Didn’t we go to grade school together?
Where did you move from?
Did you like living in South Dakota?
Why did you move back?
Oh, so your dad and your brother are both pastors?
Are you glad to be back?
What grade is your little sister in? I wonder if my brother is in her class.
All the questions and conversations about Eli and the rest of Jenna’s extended family made her head spin, and she started counting down the minutes until lunch was over. It wasn’t until she heard Emily Davis whisper to Delaney how cute Eli was, that Jenna thought she might have to cut out of lunch early. Delaney’s whispered response made it inevitable.
“Sorry, but I think Keeley already has dibs on him,” she’d giggled. “You should see his older brother, though. I mean, he’s too old for us—and married with a kid—but damn. He’s just as hot. Actually, they look a lot alike.” Then Delaney peeked over at Jenna, raising an eyebrow. “You have some good genes in your family, girl.”
Keeley’s cheeks pinkened, and Jenna responded with a fake chuckle and an eyeroll. When she glanced over at Eli for a second, she thought she might puke, because Delaney was right. He looked even more like Thomas than he did four years ago. And now she couldn’t get the resemblance out of her head. It was almost as if Thomas—a wolf in sheep’s clothing—was sitting there amongst her and her friends, and even worse, Keeley had a crush on him.
Dustin touched Jenna’s thigh again, and everyone looked at her when she jumped.
“Hey, guys, we’re eating. Keep it clean under there,” Corbin said in his best adult voice, glancing pointedly at the table in front of Dustin and Jenna. Everyone except Jenna laughed, but she covered up her embarrassment by taking a long drink of water.
“What’s wrong?” Dustin whispered in her ear, still smiling about Corbin’s comment.
“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “It just tickled a little.” She lied. Only ten minutes until the bell rings, she thought as she stared into his eyes.
“Who’s that?” Tina said loudly. Everyone stopped what they were doing and followed her gaze over to the new girl with funky-colored hair who was in Jenna’s second-period economics class. She was dressed in black from head to toe and had just gotten up from a table where she was sitting by herself.
Right before she exited the lunchroom, she tossed a Coke bottle toward the garbage and missed but didn’t bother to stop and pick it up.
“Real nice,” someone commented.
Jenna figured she probably didn’t even realize she missed the garbage.
“I think her name is Leah or Lisa—something like that,” Tommy said.
“It’s Leighton,” Jenna said, hiding her irritation. She didn’t understand the point in Tommy even saying anything when he didn’t know for certain what the girl’s name was. “She’s in my economics class.”
“Whatever,” Tommy said, pulling everyone’s attention back to him. “I think she’s the one who used to go to Homestead High. My cousin goes there, and he told me she got expelled for beating the crap out of some girl.”
A few people gasped, someone said, “Dayuuum,” and another said, “That’s badass.” Jenna didn’t know who said what, and she didn’t care because she hated rumors.
“Wow, nice rainbow hair,” Tina said sarcastically.
The laughs that followed made the idea of sticking around for the last five minutes of lunch unbearable to Jenna, so she got up to leave.
“I have to use the bathroom,” she said for Keeley’s and Dustin’s ears only. She looked at Dustin, “I’ll see you in a bit.” Then she looked over at Keeley. “See you later.”
Jenna slipped away quietly, walking slowly at first but then picking up her pace when she reached the hall. By the time she got to the bathroom, she was practically running. The next thing she knew, she was in a stall bent over the toilet, heaving up nothing but air. It wasn’t until she stood and leaned against the door that she heard water running and realized she wasn’t alone. Not wanting to see anyone, she waited until the water and the hand dryer stopped before picking her bag up off the floor and unlocking the door. But when she emerged from the stall, Leighton was at the mirror examining her left eye.
Jenna approached the sink two away from where Leighton was standing and wondered if she’d heard her dry heaving. Then as she pumped soap on to her hand and turned on the water, it occurred to her that Leighton may have already been in the bathroom at the mirror when she’d run in. She just couldn’t remember.
