In Place of Never

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  Cross followed me to a picnic table under the shade of a giant oak tree. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what that was about.”

  I sat on the table and planted my feet on the bench. “So, you saw it too? Nadya and Daisy watched me like I was the villain in their story.”

  Snapping twigs turned me from Cross’s apologetic expression. A few feet away, a girl bent sticks in half. She moved closer, barely making eye contact. “I break things so people notice me.” She dropped the broken sticks and dusted her palms together. “I didn’t want to sneak up on you.”

  Cross sat on the table beside me. “What’s going on, Mouse?”

  “I saw you two walking and thought I’d say hello. What were you talking about?”

  I looked at Cross for advice. Mouse was a little intense for such a quiet thing.

  He shrugged. “Nadya’s not herself today.”

  Mouse’s mouth twisted. “It’s her.” She locked her gaze on me. “You know Nadya doesn’t like settled people.”

  I frowned. “Settled people?”

  She moved closer. Her hair fell away from her cheek as she turned. The skin between her throat and cheekbone was twisted, puckered, and gnarled. Her cheek was unnaturally colored and undeniably burned. “Sometimes Anton falls in love with girls on the road or ones who join our family for a while. Nadya never approves.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “She doesn’t like me because I’m Cross’s friend? He can’t make friends outside the show?”

  Cross nudged me. I glanced at him in warning.

  Mouse climbed onto the table beside me. “You like him and he likes you and she knows. Nadya knows all kinds of things.”

  A strangled sound dropped from my lips.

  “Knock it off, Mouse.” Cross sat taller at my side. “Now you’re being rude. You’re making Mercy uncomfortable.”

  She inched closer to me on the table. “Settled people and travelers don’t mix.”

  I bristled. “I’m not trying to mix.”

  “And I’m not a traveler.” Cross’s voice was deeper than usual.

  Mouse sighed, tipping her face skyward. “Don’t let her hear you say that.”

  That sounded like a threat. “Do you remember my sister?” I leveled my stare, waiting for Mouse to look my way.

  “Sure. She liked Anton.” Her dark eyes turned to mine. “She wasn’t like you. She was sad.”

  I laughed. “You didn’t know my sister and you don’t know me.” I was the sad one.

  Cross stood and reached for my hand.

  Mouse looked expectantly at him.

  I placed my hand in his and moved to stand in the grass with him. “Did Nadya hurt my sister because she liked Anton?”

  Mouse smiled. The scars on her face gathered and bunched with the motion.

  Something was deeply wrong with this creature. Cross’s hand moved protectively to my hip.

  “Well?” My voice jumped in volume, startling me.

  “Nope.” Mouse let the “p” pop on her lips. “Nadya never laid a hand on her.”

  “Who did? Do you know? What do you know about Faith?” A tremor in my hand climbed my arm to my chest. “Did someone hurt my sister?”

  Cross clutched my hand and pulled.

  I slapped his hand, prying at his skin with my fingers. “Answer me!”

  He dragged me away from the picnic table as tears filled my eyes. “Stop. Let me go!”

  Mouse tilted her head like a confused puppy as Cross forced me away. She lifted and bent one finger in a tiny wave. Her smile vanished, leaving only the blank expression of a mental patient.

  “What is wrong with her?” Sobs racked my chest. She’d taunted me about the most important thing in the world. What did I do to provoke her?

  Cross wrapped me in his arms, pushing me farther from the table behind us. “Don’t let her bother you. She’s warped. She hates when one of us gives anything or anyone our attention. If she didn’t enjoy my music, she’d probably burn my guitar.”

  “Did she mean that? Does she think someone hurt Faith?”

  “She doesn’t mean anything she says, Mercy.” He gathered my wrists in his hands and lowered himself into my line of sight. “She’s broken. Do you understand? She can’t be fixed.”

  I wiggled free of his grip and stepped away. “Yeah. Got it. She’s crazy. How far would a crazy person go to keep Anton away from my sister? What happened to all those other lost loves of his? Did they leave the show by choice or by force? Where are they now?”

  Cross blinked. Shock erased the confidence from his face. “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe you should find out.”

