“That’s cold-blooded, Carly,” Maggie said. But we laughed. It didn’t seem possible Carly could have maneuvered the Sutherland situation exactly the way she claimed. She was prone to exaggeration, and the whole thing seemed absurd. But even if it was true, didn’t he deserve it? He had bra-strap-groped Maggie. Maggie said he was a perv, and all the girls knew it. The part about not paying for the time Carly was shortchanged justified it in my mind.
The week before Christmas break, we all went to watch Jane in a production of A Christmas Carol. Jane had the role of the Ghost of Christmas Future. She was spellbinding up there on the stage, in possession of more charisma than I had ever suspected. I couldn’t take my eyes from her, captivated as I was by her ethereal ghostlike beauty; I couldn’t imagine she wasn’t the focal point for everyone in the audience. Although she didn’t speak, her gestures evoked more emotion than any of the other actors, even the actor who played Scrooge. And when she finally disappeared into a rumpled mess of bedsheets, I inhaled sharply, suddenly aware I’d been holding my breath. Carly laughed out loud.
“Carly,” Maggie elbowed her. “Shut up; it’s not supposed to be funny.”
“I’m sorry.” Carly wiped at her eyes. “She just looked ridiculous. It’s such a sappy play.”
“I think she likes that guy who plays Scrooge,” Maggie whispered.
And, just like that, the magic of Jane’s performance was nothing but a joke. The dire warning of the consequences of an evil heart was just a bunch of words in a sappy play. Scrooge was just a guy Jane had a crush on.
Jane spent winter break at the Lake Tahoe home with her family. None of us were invited this time, although it was a skiing trip and, in fairness, Carly, Maggie, and I didn’t ski. But two other kids were invited—Russell, the boy who played Scrooge to Jane’s ghost, and a girl named Missy, a drama friend who was also in the play.
“Missy doesn’t ski,” Carly said one day over lunch at the mall. “So I’m not sure why she was invited and we weren’t.”
“My parents wouldn’t have let me miss Christmas with the family even if she asked us,” I said.
“My mom didn’t care,” Maggie said. “But I hate snow.”
An enormous Christmas tree was resplendent in the atrium of the mall, shoppers taking turns posing for pictures under its magnificence. Tiny fairy lights were strung in every conceivable nook and cranny, which gave the impression of wandering through a giant snow cave glistening with ice crystals. Canned Christmas carols played tunelessly in the background while shoppers swarmed purposefully out of one store and into the next. It was an ideal place for people-watching or catching the Christmas spirit, at least the commercial side of it. For us, it was just our hangout transformed in a fun way for a different experience. My modest Christmas shopping was done, and even if it wasn’t, I didn’t have any money left—barely enough to pay for the hamburger and fries in front of me.
“I think you’re both missing the point,” Carly said. “Jane has abandoned us for a new group of friends. Probably even a boyfriend, if Maggie’s right.”
“Why shouldn’t she have a boyfriend, Carly?” Maggie said. “It’s not like we haven’t in the past and won’t in the future.”
“There’s nothing wrong with having a boyfriend. I never said that,” Carly snapped.
I knew Maggie’s reflexive wince by then. It was a subtle tightening of the muscles around her eyes, but it was unmistakable. To her credit, Maggie never hesitated to speak out against Carly when she disagreed, but Carly’s rebukes caused her to cower like a dog that had been beaten too many times.
“I just mean,” Carly lowered the tenor and tension in her voice, “she’s not putting us first. Or even second or third at this point. So why is she even part of the Kitty Committee?”
“I don’t know,” I said, and I didn’t. Why was she part of the Kitty Committee? Jane had clearly moved on, although it was apparent she wanted to maintain a friendship with Maggie. I twirled a French fry between my thumb and forefinger before plunging it into a puddle of ketchup.
“Maggie,” Carly said as though just waking up from a profound dream. “Did Jane invite you to go with them?”
Maggie glanced evasively at a woman pushing a stroller with twins. It was obvious to me that she was unnerved by the question, but I don’t think she had the ability to lie to Carly.
