SPIN

by K. J. Farnham

  When Mom and Dad got home, Dad paid him for babysitting, and Mom wanted to know why I looked so pale and if I felt sick. I can hear them talking and laughing downstairs. I don’t know what they’re saying, but every time I hear his voice, I want to scream. I hate you! And every time I hear my mom’s voice, I want to scream. Do you know what he did to me? And every time I hear my dad, I want to scream. How could you let him do this to me?

  I wish I could go down there right now and tell them everything I can remember. But what would I say? Where would I start? With the time he showed me the pictures? They’d probably wonder if I was sleepwalking again or if I was confused from a bad dream. Or why I never said anything before. And he would just say he didn’t know what I was talking about. And everyone thinks he’s so wonderful, so who would believe me?

  Now the best summer ever is the worst. Why did he have to visit?

  ~Jenna

  “Oh my God . . .” I climb off the bed, and start pacing, “Holy shit . . .” My breathing is labored, and my chest hurts so bad. “I can’t . . . I just can’t . . .” Leighton steps in front of me and grips my shoulders.

  “Keeley, calm down. I know. I know.” She pulls me in for a hug. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

  I don’t know how long we stay that way because all I can think about is the things I just read. Jenna’s tortured words. Words that represent memories of actual torture. When Leighton loosens her arms, I pull back slowly and say, “Okay, I’m okay. I mean . . . I’m not okay, but we need to figure out what to do next.”

  She nods supportively and steps over to my dresser to grab me a few tissues. As I’m wiping my eyes, my phone rings. Leighton peeks at it where it’s charging on my desk. “It’s Delaney,” she says, handing it to me.

  I sniffle and clear my throat before answering. “Hello.”

  “Hey, Keeley, hang on a sec . . .” Mumbling . . . too loud . . . math homework . . . “Hey,” she says. “I’m almost to my room. . . Okay, I’m here.”

  “Why’s it so loud in your house?”

  A door slams. “Ugh! My mom invited some of the ladies from her salon over for tacos and margaritas. Fiestas are loud. I’m so pissed at her. Jenna’s missing, and she’s acting like everything is fine and dandy. It’s like she couldn’t care less that I don’t exactly feel like being around so many cheerfully clueless women. Sheesh. So, what are you doing?”

  “Well,” I glance at Leighton, who’s looking at the pictures on my cork board, “Leighton is here, and she brought something with her.”

  “Excuse me. Did you say Leighton is there?”

  “Yes, and this is serious. She has all of Jenna’s old diaries.”

  “And she brought them to your house?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you call me to let me know?”

  “Because she just got here a little while ago, and . . . I wasn’t sure there was anything in them worth telling you about, but . . . Oh my God, Delaney,” I burst into tears again. “The one I just read is horrible.”

  “What do you mean? Why is it horrible?

  I blow my nose and compose myself before answering. “Can you just come over?”

  “Keeley, I can’t. I have to babysit for our neighbor’s kids in like twenty minutes. Just tell me what’s horrible.”

  “I . . . I don’t think I can . . .” I glance at Leighton, who’s staring at me sadly. “I’ll just read it to you. It’s from the summer before we started seventh grade.”

  “Okay, go ahead.”

  I read the painful entry, pausing every time Delaney freaks out. When I’m finished, she’s speechless. “Delaney?” Nothing. “Hello?” Still nothing. “Are you okay?” I hear sniffling and then nose blowing so I wait until she’s ready.

  Almost a minute later, she says, “It’s Thomas.”

  “Yeah, I think so too. Hey, is it okay if I put you on speaker so Leighton can hear?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  Leighton sits back down in my desk chair as she and Delaney exchange brief, somber greetings, and then Delaney says, “Oh my God. Maybe Jenna did run away. What Thomas did to her would give her plenty of reason. We need to give the diaries to Mrs. Kemp.”

  “But do you think Mrs. Kemp will want to share them with the police when she finds out what Thomas did to Jenna? Will she be okay with basically turning in her nephew? Jenna told me how close her mom is to Thomas’s mom. Will she be okay with turning in her sister’s son?” Leighton asks.

  I’m speechless because it never even occurred to me that Mrs. Kemp would protect Thomas.

  Delaney sighs, “Well, we need to tell someone.”

  “I agree,” I say, “but I hear what Leighton is saying too. Plus, maybe we should read more to see if she actually ever mentions Thomas’s name. I mean, to us and to anyone who knew Jenna’s family back then, it’s obvious who she’s talking about, but it might not be for other people.”

  Leighton chews on her lip, considering what I’ve said, and Delaney sighs through the phone.

  After a few seconds of silence, I continue. “You know, after reading those entries, Jenna’s transformation makes perfect sense. She did start acting weird after Thomas moved back. Maybe all the drinking and drugs was the way she was coping with having to see him again.”

  “Yeah, and on a regular basis too,” Delaney says. “It’s not like it’s easy for her to avoid him when he’s part of her family.” Delaney gasps. “It’s probably hard for her to be around her aunt’s entire family. I mean, Keeley, you and I have always talked about our aunts and uncles and cousins and about how much we look forward to family gatherings during the holidays. Jenna only talks about her dad’s side of the family, but never her mom’s, not until recently when she told us they were moving back. It never even occurred to me how odd it was that she never mentioned them after they moved.”

