Chapter Six

Reasons to Be Sorry

 

 

 

Jon’s bike getting found stirred everything up, and reporters were chasing down kids, taking pictures and trying to get them to talk. So Saturday afternoon, when Lexi pulled into the parking lot of Willows Chapel and Cemetery, TV cameras, reporters and morbid onlookers milled around in the sharp, cold sunshine. The breezy air snapped with menacing excitement and even though the cops had told everyone to come to them with anything they knew, and keep their mouths shut, kids were standing in clusters, their faces inches from the rolling cameras as they repeated speculation and rumors. In a matter of minutes, the clips would be online, a collage of guesses spoken by pretty but mournful girls and grim-faced teen guys in dark suits. Within hours those bits would be spun together in a series of possible scenarios.

Even though Lexi was supposed to sit with the boosters she waited back, watching the girls merge with the baseball players. The girls clustered around the chapel, a dreary-looking hilltop building made of fat gray stones. The walls of the chapel were grim and dusty-looking, as though the place had been built by medieval druids, or at least designed by video game creators. The contrast with the well-dressed crowd was something else. Any shots the cameramen managed to get of the people inside were going to look great. Most of the boosters were wearing black, even after all the conversation about whether it was really necessary to be traditional. Zoë, always one to do things right, was even wearing black tights and plain black flats. Betty Ann Thompson, who followed behind Zoë, had obviously pulled the charcoal gray suit she was wearing out of her mom’s closet—the shoulder pads were so square she looked like SpongeBob. Yet she still had a sexy-secretary look that was turning heads.

Lexi needed to get Monica alone, but the girl was nowhere in sight. Lexi scanned the crowd slowly and carefully. Row after row of stunning Cherry Grove residents, men, women, the high schools kids and even children, all looking fantastic and poised. Another sweep with her gaze and Lexi knew for sure. There was no sign of Taylor either.

One by one the rest of the boosters went in, moving out of the gray day into the gray building. The players followed them, suddenly shoving each other so wildly that the girls had to dodge them to keep from getting knocked down. The guys’ nervous laughter cut through the wind, breaking the silence inside the chapel. After Andrea, the last booster to cross through the arched doors, disappeared inside, Lexi wrapped her second-hand Marc Jacobs pea coat tightly around herself to cover her boring, black Ann Taylor dress, and ducked under the low, mostly bare branches of the willow trees.

Three steps later, her cell hummed.

Ash.

 

You here?

 

She checked the camera crews, making sure none of them were paying attention to her. They weren’t. She went back to her phone but turned away from the crowds still lingering in the parking lot.

 

Sit in the back row, behind the players.

Where are you?

 

Be there in a minute, she replied.

 

Leave together?

 

Lexi sent ‘kk’ then started down the walk, tucking her phone into the black bag she’d borrowed from her mom. When she looked back up, a sudden movement caught her eye.

A man, maybe it was a young guy, walking alone toward the chapel door, fighting the autumn wind. His lumpy navy suit hung loose. As he got closer to the chapel doorway, he lifted his head, scanning, searching for something—someone. Lexi couldn’t see his face, but something about him was familiar. Maybe it was the way he walked? Or his silhouette?

With his rumpled suit and messed-up hair, he didn’t look like a teacher. Maybe a sub?

Somebody working for the media, ready to catch the latest rumor about Jon?

Lexi slowed, watching him as she, too, headed for the door.

He wasn’t part of the press. Not dressed that way.

Maybe a coach from one of the other schools?

Whoever he was, something about him gave Lexi the creeps. The way he kept pulling his collar over his face and tugging on his suit—ick. Inside, he merged with the crowd, and she quickly lost track of him.

Finally Lexi went in, slid in next to Troy Donaldson. He looked over and winked, then whispered, “You make an awesome Goth chick.”

She rolled her eyes but still smiled. “Gee. Thanks.”

“Hey, Ash wanted me to tell you he has to say some stuff as part of the memorial, but he’ll be back here as soon as he’s done.”

“Thanks.” Lexi spotted Ash in the front row with Mrs. Archer, patting her back and telling her something. She was leaning against him, accepting the support of his shoulder as she nodded slowly.

The boosters were about five rows back from Ash and the others up front. Betty Ann was putting on even more lip gloss, and Zoë was reading the remembrance card. Taylor and Monica had appeared out of nowhere and now sat with their heads together, looking like best friends. A bad sign. Really bad. And how was Lexi going to talk to Monica if Taylor was hovering nearby?

Monica glanced over and caught Lexi’s eye, scowled and looked down. Seconds later Lexi’s cell hummed.

