Already Gone Page 7

  "We don't bring other people along."

  "Why not?" he asked. "Moms love me, I swear."

  "But not sisters?" I asked.

  He smirked. "Actually, sisters usually like me too much."

  I rolled my eyes. "You don't give up."

  "Nope, I don't. So what time tomorrow? Should I come hungry?"

  "I'll ask tonight," I said. "That's all I can promise."

  He nodded. "I'll take it. Let me know tomorrow. And you'll have to give me an address, too."

  "I'll let you know," I said. I wanted to say yes, but there’s a way this stuff has to be done or the guys lose interest. Usually I didn’t care much, but this time maybe I cared too much, so I had to stick with what always worked.

  I started to walk out to the parking lot, and he grabbed his bag and followed me.

  "Don't you need to go change?" I asked him.

  He pulled a shirt out of his bag, and pulled it over his head. "There. Changed."

  Guys are so strange. "Well, thanks for walking me out to the parking lot, I guess."

  "Are you going to have to wait for a ride?" he asked.

  I shrugged. “I'm not sure. Sometimes my sister finds a ride and leaves me the car, and sometimes she comes back and picks me up."

  "What about keys?"

  I pulled a key from my bag. "Our car's old. We can make as many copies of the key as we want. We both have one."

  By that time, I could see our old blue Thunderbird, battered, but parked in our normal spot. Lacy must've found a ride. "Well, thanks for seeing me here safely, but my chariot awaits."

  I fumbled with the key for a second, but eventually I got the lock turned. I opened the heavy door, climbed into the car and tossed my bag over the seat. I closed the door with a noisy thud and waved. Moby just stood there and watched as I got the car started, put it in reverse, and drove away.

  It didn't occur to me until I was home that I ought to have asked whether he needed a ride.

  As I pulled into the driveway, I saw my mom's face in the window. When I saw her lopsided grin, I breathed a sigh of relief. She waved at me cheerily and I waved back. Mom’s not always feeling so hot, but on days when she’s smiling, life is brighter. I jogged inside just in time. Mom had dinner on the table, and Lacy was already there, perfect and pristine as always, putting silverware on the table.

  "How was practice?" she asked me.

  "Good. Great actually." I walked across the family room and ducked into our tiny laundry room. I blobbed my duffel down and went back to be social, as my mom liked to say. I plopped down on the couch with a sigh. I texted a few people on my phone, including my best friend Gwen. She couldn’t believe Moby was finally here, and Dave was ineligible.

  “What do you want to drink?” Lacy asked.

  “Water’s fine, but I’ll get it myself.” I tossed my phone onto the end table and hopped up.

  "Dinner's ready." Mom said. “Hope you’re hungry.”

  “Hope is always hungry,” Lacy said with a smirk. She was taking an apron off when I went back into the kitchen. That was pretty normal, actually. She probably made most of dinner too. She and my mom were like two peas in a pod, and Lacy wasn’t even a suck up. She was just always doing extra stuff without even being asked for no reason other than she wanted to be helpful. She’d like, pick up and wash my clothes and Mom’s too. Wipe off the counters. Take out the trash. No wonder Mom loved her more than me.

  Honestly, Lacy made me feel like a real slacker sometimes. And kind of like the one person who doesn’t belong. Especially when Mom and Lacy would do things together, like making dinner, or working on complicated school projects for Lacy’s AP classes.

  My class projects are more like, put some baking soda in a dirt volcano, or whatever. Mom and Lacy would always get matching glassy-eyed looks on their faces when I tried to talk to them about my stuff, so I sort of stopped. If only my dad hadn't died, maybe I'd fit in somewhere too.

  We all sat down, and my mom repeated the same prayer she always did.

  "Lord, bless this house and all of us in it. Keep us safe and bring us all home. Bless Harry to know we love him up in heaven, and bless this food. Thank you, Lord. Amen."

  Usually we all scooped our own food, but tonight it was different. Lacy stood up like a waitress at a restaurant, scooping food for me with a dreamy, beamy look. She kept smiling as she handed me the rolls, and then put a pat of butter right on my plate. I couldn’t tell if she was like, super happy, or if she could just sense that I had a great day and she wanted it to continue. Sometimes Lacy’s like that, just super nice and excited. When Mom passed me the green beans, I scooped my own and then put some on Lacy's plate, too.

