Monday Afternoon, Continued
“Shit.” Gin’s Wrangler came to a stop as we stared at the accident. Bright yellow Bug with a crumpled front end and destroyed front windshield. It looked like the entire top of the car had been stepped on by a giant. Glass covered the ground around it. A semi was next to it, barely rumpled.
The police officer whistled and motioned Gin forward but he didn’t react. He just stared at the accident. A car honked behind us.
“Paisley!” Benji flung the door open and stumbled out toward the accident. He tried to run to the Bug, but a police officer grabbed him.
I shoved the seat forward and wormed out of the Jeep, and followed Benji. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Benji, we don’t know it’s her.”
“That’s her car. Look at the license plate.”
“You two need to go back to your car,” the police officer said.
“That’s his girlfriend’s car,” I said. My heart thumped in my ears. Please don’t let that be Paisley. There are other yellow Bugs in the world.
“I’m sorry, but you can’t be here.” His voice turned a little bit gentler, but was even more firm. “Please return to your car.”
I put my hand around Benji’s elbow. “C’mon, Benji. We can’t do anything here.” He let me pull him back to the Jeep. His face was dazed, like he wasn’t sure where he was.
Please, please not Paisley.
***
Silence. Benji looked shell-shocked as he climbed into the backseat. He didn’t even try to fight me for the front.
“I’m going to drop you off first,” Gin told me after I climbed in and shut the door. “I don’t want to leave Benji alone until we find out what happened. Any chance you have his mom’s number?”
“Nah, but maybe my mother does. I’ll text her and ask,” I said and pulled out my phone and texted my mom. Traffic was slow until we hit the entrance to the neighborhood. We sped up to fifteen miles per hour, and part of me wanted to tell Gin to slow down.
“We’re not sure it’s Paisley. Could it have been someone else? That’s a popular car, right?” But I didn’t believe the words even as they left my mouth. I couldn’t even hope. Gin shrugged.
My phone dinged. My mother had come through with Benji’s mother’s number, along with y? I forwarded the number to Gin and put my phone back in my bag.
“Just sent you the phone number you asked for,” I said. Why did I sound like I had a giant stick up my ass?
Paisley. Maybe she’s in the hospital fighting for her life. Please be okay, Pais. Please.
Gin pulled up in front of my house. I looked at him, at the tense lines across his face. He leaned over and kissed me. “I’ll call in a bit.”
“Let me know if you hear anything.” I glanced at Benji. He was staring at the back of my seat, his entire face closed-off.
C’mon Mags. Gin jumped out of the car and held the seat open for her as she crawled out.
What’s going on? She signed at me.
Tell you in a bit.
Gin waved at Maggie before pulling away. Benji was still immobile in the backseat. Desolate. An island in and of himself.
Maggie pulled on my arm until I looked at her. What happened?
The yellow car that wrecked was Paisley’s.
Is she okay?
We don’t know.
Maggie lagged behind me on the walkway to the house. I wanted to do something, anything, rather than go inside and pretend to do my homework, or watch TV.
Better get this over with. I pulled my house key out of my bag and slowly opened the door. The front entryway had been mopped and the whole area looked shiny; new. Like a bunch of house elves had spent all day here.
“We’re here.”
“Took you long enough,” my mother called back from the direction of the living room.
“Bad traffic.”
“It’s fine if you stop on the way home, just remember to text!”
“Whatever.”
“I ordered pizza. It’ll be here any time,” my mother called after us as Maggie and I climbed the stairs.
“Delightful!” It wasn’t even four p.m., way too early for dinner. Not that I’d ever be hungry again. Part of me wished for soccer practice and the chance to run around and forget everything, except we didn’t have practice until Thursday.
I dumped my bag on my desk. I could go downstairs, but then I’d have to watch my mom spend quality time with her wine bottle. My eyes flickered to the drawer where I keep my running gear. Maybe a hard run was the answer. But what if Gin called with news and I didn’t hear my phone?
The lemony scent of the detergent filled the air as I flopped onto my bed, causing me to wrinkle my nose. I wondered if Maggie’s room had been laundered, vacuumed, and organized like mine had been. I glanced around; my bookshelves looked empty, the missing novels leaving large gaps. Would I be able to find my clothes? There’s no way the cleaning service knew where everything was supposed to go.
My phone dug into my hip pocket, so I pulled it out and opened a browser. My fingers slowed as I typed in Paisley’s blog.
She’d posted that morning, and I felt like my heart had been jerked out of my chest.
Instead of her usual photos, she’d filmed something. My finger hovered over the play button for a moment, and I swallowed before clicking.
“Hey everyone!” Paisley twirled in front of the camera. “Thanks for watching my first v-blog entry! I’m having a giveaway in honor of this monumental event. Leave a comment to win this purse!”