  I turned my back on Cross and the campground. Fury and frustration weighted my chest. My feet couldn’t relocate me fast enough. I never wanted to see Nadya or Mouse again. Ever.

  Cross didn’t follow me.

  Chapter 7

  Will Morris

  I slept for fourteen hours after unloading the day’s crazy onto Pru. We had dinner with Dad and I fell asleep before ten. At noon Friday, Pru kicked my bed a hundred times.

  “You missed breakfast.”

  I rubbed my eyes. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry. Dad cooked.”

  I peered through puffy lids. “What?”

  She collapsed beside me. “Yeah. He even wore an apron. He asked me about color guard.”

  I lifted onto my elbows. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. First, I had a Bible study with him while you went to the river yesterday, then we prayed for you before I went to sleep last night. He knelt beside me at my bed. The whole deal.”

  “He prayed for me?”

  “Yeah. And me. And the family. Hungry people. The town. Forest creatures, you name it. I have bruises on my knees.”

  “Sorry. I guess I was really tired.”

  She pushed hair off my face. Fear marred her pretty features. “You used to sleep like that all the time. So did Mom.”

  “I know. I was just tired. Don’t worry. I’m okay today.”

  “Yeah?” Her sculpted eyebrows rose in unison.

  “Yeah. I’m good. I’ve got plenty of questions, but I’m good.” Part of me wanted to punch Mouse all over her head but, aside from that, I was good.

  “Excellent. Then we’re on for Red’s tonight?”

  I fell back against the pillows. “I don’t know.”

  “You said you’re fine.”

  “I am.”

  She bounced off the bed. “Great. Dad’s got a meeting with the old-man posse after dinner. He’ll be out for a while.”

  “Great.”

  * * * *

  Pru yelled through her eternally open doorway. Again. “What time is it?”

  Gah. “Check your phone.” Or your laptop. Or your, I don’t know, watch.

  Pru groaned. “Dad looked good when he left tonight.”

  “Yeah.” Less crazy eyes. More pastor-like.

  “Maybe one of the more sensible minions pointed out the Lovells will be gone in a month. He could save himself the ulcer and avoid them.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.” A month was a long time to deal with your enemy. Every day of school after Faith’s death had felt like a week. Every week had been a month. Every month an eternity. I scrubbed shaky hands over my face.

  She was right. Dad had avoided Pru and me for years and we lived with him. For Dad, avoiding the Lovells should be cake.

  The steady ka-thunk-thunk of a ball hitting Pru’s wall and floor beneath me had gone from repetitive white noise to maddening. I turned up the music and stared at my reflection. Purple crescents lined my eyes. My cheekbones were too high. My shoulders were too sharp. Cross thought I didn’t eat on purpose. He was wrong. I didn’t have an eating disorder. I didn’t care if I was thin. I saw the unattractive reality in the mirror, not some pudged-up mental fabrication. He said I wanted to feel hungry, for punishment. The truth was I’d lost my appetite when Mom left and
I hadn’t gotten it back. My stomach churned with nerves too fierce to digest anything. I feared the reemergence of every meal I’d had for years.

  I lived with the anxiety of a thousand unanswered questions and the shame and guilt of knowing I’d played a role in my family’s suffering. In my suffering. In Pru’s loss. I shook hair around my face. The same thoughts had circled in my head for three years. During my worst days, the hunger pangs and noises were reminders I’d survived, and I didn’t hate feeling something besides emptiness, but I wasn’t punishing myself. Not with food.

  “Let’s just go.” Pru’s voice shot through me.

  I jumped back and tangled my feet in a pile of clothes. “Don’t you knock?”

  “Your door was open.”

  I sat on the bed. Hold it together, Mercy.

  Pru always looked calm and in control, like the way I always looked ready to flee. Her irritated tone and ball bouncing told me she was nervous, even if she hid it well.