  "Thanks." Lacy’s smile made her eyes kind of squinty.

  Her mood was so contagious that I could feel the corners of my own mouth lifting.

  "Why are you so happy today?" she asked me.

  "Why are you?" I lifted one eyebrow.

  "You first,” she said.

  "Okay, I met someone. Someone new."

  "New?" Lacy looked down at her plate and fiddled with her napkin. "What happened to Dave? Good looking, talented, funny Dave? I liked him. I thought you liked him."

  I drop my fork and it clatters against the edge of my plate. “You hated Dave. You called him an ‘over-inflated burp of an ego’, and I know that’s what you said because I had to think about it for a minute before it made any sense.” I pick my fork back up. "Besides, Dave wasn't even my boyfriend, not really."

  "Wasn't he?" Mom raised her eyebrows and exchanged a glance with Lacy that made my hand ball my napkin into a wad.

  "No. He wasn't." I was sick of everyone asking about it. "But that's over anyway."

  "Onward and upward I guess," Lacy said. "Who's the new guy?" She jabbed at her green beans with her fork, quickly turning them into mush. The smile had slid right off her face.

  "His name's Moby. He's from Friendswood. He just moved here."

  "Moby?" Lacy asked. "You're sure?"

  "Umm, I'm pretty sure. He watched me write it on the attendance roll and didn’t say a word about it. He's a swimming icon, and we're really lucky to have him." I thought about the enormous whale tail tattooed on his back. I doubt he'd get something like that if he was named Brayden. Plus it was on the lane sign in lights at the meet. "He won like every single race by a mile. He's the guy I told you about on Sunday, who did the entire five hundred freestyle alternating between all four strokes like a medley."

  She breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh good. I met someone too, and he's new. I was worried for a minute, because you know, how many new guys can there be in the middle of the year? At the same time."

  “There’s more than two thousand students at our school and we’re like a week into the new semester. There are probably several new guys.” I thought about it for a minute. But just to be safe, I said, "Tell me about yours. How'd you meet?"

  "He's in all my classes at school. He was my debate partner last weekend. We won the entire tournament."

  "Oh man," I said, "what about Drew?"

  She huffed. "What about her? I only ended up debating with Mason because she hadn’t shown up by the end of first period. She had to sprint to catch the bus at all."

  "But she made the bus?"

  Lacy nodded, but her nose was all scrunched up and her lips were smooshed together. "She did, but I didn't know she would, and by then Mason's dad had brought him clothes to change into and signed his fieldtrip form."

  I shrugged. "Didn’t Drew like, drop band to debate with you?"

  "She hated band. She was going to drop it anyway. She was only in there to play drums, and now she’s starting her own band. Any chance you’re fixating on this to distract from your own predicament?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.

  Lacy raised one eyebrow, like she always did. “Dave, the very recent ex, and Moby, the new guy you like? All on swim team together? Are we thinking they’re going to be best
friends?”

  I frowned. “Well Dave’s not even on the team right now because as of today, he’s ineligible. You on the other hand, are going to see Drew every single day in class so I hope you’re right about her not really liking debate.”

  Lacy sighs. “She skipped school today, but she said she was sick. I’m sure she’ll get over it. She could even sign up for band again now, if she wanted to.”

  “Two weeks into the semester?” My mouth hung open.

  “Ms. Harris would sign the form. I know she would.”

  “But what would she do in band now? Marching season is over and it’s our senior year?”

  Lacy huffed. "I don’t know, okay? The point is, I won first place for the entire TFA tournament. I got eight points toward state. And instead of congratulating me, you’re criticizing me."

  I took a bite of green beans and tried to avoid making eye contact with her.

  Mom glanced from Lacy to me and back again, but didn’t speak. Sometimes she wasn’t enough of a helicopter mom for my taste.

  "You disagree?" Lacy asked.

  She was right. I really didn’t have much room to talk with how quickly I watched Dave get kicked to the curb, but I did at least convince Coach to make it temporary. I shrugged. "I wasn't there. I don't really know, but I think that sometimes there are things that matter more than winning."