She held up a yellow leather purse. “This was given to me by The Mothership, a local designer with an absolutely adorable boutique, to review on my blog. After using it for a few weeks, I can promise you it’s…”
I tuned out, just watching Paisley smile and talk. She looked so natural, like she was meant to talk about fashion on video. Her shiny pink lip gloss and purple eye shadow just screamed Paisley, as did her vintage high-waisted skirt and sweater set. She was beautiful.
“This purse looks like it’s leather, but it’s actually vegan and partially recycled…” I smiled at the spirited sound in Paisley’s voice. She was so vibrant, so alive. “Next time, I’m premiering my new thrift-shop-finds feature, showing how I can get an entire outfit for less than twenty dollars!”
The memory of her crumpled car flashed across my mind. The juxtaposition of it versus her bubbly blog post felt like a spike to my heart. I was brushing a tear away from my eye when someone knocked on the door.
“What?” I called out.
“Can I come in?” my father asked as he opened the door.
“Okay.” I swung my legs so I was sitting cross-legged on the bed instead of lying down. My eyes stopped watering as my back straightened. My body geared up for battle.
Dad was dressed in his suit from work. Charcoal pinstripes today, with a light gray shirt. Very monochromatic, as Paisley would say.
Paisley.
He grabbed my desk chair and moved it so he was a few feet away from my bed, and facing me. He sat down. I felt like I was in the principal’s office.
Again.
“We heard about your friend, Paisley. You drove past the accident?” Dad was solemn. I wonder if he looked like this when he fired his assistant at work last month.
“Ah-huh.”
“Are you okay?”
“Is there any news? We saw her crumpled car but the police didn’t tell us anything.”
“She didn’t make it,” Dad said. “She died in the accident. Are you okay?”
“Sound and in one piece. Unlike Paisley.” I motioned to my body, focusing on the now to avoid falling into an abyss. There’s no way Paisley is hurt. It had to be a different car.
Dad flinched. He loosened his tie, and then messed with the cuff links at his wrist. “This isn’t a joking matter.”
“Who’s laughing?” Paisley will, when she comes home and finds everyone sad. My hands clenched.
“This has to be difficult for you. First Sarah, now Paisley. Do you want to talk about it?” He resumed fiddling with his cuff links.
“It’s okay.” My voice sounded small. I cleared my throat, but it wanted to close. Maybe Paisley really was gone. Maybe she wouldn’t be at school tomorrow, ready to chatter about our English homework and be Paisley. Goofy, sweet Paisley.
My father fidgeted, like he wanted to go, and part of me wondered what he’d say if I told him I knew Alex was behind all of this. He had to be, although how could he have caused Paisley’s accident? Could he have messed with her car? Maybe the brakes? Had he meant to kill her, or just scare her? He talked about rebuilding cars with his dad. Could he also deconstruct them?
Guilt settled over me, trying to force the air out of my lungs. Even though I hadn’t done anything to Paisley, my actions had snowballed into her death. I should have insisted we tell the police about Alex. If I told my dad right now, would he give me the looks he gave my brother, or would he call a lawyer to cover this up before he even had a chance to say he was disappointed in me?
“Such bad timing,” Dad said. “First Sarah’s suicide, and then a fluke car accident. I wish you’d had time to grieve for one death before facing another.”
“I’m more worried about my friends than myself.” I heard an echo of Paisley in my words, which made me cringe. She’d been right when we talked about this at school after Sarah’s death. We should have worried about Sarah first instead of worrying about getting into trouble. She’d been right. Too bad she wasn’t able to say I told you so.
“Just know I can find a therapist for you if you’d like someone to talk to. Someone who specializes in grief.”
“Thanks.”
His eyes jolted toward me when he heard the sarcasm in my voice, but he just looked at me for a moment before standing up. He sighed. “If only Daniel had a fraction of your fortitude.”
“Daniel’s his own person. It’s not like he doesn’t take after at least one of his parents.”
Dad stopped and turned back to face me. His eyes blazed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Like you haven’t noticed Daniel and Mom are a lot alike?”
His shoulders relaxed from full-on argument mode into a medium-stress posture. “Don’t talk nonsense,” he said.
“Seriously?”
“I’ll give you some leeway because two of your friends just died, but watch your mouth and don’t talk about what you don’t have the capacity to understand.”
Ah, so he’d gone with the cold, I’m-smarter-and-in-charge manner of dealing with me. I narrowed my eyes; getting him to yell was more fun. Definitely better than feeling sad.
My phone beeped, distracting me. Dad walked out as I glance down at my phone.
Gin. Going to Benji’s. Want to come?
I didn’t have to think about it.
Yes.
His response was almost instantaneous.
Be there in a few to pick you up. Unless you want to walk.
Come pick me up.