“Do you see something in my eye?” Leighton turned and stepped in front of Jenna as she was about to leave the bathroom.
Surprised, Jenna jerked back and put her hands up in a defensive pose.
Leighton furrowed her brow at Jenna and then laughed. “My God. Why are you so jumpy?”
“You jumped in front of me,” Jenna said with a shrug. “I thought you were gonna attack me.”
“Okay, whatever. Just forget it.” With one eye squinted closed, Leighton started turning back to the mirror.
“No, let me take a look,” Jenna said.
This time when Leighton turned around, Jenna got a better look at her. Her drastic shoulder-length layers weren’t really rainbow but more a mixture of pink, purple, blonde, and all the shades in between. She had gauges in her ear lobes and a small hoop hanging from her septum. And her dark clothing matched her dark eye makeup, which was smeared around her squinted eye, making it look like she had a black eye.
Leighton did her best to pull the skin of her irritated eye down so Jenna could get a good look.
“Don’t move,” Jenna said, as she carefully swiped across the lower inner skin of Leighton’s eye with her pinky a few times. “Got it,” she said, holding up a long eyelash.
“Thanks,” Leighton said with an appreciative nod.
The bell rang, and Jenna started walking toward the door. “No problem. You might want to rinse your eye out and clean it up a little,” she said over her shoulder.
As Jenna walked to class, she thought about the colors in Leighton’s hair and how pretty she thought they were. She wished she had the guts to pull off a head of hair like that, but even if she did, her mom would probably freak out.
Chapter Twenty-One
Keeley
Sunday, October 29, 2017
Two Days After Jenna’s Disappearance
The church parking lot is packed so my dad parks the car in the overflow lot across the street.
“You know, if you two weren’t so lackadaisical about getting here on time, we wouldn’t have to park so far away and rush inside,” my mom jests.
“Oh Leslie, fifty feet . . . twenty feet. Does it really matter? Besides, you and I could probably use the exercise.” My dad nudges me with his elbow as my mom grumbles about how maybe he could use the exercise.
My somber mood is lightened a little by my parents’ banter, but there’s no way anything will turn it around completely.
The first thing I did when I woke up was call Jenna’s parents to see if she’d returned. Mr. Kemp answered in his deep soap opera voice. Delaney and I always joke with Jenna that her dad should quit his job as an electrician and become the voice behind those parental discretion announcements before shows intended for mature audiences. Either that or a radio show host. But Mr. Kemp’s voice didn’t entertain me at all this morning. It’s normally smooth but has been replaced with gruffness as if he was either coming down with something or hadn’t gotten any sleep. And all he said when I asked if Jenna had made it home was, “No. No, she still isn’t home.” Then, I’m sure for my benefit, he tried to lighten his tone. “Boy, is she in for a grounding.”
All I could muster was, “Yeah, I’d be grounded too.” Then he informed me that they wouldn’t be at church today, and I told him we’d pray for Jenna’s return. So, as of seven this morning, Jenna was still missing.
As we walk down the aisle to some open seats toward the front of the ch
apel, I scan the first few rows where Jenna’s family normally sits. They usually arrive early to get seats in the front row, especially now that Mrs. Kemp’s brother is the senior pastor. Jenna and I have been attending the same church since kindergarten, and our parents decided years back that us sitting together was not a good idea because we giggled way too much. Even if we weren’t talking, just being near each other would set us off into a tirade of giggles that would embarrass our mothers. Of course, they aren’t here today, but I picture Jenna turning to glance at me with a goofy look on her face, trying to make me laugh. The memory makes me feel cold and empty inside.
After we excuse ourselves past a family of six, we remain standing and join the congregation in singing the prelude hymn. My lips move, but no sound escapes. Instead, I’m busy scanning for Delaney on the off chance that she’s here. The moment I spot her, a few rows back and to the right, our eyes lock. I’m still staring in her direction when my mom gently nudges me to pay attention. Some things never change, I guess.