“Yeah,” she said softly enough that I had to strain to hear above the cacophony of Muzak and random shreds of dialog trailing behind the shoppers who passed our table. “But I didn’t want to go.”
“That’s what I figured,” Carly said. “She’s trying to break up our friendship. Don’t worry, I don’t blame you for hiding it from us. I just think it’s really a crappy thing to do.”
“I don’t think she’s trying to do that,” Maggie said, but she offered nothing to back up her statement.
“Well I do,” Carly said, and I had to agree. “You might think the Kitty Committee is a silly thing, but when we drew up our rules, we were promising something really important to each other. We were promising to put our friendship above everything and to always have each other’s backs. Call it what you will—the Kitty Committee was just a dumb name I came up with. But the fundamentals are what count. Who’s going to look out for us? Parents, sure, but there’s only so much we can share with them. I view our friendship as a lifelong commitment, but Jane doesn’t see it that way, which really hurts me.”
Carly was good. So good that I was moved to put my arm around her. So good, Maggie was moved to clutch Carly’s hand and stroke it soothingly with her thumb. Tears sparkled in Carly’s eyes, and I heard the unmistakable quaver in her voice that signified a monumental struggle to control uncontrollable emotions. I’m sure Maggie heard it too. Carly was on the verge of tears. This was real. This was almost earth-shattering. Carly had never before been vulnerable in front of us.
“Don’t worry, Carly, you’ll always have me,” Maggie said. “I didn’t want to go at all . . . I never even considered going.”
“Maggie’s right,” I said. “You’ll always have us.” The power I derived from consoling Carly was nearly impossible to describe. For once, I was strong and Carly was weak. I felt such tenderness for her at that moment. I thought I knew how much it must have cost this girl, so supremely self-possessed and confident, to bare her weakness to us. It was a gift.
Fractured by the mall’s sound system, a carol crackled and felt brittle in my ears. Twenty yards away, a tired-looking Santa stood in front of a bucket, incessantly ringing his bell for donations. This was my first Christmas in Indian Springs, and it had none of the warmth, love, or merriment to which I’d become accustomed. Images flashed through my mind—the Ghost of Christmas Past. A dead manzanita bush, its spare tropical beauty supporting our hand-made decorations. A tiny church filled with voices raised richly in devotion.
I felt the warmth of Carly’s body, close to my own, and willed the peace of my memories into her soul.
“Let’s wait until Jane gets back from vacation,” Maggie said. “I promise I’ll talk to her and see what she’s thinking.”
Chapter Fifteen
Proof of Carly’s act of fealty came shortly after school was back in session. One day, Carly was summoned to the principal’s office where she was questioned about Mr. Sutherland. She was known to have been privately tutored by him, and Principal Page asked if she’d been satisfied with those sessions and whether there were any issues she wished to discuss.
“No,” Carly assured them. He was a fine tutor, and she’d been quite happy with her SAT results. But she used long pauses, downcast eyes, and a nervous wringing of her hands to the best advantage, she later claimed to us. We had no way of knowing our junior year would be Mr. Sutherland’s last year at Indian Springs High. We didn’t know if Carly’s charade had anything to do with his departure or even if the rumor mill about his inappropriate interest in female stu
dents was factual. Nevertheless, Carly claimed full credit after it happened; by then, she was grasping for anything which would redeem her as a champion of good over evil. Much later we learned that his wife divorced him and moved to another state, taking their daughter with her.
It was only left to Maggie to prove her loyalty. By then, none of us expected Jane would have anything to do with it. In our minds, Jane had been excommunicated from the Kitty Committee, but Maggie saw no reason to confront her with that fact.
“I’m still her friend,” she said. “What difference does it make if she’s officially in or out? She doesn’t do anything with the group anymore, so it’s obvious to everyone.”
I missed Leann and privately mourned Jane’s separation.
“Have it your way,” Carly said. “I couldn’t care less, to be honest.”
