image
image
image

10

image

Because I’m such a sucker for punishment, I snooped about and found out Lola’s details when we got back. I thought I’d send her an email. You know, just for the hell of it. I kept up the school reporter identity, but I wasn’t too worried about being found out. Unlike that creep at the library, Lola had retired and was therefore under no obligation to stay professional. Besides, I had a sneaking suspicion that she also found him creepy. I was hoping she’d spill.

While I was doing this, Leesha was growing increasingly frustrated with me. She really didn’t like me just sitting around, as she’d put it. George had given a knowing laugh at that, which I’d been annoyed at. I mean, I totally do physical things. I’d already been out twice today! Yeesh.

‘I thought you were supposed to be helping me and Izzy, instead of finding other dead people to care about,’ Leesha pouted, pacing like mad. She’d been doing that for the past half hour. She was going to wear my carpet out.

‘Despite what you see in movies and on TV, police work involves a lot of sitting around and doing research.’

‘You’re not a cop.’

‘Yeah, well. My point still stands.’

‘And if you were a cop, you would’ve actually looked at the physical evidence at some point.’

‘I’m banned from all morgues in this state, and six others,’ I informed her sadly. Leesha and George grimaced at me.

‘What? Not my body, you freak. I mean the pantyhose. You know? The murder weapon?’

Oh yeah, the thirty-year old paper-thin fabric that got dropped in the sewers two weeks ago. I’m sure they’re holding up well.

‘Okay, one, I am not going into the sewers to get that. Two, I don’t even know how to get in the sewers to get that. Three, unless it fell onto a well-placed nail in the wall, it’ll be long gone. And four, even if it isn’t, it will be totally ruined. I’m not even sure if fingerprints will stay on something like that, but if they do, they will not be there now. That’s a dead end, I’m afraid.’

As she valiantly tried to find a new reason to get me some turtle powers, I did have to thank her for reminding me of something.

‘But I do want to see something there. The crime scene.’

Leesha shivered, wrapping her arms around her body and cringing away from my words.

‘I can’t go back there. I’m sorry, but I can’t.’

‘That’s okay, but I need to. You can stay here, or go find Izzy and tell her that I’m doing her dirty work.’

‘Alright, I will. Then, I might go see my mom and see how she’s holding up. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon,’ she said. She paused before leaving. ‘Thank you, by the way.’

‘De nada,’ I told her.

She whooshed off and I finally felt like I could breathe. George and I were alone for the first time in-

Five hours? Is that all? Man, a lot has happened since this morning. I really needed to chill.

But before that, we had to go see a crime scene. Well, no time like the present.

I jumped off my bed and immediately felt like throwing up. I promptly sat back down and closed my eyes, hoping the random nausea would pass.

‘Ann? Are you alright?’ George asked, anxious.

No, I wanted to hurl all over my bedroom. Maybe Izzy was right, and I was eating my way to an early grave. Wait, that couldn’t be right. I always ate crap like this. It must be something else.

The schizo pill.

Heroically managing to open my eyes, I rummaged in my bag long enough to find the bottle. I skimmed through the epic saga of possible side effects to find that yeah, it could induce nausea. Along with drowsiness.

Which meant I couldn’t drive.

Well, there goes the crime scene plan.

‘Ann?’

‘I think I need to rest a little,’ I replied long after his initial question.

‘Right. I think that might be a good idea. Besides, we have a lot to discuss.’

‘Like what?’ I sighed, getting comfortable amongst my three hundred pillows.

‘Um, Tommy, for starters.’

Oh my God. What is with this guy and constantly bringing up my dead friend?

‘Pass.’

‘Ann! You didn’t tell Tess about him. Why not?’ he pressed.

‘Um, I don’t like her and I’m not obligated to tell her anything. Besides, she’s never asked if anyone believes me. All I have is an illness, according to her. No point seeing if my friends were whack jobs, too.’

Eh, little more complicated than that. I kinda felt a little- cough, very – protective of my relationship with Tommy. I told nobody, and I don’t think he told anyone, either. Not because it would be weird with the age difference. It just felt very private. Like, where we met was our spot. Once a week, on the rickety bench outside Baskin-Robbins. We’d talk about anything and everything. We trusted each other. And somehow, we would’ve ruined what we had if we’d brought other people.

Okay, it was a jealousy thing, in a platonic way.

And another thing. What if I had told Tess about him? She’d probably want to meet him. How well would that have worked out? Not well, in my mind. I had visions of Tess gently explaining that I was crazy, and then, Tommy would suddenly realize that she was right, and I’d lose the only friend I ever had.

No, it was better that she didn’t know.

‘Who else knew about Tommy?’ he asked, in a tone I couldn’t pin down.

‘Nobody.’

‘Did anybody ever meet him other than you?’

‘Did you hear what I just said?’ I retorted.

He didn’t answer. I suddenly turned toward him, feeling a little funny.

‘What are you getting at?’ I asked.

‘Nothing, never mind. Let’s talk about something else.’

‘George-’

‘This whole thing with your mom’s a pretty big deal,’ he went on, like I hadn’t even spoken. He didn’t really need to. I knew what he was getting at.

He thought I’d made Tommy up.

Even worse, a tiny little part of me was agreeing with him.

Sure, let’s talk about something else.

‘Not a huge deal, really,’ I tried to shrug off.

‘“Not a huge deal?”’ he parroted. ‘You’re kidding, right?’

‘Look, I don’t want to think about this right now. Not until this whole mess with Leesha and Izzy is sorted out. I just can’t even...’ I mumbled, before immediately going back on my word. ‘Am I crazy? Cos I feel like I am. If you’d asked me yesterday why my mom had left, I could have told you.’

‘I have asked before, and you did tell me. You seemed pretty sincere,’ he said slowly.

‘Right! Because I totally, wholeheartedly believed that to be true. I could’ve sworn that my dad had told me that a million times. Now, I can’t swear to anything.’

Not my mom, not even Tommy anymore. I really wanted to blame the pill, but there was no way it’d messed me up before I’d even taken it. That was one of the few things I could swear to.

‘You know, I always wondered why there were no photographs of your mom in your house. Considering you have two of that racist grandpa everybody hated, anyway,’ George frowned.

That was true. One on the mantelpiece and one on the landing. I glared at them every time I happened to look.

My mom had always been different, though. There’d been a reason for that.

‘My dad took them all down because seeing them made me angry,’ I automatically said.

He nodded, looking me in the eyes.

‘Why did they make you angry, Ann?’

Because she left and... no, she had depression. I didn’t blame her for that. I’ve never been angry at my mom. I didn’t know her long enough to be angry.

Or, I hadn’t thought I did.

So, if I wasn’t angry at her, and they didn’t bother me, why were the photographs gone?

‘I don’t know.’

Come on, Ann, you’re smarter than this. There’s an easy answer right within reach. You just don’t want to hear it.

Why? Why don’t you want to hear it?

‘This is so messed up,’ I shivered. ‘Regardless of the reason for that, I still forgot her. I can’t remember her at all.’

Seriously, how do you forget a parent? That is unbelievable. We are talking about one huge chunk of my life that I basically eradicated from my memories. So, the next question - the only question, really - is why?

‘Why would I willingly forget my mom’s existence? From what I’ve heard, she was an amazing, kindhearted woman. So, why have I somehow chosen not to remember her?’ I asked out loud. George gave me a worried, but frank, look.

‘Do you want me to answer that, or do you already know?’

I guess I already knew. Memories don’t get deleted just like that. There has to be something to force it.

Something traumatic.