  "That’s easier to say when you always win." Lacy grinned.

  I buttered a roll slowly. “It’s hard to be this fabulous, I know.”

  “Two guys fighting over you won’t be very fun if it actually comes to that,” Mom said.

  “I doubt a fight between Moby and Dave would take too long,” I said. “Moby would destroy him. He’s a lot bigger.”

  Lacy poked at her food. Why was she so nervous?

  I sliced a piece of chicken and popped it into my mouth. "What's he like, this new kid Mason?" I wouldn't admit it, but I was a little uneasy about us both meeting a new guy in the course of the same week.

  "He's tall with dark hair."

  That wasn’t good.

  "He's so smart. He quotes literature and he's eloquent. Funny. And when all the girls at the debate tournament surrounded him, he looked super uncomfortable."

  Uncomfortable around girls? Uh. No. And I tried to imagine Moby quoting literature and almost snorted the half chewed chicken out of my nose. His most memorable phrase today was ‘hell to the yeah’.

  I leaned back in my chair. "That sounds like night and day from my guy. Moby's… well, not a thug, but certainly not an honor student. For one thing, he has an enormous black tattoo that spreads from one shoulder to the next." I held my hands up to show the size. "Does that sound like something your smarty pants would get?"

  Lacy raised one eyebrow and shook her head.

  Mom cleared her throat. "I agree. I met Mason, and I can’t imagine him getting a large back tattoo. I certainly wouldn’t describe him as a thug. Speaking of, let's hear some details. Is this tattoo like a skull? Or more like ‘I love you, Mom?’ Because hearing this guy you’re into described as a ‘thug’ isn’t really giving me the warm fuzzies."

  I laughed and said, "There aren't any horns or skulls or anything. It's a swimming thing."

  She raised one eyebrow and said, "Well, maybe I'd better meet him before you get too serious and he's difficult for me to get rid of. It sounds like he’d be a big body to drag away and bury if it came to that."

  I roll my eyes. "Geez Mom, creepy much? He wants to come to ice-cream tomorrow, actually."

  "That's perfect," Lacy said. "I'll invite Mason, and it can be our first ever double date." She looked happy, bright and full of excitement. I didn't see her looking like that very often, and I immediately decided to like this Mason, no matter how nerdy he was. I could ignore lines from boring old books if he made Lacy this happy.

  Chapter Seven

  Lacy

  Maybe the writing thing was a bad idea. Dr. Brasher practically bombards me with questions the next day, and it’s got to be because he spent time on my file. He probably cross-referenced what I wrote against the fact recitation and witness statements in the Court Order. Blech.

  "I know you’re eager to get your story out,” he says, “But before we get started I’ve got some pointed questions."

  "Okay." I sit on the edge of the chaise lounge, hoping maybe I can answer a few things and get out of here early.

  "You told me about Mason, and you said it all started there. I don't really see how meeting him led to-"

  "To her dying?"

  His jaw drops, and I can tell I've surprised him. I'm young, and yes, my life blows right now until the Court decides how to dispose of things, but I'm not a lame brain. I know the ending, I know what he's asking about. It's just not that simple.

  I frown. "I guess I don’t understand why we aren’t talking about the real issue. She’s dead and she’s never coming back, which leaves me where? That’s what you’re supposed to decide. Being in limbo really sucks. Hard."

  He holds his hand up in the air and closes his eyes.

  I groan. "I thought your job was to get me to talk. I tell you where it started and you say that’s unrelated. I try to get to the point and you act like I kicked a puppy.”

  He steeples his fingers again and I want to scream. “Maybe it's better if we keep writing after all. We don't seem to communicate very constructively out loud at the moment. Perhaps this time you can focus on connecting for me how meeting Mason is relevant to your current predicament."

  “By ‘my predicament’, do you mean how I basically killed her?”

  His eyes widen again. “Yes, I suppose that’s what I’m asking about.” Dr. Brasher stares at me for a moment, and stands up to hand me another yellow notepad.

  "Seriously?" I shake my head. "I can do this so much faster on a laptop."