We all knew Tim would be next on our list. Ostensibly he had wronged me, but it was Carly he had really wronged. Just by being a better, more formidable version of herself. But Tim had a weakness. He, like many others, was smitten with Jane. Locker time was a time when a goofier, less-guarded version of Tim appeared. He struggled for random bits of conversation and non sequiturs to hold onto Jane’s physical presence for even one additional minute. His face betrayed his unrequited crush, flushing an outrageous shade of pink that I’d seen the few times I’d waited for Jane and Maggie. But Jane either didn’t notice or ignored it. She was always kind to Tim, listening to his mindless chatter and blessing him with her undivided attention the way she did with almost everyone. It was the only time I’d ever seen Tim’s guard down—the only time he displayed vulnerability and appeared to be human.
Carly had connections through Rich Benson, who never gave up hope that one day he’d have the pleasure of sharing Carly’s body again. Rich had connections with the local school druggie, who also doubled as the local school dealer of drugs. All Carly needed was enough weed for two joints. Rich even provided it free of charge, no doubt considering it an investment in his future. All that was left was for Jane to distract Tim long enough for Maggie to slip the joints into the back of his locker. And the best part, in Carly’s mind, was that Jane performed this function unwittingly. She was complicit without being aware. It was a perfect trump card to hold out in the event Jane ever turned on us.
I didn’t know all the details until weeks afterward.
Someone left a note on the car windshield of the young police officer who came to our school once a week to teach the D.A.R.E. (anti-drug) curriculum. The note claimed to be from a student concerned about Tim LeClerc, who had been getting high after school, offering to share his marijuana with others, including freshmen. It claimed knowledge of seeing said drugs in Tim’s locker. The officer passed the note along to Principal Page, who found it impossible to believe but, nonetheless, conducted a search of Tim’s locker with Tim present, all the while apologizing but saying he was legally obliged to follow up on the anonymous note. Tim was as cool as a cucumber, the talk around school went—either because he knew there were no drugs in his locker, or else because he thought Principal Page would conduct a cursory check without bothering to look in the back where the joints were stashed. Which version was told depended on who was doing the telling. Tim’s friends never doubted the first version, but many people didn’t like Tim, so they believed the second.
Carly always came to Tim’s defense when the subject was brought up. Tim didn’t do drugs of any sort—anyone who knew him knew that, she insisted. Maggie was mostly quiet about the whole thing, not offering an opinion one way or the other. The person who had written the note was most often judged to be one of a small group of religious freshmen who were unlikely to have ever interacted with either Tim or his friends. But the note had mentioned Tim offering the marijuana to freshman kids, and only a religious and totally uncool kid would refer to weed that way.
Maggie, who heard it from Jane, told me the way it went down. Tim was allowed to collect his books before receiving a two-day suspension. Being caught with drugs on campus would have meant a much harsher punishment another student, possibly even expulsion. But Mr. Sutherland and Principal Page couldn’t believe it of Timothy, the shining star of the school. Probable National Merit finalist, 4.4 GPA, near-perfect SAT, Boys State, State Band finalist . . . If Tim LeClerc was guilty of bringing drugs onto campus, what did that say about Principal Page? One can imagine the superintendent breathing a sigh of relief when Tim’s mother, a high-powered attorney, threatened a lawsuit if Tim suffered any negative consequences for what, she said, was obviously a plant. Nobody wanted Tim to have negative consequences—not in the long term—so the entire thing was eventually swept under the rug. In the meantime, though, Tim had his suspension, which began with a show of displeasure. According to those who were there, it was unlike any seen before in the hallways of Indian Springs High.
“If I ever find out who did this, they’re going to be sorry,” he yelled at no one in particular, slamming his locker shut. Anyone who didn’t hear his outburst would certainly hear about it by the end of the day. Jane, standing next to him, was stunned. He didn’t look at her or engage her in any way, but Jane felt the message was directed at her. And then she immediately thought of Maggie.
That day was a rare day because Carly didn’t have an after-school activity, or she said she didn’t. She offered to drive Maggie and me home, so we went to Maggie’s house to hang out and discuss the drama of the day’s events. But we hadn’t been there long before the doorbell rang—over and over again. Carly and I accompanied Maggie to the door, alarmed by the anger behind the repeated ringing. The door opened to a red-faced Jane, a sight that I never thought I’d see. Porcelain, yes. Serene, yes. But angry to the point of feverish cheeks and eyes raging a stark blue—that was unthinkable.