 

Stop staring.

 

Lexi’s fingers hovered over the screen, but she put her phone back in her bag, turned around and stared ahead.

The service started with soft organ music meant to soothe, but it really only punctuated the fact that somebody was dead. The sound echoed off the stone walls and vibrated in the air. Nobody seated in the rows moved. The pastor, looking like he was used to things like old guys everybody loved and respected dying for no reason, settled behind the podium and clipped on a wireless mic. He started the service by talking about how God “has plans for each and everyone one of us, but we don’t get to know what they are.”

No kidding about that second part.

After the pastor finished with the opening remarks, Ash got up and stood between the two huge bouquets of bright white lilies, strong and steady in his charcoal gray suit. His eyes calm. Focused. Like he was staring down a batter, daring him to get a hit. He spoke for a few minutes, saying the stuff Lexi expected to hear. Coach had been a great man, believed in his players and supported them but made them work hard, pushed them to do more than they thought they could. When he finished, he paused for a few seconds, looking out at the crowd, his expression calm.

Other people, maybe other coaches or players from years ago, talked too. They all mentioned Coach Filpot’s solid work ethic and his way of making people keep going even when they didn’t want to. Their comments, too, were probably the normal thing to expect, but for Lexi it was like watching a bad cartoon. Stiff, fake and unpleasant.

When the pastor planted himself between the lilies and asked the gathering to bow their heads for a final prayer, Ash caught Lexi’s eye and smiled. It was a soft, subtle smile meant just for her. Her heart thumped, pushing blood through her veins. She smiled back.

After the prayer, while people were looking up, getting ready for the last part of the service, Ash tiptoed down the aisle and slid in next to Lexi. He nudged her shoulder with his and whispered, “Hi. Can’t leave with you, sorry. Mrs. Archer wants me to go get Peter and bring him to the Filpots’.” Ash smirked and said softly into her ear, “He’s in big trouble.”

The pastor concluded the service and announced it was time to go to the burial site.

Leaning back, Ash took Lexi’s hand and added, “Come on, let’s go out to the grave.”

A group of guys, some players and some probably relatives, carried the coffin down the center aisle of the chapel.

Outside, it was a grim but picturesque affair. A cough, a sniffle, some black-haired kid complaining about his tight shoes. Bright autumn trees catching the occasional ray of sunlight, all the while tossing dazzling leaves into the wind, giving the place an air of freedom and the scent of nature. There was a stone-solid quiet as the procession stepped through the freshly cut grass, trudging along. The setting at the gravesite was carefully arranged. A green carpet of fake grass had been stretched over the hole in the ground, and a circle of yellow and white bouquets surrounded the area. A small table covered with long-stemmed yellow roses stood off to the side.

But it wasn’t as idealistic as it appeared. Off in the distance, a burly guy steadying a TV camera on his shoulder swept to the side of the parking lot, probably using the best lens he had to catch the grief of Coach’s family—and a few shots of Taylor, who was right in the middle of everything, looking simultaneously sad and vibrant.

Pivoting, Lexi scanned the crowd for the shabby guy, but he’d vanished. Must have gotten what he came for. Whatever it was.

No Monica either.

The pastor stopped at Coach’s final resting place, a spot near a cluster of precisely trimmed pines. One by one people circled and stood, hands clutched together, crammed in pockets, or, like Lexi’s and Ash’s, linked. Beside her Ash was confident, in control, sexy and solid all at the same time. He looked like he could step right onto polo.com. Except for the very genuine grief pulling on his mouth. It occurred to Lexi, maybe this was what he’d been talking about the day before, when he’d said she was going to help him with something.

The pastor began the graveside service by talking about faith, but his words were quickly drowned out by the wails of the complaining kid as his mom pulled him from the crowd. As the kid’s whining faded, the pastor’s words grew louder, and Lexi listened while half wondering what exactly was going on in Cherry Hill. The faces of the crowd stayed emotionless, denying that bad things happened. But that obviously wasn’t the case.

The graveside portion of the ceremony was much shorter and soon the crowd was breaking up, the chatter and tears growing louder as people moved away, heading up and over the hill. Before leaving the graveside, Lexi accepted one of the yellow roses Taylor had brought for the boosters. She tossed it onto the casket, then she and Ash melted into the group oozing across the cemetery grounds toward the parking lot. Lexi scanned the lot. No sign of Monica—her car wasn’t even there.

“Lexi! Ash! Wait up!”

Zoë Weinberg.

