Chapter Four

There’s No Place Like Home, Thank God

 

 

 

About twenty minutes later, Jazz pulled up. Lexi scanned the area to make sure Monica wasn’t still around, spying on her or who knows what else, then climbed into Jazz’s car.

“Hey,” she said, then slammed the door. “Thanks for rescuing me.”

“Of course. Thanks to you for listening to me about Alan.” Jazz pulled away from the curb and headed toward the less hectic back section of the theater parking lot. “After I thought about it, I realized Peter left you there because you stepped out to talk to me.”

Lexi shrugged and said, “Guys are jerks.” She picked through the jumble of pens and lip glosses in the bottom of her bag until she found her house keys. “You going to be able to sneak back in?”

“Yeah.” Jazz hit the gas and zoomed out into traffic. “I just have to remember to get up early to put the ladder away.”

“Sorry about that. I don’t want you getting in trouble because of me.” Lexi ran her finger along the car door handle then looked out to the road in front of them. “I tried my mom first but she didn’t answer.”

“You called her?”

“Yeah.” She squeezed the keys in her fist. “And texted.”

Jazz frowned. “Maybe she’s asleep.”

“It’s not even eleven yet.” Lexi could hear the hurt in her own voice.

Jazz turned right, taking them closer to Lexi’s section of town. “No big deal about the ladder. It’s not like I haven’t snuck out every other night this week.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “I think part of what’s bugging Alan is that my dad is being all crazy about Jon disappearing, like it means there’s some serial killer on the loose. Like every guy from school is a potential madman, including Alan, who my dad has known for like forever.”

“It is weird, Jon being gone and staying gone,” Lexi said, meaning every word.

Jazz pulled up in front of Lexi’s house and put the car in park. “Everyone’s saying that.”

Lexi scanned the street. Porch lights cast an uneven yellow light across the hedges and piles of leaves. She looked at her front door, wondering again why her mom hadn’t even responded. Too bad there wasn’t sort of parent halfway between hers and Jazz’s. Some kind of normal person who trusted their kid but looked out for them at the same time.

“Hey,” Jazz said, snapping Lexi out of her thoughts. “What time is Filpot’s funeral?”

Another difficult subject. There were just too many lately. “Three o’clock. I’ll drive if you want. Pick you up at two?”

Jazz nodded, the side of her face flashing bright as a pickup truck rambled by.

Lexi shoved open the car door, waved at Jazz and went up the walk, kicking through the latest layer of leaves. Jazz backed out, the lights of her VW cutting across the doorway as Lexi went inside. The still house swallowed her as she padded through the dark living room. A familiar scent drifted under her nose, but the irritation that lingered from dealing with crazy, annoying Monica and Peter ditching her scattered her attempts to figure out what it was.

What a complete waste of a night. Next time she’d get the guy to sign first.

She stepped softly up the stairs, pausing at the top landing to look at her mom’s closed door. There had been a time when her mom actually listened, made her feel better when bad stuff happened.

But those times were over.

Her gaze shifted to the doorway of her own room where her bed, visible beneath the window, waited. The rumpled pink chenille cover had been smoothed, her matching throw pillows carefully arranged. The usual trail of clothes from her closet to dresser—gone. A basket of folded laundry stood in its place.

Why her mom had suddenly turned into Martha Stewart, Lexi had no idea. But if she was in one of her everything-is-perfect moods, talking about anything real was definitely out of the question. Once inside her room, Lexi silently pressed her door shut, tossed her bag into her chair, then threw herself across her bed and stared at the shadowed ceiling.

Peter, ditching her.

Monica, always in her face. Reminding her of all the stupid stuff they’d done over the summer.

Jon, running off and making them keep his secret. Yes, she could tell what she knew. But one secret would lead to another. And another. And another, until the sickening truth came out. And Lexi couldn’t let that happen.

What the hell? How much could one person take? Crying might make her feel better, less out of touch, less clueless, but she’d had so much practice holding back her feelings tears wouldn’t come.

Why hadn’t her mom answered her calls?