  She kicked her way through the mess on my floor, climbed onto my bed, and folded her legs beneath her. “Why aren’t you dressed?” Her tan legs looked too long for her small body. The jean skirt and white baby-doll shirt looked cute together. She’d curled her hair and loaded up on the makeup, shading and enhancing her natural features until any cover model would be sick with envy. On her, makeup looked natural, like an ad for healthy skin. When I dared more than mascara and lipstick, I looked like an animation.

  I fell back on my bed. “I am dressed.”

  “No. You’re wearing worn-out jeans and a hoodie. Again.”

  I dragged a pillow over my face.

  She yanked it off. “Listen. I’m sneaking out to this town’s only honky-tonk with my big sister and she’s not going in worn-out jeans and a hoodie. It’s July.”

  “The wind and rain cooled everything off.”

  The bed wobbled as she hopped off. “Maybe, but it’s still July.”

  Something landed on my chest. I lifted it for a peek.

  She wrapped red nails around her hips. “At least wear that so you look less emo.”

  “A Johnny Cash T-shirt? That’s your big wardrobe advice?” I rolled onto my side.

  “That and a button-down.” Her cheeks darkened. “I know you like long sleeves.”

  “Right.” I forced myself to open my closet and look again. “I’m not wearing that tonight.”

  Pressed against the back wall of my closet, with other things I never planned on wearing, was one shirt I didn’t hate. The tank top was silver and the billowy long-sleeved black cover up with a plunging neck and little silver ball-shaped buttons was still in fashion. I dropped the hoodie behind me and pulled on the new tops. The blouse had sheer sleeves and satin trim, perfect for hiding scars and staying cool.

  Pru plucked the hem of my blouse. “Cute. Do you have nicer jeans?”

  “No.”

  “You’d probably fit in mine. Hang on.”

  I fell into the chair at my vanity. This was a bad idea. Sneaking out in scrubby clothes was one thing. Getting caught dressed up at a honky-tonk was a whole other level of trouble. For what? What was the point of going tonight? We weren’t getting new information about Faith. We’d agreed to go watch Cross sing. Why?

  I raked a brush through my hair, hating the grown-out tips but unable to let them go. They’d come to symbolize the pain I was in when I’d dyed the streaks into my hair. Cutting them felt like saying I was over it, all better, good as new. That would always be a lie.

  I fumbled with three strands of hair, adding a headband style braid.

  Pru’s bare feet slapped up the steps. “Here. Try these.”

  I kicked off my low-rise, boot-cut comfort and wiggled into the tightest jeans in history. “They’re too long.”

  “Not if you wear a little heel.”

  I stared. Sweat pooled in my palms and dampened my neck. “I don’t want to be fixed, Pru.” I wedged my body out of her jeans. “I don’t want to dress up and play normal. I’m not normal. I’m damaged.” Cross’s words came back to me like a smack in the face. He was wrong. “I’m broken. I don’t want to do this.”

  She snatched her jeans off the floor. “Do what? Live? Mom and Faith died, and now I have to let you go too? You just started talking to me! Put your ugly-ass, threadbare crap back on then, because we’re going. You’re not broken, Mercy. You’re just sad and stubborn as hell, and it’s time you get on with things. This might be the last time we have together before you leave next month.” Her cheeks turned bright red. “For the record, you can’t play with me and put me away when you’re finished like I’m a little doll. For three years, you walked around pretending I wasn’t here. Then, two days ago, you finally saw me and here I am.” She slapped her chest and a red mark appeared. “I’m right here and I need you. I’m not going back to two days ago.”

  My lips parted in shock. She slammed my door and pounded down the steps. I groaned and face-planted on my bed in defeat.

  * * * *

  We waited until after ten to make the walk to Red’s. Cross texted me a few times when a singer impressed him or embarrassed themselves, but he never asked if we were coming. Pru and I stuck to the shadows as we walked and hoped for the best.

  “He texts you a lot.”

  I walked faster. “He said he wants a friend.”

  “Right. Hot guys are always looking for more friends.”

  Was he hot? Mysterious, yes. Brooding, odd, abrupt? Definitely. His dark, serious eyes came to mind. He was a little hot.

  At the corner of South and Main Street, I gave Pru one last chance. “It’s not too late to go home and forget about this.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Why? Are you nervous?”

