“So … heard anything more about Lucy?” I asked as I backed the Audi out of the driveway.
Courtney shook her head and fiddled with her iPod. To my surprise, she offered no opinion. Sometimes she could be Little Miss Motormouth, so I had to wonder why she was being so quiet. She scrolled through her iPod and definitely wasn’t acting like herself. We’d known each other and had been part of the same crowd for a couple of years, but only recently had we started to become friends. Admittedly, we were an odd pairing. I was petite and blonde (well, streaked blonde) with a turned-up nose, athletic, and, I admit, something of a bookish Goody Two-shoes homebody. Courtney was tall and lithe, dark and exotic, utterly disinterested in sports, not the greatest student, and had a rep for being wildly social and socially wild. What few people knew, mostly because Courtney didn’t care to let them know, was that when she felt like it, she could be really smart and perceptive. The first time we had a seriously deep conversation, she told me she’d always thought I was too reserved and “intellectual,” and too much of a prude (does anyone besides Courtney still use that word?). I admitted that I’d thought she was kind of superficial and maybe even a little slutty (although that was based more on rumor than firsthand observation).
“Oh!” In the seat next to me, Courtney suddenly thought of something and turned down the volume on her iPod. “What happened with Tyler?”
“Less than I’d hoped,” I said with a shrug.
My friend pouted sympathetically. “Sparks didn’t fly?”
“Not even close. I don’t know, Courts. I’m just so bad at flirting.” The truth was, I was bad at just about everything when it came to guys. I was comfortable talking to them about serious things—school, social causes, the environment—but the moment any aspect of romance was introduced, I instantly lost my bearings and tended to freeze up with self-conscious uncertainty.
“Did you touch his arm when you talked to him?” she asked.
It felt a little strange to be talking about guys when Lucy was missing, but I shook my head. “I kept thinking I should, but it seemed so obvious and forced. Like he’d know exactly why I was doing it.”
“So?”
“That’s not the way it’s supposed to happen.”
Courtney gave me an exasperated look. “According to whom?”
“I know, I know.” We’d already discussed this at length. “According to my unrealistic notions about romance and guys and Sir Galahad and blah, blah, blah.”
Courtney gave me an exaggerated nod, and said, “Yah-ha,” which was her nice way of saying, “When are you going to snap out of your fantasy world and get it through your thick skull that guys just aren’t the way you, Madison Archer, want them to be?”
“I know. I know.”
“Well, maybe it’s all for the best?” Courtney said. “Maybe he’s the wrong guy for you anyway? Like, I mean, you don’t know anything about him. He just seemed to come out of nowhere.”
“No,” I countered. “He comes from some place. I just don’t know where.”
“Did you ask?”
“The opportunity didn’t come up.”
Courtney stared at me. “Wait a minute. Didn’t you spend, like, half the night in the car with him?”
“Yes, I know. I just didn’t … I don’t know, I didn’t feel comfortable prying. And I didn’t want to seem too interested.”
“You can ask where someone’s from without sounding too interested, Madison.”
I sighed. “I know.”
“So how did it end?” she asked.
I told her about how he’d called Lucy a rich bitch and then saw where I lived and apologized and said he thought I was pretty nice.
“Yah-ha!” Courtney raised her eyebrows. “That’s a hopeful sign.”
“He only said it because he felt bad about the ‘rich bitch’ thing.”
“Hello? You don’t know that. Maybe he really thinks it. I mean, face it, Madison, you are known for being Miss Congeniality.”
I was wondering how many Miss Congenialities wound up becoming Miss Old Maids when I turned into the driveway at Soundview High, an old three-story brick building with white columns in front. As we pulled into the student parking lot, I spotted Jen Waits on foot, dodging through the rows of parked cars to intercept us.
Jen was a short, busty cheerleader with blonde bangs, boundless energy, and an indefatigable zeal for being part of what she perceived to be “the right crowd.” Impervious to slights and putdowns, she was a gossip of encyclopedic proportions.