I robotically participate when necessary and nearly fall asleep during Pastor Steele’s sermon. It isn’t until he mentions Jenna that I perk up.
“Many of you may have noticed the absence of Joseph, Bonnie, Jenna, and Shaina Kemp—the family that normally sits right up front here.” A murmur travels through the congregation as he motions to the first few rows in the center section of pews. “Sadly, their absence is due to the fact that Jenna—my niece—has been missing since Friday evening.” He pauses the way pastors often do for effect, only this time I don’t think it’s for effect, and he appears to be struggling to continue. “If you’re new members of His Grace or if you’re visiting or don’t attend regularly enough to know what Jenna looks like, there are several pictures of her hanging in the lobby. Please, if you think you’ve seen her since Friday, contact the Briarwood police department. It’s still the weekend, so we’re hoping she’ll arrive at home this evening, ready to get a good night’s sleep for school tomorrow. Either way, Jenna’s family—my family—could still use your prayers that she returns soon.” Another pause, more scripted this time. “Let us pray.”
While everyone’s heads are bowed, I peek back at Delaney. Her eyes are squeezed shut, and her lips are moving. I bow my head and catch the tail end of The Lord’s Prayer.
Two Pastor Steeles was confusing at first, so the congregation now calls Jenna’s cousin Pastor Thomas. At the end of each service, Pastor Steele and Pastor Thomas each stand at one of the chapel doors while congregation members file out two by two, shaking the hand of whichever pastor is on their side.
“Good to see you, Keeley.” I shake Pastor Steele’s hand. Last week, my family exited through Pastor Thomas’ door.
I smile and nod as I keep moving. It’s not cool to be the talker who holds up the line. I can’t help but wonder if the congregation prayed a little harder for Jenna than for all the others who received prayer requests today. I wonder how concerned each of her family members are, given how odd she’s been acting lately. Although, I doubt any of them know the extent of how much she’s changed. I also wonder who they’ll blame if she never comes home—God or Delaney and me for not telling anyone about the things she’s done.
A hand grabs at my elbow as I’m about to head off in search of Delaney. I glance back to find Pastor Thomas has stepped away from his post at the door opposite his father, causing his line to come to a halt. Still holding my elbow, he whispers, “Keeley, I’m so sorry about Jenna.”
Why is he saying sorry to me? Jenna is his flesh and blood. Shouldn’t I be the one saying sorry? Then again, we don’t even know where she is at this point.
“No, I’m—” I begin, but he releases my elbow and returns to his post, shaking the hand of the next person in line. The way his voice immediately goes back to its usual boisterous tone surprises me, but as I move into the growing crowd of chatty parishioners, I reason that he’s just doing his job.
After each service, there’s coffee, juice, and an array of baked goods, which my mom always complains about. Should we really be allowing all these children to get hopped up on sugar so early in the morning? As a part-time pharmacist, she sees a lot of prescriptions for insulin and other medications for conditions she swears could be eliminated if sugar was removed from patients’ diets. So my dad often refers to my mom as the sugar police, just never to her face.
Before I head over to see what’s being offered, I scan the cheerful yellow room for Delaney.
My dad is hard to miss in his Green Bay Packers sweater. He reasons with my mom that after dressing professionally all week for work, he deserves to wear whatever he wants on the weekends, especially at church where God would want him to be comfortable. Nearly a dozen other men are gathered around the same table, most with a doughnut in one hand and steaming cups of coffee in the other. This is his group of middle-aged church buddies. They discuss sports, cars, lawn care—all the boring stuff younger versions of themselves probably never imagined they’d be talking about early on a Sunday morning at church. I hear a few names of NFL players and figure they must be talking about today’s games. Pastor Steele shows up, and the group becomes even more lively.
