Suicide Notes from Beautiful Girls

by Lynn Weingarten

  I look down at the pictures of me as a kid, my mom and I, our old house, everything from before. I feel nothing. I reach for them anyway, then put them on the table.

  But I am already on to the next thing. Now it’s time to tell her what I’m most excited about: the present.

  Sebastian gives June a quick look, again, different from any I’ve seen before.

  “Can I tell her?” Evan says. He is nodding and grinning. “Let me tell her.”

  Evan was the one who came up with the idea. When I first met him, I thought he was so sweet and innocent. I later learned that was only on the outside. Because inside he’d collected up all the evil that was directed at him—he stored it all up. Held it clenched between his jaw, let it condense and harden. Underneath his sweet smile he is a tiny demon. And although I’m not scared of him, there are moments when I wonder if I should be.

  He also happens to be a genius at hacking, pixels, computers, stuff about which I know nothing and do not give a fuck but is useful to know about if your goal is mayhem, as his often is. It was his idea. The execution was his too. But I’m the one who said we should do something for her, and I’m the one who picked the target. So this is her present, wrapped up in a gold shiny bow. A present for her, for me. For us.

  “Go ahead,” I tell Evan. Because I guess the thing is, I owe him, too.

  “While you were fucking with William, we were fucking with someone also. For you,” he says.

  June gets a funny look on her face. “Who?”

  “Ryan.”

  She opens her mouth in a little O.

  “We take care of each other,” is what Evan says, which is the perfect thing to say, even if he doesn’t know it. “And besides, it’s fun.”

  I understand my Junie. I understand how desperately she always wants to be part of a we. Even when it was just her and I. And now there’s more of us. You can be part of us, is what I think but do not say.

  “So what did you do?” she asks.

  “Remember how Ryan was always really into farm animal porn, like the super weird stuff, but was really embarrassed about it and didn’t want anyone to know?” I say.

  “Wait, what?” June looks so confused, it’s adorable. “What are you talking about? No he wasn’t.”

  “Oh really?” Evan says. “He wasn’t?” He raises one caterpillar eyebrow. There’s a big angry zit in the corner.

  June is shaking her head. She still doesn’t get it. I can feel Evan’s excitement vibrating through the air. He is about to burst open, let it all spill out. He looks at me, I nod. Go ahead, you tiny, insane monster.

  His voice comes out high-pitched and squealy with no space between words, just talk talk talk talk talk like he’s on speed. Guess he sort of is—fucking with people is its own kind of drug. “Well, then how come he accidentally tweeted a link to his own user profile on his favorite clandestine online forum—where he had been posting for two entire years, mind you—specializing in a certain type of, how shall we put this, very animal friendly photograph and then deleted it an hour later after all those gossipy popular bitches, who previously wouldn’t have minded sucking his dick, saw it and clicked and barfed up the lunches they didn’t eat? And also how come, lest anyone think that RyRy99 is not really Ryan Fiske, he had only recently posted a very, very dirty picture featuring his face, as well as other parts, hmmm? Riddle me that, Junie?”

  Evan’s eyes are glowing with the intensity of the demon inside him. I want to say Stop it, don’t scare her, you little shit.

  Junie opens and closes her sweet mouth like a fish. I want to shove my fingers in there, to stick them all the way down her throat until I reach her heart. I take a deep breath and hold my hands at my sides.

  “But I don’t understand, is that true?” she says finally. “Did he do those things?”

  “Define ‘true,’ ” Evan says. “Because it sure as hell is true now.”

  “How did you make it so that he’d been posting for two years? And the picture . . .”

  “Oh goodness, that was easy. A child could have done that.” But I can tell he’s excited by June’s confusion. Sometimes the impossible is possible. We die, we burn up, we come back to life. We can travel through fucking time, making the hard cold steel of the past melt, then bend.

  “Oh my God,” she says. But she doesn’t look happy.

  I want her to smile. I expected her to smile! This is funny after all. She takes a few seconds, and then, I see her mouth cycle through every formation and finally settle on a tiny little unconvinced smirk. But I know her better than she knows herself, and the truth is, she loves it. She’s sweet almost to the core, but not quite. “That’s . . . that’s . . . How did you even . . .” She is shaking her head. But inside I know she’s imagining Ryan’s blandly handsome face, twisting in horrified embarrassment, the way he deserves.

