Wednesday Evening, Continued
My tablet fit easily against my knee as I leaned back in bed. Deep breath, I told myself. Breathe deeply. Let it go. Ignore him. I was just waking the tablet up when my phone buzzed with a text from Paisley:
Did you see the tribute?
What?
SchoolF.
I opened a web browser and navigated to the ridiculous school-run social media site, “SchoolFriends.” I hadn’t visited for months, probably not since we set up our profiles on the first day of school while being lectured about how this was the safest place for us to congregate online since it was just registered students of the school. Gin had mock-lectured me for weeks about using the school site when he saw me using non-school approved apps. “Don’t let me see you messaging with perverts and pedophiles, young lady,” he said long after the joke had become boring.
My phone buzzed again, this time with a SnapPic of a red-eyed Paisley with her mouth open wide, as if she was in shock.
I took a selfie with my left eyebrow quirked up and sent it before returning to the tablet. I logged in, getting the password right on the second try.
My notifications bar said 99+ messages, but my eyes quickly went to the center of the page and the words “Farewell, Sarah,” complete with her yearbook photo. I knew everything about the picture. The emerald-green sweater she’d borrowed from me and hadn’t returned for two months. The way her brown hair fell onto her left shoulder but was tucked out of sight on the right. We’d exchanged photos, along with Paisley, the day we picked them up from the school’s photography service.
Sarah had loved her photo so much I’d asked if she was going to tattoo it across her butt.
I clicked on the link to the tribute. Our classmates were posting photos; Paisley had uploaded one of the three of us from the fourth grade with the words “BFFs Forever.” I sighed when I saw it; even if I hadn’t seen her name attached I would have known it was something Pais would write.
The yearbook teacher had posted a photo from soccer last fall. Sarah, me, and two of our teammates all grinned at the camera in muddy uniforms on a field with barely any grass left. Sarah had freaked out when she realized there was dirt smudged under her eye, almost like the sunblock football players use. “Own it, Sarah,” I had told her when we saw the photo. “Act like you meant it.”
The back of my eyes felt scratchy as I clicked through the rest of the photos. Sarah in the stands at a basketball game, cheering on Alex. She and Paisley drinking to-go cups of hot chocolate on the bench in front of the school. One from track our freshman year, when Sarah had run the 400 meters for JV. She’d taken third in one of the combined meets with Varsity, coming in behind two seniors. The coach had tried to get her to come out her sophomore year but she’d decided to focus on spring soccer. A candid from Homecoming Court, Sarah in a purple dress and me in red. We’d shopped for the dresses together to make sure we didn’t match, although we’d bought identical black shoes with four-inch heels. We’d even worn the same size shoes. We’d practiced together to make sure we could walk without falling off the stage.
My phone buzzed, distracting me from the memories swirling around my head, tickling the back of my eyes and making my throat feel tight.
What do you think?!? Paisley asked.
What did I think? My fingers paused as I debated what to tap back. I can’t believe Sarah isn’t going to be in school tomorrow, I finally responded.
My phone buzzed again. A SnapPic from Penetr8er. My shoulders stiffened. Having fun Harper?
What do you want from me? My fingers felt like they were on fire.
Just checking in. You were angry this afternoon, but you were also throwing up bricks.
Leave me alone, Alex.
My fingers felt so tense I wasn’t even sure I could type, but I managed to take a screen shot before the messages deleted off my phone. I went back to the tribute, but put the tablet down when I started to type sarcastic comments under every photo, although I didn’t post any.
Buzz. Another text. But my breath escaped me in a whoosh. Gin.
Talk now?
Video chat?
Ok.
I answered the video call from SuperGin. “You’re not going to believe the conversation I just had with my parents,” he said.
“Did they talk to you about the danger of drugs?”
Gin stopped and stared at me through the screen of the tablet. “Did your parents?”
I shook my head. “No, but my father wanted to know if I’d given Sarah the drugs she overdosed with.”
Gin flinched. “Of course he’d ask that,” Gin said. He rubbed the top of his head.
“Your mother was at home? My mom is over at Sarah’s house.”
“She came back while we were talking.”
“So I received some more SnapPics,” I said. “I screen-capped one of them.”
“Forward it.”
I picked up my phone from the bed and texted Gin the image. I could hear his ringer through the video chat, and his eyes left his laptop to look at his phone. His face hardened.
“I should go call him out on this. Why’d he lie about it this afternoon?”
“We need to be smart about this,” I said. “Not impulsive.”
Gin stared at me. “Please tell me you’re not lecturing me about being in control.”
“Something you said earlier made me think. We need a plan. You’re right that we don’t have proof of anything, and accusing Alex of murdering Sarah won’t help since the only thing we can prove is the burglaries.”
“So what do you want to do?”
I gave him a half-smile. “I hoped you’d have some ideas. I’m reactive, remember? You’re not.”
“Let me think. For now, let’s lay low. No one-on-ones with Alex or anyone else in the group until we figure out what his game is. Let’s just get through the funeral.”
***
Friday Evening: April 15th
I’m sorry your birthday isn’t very festive, I said to Maggie. She shrugged her shoulders at me in an exaggerated motion. Her face made a whatever expression that matched her shrug. The doorbell rang, the special light in the hallway flashing along with it so Maggie would know someone was outside.
I trailed Maggie as she went to the door from the family room, and a feeling of relief slid through me as I saw the figure standing as the door opened. Gin looked snazzy in a red shirt and dark jeans.
“Happy birthday!” Gin spoke and signed to Maggie. “The big 13!”
