Chapter Two

SCOTT Hague was pretending he was twenty-five years old, and Amy Belle was amazed by his performance. Scott didn’t have a cent to his name, but he had great clothes and plenty of style. With his blue blazer and fake gold cufflinks, a cigar in his mouth and sweet words flowing off his lips, he had the thirty-year-old brown-haired woman he’d picked up fooled. Her name was Sally Hanlon and she was really a sad case. A waitress at a nearby coffee shop, she didn’t know she was spending her only night off with a kid who hadn’t graduated from high school.

“What TV station are you filming this game for?” Sally asked, a wad of gum in her mouth big enough to slur her already endangered vocabulary. She had a great wig, Amy thought. It was a shame it was on lopsided.

“It’s a documentary that I’m going to sell,” Scott said, his Panasonic camcorder in his lap. He had turned it on a couple of times during the first half, but only to film the cheerleaders when they did their look-how-cute-our-underwear-is routine. It was presently halftime, and the hard-working girls were feeding themselves now.

“What’s it about?” Sally asked.

“I haven’t decided,” Scott said, patting her bare knee and puffing on his cigar. Sally looked impatient.

“I feel like I’m back in high school,” she growled.

“I know the feeling,” Scott said wistfully.

“What do you do, dear?” Sally asked Amy.

“I go to high school,” she said. Scott had asked her to act older, too, but Amy wasn’t in the mood. Scott hadn’t warned her ahead of time that he was bringing Sally. Amy realized he probably hadn’t decided this until Julia refused to ride with them. Neither of them had much hope Julia would show.

“You mean, you go to school here?” Sally asked, astounded.

“Yeah,” Amy said, enjoying herself.

“How old are you?” Sally asked.

Amy glanced at Scott. “Twenty-two,” she said. “I just can’t pass math.”

Sally was sympathetic. “I can never keep track of my bills at the coffee shop. I think there’s just too many numbers.”

“Amen,” Amy said, trying not to laugh. She remembered what Scott had said in the car just before they had picked Sally up.

“She’s not the smartest woman in the world, but she has a deep appreciation of nature, of all natural activities. I think she may be the one, Amy. I think this is it.”

Amy took the statement to mean that Scott had finally found a woman who would go to bed with him. But he couldn’t have been that hot for Sally. She was nothing to look at with sober eyes. Scott said he had first met her in a bar, when he’d been drunk. Scott had no trouble getting into bars. He really did look older, even when he wasn’t dressed up. He liked to think it was because he was sophisticated. Amy thought his receding hairline had a lot to do with it.

“Do we have to watch the second half?” Sally asked Scott.

“If we want to know who wins,” he said.

“But Indian Pole is already losing twenty-eight to zero,” Sally complained.

“They’re known for their great second halves,” Amy said.

“Last year they were down by thirty-five points at halftime,” Scott said.

“Did they win?” Sally asked.

Scott paused. “Not exactly. But they made it look respectable.”

“It was a great game,” Amy agreed.

“Where are we going afterward?” Sally asked.

“Anywhere you want, babe,” Scott said.

“What’s the name of your boyfriend who’s playing?” Sally asked Amy.

“Jim.”

“Is he still in high school?” Sally asked.

“No,” Amy said. “He just likes to help out. He graduated five years ago.”

“He still looks like he’s in high school, though,” Scott said. “He’s an amazing athlete.”

“I wouldn’t think Saddleback High could let him play,” Sally said

Scott looked disgusted. “You’re right,” he said. “Those cheaters.”

“Is he going out with us?” Sally asked.

“It depends what time he has to be home,” Amy said.

“He lives with his parents?” Sally asked.

The conversation might have gone on and on, with Sally none the wiser, if Amy hadn’t decided to give Julia a call. Scott had them sitting on the top row of the bleachers. He had a zoom lens on his camcorder and didn’t need to be down front for his cheerleader shots. Amy knew Scott had made them sit out of the way so that kids at school wouldn’t talk to them and blow their cover. Amy was growing rather tired of Sally. She wondered how she could accidentally get rid of her. Amy stood up suddenly.