  “Evan is a genius,” I say.

  Evan shrugs and grins.

  June’s face twists again. “It’s funny but . . . does he deserve that? I mean, all he did was hit on you a bunch. And . . . who can blame him, right?”

  I feel my eye twitch. I force myself to breathe, in, out, in, out. She doesn’t like it. She doesn’t understand. I was so excited. I feel sick. I can feel Ashling staring at us. Stop fucking staring.

  “He almost split us apart, Junie,” I say. I try to keep my voice calm even though my insides are bzzzt bzzzt bzzzzt. I am short-circuiting. “He’s lucky this is all he got.”

  “Besides,” Evan says, “it’s already too late. The rumor ponies are out of the pen. They’re galloping along. I couldn’t stop them now even if I wanted to.”

  June’s face is bright red.

  “He deserves it,” I say. And in my head, I fill in the rest, exactly what he deserves and why. And then I force myself to smile, twisting the corners of my lips up in a grin I don’t feel at all now. “Let’s not think about it anymore. Because there’s another ex-boyfriend to deal with.” I hold up the letter for Jeremiah. This one I actually wrote myself, full of private details that only he would know. And then Ashling wrote a little note explaining that I’d sent it to her, asking her to pass it on.

  “We’ll drop it in the mail today; he’ll get it tomorrow. And all will be fixed.”

  June looks overwhelmed, like too much is happening too fast. She needs me to help her know what to think. And so I do. I nod slowly—This is okay, this is okay, my head says. And finally she nods back. I keep my face calm, hiding my huge grin blooming on the inside now.

  Oh, my sweet Junie, just you wait . . .

  Chapter 40

  June

  Sometimes there’s so much to think about that you just can’t think about anything at all. Sometimes, all there is to do is sit and wait. So we wait.

  For what? I don’t ask. Maybe I’m scared to.

  Sebastian is at the kitchen table typing on a laptop. Evan and Ashling are playing Go Fish. And Delia and I are sitting on the couch together and she is braiding and unbraiding my hair, the way she always used to. My eyes are closed. It has been so long since someone has played with my hair like this, because Delia was the only one who ever did. It is so relaxing, it is lulling me into some kind of trance, that place right before sleep. She gives a tendril a sharp tug. “A knot,” she whispers in my ear, like always. But there never really was one.

  A little beep-beep-beep starts sounding. Delia inhales sharply. I open my eyes. Everyone looks up. And just like that I know that what we were waiting for was this.

  Evan takes a phone off the table, one of the three he has in front of him. He pokes at the screen, and nods. “All right, Willy is on the move now,” Evan says. He points to the screen where a tiny red dot is moving across a map. He looks at me, because I’m the only one who doesn’t know what’s going on. “RFID chip,” he says. “While you were inside, Seb stuck it to his car.”

 
I turn toward Sebastian. He shrugs.

  “He’s heading southeast on Ridgefield . . .” He turns toward Delia. “Any idea where he might be going?”

  “His gym, I think,” she says.

  Ashling grins. “Perhaps he suddenly has a lot of extra energy he doesn’t know what to do with . . .” She looks at me, her lips spreading into a slow smile. “Wonder how that happened.”

  I smile back.

  “He doesn’t ever stay there very long,” Delia says. “Mostly spanks it in the sauna, I think.” Her voice is hard, but under that there is fear.

  But suddenly I’m not afraid at all anymore. I feel strong enough for both of us.

  “Well,” says Sebastian, “then let’s do this.”

  A few minutes later we’re in the van, pulling into the parking lot of Brentwood Fitness. No one is talking; there is something steely serious about all of them now. All of us.

  We make one lap around, driving slow.

  “There.” Delia knocks her knuckle on the window in front of a silver Audi, which I recognize. William’s car. Ashling parks a few spaces away.

  “We stay here,” Sebastian says to me. “Keep watch, create a distraction if needed. But it won’t be needed. This’ll barely take a minute.”