My mom is standing at the serving window that connects the room to the kitchen. She’s talking to Betty Lawry, the organist who always volunteers in the kitchen after the ten thirty service. When we were little, Jenna and I used to think Betty lived at the church because she was always there when we arrived and still there doing dishes when we left. She also organized the quilting group, which my mom is part of once in a while, usually during the fall months leading up to the holidays when the group makes quilts for homeless shelters and families in need. You’d think a woman like Betty who was always so involved with church and charitable activities would shun gossip, but she’s the gossip queen. My ears ring as I imagine her probing my mom about Jenna. It irritates me that she’s probably gathering tidbits for this week’s quilting session.
Finally, I spot Delaney entering the room from the back hallway where some bathrooms are located. I return her wave, and we meet at the refreshment table.
“It’s not Christmas today, is it?” I joke.
“Ha ha. Very funny.”
We both laugh, but the light-hearted moment is short-lived.
“Seriously, though,” Delaney says, glancing around the room, “my mom said we should be here today to pray that Jenna comes home soon. She’s really freaked out about this, Keeley.”
“Yeah, mine too.” I look around, momentarily thinking about how inappropriate it was for us to be laughing when Jenna still hasn’t shown up.
We both make sugary decaffeinated coffee, just like I do every week. My mom frowns at me from across the room, so I smile and wave. Delaney loads several mini cream puffs and a piece of coffee cake onto a paper plate. Then she follows me to an empty corner of the room where we sit on a window sill. I shake my head when Delaney holds her plate out to me. She sighs and sets the plate down on the ledge next to us. Normally, we would sit at one of the large circular tables in the center of the room, but I sense an unspoken understanding between us. There’s only one thing people would want to talk to us about today, and neither of us feels like talking to anyone at church about where Jenna could be. The rumor mill around here is just as bad as, if not worse than, at school.
“People keep looking at us,” Delaney says.
I steal a quick glance in the direction of the tables and spot Eli talking to a group of kids. There appears to be a larger group than usual. Nothing like drama to bring together groups of kids who usually don’t socialize with each other. “Yeah, I know. Probably because they’re all wondering if we know anything about Jenna. Just don’t look at anyone.” No eye contact should keep our private bubble safe until our parents finish socializing.
“Can you imagine if these people knew about the things Jenna’s been doing?” she asks, eyes wide and glazed.
I shake my head in response, not wanting to encourage that topic of
discussion. What if someone overheard us? “Did you talk to Dustin again last night?” I ask, changing the subject.
“No,” she responds flatly, grabbing a mini cream puff and shoving the entire thing into her mouth.
I can tell she doesn’t want to talk about Dustin, so I quickly say the first thing that comes to mind. “How was babysitting?”
“Fine,” she says, still chewing. “Stella’s a good baby. She can’t crawl yet, so no chasing her around.” Delaney chuckles softly as she picks off a corner of her coffee cake. She pauses just before putting it in her mouth. “So, the babysitting part was fine, but Pastor Thomas and his wife had a little argument in front of me.” She wrinkles her nose and pops the cake into her mouth.
“What about?” Not sure why, but I whisper it.
She finishes chewing and swallows. “Well, before I left, Audra asked if I was free to babysit again next Friday. But before I could answer, Pastor Thomas told her they probably shouldn’t be making any plans right now. She asked why, and he said just because. But she just shrugged him off and asked me again if I was free. So Pastor Thomas told her no again, and she asked if it was because he was worried about Jenna. Then he turned and stormed out of the room without even answering her.” She pauses and stares at a crumb of coffee cake that has fallen on the floor as if remembering the scene. “It was super uncomfortable.”
“Well, then what happened?”
“Audra just stood there for a second then turned her attention back to me like nothing happened. You know, with her usual plastered-on smile that I bet she was born with. She told me Thomas has been stressed lately what with still getting situated in his new position here. Then when she walked me out, she asked if I could please pencil them in and said she’d be in touch to confirm.”
I shrug. “Audra was probably right. He’s probably just worried about Jenna. I mean, she is his cousin so . . . Although, I guess it’s kind of weird that he stormed out like he did.”
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