  He sighs and presses a button on his phone. Melinda's voice blares at us. "Yes, Dr. Brasher. What can I do for you?"

  "I need a laptop in here. Do we have an extra one we can spare?"

  A few minutes later, she walks in and plops a huge laptop down in front of me. Maybe shrinks don't get paid very much. I wonder whether those two ever talked about the raise. I glance at Melinda, trying to figure out if she’s happier, whether I helped.

  When Dr. Brasher clears his throat, I remember I have work to do. And even a fossilized laptop is an improvement over a yellow pad of paper and a Bic pen. I turn it so that Dr. Brasher can't look over my shoulder, and then I hunch over the keyboard and get started.

  * * *

  I texted Drew a dozen times on Sunday, but unlike Saturday night, she didn’t reply. I called her at least five more, and she never picked up. I wasn’t too worried. We’d had a fight or two in the past ten years, and Drew sulks like a toddler who can’t have her pink sprinkle donut.

  On Monday, I had to squelch down some guilty feelings when she didn't come to class, but I texted her and she finally responded.

  I’M SICK BUT I’LL BE IN CLASS TOMORROW.

  Drew may pitch baby fits, but she had never lied to me before. I believed her.

  My concern for Drew mitigated, I kept my word and introduced Mason to his new teachers. They really did all love me, so when I told them how amazing he'd done at the debate tournament, they fell for him right away. I took a make-up Spanish exam during lunch that day and generally got caught up on everything I'd missed on Friday in my other classes.

  After school I finished my homework before my mom finished with work. I started to research a few issues with my new debate case a few moments before Mom got home.

  “Hey Mom,” I said when she came through the door.

  Her furrowed brow told me she had a headache so I dropped my voice.

  “Long day?”

  She shook her head. “Work was fine. My headache didn’t start until I was almost home.”

  “Tylenol?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I took one last week. I’d rather not.”

  Mom
hated taking any drugs for any reason. Her uncle overdosed on prescription sleeping pills when she was little, so she had a good reason for her reticence.

  “Why don’t you head for your room and take a little nap. I’ll make dinner.”

  Dinner was way more peaceful when I made it alone anyway. Mom and I are so much alike that we tended to butt heads when left in the same room too long, unless we each had something to do. Sometimes I wished Dad was around, just so I had someone to talk to without being stressed out.

  With Mom it was always, "How's school, how are your grades, how are your applications coming?" It felt like the FBI was interviewing me. Really, compared to Hope she should’ve been impressed with whatever grades I cranked out, but I felt like she always thought I could do just a little better. And at some point she’d always say, “When I was your age…”

  On that Monday, Mom only napped for a half an hour. When she re-emerged in the kitchen to lend a hand, she was in one of her rare sunny moods. I had started some oven-roasted chicken, but Mom upgraded things into a big production. I loved when she was happy, so I went right along with it. I helped her put all the finishing touches together, like melting butter on top of the rolls, and sautéing the green beans. She and I made cookies too, oatmeal to be healthy and chocolate chip so they still tasted good.

  When the door opened and Hope walked in, Mom’s face lit up like a sunrise.

  “Sweetheart, welcome home.”

  It hurt sometimes, to see Mom’s joy at seeing her, but I guess Hope reminded her of Dad and I knew she missed him. That’s why she got sad so often.

  I worried for a minute at dinner, when Hope told us she'd met someone new, but we do get new students pretty often, especially when Dow is about to start a turnaround, which they were. Plus the guy she met was a swimmer and apparently not very smart. He had a huge tattoo that covered his whole back.

  I thought about Mason, the orator I knew, enrolled in all honors classes, not mentioning swimming once, and tried to imagine him with a gigantic tattoo. I guess anyone could surprise you with something like that, but I’d seen his dad. I couldn’t imagine Mr. Slacks and Polo Shirt had let his son get a tattoo from shoulder to shoulder. Mason mentioned his mom put him in debate, so it’s not like she was likely to be a tattoo artist or flower child. Hope’s description of this Moby guy just didn't fit. Plus, anyone who liked Hope wouldn’t have even noticed me, much less offered to fill in for a debate tournament. I breathed easier for once, knowing we didn’t run in the same circles.