“Brace yourself,” Courtney muttered as I parked the Audi. Jen was motoring toward us fast enough to make her ample chest bounce under her tight sweater.
“You guys hear about Lucy?” she gasped, pink-cheeked from running. Before either of us could answer, she said, “Of course you have. But know what I heard? The police aren’t doing anything! It’s some weird policy they have for teenagers. They don’t start to investigate unless you’re gone for, like, a week. Because kids are always running away, you know?”
“Always?” I repeated doubtfully.
“That’s what I heard. Anyway, I wonder how Adam is taking it. I mean, they did have a huge fight at the party.” Jen gave Courtney a curious look. “Have you heard anything?”
I wondered why Jen had directed the question to Courtney.
“Since when am I the central clearing house for gossip?” Courtney asked pointedly.
“Just asking, okay?” Jen said with a shrug. “You were at the party. I saw you talking to him.”
“So?” There was an uncharacteristic note of irritation in Courtney’s voice.
“I just thought maybe you’d heard something,” Jen said a bit sheepishly.
I was unaccustomed to seeing venom in Courtney’s gaze, but there was no mistaking it now. I couldn’t help wondering why.
In school the rumors were repeated. Lucy and Adam had had a big fight at the party. The police couldn’t be bothered because too often teens disappeared for a day or two and then reappeared. But I’d known Lucy since we were little kids. It was not like her to lose it just because she’d had a fight with her boyfriend. And run away? Lucy was the most competitive person I knew. That was the biggest reason why we’d ceased being close friends. It wasn’t fun or even healthy to be friends with someone who always had to be better than you. Lucy Cunningham was the last person to run away from anything. But she was also bipolar and, therefore, unpredictable.
At lunch I picked at a salad while Courtney ravenously scarfed down several slices of truly unappetizing-looking cafeteria pizza. It seemed touchingly sad, given the Rajwars’ affluence, that my friend had to depend on a school lunch to fill her nutritional needs.
“So … what was that about with Jen this morning?” I asked.
Courtney finished chewing and swallowed. “I was talking to Adam at the party and Lucy came over and just went off on him. It was totally innocent, but you know how she can get sometimes.”
That was true. Lucy was possessive and territorial, and wouldn’t hesitate to let Adam know when she thought he was getting too friendly with another girl. Across the cafeteria, Tyler emerged from the lunch line carrying a tray and wearing his trademark black leather trench coat. I watched as he scanned the tables, then headed for an empty one by the windows.
“The loner rebel,” Courtney quipped.
“Maybe he’s just shy,” I said.
A wry smile appeared on her lips. “Whoever came up with the phrase ‘Opposites attract’ must have been thinking about you.” She raised one eyebrow. “Why don’t you go over?”
“And say what?”
“How about ‘How are you?’ or ‘Nice weather we’re having today’ or ‘What do you think of them Yankees?’ ”
I laughed. “Their season ended a month ago. They didn’t even make the playoffs.”
Courtney rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
Tyler set his tray down on a table. Could I really go over and sit with him without seeming too p
ushy or just completely awkward? Why couldn’t it just be something friendly to do? Was it because I knew I was interested in being more than just friends?
As Tyler sat down, he suddenly turned his head. Before I could look away, his eyes met mine. I froze, then forced a smile onto my lips. The smile Tyler responded with seemed sharp and knowing. Perhaps it was my imagination, but that smile seemed to say, I know what you’re thinking.
“Busted,” Courtney said.
I turned away, my face feeling hot.
“It’s not the end of the world,” she said. “It just means maybe you’re interested.”
“I feel so stupid.”
“You know you’re making way too much out of this. Like, look at it from his point of view? He’s new at school, doesn’t know anybody, sits alone at lunch every day. He’s probably dying to become pals with someone like you who’s near the red-hot center of the social universe. He’d be crazy not to.”
“I don’t think he cares. Not everyone does, you know.”