“I want to call Julia,” she said.

“Who’s Julia?” Sally asked.

“A friend,” Scott said.

“Do you want to come with me?” Amy asked Sally. “We could go to the snack bar.”

Sally was up in a shot. “I’m starving. Do they have hot dogs?”

“That’s pretty much all they do have,” Amy said.

“I’ll come, too,” Scott said, throwing Amy a look as he got to his feet. He knew what she was doing, but he wasn’t mad. Scott never got mad. He had come out of the womb smiling.

The snack bar and phones were at the north end of the field, near where the players came on and left the turf. Once down from the bleachers, Amy caught sight of Jim as he was trudging back onto the field. She waved to him and he limped toward her, his red helmet in his hand. He had taken several hard hits in the first half, but he had also scored two touchdowns. Six foot two and built like a god, he was amazingly nimble on his feet. Several colleges were interested in him.

They had met at the beginning of the summer, two weeks after Julia’s mom died and two weeks before Amy left for Los Angeles for the rest of the summer. Amy was helping her father clean the backyard. It was a big yard that ended in a pile of dry weeds and dead brush as tall as their house. Her dad sent her to rent a pickup to haul the junk away. Jim worked at the rental place. He gave her the only truck they had left that day, which also happened to be a wreck. It broke down before she could get a mile down the road. After she found a phone and called the rental place, they sent Jim to help her out. He said later he was impressed that she wasn’t upset.

Why would she be upset? She couldn’t believe her good luck. He was that good-looking. He lifted weights regularly, and his thick dark hair was a perpetual mess; it was all she could do not to run her fingers through it. There was a gentleness to him, a shyness, and when he smiled he looked all of six years old.

He never did get the truck going. She ended up having to wait until another one was returned. She hung out at the rental place for a couple of hours, talking to Jim. She did most of the talking. She was a chatty person, especially when she was nervous. When a truck finally did come in, Jim offered to help her and her dad haul the garbage away. He said he felt guilty for wasting so much of her time. She hoped the red reason he wanted to come with her was because he liked her. He seemed to. If nothing else, her dad liked him. Jim was strong. He had the thirty-foot truck loaded in an hour. He wouldn’t let her dad pay him, so her mother invited him to stay for dinner. Well, actually Amy told her mother to invite him. By the time the men returned from the dump, she and her mom had a feast on the table.

He didn’t kiss her the first night. She had to kiss him. She did it when he drove her back to the rental agency to pick up her car. It was just a quick peck on the cheek, but she was glad she did it. The kiss seemed to give him the courage to ask her out. Only much later did she learn that he had never had a girlfriend before. She often wondered why.

They went out four times before she left with her mom for Los Angeles—two movies and two dinners. She sent him a postcard every other day from L.A. He didn’t write her once. By the time she got back she knew he didn’t care. The joke was on both of them. He had thought she didn’t care. She had sent all her postcards to the wrong address.

“How do you feel?” she asked as Jim dropped his helmet and leaned against the fence that separated them.

“Your guys keep hitting me low,” he said. “Who’s number eighty-six?”

“That’s Randy Classick,” Scott said.

“How do you know his name?” Sally asked.

Scott shrugged. “He’s a big guy.”

“Did he hurt your knee?” Amy asked, concerned. She wasn’t a big fan of football. She thought it was barbaric, but she kept her opinion from Jim. Her boyfriend flexed his left leg.

“It only hurts when I bend it,” he said.

“How old are you?” Sally suddenly asked Jim.

“He’s twenty-three,” Scott said quickly.

“Twenty-four,” Amy said.

“Is that true?” Sally asked Jim, suspicious.

Jim looked puzzled. “How old are you?” he asked Sally.

“Thirty,” she said.