“Thank you,” Maggie said out loud, but she was looking at Gin quizzically, and my first real smile for days spread across my face when I realized what she wanted.
Gin rubbed his jaw, and then stopped so he could sign while speaking. “I think I forgot something.”
“Whatever could it be?” I asked as I slid up beside him. Maggie looked at Gin, and then back at me, before returning to my boyfriend. Her green eyes were wide, and her eyebrows were starting to come together, her forehead wrinkling, as she stared at us.
“I think I have something in my pocket,” Gin said, and pulled a pink envelope out of the back pocket of his jeans. I pulled a purple envelope out of the pocket of my hooded sweatshirt.
“I think these go together.” Gin took the envelope from me and handed both to Maggie.
She tore into Gin’s, ripping the back of the envelope, and pulled out a card. She ignored the image on front and instead read the slip of paper inside: a gift certificate for her and four of her friends to the Escape Room biz downtown. She tore into my envelope and scanned the gift certificate inside the card, this one to the gelato shop next door to the Escape Room so they could celebrate triumphing over the puzzles in sixty minutes, or brood over having failed and being kicked out after an hour. Although the time I’d gone with Maggie and one of her friends, she’d been focused and figured out the clues in forty minutes. She’d want to break that record with the new puzzle to solve.
Now you can throw the sort of party you’d love, I signed to Maggie. Her eyes lit up and she threw her arms around me, then released me so she could jump up and grab Gin around the neck. He hugged her back before setting her down.
I wondered why you wouldn’t give me your gift earlier, Maggie signed.
Do you want me to put those someplace safe? I asked. Maggie nodded and handed the gift certificates to me, so I slipped all of it into one of the torn-up envelopes the best I could, glancing at the front of the card Gin had given Maggie. A red puzzle piece with the words “you’re the best piece of the puzzle” was in a field of blue pieces. I smiled as I put the envelope in my pocket.
One of Maggie’s friends waved to her, and they started talking, their hands moving quickly. Gin laughed. “I can’t keep up with them.”
“You sign well. You should take ASL again next year.” I smiled at him as he put his arm around me. I leaned my head against his shoulder.
“Since you’re being sweet, I should mention this is probably the nicest gift you’ve ever thought up.”
“I wonder if you’ll still think that when Maggie drags you to join her and her friends in a locked room. No phones or outside help is allowed.”
“As long as you’re there, too.” A small smile turned Gin’s lips up, and he looked content. Not overly, fake happy. The sort of happy you can’t be, and absolutely can’t show, two days after the death of one of your friends. An image of Sarah back when we were ten and swimming on a warm summer day crossed my mind and I shoved it away. I was sick of being haunted by memories of her.
We walked down the hallway to the kitchen. A large chocolate cake with buttercream frosting with the number 13 was on the counter, and a large metal bucket of sodas was set up on a towel on the floor next to it. The kitchen table held bowls of chips, three different types of salsa, and a tray of goat cheese tarts. ’Cause no birthday party is complete without some sort of food in a mini-pastry shell, even if Maggie’s face wrinkled up in disgust when she saw them.
“Pizza will be here soon. I know Gin has to be hungry,” my mother said when she saw us.
“Okay.” I stared at my mother, but she just looked quizzically back. She still didn’t remember that Gin was allergic to milk. I glanced back at the tarts. No one had touched them although I could tell multiple pairs of thirteen-year-old hands had rummaged through the chips, leaving crumbs behind on the table and streaks of salsa.
“I’ll figure out some food for us,” I told Gin. “The salsa should be safe for you and there should be extra in the fridge.”
“I had dinner already.”
Gin and I grabbed two of the kitchen chairs and sat on the edge of the family room, watching Maggie and her friends sign away. Two of them glanced back at us, and back to the rest of the group of six girls.
One of Maggie’s friends broke away from the pack and walked our direction. She signed hi to us, but was looking at Gin.
Gin signed back how are you? and her entire face turned scarlet. She turned back around and rejoined the other girls.
I elbowed Gin. “You have an admirer,” I laughed.
“Are any of Maggie’s soccer teammates coming?” Gin asked.
“Not today. This is just friends from school. She’s having pizza and cupcakes with her teammates after practice one day next week to celebrate her birthday since the big party was canceled.”
“Poor Maggie.”
“It would have been a weird mix. This might actually be better. Two different parties for two different worlds.” Part of me wanted my sister to have a giant, mega, blowout of a party. Make her soccer friends meet her school friends. Maybe next year.
From the corner of my eye, I saw my father walking down the hallway from the front door. But that’s not what me made me stop and stare.
Daniel was with him, dressed in a gray sweater and tan corduroy pants. His hair was shiny, and flopped over into one eye. He flashed me a grin, probably enjoying that I was sitting there with my mouth open, staring at him.
“Hey, buddy,” Gin stood and shook Daniel’s hand. My father ignored us and headed toward the goat cheese tarts.
“Hey.” Daniel glanced at Maggie’s group of friends before looking back at me. “I’m just home for the evening.”
“Maggie will—” my voice trailed off when Maggie jumped across the room to give Daniel a flying hug.
Happy birthday, Daniel signed at her once she let go. She beamed at him.
Come meet my friends. She grabbed Daniel’s hand and led him away from me.
“He looks good,” Gin said.
“Better than he has for a long time,” I whispered back. Daniel reminded me of his old self, the boy my friends had fallen in love with when we were freshmen. Would he make it this time? If I could have crossed my fingers, clicked my heels, done something to make sure Daniel would stay clean, I would have.