“Jane—” Maggie startled.
“Maggie, if I find out you had anything to do with this,” Jane said, a fleck of spittle escaping from her mouth. “I swear to God, I’ll turn you in.” Then she focused her blazing eyes onto Carly. “You . . .” she said but left the sentence unfinished when she turned to me. “Grace, you should get out if you know what’s good for you.” Without another word, she turned to walk back to her car, her normally graceful lope transformed into a fearsome march.
Maggie closed the door and leaned against it to catch her breath. “Wow,” she said before bursting into tears.
“I told you she couldn’t be trusted.” Carly wrapped her arm around Maggie’s waist and led her back to the family room where she collapsed on the old sofa. “She’s unhinged. I think there’s something seriously psychologically wrong with Jane.”
Maggie doubled over, hands covering her face. Her shoulders shuddered with sobs.
“C’mon, Maggie,” Carly said. “Pull yourself together. We can’t control the uncontrollable, and Jane is clearly a disturbed person.”
I sat in stunned silence, still unaware of Maggie’s role in Tim’s suspension, but already beginning to have my own suspicions. I’d never believed that Tim brought drugs to school, but I had suspected one of the boys in the locker room—one of Tim’s past tormentors. I hadn’t suspected Maggie until Jane’s sudden appearance, but it was all starting to fall into place. I didn’t have to ask what Jane was talking about. She hadn’t spoken Tim’s name, but I knew.
“It’s just . . .” Maggie gulped, her voice muffled by her lap. “Jane’s my friend. I didn’t expect that from her.”
“I know,” Carly cooed. She rubbed her hand soothingly up and down Maggie’s back. “I know that’s how you feel, but I’m your friend. Grace is your friend. A true friend wouldn’t talk to you that way, wouldn’t say the things she did.”
A vast uneasiness stirred within me. If Maggie did this thing, and Jane found out, would she really tell on us? Would I be implicated too, even though I hadn’t been there? Would people find out what I’d done to Kerry?
“Is she right?” I asked. “Did
you plant the weed in Tim’s locker?” My heart thumped wildly. Kerry wasn’t protected the way Tim was. Nobody cared about Kerry. But Tim had powerful allies and could bring the whole house of cards down upon us.
“You don’t have to answer that,” Carly said quickly.
Maggie sat up and dried the tears from her face with the sleeve of her shirt. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said.
Chapter Sixteen
Just like the Sword of Damocles, Jane’s threat loomed large, leaving the rest of us with a fractured peace of mind, at best. Would she be able to uncover Maggie’s involvement? If she did, would she really tell or had she just said that in a moment of anger? Jane no longer sat with us at lunch, refusing even to make eye contact with any of us during class or in the halls. That day at Maggie’s house was the last any of us had spoken to her. It had been one week.
“I’m tired of even having to think about this anymore,” Carly announced. We were sitting in her car before school, waiting until the last minute to go in. “I just want to have it out with her. Biggest fucking mistake ever—accepting her into our group.” She glanced accusingly at Maggie, who winced in the way that had become so familiar to me. “So if nobody else is going to do anything about it, I am.”
“Like what?” I was horrified by the thought of a showdown between Carly and Jane.
“Like confront her and remind her that if she tells anyone about Maggie, we can always say that Jane distracted Tim while Maggie did it.”
“That would be the worst idea ever,” Maggie gasped. “First of all, we’d be admitting to her that I did it, and she doesn’t have any proof of that. Second, why should we attack her if maybe she’s gotten over it? Maybe she’s cooled down and moved on.”
Carly’s less than well-thought-out plan was shocking. Carly was normally careful. Cautious, even. This seemed to me to be a reckless act of unnecessary aggression, and I was grateful Maggie said what was on my mind. “I agree with Maggie,” I said.
The Kitty Committee Page 23