  “That might explain why she didn’t want Eli around,” I say, feeling guilty for ever even liking Eli and putting Jenna through that stress without even knowing what I was doing. Then my stomach turns sour because I wonder if Eli might know what Thomas did to Jenna. I can’t bring myself to share these thoughts with Delaney and Leighton, though. Instead, I say, “I wonder why she never told us.”

  “Maybe she was afraid no one would believe her, or maybe she was afraid it’s been so long that he wouldn’t face any consequences. Or maybe she thought she was fine after he was out of the picture for so long,” Leighton says. “Like you said, all of her issues started when he moved back.”

  “But why did she tell you? I don’t understand. Why not Me or Delaney . . . or Dustin even?”

  “Wait, when did she tell Leighton?” Delaney’s frustration is crystal clear.

  “She told me the night of homecoming, but she was kind of messed up, so I’m sure that had something to do with her telling us. She had a breakdown in the car when my friend Sticks and I were taking her home. It was heartbreaking.” Leighton rubs her eyes hard with her fingers as if trying to erase the memory.

  “If she told you way back on the night of homecoming then why didn’t you say anything?” Delaney practically yells.

  “Because I promised her I wouldn’t,” Leighton yells back. She stands and starts pacing again.

  “You guys, this isn’t helping,” I say.

  “Look, I probably should have tried to convince her to tell someone, but . . . I didn’t want to push her. I just wanted to be there for her. But now I realize I could have handled it differently, and . . . I have to tell you guys something else.”

  Delaney and I both remain silent. The only sound is Leighton’s footsteps on my carpet.

  Leighton stops at the foot of my bed where my phone is lying. Then she folds her arms across her midsection and takes a deep breath. “That night—the last night I saw her—she told me she was tired of not facing shit, tired of stuffing her feelings all these years and tired of self-medicating the way she has been lately. So, she’d decided to confront Thomas, and that’s where she w
as going when she left my house.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Thursday, October 5, 2017

  Three Weeks Before Jenna’s Disappearance

  Jenna had just done horribly at a home cross country meet, so instead of getting dropped off at home by her teammate Sonia’s mom, she asked to be dropped off at Leighton’s saying they had homework to do together. For the past few days, she didn’t communicate much with anyone in her family—just muttered greetings and fake pleasantries at mealtimes. Her dad had just returned her phone that morning, but after three days without it, she had no desire to even use it. She’d told herself she didn’t care if there were messages from Keeley or Dustin when she turned it on, so when there weren’t, she shrugged it off.

  “So, how was cross country?” Leighton asked.

  “Eh, it sucked. I ran horribly and ended up in the bottom quarter. I think I’m just going to quit.”

  “Didn’t you say you trained all summer and you’ve been running, like, since birth?”

  “Yeah, but I’m just not into it anymore . . . Can I have one of those?” Jenna pointed at Leighton’s pack of cigarettes.

  “Yeah, sure,” Leighton said with a shrug. She wondered why all of a sudden Jenna wanted a cigarette when Leighton had never seen her smoke one before, but she fought the urge to ask. Instead, she satisfied other curiosities. “How’s everything with your mom? Is she still walking on eggshells around you?”

  “It’s so annoying. And she’s trying to be super nice to me by making my favorite foods and buying snacks I like.” Jenna said. She lit a cigarette, mimicking how Leighton held the flame of the lighter to the edge and inhaled. She only coughed a little as the smoke rushed down her throat, but she enjoyed the instant numbness she felt in her head. It was nothing compared to drinking or smoking pot, but it was something.

  “I wish my mom would cook dinner more often for us, but I don’t even think she knows what my favorites are anymore.”

  “Right, but at least your mom doesn’t invade your privacy by going through your personal things.”

  “True, but my mom has other issues,” Leighton said, grabbing her laptop off the coffee table and opening it.

  Jenna was in the middle of taking a puff, so she didn’t respond to the comment Leighton had made about her mom, but she did make a mental note to ask her again what was up with her hostility toward her mom. “What are you doing over there?

  “I was chatting with a few people before you got here.”

  Jenna stood and moved next to Leighton on the loveseat. She leaned back and into Leighton so she could get a good view of the laptop screen. “Let’s Taco ‘Bout It?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Leighton laughed. “It’s exactly what it sounds like. These people love tacos and talk about all sort of crazy new combinations they’ve tried. Sometimes I get bored eating macaroni and cheese or tuna from a can.”

  Leighton waved the smoke from the Jenna’s cigarette out of her face.

  Jenna wasn’t really smoking it anyway, so she put it out.

  “So who were you chatting with?”

  “What?”

  “You said you were chatting before I got here.”

  “Oh, right.” Leighton clicked out of the taco chat and showed Jenna a list of people she’d been privately chatting with.

  “What are you talking to all of them about?”

  “I don’t know. Just random stuff. This guy, Spoonman, is like the founder of a Soundgarden fan club, and he messaged me because of my nickname.”