“You’re older than me,” Jim said, not wanting to get involved. He turned to Scott. “Are you filming the game?”

“Oh, yeah,” Scott said. “The good parts. Where do you want to go afterward?”

“Is your friend Julia here?” Jim asked Amy.

“I haven’t seen her,” Amy said. “I was just going to call her.”

“Hey, Amy, what are you doing with that creep?” Randy Classick called from near the goalpost. He came running over. He was Indian Pole High’s biggest side of beef. Amy had gone out with him once—against her better judgment—and she wouldn’t be surprised if he excelled at wrestling this year. He had made it clear he found her physically stimulating. Without slapping him, she had made it clear that she wasn’t there to stimulate him. He was loud and obnoxious. He was the prototype jerk-jock. Strangely enough, Julia liked him. It was Julia who had talked her into going out with him. Julia said he was deeper than he appeared. Amy still didn’t know why Julia said that, and yet she knew Julia was an excellent judge of character. It was almost as if Julia could read people’s minds.

“Whatever you do, don’t get into a fight with him,” Amy told Jim.

Jim shrugged. “As long as he doesn’t give me anything to fight about.”

“This guy is the enemy,” Randy said when he reached the fence. He pointed to Jim, huffing and puffing inside his helmet. “You shouldn’t be associating with him, Amy.”

Amy reached through the fence and squeezed Jim’s hand. “This guy is my boyfriend, and I’ll associate with him all I want.”

Randy was disgusted. “Your boyfriend? This wimp?”

“This ‘wimp’ has been kicking your ass all night,” Amy said.

Randy snorted. “So he got a few lucky blocks. Wait till the second half.”

“Are we going to see more cheap shots?” Scott asked.

“Who are you calling cheap?” Randy demanded. “Is that you, Scott? How come you had your paper covered in chemistry? I told you before the test that I didn’t have a chance to study. You always let me cheat off you.”

“Are you in his chemistry class?” Sally asked Scott angrily. The truth was beginning to sink in.

Scott was nonchalant. “When I’m not working at the station,” he said, “I teach a few classes here. Isn’t that right, Randy?”

“Who is this woman?” Randy asked.

“My name’s Sally Hanlon,” she told Randy. “How old are you?”

Randy frowned. “How old are you?”

“Thirty!” Sally yelled.

“So am I,” Randy said, impressed. “Is she with you, Scott?”

“I’m not sure anymore,” Scott said.

“What are you doing after the game?” Randy asked Sally.

Sally hit Scott with her purse. “You lied to me!” she screamed.

“No, I didn’t,” Scott said, raising his arm to protect himself.

“You go to school here!” Sally shouted.

“Well, this is a college,” Scott said. “Isn’t that right, Randy?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Randy said. “I’m going into the pros after this game. How’s about you and I get together a couple of hours from now and celebrate?”

Sally didn’t answer him. She hit Scott once more with her purse and stalked off. Randy shook his head as he watched her leave.

“I bet she’s a firecracker, Scott,” Randy said enviously.

“That she was,” Scott said.

“Who was that woman?” Jim asked.

“Now you just leave her alone,” Randy warned. “You’ve stolen enough of this town’s flesh.”

“You quit hitting me low,” Jim said.

“I’ll hit you anywhere I can,” Randy said. “What do you expect me to do? We’re down by twenty-eight points.”

“That isn’t my fault,” Jim said.

Randy thought about that a minute. Then he shook his head again. “I guess it isn’t. Well, just don’t embarrass us. I can’t stand being embarrassed.” He walked off.

“Why don’t you sit out the second half?” Amy suggested. “You don’t need any more bruises than you already have.”

“Why don’t you go take a shower now so we can leave?” Scott said. “I want to swing by Julia’s house.”

“Oh,” Amy said. “So now we’re interested in Julia again.”

