Keeley sighs, begins pacing the room, and says, “So, if Jenna isn’t here, then where is she?” She stops and looks from me to Delaney then back to me. “You said you haven’t seen her since last night. Where were you guys?”
“Here.”
“Where was she going when she left?”
“Look, I don’t feel right telling you two Jenna’s business. If she wanted you to know where she was going, she would have told you herself.”
“Excuse me?” Delaney takes three quick steps in my direction, causing Keeley to grab her pint-sized friend’s shoulder, likely preventing her from doing something she’ll regret. I’m shocked as hell by this sudden outburst, but there’s no way I’ll show it. Instead, I pick at the frayed hole in the left knee of my jeans and wait for the right moment to tell these bitches to leave.
“We’ve been friends with Jenna since grade school! You? You show up THIS YEAR with your stupid hair, weird gauges, and depressing wardrobe. And, of course, Jenna befriends you because that’s her—always wanting to be nice, always wanting to help—or at least that was her.” She sniffles, causing me to impulsively glance up at her. A single tear trails down each of her cheeks as she continues her tirade. “And then, BAM, all of a sudden, she starts acting like a completely different person. And I blame you, Leighton!”
Me? She blames me? Any bit of sympathy I may have been feeling for her has just gone out the window. “Fuck you. You’re clueless. And I’d like both of you to get the fu—”
“Leighton. Wait . . .” Keeley pleads, her hand falling from Delaney’s shoulder when Delaney collapses onto the couch and plants her face in her hands. “Can you just tell us where she went? Or even who she was with?”
I should. I really should. Because the more I think about where Jenna went last night, the more sick to my stomach I feel. But there are still explanations for where she could be now, so I can’t. “Sorry,” I say, shaking my head and pulling a lighter and one-hitter out of my hoodie pocket. “She can tell you herself.” I maintain eye contact with Keeley as I bring the pipe to my lips, light up, and inhale deeply.
“Wait, what are you—”
Delaney gasps, interrupting Keeley. “You’ve got to be kidding me! You have no idea where your supposed friend is and you’re smoking weed?” she shouts.
I chuckle to myself as I recall Jenna telling me Delaney was the one who wanted the three of them to try smoking pot together for the first time. She’s even the one who bought the weed from Lou. But now that I’m doing it, apparently it’s a mortal sin.
“Let’s just go,” Keeley says, shaking her head and motioning for Delaney to follow her to the door.
As soon as both girls are out on the porch, Keeley turns, still holding the screen door open as if she means to say something. But I’m done, so I close the inner door before she has a chance. Ignoring the angry chatter from outside, I pull up the messages I have going with Sticks and type as I head upstairs.
Me: Need food.
Sticks: Where you wanna eat?
I enter my bedroom and take a seat on my bed as I tap out a response.
Me: No man, groceries. Mom wants eggs and milk.
Sticks: Yeah of course. Around 12 okay?
Sticks: Why can’t she get that shit herself?
Me: Dunno :/ Yeah thanks.
I glance across the room at the bag Jenna has been keeping here for the past month or so. She said it was stuff for when she wanted to crash, but I’ve only seen her dig around in it once, and she’s spent the night a bunch of times. The pink and gray stripes have become a comforting fixture in my room, sort of like Jenna has in my life. This realization makes me wish I’d never allowed myself to become friends with her in the first place.
For the third time since Mrs. Kemp called this morning, I try Jenna’s phone. And for the third time, it goes straight to voicemail. I contemplate sending a second text, but I don’t want to blow up her phone like Keeley and Delaney probably are so I decide against it. She’ll get back to me soon.
But what if he didn’t like what she had to say? Damn it, you should have gone with her and watched from a distance.
I do a quick Google search, and the first result gives me the information I’m looking for.
I send Sticks one more text.
Me: Might need to stop one more place too . . .
Chapter Six
Saturday, July 22, 2017
Three Months Before Jenna’s Disappearance
Jenna slowed her pace to a light jog, prompting Keeley to do the same. Cross country practice would start in less than a month, so they’d been conditioning since June and had just run three one-mile loops through Jolliet Park. Now they were heading home.
Keeley and Jenna knew there was a heat advisory in the forecast so they’d made plans after their run the day before to meet in their spot at six a.m. But Jenna texted Keeley just as she was heading out the door to see if they could meet at eight instead. Now they were both huffing and puffing, the hot sun causing beads of sweat to roll off the tips of their noses.
“I told you . . . we should . . . have done this earlier.” Keeley caught her breath as she spoke. She raised the bottle in her right hand and squeezed a stream of water into her mouth, followed by a squirt to Jenna’s face.
“Hey!” Jenna laughed. “I know, but . . . I had trouble sleeping last night.”
“Why? Wait, don’t tell me. You can’t stop fantasizing about Dustin.” Keeley wrinkled her nose as if the thought grossed her out.
The girls came to a stop on the corner of Jenna’s street, just a few blocks shy of Keeley’s house. They both leaned forward to stretch their hamstrings.
“Funny, but no,” Jenna said, glancing over at the long, coarse curls of Keeley’s ponytail as they fanned over her left shoulder. “I was late again last night . . . my mom freaked.”