  “Black Hole Daughter,” Jenna said. “That’s creative.”

  “The thing is I’m not really even a Soundgarden fan. I told him that, but he just won’t stop talking to me about the band. He keeps asking me trivia questions.”

  Jenna laughed.

  “This is Hobs. I met him in a Breaking Bad chat group, and he has some pretty interesting theories about the show. And this one, Stacy P., is from a group for kids considering running away. I told her it was a bad idea, and then she started telling me why I was wrong, and I changed my mind.”

  “Huh,’ Jenna said. “Maybe I’ll open an account.”

  “You can do it right now if you want.” Leighton logged out of ChillChat.com and placed her laptop on Jenna’s lap. “Just click right there on Register. I have to go pee.”

  When Leighton returns, Jenna is so immersed in browsing the chat rooms, they don’t talk for a good thirty minutes. Leighton spends the times playing Candy Crush on her phone.

  “You weren’t kidding. This is kinda fun. And addictive,” Jenna said without looking up from the screen.

  “Right?’ Leighton responds. “Just remember not to share anything too personal.”

  Jenna nodded and clicked on a chat room that came up in her search results for the word alone. Her only thought when she then clicked to join the group Lost and Alone, looking for a Friend was that maybe hearing about other people’s problems might make her feel better.

  “Hey, do you wanna sleep over tomorrow night?”

  “Sure, but my mom will probably want to talk to yours.” She rolled her eyes but still didn’t take them off the screen.

  Leighton laughed. “My mom will say she’s going to be here after she gets done with her shift, but I guarantee, she’ll go to her boyfriend’s house right after instead. And she usually doesn’t even come home.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Keeley

  Wednesday, November 1, 2017

  Five Days After Jenna’s Disappearance

  Before Leighton left and I disconnected the call with Delaney, I read one more entry aloud at Leighton’s urging. It wasn’t as descriptive as the one that gave Thomas away in mine and Delaney’s minds, but it was equally disturbing because Delaney and I remember that day like it was yesterday. Leighton and Delaney both say it’s up to me to decide whether we should hand the diaries over to Mrs. Kemp or not because I’ve known her the longest and my mom talks to her mom more than Delaney’s mom does. So now I’m sitting here, looking at the scrapbook Jenna made me for my fifteenth birthday and trying to decide what to do next.

  The scrapbook is filled with running-related photos of Jenna and me. The first two pages are from grade school. The next set of pictures are from various fun runs we’ve done over the years. That section is followed by middle school track meets and selfies we’ve taken while out on practice runs together. The last photo in the book is from our most recent spring break. After admiring the photo for a few seconds, I remove it from the scrapbook and use it to mark the page of the Runner’s World magazine that Delaney was looking at the day before. The next time I see Jenna, we’ll decide where our first out-of-state running event will be. I know she’s going to pick Hawaii.

  I close the scrapbook, grab Jenna’s diary from 2013, and flip to the last entry I read out loud to Delaney and Leighton.

  August 31, 2013

  Dear Diary,

  I didn’t really feel like going to Jolliet today, but Keeley and Delaney wouldn’t quit texting me. Where are you? What are you doing? Tell me you’re not ditching us on the last night of summer vacation . . . so I went. My mom wasn’t happy about it since I didn’t go to church and spent the morning hiding out in my room, but my dad agreed that some fresh air would do me good since I’ve been “cooped up all day.”

  Anyway, getting to the park was hard. My feet just didn’t want to move. It felt like I was walking in sand. But I forced myself to keep going. When I was close enough to see them on the swings, it got a little easier.

  I did my best to act normal, but they could tell I was having a bad day. I knew they would be able to tell. They’ve always been able to tell. And like always, they kept asking what was wrong. You know how I sometimes wish I could tell them everything, right? Well, today was one of those days, so I almost spilled my guts—right in the middle of Delaney’s story about her dad agreeing to let her mom open a beauty salon. I kept looking from Delaney—who was describing her parents’ argument from the night
before—to Keeley—who was being a good friend and actually listening to Delaney. I imagined the way they would probably look at me if I told them what’s been going on. What if they tell people? What if they ask why I’ve never said anything before? What if they don’t believe me? Worst of all, what if they do believe me and think it’s my fault? What if it is my fault?

  So I didn’t say anything. And when we got the merry-go-round going, I closed my eyes and wished it would all just spin right out of me. The anger. The shame. The pain. His warm breath making stray hairs tickle my cheeks. His weight suffocating me. I used to pray for it to stop, but when it didn’t, I switched to praying to forget. Praying never worked.

  ~Jenna

  This was the last day she met us at the merry-go-round. She didn’t want to go to Thomas’s going away party before he left for graduate school. She begged us to go, but we were tagging along with Delaney’s mom to a wedding in Minneapolis. Delaney and I thought Jenna was just upset that she couldn’t go with us to the Mall of America.

  Now that we know why she didn’t want to be anywhere near Thomas, we need to do something about it.

  “Mom?” I whisper, knocking lightly on my parents’ bedroom door. My dad’s rhythmic snores become louder as I gently push the door open.