The chubby girl huffed up, her breath coming in little train engine puffs. Red blotches covered her cheeks, and even though she was sort of smiling, her mouth was quivering, making her look as though she was going to burst into tears. “You guys weren’t around when I passed out the flyers. I’m having people over.”

“You’re having a party?” Lexi asked, hearing her shock.

“But it’s just for us, you know, kids from Cherry Grove, so don’t post anything about it.” She frowned and waved her hand to the camera crews and news vans still swarming at the main entrance of the lot. “We don’t want them showing up.”

“That’s the truth,” Ash said. “They’re ruining everything.”

“The party was my mom’s idea. A wake. Without parents and all that, so we’ll be able to talk, spend time together.” Zoë pulled a flyer from her Burberry bag, holding it out with a jangle of bright metal bangles. “It’s tonight at seven. Can you come?”

It was weird, having a party after a funeral, but it seemed like a good idea, everyone being together without parents or cops or counselors or media. Lexi glanced at Ash. He nodded, so she said, “Sure, of course. Thanks.”

Zoë, always the one concerned about making sure everyone had a good time, started chattering about food. “I could do a simple cheese and cracker layout or maybe call the caterers for something more, well, not festive but, you know, nicer.”

“You’re great at this stuff, Zoë,” Ash said, leaning over to smile at Zoë.

“Ash is right,” Lexi added. “Whatever you decide will be perfect.” But what she was really thinking was that the guys would eat whatever food was sitting out regardless of what it was or even looked like, and most of the girls weren’t going to touch it.

“Thanks. You guys are always so great, not like some of the other people around here. What about the music? Stuff like Radiohead? Or Flo Rida? Maybe Spaz could make a mix? Or—”

“Hey,” Ash cut in. “Okay if I invite Zeke? He didn’t know Coach, but he just moved here, so it’d be good if he could meet people. Show support.”

“Sure, that’s a great idea.” Zoë slowed to a stop. “That kind of sucks that he moved here in the middle of all this.” Then she waved goodbye and puffed off, her lumpy jacket making her look like a little bear as she dodged between the cars backing out and rambled toward her burgundy Volvo wagon.

Lexi nudged Ash. “Who’s Zeke?”

He took her hand. “A catcher.”

“You know him from baseball?” Lexi asked, looking for Monica but seeing only clusters of kids talking into cameras again. The media crews were blocking the end of the parking lot, and some guy in a mud-spattered Honda Fit was leaning out the window, yelling as he honked the car’s feeble horn.

“Yeah, sort of. We were at camp together a couple times, way back when we were kids.” His voice lowered as he added, “Not that he remembers it, though.”

“You guys are friends now?” she asked, having to raise hers to speak over another car horn and the rumble of a couple pickup trucks racing off in the opposite direction, going to the far end of the lot where they could get out without having to weave through the media.

The chaos in the parking lot caught Ash’s attention. He looked over and pointed. “The cops finding Jon’s bike really doesn’t change anything. He’s still gone and nobody knows why. Then coach dies. It’s making everyone act weird. Stressed.”

Lexi pressed her lips together, too afraid to say anything. One thought spoken would lead to another, and another, then who knew what she’d say.

Ash’s gaze circled her face, finally stopping on her eyes. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to freak you out.” Turning his back on the scene, putting it between them, he took her other hand and said, “Zeke needs friends. He had some trouble at his old school, some scene that wasn’t his fault. His family moved here to get away from all the drama.” Ash let go of her hands and stepped back. “Speaking of trouble, I better go get Peter.”

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek then, without even a goodbye, he headed to his car, shoulders swaying beneath the dark suit. Lexi watched him walk away, heat and nervous energy sizzling in her blood.

If only it could all just go away. Then she and Ash could spend time getting to know each other instead of talking about everyone else. Lexi’s phone hummed. She dug it out and smiled at the message. Jazz inviting her over because her parents were gone for a couple of hours. A break from all the drama was just what she needed and—bonus—going to Jazz’s gave her somewhere to go for a while instead of home. She sent back a text telling her about Zoë’s party and saying she’d be over in a few. As she drove toward the back entrance of the parking lot, she finally saw Monica, perched on the hood of Troy’s restored black Chevelle. The outfielder was angled over her—she was pulling on the collar of his brown leather car coat, her dark hair shimmering in the clear autumn sunlight.

Lexi slowed. Monica’s face was tight, though—anxious. Desperate? Maybe things weren’t so perfect with her and Taylor after all. Or maybe she was worried about the bike too.

Tonight, at Zoë’s, she and Monica were definitely going to talk.