  Ashling reaches under the seat and takes out a thin strip of metal and a crowbar. Then Delia pulls her scarf up high over her mouth, and her hood down low over her brow. Then she, Evan, and Ashling get out. The parking lot is mostly empty, the after-work crowd not yet arrived. My heart is pounding. After this there is no going back. Maybe there never was.

  I watch through the dusty windows. The vinyl seating is cold, but my palms are sweating, sticking to it.

  Sebastian reaches out and puts his hand on my shoulder.

  “Relax,” he says. And he reaches into the front seat, turns the key in the ignition, and starts up the heat and the radio. He flips through the stations until quiet classical comes on, tinkling pianos. Then he sits back and closes his eyes. “Just listen.” I turn and stare at him, at his jaw, his lips. He takes my hand in one of his, like it is completely normal, like he’s done this before. He squeezes it. I squeeze back. With the other hand, eyes still closed, he is playing imaginary piano keys on his leg.

  “You play?” I say. My heart is pounding so hard.

  He opens one eye and looks at me. “You’re supposed to have your eyes closed, but yes.” His face is calm and still as the music rises.

  He squeezes my hand again. His is so warm.

  I watch as Ashling takes the thin length of metal, wedges it in the crack between the window and the door frame, and slides it down. She jiggles it, and a second later, the Audi’s door pops open. There’s a sudden high-pitched blast—William’s car alarm. But Evan pokes a couple buttons on his phone and the sound stops.

  Delia opens the driver’s side door then. She takes the brown paper bag from the pocket of her coat and stuffs it under the front seat. She shuts and locks the door. Evan pokes his phone again, re-enabling the alarm, maybe.

  Evan offers the crowbar to Ashling, then Delia, who holds her hand out like, Be my guest. And Evan smiles—a sweet, almost giddy smile—winds up his tiny arm like he’s about to hit a softball, and smashes the thick plastic of the taillight, over and over until it shatters and falls to the ground in pieces.

  Ashling kisses Delia. Evan puts one end of the crowbar on the asphalt and does a little jig around it. Then the three of them start heading back toward us. Ashling takes out her phone and makes a call.

  Sebastian runs his thumb over my knuckles. “You’re still watching,” he says, eyes still closed.

  “Maybe,” I say. And then, “What are they doing? Who is Ashling talking to?”

  “The police, probably,” Sebastian says. “Letting them know about the car with the broken taillight, and something hidden under the seat. But it’s better not to know everything. You’ll learn that. . . .”

  Ashling hangs up the phone and smiles. Then kisses Delia again. I close my eyes, finally. A moment later, the car doors open. Sebastian drops my hand. Ashling and Delia get in up front, Evan slides into the back next to me. For a moment no one says anything at all. Ashling starts up the car. Delia turns slowly and looks at me. She smiles, reaches out, squeezes my knee, and I know what this means—it means thank you. My heart fills up.

  Delia leans back against the seat.

  “Bye-bye, Willy,” she says. To all of us, to herself, to no one. Then she cranks the radio.

  Chapter 41

  June

  It takes my brain a few seconds to figure out what that strange, grunty, snorty sort of sound is, is supposed to be, and then I realize—it’s a neigh. Adam Bergan and his friends are neighing at Ryan.

  It’s the next day at school, and everything is happening.

  In the entire time we were dating, I never once saw Ryan uncomfortable, not even a little. He sailed easily from place to place, party to party, with the self-assurance that comes from being rich and tall and handsome and athletic with a normal family who loves you, a level of self-assurance which is almost unfair for anyone to possess, given how few people get all those advantages. But now, Wednesday morning, standing in the hallway, I hear a chorus of neighs. And Ryan looks like he’s about ready to drop down dead of embarrassment.

  A few ballsy freshman girls are wiggling their tongues at him. And then, clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop, Chris McGimpsey gallops up and stops right in front of him. “Do me hard, you naughty, naughty farmhand, I nee-ee-ee-eeeeed it.”

  How quickly things can change; how quickly everyone can turn.

  “Screw you,” Ryan says in a tone that’s supposed to sound light. And then he shakes his head in what is meant to be a casual way. But I can tell he doesn’t feel casual at all. He thinks by not denying it, he’s not giving fuel to the fire. The thing is, some flames don’t need any, they will just burn and burn all on their own.