“Well, how late were you?” Keeley asked as they both switched legs.
“Almost an hour, but it was totally innocent. We fell asleep in the back seat of his parents’ car.”
“Umm . . . and what were you doing in the back seat? Wait, don’t answer that.” Keeley stood upright, her eyes squeezed closed, and motioned with her hand for Jenna to forget she’d asked the question. The girls had been friends with Dustin since third grade, so the thought of Jenna and Dustin doing anything more than holding hands made Keeley queasy.
“Nothing really. Just . . . kissing.” Jenna pulled her left foot up behind her until her heel touched her butt. Keeley made a concerted effort not to picture her childhood friends making out as she mimicked Jenna’s pose. “So even though I told the truth, my mom is still pissed and thinks we were having sex. You know, because everyone our age must be having sex.”
The girls switched legs.
“I don’t know, Jenna. My mom and dad would be suspicious too. If I had a boyfriend to break curfew with, that is . . .”
Jenna sighed. “But it’s Dustin. And it’s not like I’m some out-of-control teenager.”
“True,” Keeley said with a shrug. “So now what? Are you grounded? Did they take your phone?”
“I don’t know yet. Guess I’ll find out when I get home.”
“Well, call me later and let me know. Maybe if you don’t get grounded, we can hang out tonight. We could watch a movie or have a bonfire in my backyard.”
“Yeah, that would be fun. Would you mind if Dustin joined us?”
“Um . . .” Keeley paused long enough for Jenna to know how she really felt. Then she cleared her throat, smiled, and said, “No, of course not.”
Jenna knew she’d been spending a lot of extra time with Dustin but still felt bad turning him down when he asked her to hang out. She’d have to figure out a happy medium because now that they were dating, it was different having him around all the time, especially when it was just Keeley and Delaney with them.
On her way home, Jenna prepared herself for another argument with her mom. But when she entered the house through the back door, her mo
m was preoccupied with a phone call. Thank God, she thought. She missed the days when the biggest issue between them was deciding what movie to watch or why Jenna had such a hard time remembering to keep her phone charged.
“Hey, Mom,” Jenna whispered as she made her way into the kitchen and headed straight to the sink to splash some water on her face.
Bonnie acknowledged her daughter with a distracted nod as she poured herself a cup of coffee, her cell phone pinned between her shoulder and ear. Two cups of coffee in the morning and tea at night. Those were two of her many daily rituals.
After lifting her T-shirt to dry her face, Jenna got herself a glass of ice water and a yogurt. Then she took a seat opposite where her mom was leaning her elbows on the counter.
“In three weeks? Really? This is great news!” Bonnie said into her phone. She smiled, briefly raising her eyes to meet Jenna’s.
As Jenna eavesdropped on her mom’s conversation, dread began to well up inside her. And by the time her mom hung up the phone, being grounded for breaking curfew or Dustin losing interest in her were the least of Jenna’s concerns.
“Jenna! Your Uncle Greg accepted the lead pastor position at church! They’re moving back! And Thomas and his family too! To help with the youth ministry!”
“Oh. Wow. That’s . . .” Jenna tried to force a response, but she was hoping there were things she’d misheard.
Oblivious to Jenna’s change in demeanor, Bonnie continued, “You know, it’s so true what they say about things just working out for the best. I’ve been missing them so much since they all moved.” Then she repeated all the details of her conversation with her sister that had her brimming with excitement. “So, in three weeks . . .”
They can’t all be moving back, Jenna thought. She nodded at her mom, but the sound of her heart pounding in her ears made it difficult for her to maintain the illusion that she was listening.
“. . . asked if I could help find some houses for sale in the area. But I suppose they could rent for a while too. Then . . .”
I must have misheard that part.
“. . . get your cousins registered for school. Can you believe Elijah will be going to your school? You two were so cute together when you were little. This is so exciting!”
This can’t be happening.
“And we finally get to meet Thomas’s wife and their little one. Maybe you can babysit for her the way Thomas used to babysit for you when you were little.”
Wife? Little one?
By the time Jenna realized she’d knocked over her ice water, her mom was already diving for the glass as it rolled over the edge of the counter.
“Jenna!” Bonnie juggled the glass before finally getting a firm grip on it and setting it back on the dripping counter.
“I’m sorry . . .” Jenna uttered, shocked by the incident, and still nowhere near recovered from hearing the news of her Aunt Lenore’s family moving back to town. She had a feeling she might never recover.
“It’s okay. It’s just water,” Bonnie said as she retrieved a handful of dishtowels from a drawer. “But what happened?”
“I just . . . I suddenly felt light-headed. Probably because it was already so hot out when Keeley and I ran.” Jenna closed her eyes and squeezed the bridge of her nose.
With a sideways glance and a sigh, Bonnie tossed the spilled ice cubes into the sink. Then she finished sopping up all the water. “Well, I better get you another glass of water then.”
“No. No, it’s okay.” Jenna slid off her chair and stumbled toward the hall. “I think I need to lay down.”