  “A little. We don’t know where Dad is. We might run into him, and you’re in enough trouble already.”

  Her bright blue eyes glazed over. “Not Dad, you moron. Cross. It’s your first date.”

  Oh.

  Oh. My stomach knotted against my spine. “This isn’t a date.” I didn’t date. Every guy in town steered clear of me for a reason. Some thought I was crazy. Others figured I was next in line to kill myself. The last time I’d had a date I was Pru’s age and it was a flop. Didn’t matter. Rumors had power.

  The stoplight changed and Pru stepped into the crosswalk. Music wafted through the night, spilling from Red’s open door. The shops on Main Street closed at nine, but Red’s and White Water Coffee stayed open late.

  “Mercy? Can I ask you something?” Pru’s voice was small, tamped. She waited at the curb for me to catch up.

  “What?”

  “Why’d you research the Lovells if you believed Faith…you know…” She let the sentence hang, sucking oxygen from the night until my lungs ached.

  The world shimmered in my periphery. I pressed a palm to the light pole. Would the word suicide, even when it was only implied, ever hurt less? When would I become desensitized like kids who played violent video games or watched too much news?

  I sipped the cool night air to steady my thoughts. “I just wanted answers. I didn’t care where they came from. I hoped the kids at school were wrong. Dad never let me ask about it, so I thought, maybe… Then after Mom…” I swallowed a painful rock of emotion. “I wanted someone to tell me something, anything about that night, but they were gone.” Which reminded me. “Anton said Nadya made them leave the next morning because she had a bad feeling. Mouse said Nadya knows everything. What do you think about that?”

  Pru gathered a fistful of hair over one shoulder. “I think it’s creepy. I hope I never run into Nadya or Mouse. How about you? Do you think one of the Lovells could have hurt Faith?”

  “Murder?” The word was a whisper on my tongue.

  She pursed her lips. “I don’t know. Maybe. I always figured it was true when the kids said she was just like Mom.” Her eyes shined with unshed tears. “I wasn’t close to Faith like you were, but I was close to Mom. She never let me f
eel left out when you and Faith went places or didn’t want me around. When Mom left, it was like I wasn’t enough of a reason to stay.”

  I touched Pru’s arm. “I’m so sorry.”

  She shook me off. “It’s fine. I survived, but whatever happened to Faith changed everything.” She wrapped thin arms around her waist. “I’d like to think at least one of them didn’t leave us on purpose.”

  “Me too.”

  She pulled her lips to the side. “What if Nadya knows something? Maybe she saw something bad that night. She might not have had anything to do with it, but what if she was a witness? The Lovells don’t seem like the type to make police reports.”

  As much as I’d hoped Faith wasn’t suicidal, I’d never suspected foul play. Not really. Everyone loved Faith. She was sweet and kind and fun. My toes curled in my shoes and my fingernails bit into my palms. What kind of monster would hurt her? “I don’t think the Lovells would hurt anyone. I think they’re a weird family and Dad’s friends are desperate for someone to blame. Still, I should definitely ask Nadya about that night.”

  Anton walked onto the sidewalk outside Red’s crowded doorway. Pru and I froze. A little brunette stared up at him. Her words were swallowed up on the twang of guitars and laughter of passing women.

  I grabbed Pru’s hand. “That’s Mouse.”

  Pru shoved her fingers between overglossed lips and whistled loud enough to turn a dozen heads. “Guess I’m meeting her.” She waved a hand overhead. “Anton!”

  I elbowed her ribs and hissed. “Shut. Up. Are you trying to announce our arrival? Dad could be out here looking for the Lovells, and we’re on lockdown, remember?”

  Anton smiled. His straight white teeth glowed in the neon light of Red’s Open sign. He moved in our direction, towing his creepy friend beside him. “Mouse, this is Mercy and her sister, Pru.” He swept one wide arm around her waist. “Ladies, this is Mouse.”

  Pru straightened at my side. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  Mouse’s gaze traveled along the sidewalk and as high as Pru’s knees before falling again.

  I extended a palm in her direction. “We’ve met.”