  “Screw me? Nah, you wouldn’t like that,” Chris says, deadpan. “I’m the wrong species.” And then he gallops off.

  Ryan shrugs like he doesn’t care, but when his eyes meet mine, I see what’s in there—fear, embarrassment, confusion, genuine pain. And I feel that twist of guilt.

  But what can I do? I didn’t ask for this, and I can’t stop it. And besides, whether Ryan deserves it or not, far worse happens to people who deserve it less. Terrible things happen every day.

  I go to homeroom and sit alone. Krista is trying to get my attention. But I avoid her gaze, put in my headphones, don’t look up.

  Homeroom ends. My phone buzzes with a text from Ashling’s phone.

  too good not to send. Delete!!! Xo D

  Attached is a photograph of the TV screen, news channel 7. There’s William’s official headshot from the website of his hospital. And underneath, a caption:

  Respected local surgeon arrested for methamphetamine possession, suspended from surgery, out on bail

  Holy shit. It worked.

  For the next few hours I float. English, art. It’s lunchtime. I want to leave school now, go back to the house. I’m only here at all because Delia said it was important that I keep acting normal. But really—would it look so suspicious if I skipped just one day? I hate the thought of what I’m missing now. I want to be part of it, to be there with them.

  Because—and my stomach lurches when I have this thought—who knows how much longer they’ll be around for?

  Screw it, I’m leaving. Delia will understand.

  I start heading toward the door. I hear my name. I turn.

  Jeremiah.

  “Why did you and Delia stop being friends?” His eyes are rimmed in red. He looks like he hasn’t slept since the last time I saw him. “You said you hadn’t been friends in a while, but you never said why.”

  Considering our last conversation, this question feels like a trick. I ans
wer carefully. “We grew apart.”

  “Nope! Try again. . . .” A muscle twitches in his jaw.

  “That’s what happened,” I say.

  Jeremiah shakes his head. “You stopped being friends because she banged your boyfriend.”

  “No she didn’t.”

  “Oh, but she did. Must have made you pretty mad, huh? Your best friend and your boyfriend, humping . . . So my question is, when did you find out about it?”

  “Never,” I say. “Because it didn’t happen.”

  “Don’t play dumb,” he says.

  I take a deep breath. I have to stay calm.

  “Delia and Ryan were banging for months right before I started dating her. She told me herself. It was like she was proud or whatever, got off on telling me about it until I forced her to stop.”

  “She told you she had sex with Ryan?”

  “She said there was a swimmer, rich and pretty. She told me when she was drunk, wanted to rile me up I think. I tried not to let myself think too much about who it was—I didn’t want to know who it was. But then you told me about her and Ryan. And the pieces snapped together. That’s who she was sleeping with. Thing is, I guess they never stopped . . .”

  “They never started! I was wrong about that. I was jumping to conclusions and . . .” I’m shaking my head, a tiny tornado is inside my stomach swirling faster and faster.

  He keeps going. “So here’s the thing. At first I thought you were covering up for Ryan. Maybe she got pregnant, he didn’t want to be a father. He went nuts, but like an idiot you still loved him and didn’t want him to go to jail. That story kind of works, kind of. Except that Delia would have had an abortion in a second. But then I thought about it and I thought about it and I realized, wait . . . I have this backward.” Jeremiah pauses, then tips his head to the side. “Because, actually, Ryan is covering up for you.”

  I keep my face still, but inside my entire body is vibrating. He is waiting for me to react. He starts talking again, more slowly, gently almost. “When you told me about Ryan, you were hoping I’d go beat him up, weren’t you? You were using me, June. Free muscle. That’s obvious now. The question I had, though, was why would Ryan cover up for you? He clearly didn’t care about you that much or he wouldn’t have been cheating in the first place. No, he didn’t give a crap about you. But I think now I get it. He was covering up for you because you knew about his dark secret, this freaky farm stuff. You blackmailed him and then you let this leak, maybe to show him you were serious. I’m assuming there’s more. You’re too smart to play all your cards at once. . . .”