A genuine tear slid down Lexi’s cheek, rolled past the corner of her lips. Another followed. She sat up, pulled in a deep breath and told herself to stop, but the tears kept coming.

Crying didn’t make her feel better, it made her pathetic. Really, it wasn’t that big a deal having some idiot you don’t really like walk out on you. And Jon? Whatever stupid game he was playing didn’t have anything to do with her. He was okay, that was all that mattered. She swiped away the tears and dropped back onto her lace pillows.

On the other side of the door, the creak of hallway floorboards was followed by a soft knock.

“Hi, honey.” Her mom inched the door open, peering in, a vague smile on her mouth.

The sound of her mom’s voice chased away some of the anger and embarrassment, and for a second Lexi let go of her indispensable self-control.

She sat up, reached for her mom, ready to tell her everything, but stiffened when she saw the other face in the doorway. The scent of burnt solder downstairs. Her straightened room. Floorboards that only creaked under his weight.

She should’ve already known he was there.

Back, ready to worm his way into every hole of their lives.

“Remember, I told you I had a surprise,” her mom said, typically oblivious to what was actually going on.

Lexi’s tears turned into anger and through the haze of her mind she heard her stepfather’s low husky whisper, her mom’s light giggle. The sounds crawled deep inside her, tearing at her heart.

No more.

Desperate, she scooted into the corner, bracing herself by pulling the throw pillows to her sides.

Don’t look at them.

Pretend they aren’t there.

Together. Acting like everything is okay.

But the overhead light blinked on, exposing her so she couldn’t deny their existence.

“Honey? Aren’t you happy to see Dale?” She stepped into the room, the scent of her vanilla-and-pear lotion filling the air. “What’s wrong? Didn’t you have a nice time?”

Hollow laughter struggled up Lexi’s throat. “That jerk ditched me, and you didn’t answer my text or calls.”

Silence swelled in the room, filling every nook. The quiet was so thick Lexi could have sworn she could hear her own heart beating.

“Honey?” her mom said after a minute, tugging at the flannel bathrobe she’d been wearing since before Lexi’s dad died. “What do you mean he ditched you?”

“Left, Mom. Like, got in his car and drove away without me.”

“I thought you were with Peter?” she said, backing away from Lexi as though she didn’t understand, as though it was Lexi who’d done something wrong.

“Peter? Peter who?” Dale asked.

Lexi squeezed her eyes shut, wishing them both away, but of course they were still there, bathed in bright light, when she lifted her lids.

Her mom was leaning into the doorjamb but Dale was inching forward, the ashy scent that followed him everywhere getting stronger.

Hoping it would hold him back, she offered, “Peter, a guy on the baseball team.”

“Peter Archer?” Dale said.

Of course he remembered the players.

Dale crept closer, pushing his dull brown hair off his forehead. “You need to tell us exactly what happened.”

Lexi tipped sideways, pleading silently to her mom, but she was staring fretfully at Dale’s gray terry cloth-covered back, letting him take control—as always. Even after being gone all that time.

To keep herself from having a complete internal meltdown, Lexi explained everything that had happened as quickly as possible. Once she’d finished, Dale said nothing to her, turning instead to her mom. “It’s a good thing I came back when I did.”

“Honey, I-I’m so sorry I— We didn’t hear the phone. We were—” Her mom’s face crumpled, her gaze shifting to Dale, who turned back to Lexi.

“You look all right now,” he said.

“But it must’ve been terrible. Are you sure you’re okay?” Her mom shuffled in but stayed behind her beloved Dale as she clutched the collar of her robe. “You want some cocoa? Want to talk some more?”

And endure more of Dale the pompous loser?

Not in a million years.

“I’m fine,” Lexi said, ignoring all of her mom’s questions. “I just want to go to sleep.”

Her mom whispered to Dale, the light vanished, the door closed.

Lexi crawled under the covers with her clothes still on, until, eventually, sweet sleep swept her away.

Outside her door, the floorboards creaked under heavy footsteps.