“Okay,” Bonnie called after Jenna, “but when you’re done resting, we’re going to discuss last night!”
Jenna allowed Lulu to slip into her bedroom before she closed the door swiftly behind them. Then she leaned against the door and stared vacantly out the window for a few seconds before sliding down to the floor. Lulu immediately rushed to Jenna, thinking it was a great opportunity for snuggles, or better yet, playtime. Instead, when Lulu attacked Jenna’s face with slobbery kisses, all the dog got was a mouth full of tears.
“Okay, okay, that’s enough, Lulu,” Jenna said as she hiked herself up off the floor.
She headed to her nightstand, tossed Lulu a treat, and sank to the floor next to her bed with her diary.
July 22, 2017
Dear Diary,
Surprise. Me again. Yeah, I know. What kind of surprise is that? Anyway, I’m not back so soon for anything good. Just the opposite. It’s HORRIBLE. My mom just told me they’re coming back. Of course, she’s over the moon excited that they’ll be living here again, but you know how I feel. After ALL this time, why do they have to come back? Why now? Why when I still have to live here? I’ll be forced to see them, not just on holidays either. That saying “out of sight out of mind” is the only thing that sort of seems to have helped me since they left. But it gets worse. Uncle Greg has accepted the senior pastor position at our church. Knowing my mom, she’ll probably start volunteering even more, not because she necessarily loves serving others (honestly, sometimes it seems to be more about keeping up appearances) but because then she can hang out more with Aunt Lenore. But it gets even WORSE. He’s coming back too.
How could God let this happen?
I feel sick.
So fucking sick. :(
~Jenna
Chapter Seven
Dustin Bock
Saturday, October 28, 2017
One Day After Jenna’s Disappearance
“Dustin?” My mom’s voice is accompanied by several light knocks on my bedroom door. “Are you up yet?”
“Yeah,” I croak. As she opens the door, I clear my throat and quickly pull my phone underneath my down comforter. Not that I have anything to hide. I’m just confused about all the calls and texts since last night and don’t feel like discussing any of it with my mom.
“Well, good morning, sleepy head,” she says with a grin as she peeks into my room. “I know you don’t get to sleep in very often, but eleven is kind of pushing it, don’t you think?”
I drag myself into an upright position and rub my eyes with my fists. “Sorry,” I say, yawning. “I’ve been up for a while . . . just laying here.”
She opens the door wide and takes a few steps toward my bed. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” I say, plucking a piece of lint off my comforter and tossing it to the floor. “I just stayed up too late, I guess.”
She nods twice and then a third time toward my window which overlooks our backyard. “Your father and I just got done trimming all the bushes out back. Could you please bag it all up and put the bags at the curb while we’re at your sister’s basketball game? We’re heading out in about ten minutes.” She’s already turning to leave, which means there’s only one possible response to her request.
“Yeah, sure. What time will you be back?”
“Around one,” she says, peeking back at me from the hallway. “We’ll probably stop at Panera for lunch. Do you want us to bring you something?”
“No, thanks. I’ll make myself something here.”
“All right. See you when we get home then.”
As soon as she’s gone, I flip my comforter back and pick up my phone. I listen to the distant sounds of my family as they prepare to head to the middle school for my little sister’s basketball game, and I scroll through the missed calls and message notifications from Delaney and Jenna’s mom. My dad asks my mom if I’m going to take care of the trimmings out back, and my sister complains that her ponytail is too tight. When the house finally goes silent, I navigate to my texts and click on the second name on the list. This is the last time I’m going to read the conversation before I delete it.
Jenna: Can we please talk? Not by text, on the phone or even in person.
I wanted to delete her first message from last night before I even read it, but of course I didn’t. Then after I saw what it said, I wanted to delete it even more—not because I didn’t want to talk to her b
ut because the thought of how things used to be between us still makes my insides ache. Instead, I kept it and obsessed over whether to respond while at a movie with Delaney and some other friends. The third time I pulled my phone out of my pocket to read the message, Delaney squeezed my thigh. I can still feel the searing flash of guilt that shot through my chest as I lowered my phone just before she was able to catch a glimpse of it.
This message was the first time Jenna had reached out in over a month, and no matter how upset I was—still am—with her, I couldn’t bring myself to ignore her. So, I ducked out about five minutes into the movie to “use the bathroom” and texted her back.
Dustin: Why?
Her responses came through in quick succession.
Jenna: I need to tell you something important.
Jenna: Something that will help you understand.
Jenna: I’m so sorry for everything . . .
I was a goner. I had to talk to her, but I figured it would be best if I didn’t sound too eager.
Me: I’m at a movie so can’t talk now. Can I get back to you in about an hour?
Jenna: Sure.
I’m so sorry. Seeing those words from her didn’t make me feel better the way I thought they would. Instead, they made the flash of guilt I’d felt when Delaney squeezed my leg return with a vengeance. If only Jenna had been willing to help me understand what was going on with us—with her—back when everything started to fall apart. Then maybe I wouldn’t be faced with hurting someone the way she hurt me. And maybe I wouldn’t feel like throwing my phone across the room.
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