“Who’s interested in Julia?” Julia asked. She had sneaked up behind them, which she was good at. She often appeared out of nowhere. Scott turned and gave her a big hug. He worshiped her. He wasn’t alone—Amy Belle thought Julia Florence was the most intriguing girl in the whole world.

Amy had known Julia since they were twelve. They had met walking in the woods. Amy had been hiking alone, carrying on an imaginary conversation with an imaginary friend. Of course, twelve is a little old to have a make-believe friend, but Amy had only made up the friend when she was ten. What was strange was that when she met Julia, she lost all interest in her imaginary friend. She felt she had found the real version in Julia. Julia was the imaginary friend—beautiful, sweet, soft-spoken, brilliant, and brave. When Amy tried to describe Julia to people who had never met her, she always ran into trouble. Julia sounded too incredibly perfect.

Julia’s beauty was undeniable. Her fine red hair spun to her waist in careless waves. The color changed shades with the seasons. In the summer it was shiny gold, in the winter dark and grave. Yet her eyes were always bright, two green jewels that could look right into a person. When Amy first met her, it was as if Julia knew everything about her.

Julia was very brave. The previous spring, Scott, Julia, and Amy had gone for a swim in a lake near Amy’s house. The day was sunny and warm, and the water looked cool and inviting. Unfortunately, Julia was the only one to test it with her hand, and her warning that it was cold went ignored. Scott climbed a huge tree hanging over the lake and dived off it—a respectable distance from the shore. The lake wasn’t simply cold—the stream that fed it was nothing but melted snow from the high mountains. Scott came up quickly. Later he was to say the shock of the cold had shut his lungs off from his windpipe. He couldn’t even call for help. Almost as soon as he shot to the surface he began to sink again. Julia knew what was happening in an instant, and she walked in and swam toward him.

As chance would have it, there was an old piece of rope lying on the shore near Amy. She suspected it had been used to anchor a paddle boat because it was fairly long. Amy grabbed the rope and waded into the water. Her legs immediately felt as if they had been thrust into an arctic snow. She let the water go to her waist before she stopped. Julia had reached Scott, but she appeared to be suffering the same problem—she was cramping something awful. Yet she was doing everything possible—even at her own expense—to keep Scott’s head above the water. They were both coughing.

“Julia!” Amy called. “What should I do?”

“Stay there!” Julia called. “It’s cold.”

“I’ve got a rope!” Amy called back.

“Throw it to us! Pull him out!”

“I’m coming for you!” Amy cried. They were both bobbing on the surface. Julia was in front of Scott, his blue arms draped around her neck, dead weight pulling her down. Amy was afraid she would lose them both. It was so ridiculous—they had swum in the lake since they were kids.

Yet they had never jumped in so early in the spring.

“No!” Julia screamed. “Stay there. Pull him out. I can swim if I’m not holding him. Do it!”

Amy threw Julia the rope. She missed. She tried again, and this time she was on target. Julia picked up the end and shook Scott. He was barely conscious, but he seemed to understand that he had to hold on to it. Amy quickly backed out of the water, pulling on her end with all her might. Scott’s grip left much to be desired, but somehow Amy managed to drag him so that his feet could touch bottom. While he staggered to the shore, Amy turned her attention back to Julia and got the shock of her life.

Julia had gone under.

The terror Amy experienced in that moment was to haunt her for months to come. The water was flat—there weren’t even any ripples on it. Amy stood paralyzed for seconds that seemed to stretch to hours. Suddenly Julia broke the surface. The muscles of her arms and legs had obviously cramped into hard knots, and she was a horrible color. Amy waded out farther and threw her the rope. Julia caught it and managed to grip it. Amy pulled her in carefully. A few seconds more and it would have been too late. In fact, Julia went under again just before she reached Amy. By the time Amy had dragged her onto the shore, Julia was hardly breathing. Scott, far from recovered, started mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on her. Amy was crying when Julia opened her eyes minutes later.

“I need a hot shower,” she said weakly.

