knew that we weren’t. Ella will leave in a few months, even Sydney won’t stick around, but I’ll be stuck here, and things will be just like they are. I wish that my dad could have been here to see me. Maybe that would have made it better, more bearable. But I know I’ll never seem him again. Never —

Sydney threw the book down. “I can’t do this,” she said, because it was all rushing at her — sucking her back, like the stupid spinning rides at the state fair that always gave her a headache. She remembered the night well — how could she forget it? Astrid had come over before the ceremony to get ready. She’d never been all that into makeup but towards the end of the year she’d seemed to lose all interest whatsoever — it seemed so obvious now, it seemed so much like they should have seen it coming, but at the time it had just seemed like makeup, like the best thing she could do was doll her friend up for their graduation photos — and she knew now that she should have done more, she should have done so much more.

But she hadn’t. She’d helped Astrid get ready, lining her eyes with heavy liner and curling her eyelashes, coating her lids with sparkle shadow. The skin around her eyes was puffy. “Are you alright?” Sydney had asked. “It’s just allergies,” Astrid said. But of course it wasn’t allergies. Why in the world had she let herself believe her? Why had she thought she’d had all the time in the world to help her friend?

Ella picked up the book and kept reading, even though Sydney didn’t want to hear it anymore. God, she didn’t want to hear it at all.

—
There’s no new chapter for me. Even if I’d applied anywhere, I know that it wouldn’t make a difference. There’s no other way to look at it, I’m stuck.

Ella shook her head in disbelief. “What does she mean she didn’t apply anywhere?” Ella asked, her voice rising to a panic. “She told me she was wait-listed.”

“That can’t be right,” Sydney said, trying to sound convincing. She’d known that Astrid kept things to herself — but that she’d deliberately misled them? — even after everything, it was hard to believe.

How well had they really known her?

Ella read it aloud again. Then she looked straight at Sydney.

“She lied to me.”

Sydney struggled to find words that would make Ella feel better. “Maybe that’s not what she meant.”

“What else could she mean?”

“I don’t know,” Sydney said. “Nothing.”

But then Ella’s eyes were wild again. “Maybe there’s something else in here,” she said, flipping the pages back, scanning each one. “Maybe there’s some kind of explanation. Maybe something happened. Maybe she couldn’t apply for some reason. Maybe she wasn’t really lying.”

Ella scanned the book, and Sydney wanted to hug her and hold her and find a way to somehow make this all better. But she couldn’t — Ella was on a mission — a mission to find out anything — a mission to memorialize their friend, to practically re-create Astrid’s death. But didn’t she get it? The more they found out, the worse it got. The more they knew, the further they were from moving on. From finding some kind of normalcy. From enjoying their lives, for God’s sake. Why couldn’t Ella just let it go? Push it away? It made her angry, and she no longer wanted to hug her, she wanted to shake her, to scream at her.
Give it up. There’s nothing we can do. She’s gone. Stop trying to bring her back.