Scott sat back. “Can we take one together?” he asked.

Julia smiled. “I wouldn’t want to have your heart stop twice in the same day.”

Scott leaned over and kissed her. “You saved my life, girl. I owe you one.”

“No,” Julia said, letting Scott help her up. “That’s what I’m here for.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” Julia’s mom—Amy always called her Mother Florence—had said that once when Amy asked her why she worked such long hours at the hospital. Mother Florence had been a big part of Amy’s life, and now that she was gone, the other parts seemed smaller. She was the one adult Amy could tell her problems to without hearing how easy she had it compared to “when we were kids.” Mother Florence never acted superior just because she was older. She had a childlike simplicity that made everyone feel completely at ease. When Julia and Amy walked in the woods with her, Mother Florence often sang—anything from Top Forty hits to Christmas carols. She worked hard to help the sick, but she was seldom serious.

Yet Amy’s admiration for Mother Florence and Julia was not shared by everyone. There was talk about the two of them. Occasionally Amy noticed that a woman in town would go out of her way not to cross Mother Florence’s path on the sidewalk. Once Amy heard a lady in the drugstore say to the pharmacist that Mother Florence and her daughter were members of a cult. Amy had tried to track down the source of the rumor but came up with nothing. People knew Amy was a friend of Mother Florence and Julia and were reluctant to speak to her. Some of them seemed to be afraid of Julia’s mom.

Then again, only a handful of people behaved badly to them. The vast majority viewed Mother Florence as a hard-working nurse. Often people in town went to her for “medicines” when someone in their family was ill. She never charged a penny for her teas. Five hundred people had turned up for her memorial service.

Julia was not as well liked by her peers. The qualities that drew Amy to her friend—her calm presence, penetrating intuition, cool beauty, and fearlessness—made other girls uneasy. They thought she was stuck up, which was ironic, because Julia seldom talked about herself. She just went her own way, which annoyed other kids even more. Who was she, they’d say, to think she didn’t need anybody? But they didn’t know her, and Amy always defended her. Julia was not the invincible fortress many people thought. She had shown that when her mom died.

Amy had been with her when the news came about her mom. It was the last day of school. They were cleaning out their lockers when the principal appeared and asked Julia to come to his office. Right away, Julia knew it was serious. She asked Amy to come with her. The principal didn’t say a word until they were seated around his big oak desk. Then he said it straight—Julia’s mother was dead. Julia didn’t faint or start crying. She just turned and stared at the window, where the sun shone brightly on the glass. Sucking in a deep breath, she closed her eyes, then reopened them a few seconds later and stared into the glare. For several seconds she just looked at the bright sun. Then, finally, she turned to Amy. Julia was so lost right then, it broke Amy’s heart.

“I can’t see her, Amy,” Julia said. “Why can’t I see her? I could always see her before.”

Julia ran from the room before Amy could comfort her. She went to her car and drove away. Close on her tail, Amy headed straight for Julia’s house, but even there she didn’t catch up with her friend. Mother Florence had died at home. There were paramedics present. They told Amy that Julia had fled into the woods the moment she’d arrived, without even entering the house to say goodbye to her mother’s body. Amy didn’t know how she knew, but she felt certain she would find Julia at the pond. And there Julia was, bent over and sobbing at the edge of the pond, the ends of her fine red hair dipped in the cold clear water, like trails of blood. She looked up as Amy hugged her. Now there were tears.

“I can’t see her,” Julia kept crying. “I can’t see anything.”

Since that day, Julia had kept to herself. Amy tried hard to get Julia to come to L.A. with her for the summer, but Julia said there was no point in going to another place. All places were the same to her now. Amy didn’t understand what she meant and wasn’t sure if she wanted to. She often worried that she was going to lose her friend, that Julia would sink beneath the surface once more and never reappear.

Yet when Julia sneaked up behind them at the game, and Scott laughed and Julia smiled, it was like old times. Amy could not have been more glad to see her.

“I, for one, have no other interest,” Scott said in response to Julia’s question about who was interested in her. He gave her a kiss on the cheek, and Julia playfully pushed him away.

“That’s not what I saw,” she said.

“What did you see?” Scott asked.

“Your date hitting you with her purse,” Julia said

“That wasn’t my date,” Scott said. “That was just someone I wanted to have sex with.”

“Oh.” Julia nodded. “In that case, can I be your date?”

Scott caught her eye. “Sure.”

“This must be Julia,” Jim said.

“It certainly is,” Amy said. “Jim, meet Julia Florence. Julia, this is my one and only. Look, but please don’t touch.” Amy laughed. “I’d like to keep this one for myself.”

Jim and Julia looked at each other. Of course, there was a fence between them and they couldn’t shake hands, so Amy supposed they had to look at each other real long to make up for the barrier. But Amy began to feel just a little bit uncomfortable when the look stretched past five seconds and neither of them had taken a breath.

Amy was not like Julia, and she knew it. She was not beautiful. She was not mysterious. Her plain blond hair didn’t glisten in the sun. The light of dawn didn’t shine in her ordinary blue eyes. But she did have a great figure, and she liked to think she was funny. Scott laughed at all her jokes, and he was the school’s certified comedian. It was Scott who said she was incredibly sexy. Of course, it was also Scott who had been trying to get her to go skinny-dipping with him. Not that their friendship really had romantic overtones. Scott was happy that she had found Jim. The two got along fabulously, although it was beginning to look as if Jim was never going to get used to Scott’s sense of humor. For example, Jim didn’t see anything funny about Scott having secretly filmed Indian Pole’s football coach jumping around the showers, pretending to be a heavy-metal guitarist. Scott bad made several copies of the tape, which he was prepared to sell on campus.

Amy wasn’t jealous of Julia. Just because a couple of her former boyfriends had fallen in love with Julia didn’t mean Julia had anything to do with it. Amy didn’t suffer from poor self-esteem, a problem that distanced so many of the other girls at school from Julia. Mother Florence had once told her that jealousy was the worst of all faults because it prevented a person from being who they were born to be.

“If you’re always looking at someone else, trying imitate them, how can your natural gifts ever emerge? Julia may seem deep and wise, Amy, but she doesn’t always know what’s right. Particularly when she angry. You can help her deal with her anger. Your nature is more forgiving than hers.”

Amy hadn’t totally understood the remark. Julia seldom got angry, or she seldom showed her anger, anyway.

“Did lightning strike or what?” joked Scott when Julia’s and Jim’s stare went past the ten-second mark. Jim shook himself and blushed. Julia smiled briefly, yet her face remained serious. Amy thought she had paled slightly.

“Amy’s told me a lot about you,” Julia said.

“She’s told me a lot about you,” Jim said.

“I’ve never talked about either of you, myself,” Scott remarked. “Hey, Jim, your teammates are calling for you. We’ll catch you outside the showers after the game. Maybe we can pick up a couple of six packs and get the girls drunk and take advantage of them.”

Julia put her hand on Scott’s arm. There was now no mistaking it—Julia was definitely upset about something. “I don’t want to go to a liquor store,” she said.

Scott took a step back at her seriousness. “I was just kidding.”

“What’s wrong?” Amy asked.

Julia ignored her. She gestured to Jim. “I notice your jersey’s red and white. Are those your school colors?”

Jim touched the chest of his uniform. “Yes.”

“Do you have a letterman’s jacket?” Julia asked.

“Yeah,” Jim said.

“What color is it?” Julia asked.

“It’s completely red,” Jim said. “Why?”

“Don’t wear it tonight,” Julia said firmly.

“He has to wear it,” Amy said. “It’s the only jacket he brought. What’s the matter, Julia?”

Julia closed her eyes and put her hand to her head. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”