Courtney waved her hand dismissively, as if anyone who didn’t care didn’t count. But it made me think of what PBleeker had written two nights before: How come you only hang out with the popular clique?
Courtney glanced at me and then her gaze rose over my shoulder. She stopped chewing, dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin, and smiled as widely as she could without parting her lips. It was the sort of self-conscious smile of someone worried that there might be something caught in her teeth. I wondered who she could be so concerned about her appearance for.
The answer came in the darkly ringed pale hazel eyes of Adam Pinter. He stopped beside Courtney, who swept some dark hair from her face and continued to give him that peculiar no-teeth smile. Adam’s lips were pursed and the corners of his mouth turned down.
“Can we talk?” he asked me with unusual bluntness.
The question seemed to jar Courtney, as if it was the opposite of what she’d expected. At first she seemed startled, then a frown appeared. As I rose and followed Adam to an empty table, there was little doubt in my mind that there was something going on between Courtney and Adam, and I wondered why she had been reluctant to tell me.
We sat down. Adam leaned his elbows on the lunch table and interlocked his fingers. He was stocky and broad-shouldered with a five-o’clock shadow that usually began to show up around two. Now, with two days’ worth of dark stubble covering his jaw, and his hair uncombed, he looked ragged and bleary.
“You were the last one to see Lucy,” he said, gazing steadily at me. “Did she say anything?”
“Nothing that, you know, left any hint that she planned to do anything except go home.”
Adam hung his head and ran his fingers through his hair. I’d known him for as long as I’d known Lucy, and in many ways we’d been closer friends, something that had always bothered Lucy. Adam, she, and I had been in school together since kindergarten, but Lucy’s relentless competitiveness had always made her harder to trust. You could never be certain that she wouldn’t betray you if it meant winning something she wanted. Adam and I had always felt more naturally comfortable and easy together. We’d shared secrets.
“Why would she run away? Where would she go? It doesn’t make sense.” The questions were rhetorical. No one was in a better position to answer them than Adam himself.
“Is it true that about the police, not looking for her right away?”
Adam shrugged. “They say that’s their policy if there’s no evidence of foul play.” He lowered his voice. “They don’t want every parent in town demanding a full investigation every time a kid decides to sleep at his girlfriend’s house and doesn’t call home. But the Cunninghams told the cops about the bipolar stuff and that all Lucy had on her was her cell phone and keys. No ID. She’d left her wallet home that night. No money or credit cards. No medications. Just the clothes she was wearing.” The anguish in his voice was palpable.
I reached across the table and placed my hand over his. Adam blinked hard and looked away. After a moment he turned back. His eyes were watery and red-rimmed. I could not remember the last time I’d seen him with tears in his eyes. Certainly never after second grade.
“Maybe there was something she said,” he almost pleaded. “Something that sounded totally innocent at the time.”
“There wasn’t, Adam,” I said. “I wish I could say there was, but I’ve thought really hard about it, and there isn’t.”
Adam pressed his lips into a hard, flat line. “I feel awful for her parents. This is the kind of thing they’ve probably been afraid of for years.”
“She could still turn up at any moment,” I said. “For all we know, she just showed up at her front door.” I squeezed his hand reassuringly.
At the same time, I glanced out of the corner of my eye at Courtney, a few tables away, watching us. When our eyes met, she quickly looked away. I turned back to Adam. “I heard there were some guys from FCC at the party?”
Fairchester Community College wasn’t a place many kids from Soundview went to, unless they couldn’t get into a four-year school. The lines between Adam’s eyes wrinkled. “Yeah, but … I don’t think Lucy said a word to them. We were pretty much in sight of each other the whole night … I mean, until the argument.”
I kept my hand firmly on his. Strangely, Adam was the one boy my age I felt completely comfortable with physically. Maybe because we’d always been friends and nothing more. “If I can do anything …”
Adam nodded. “Thanks, Mads, I appreciate it.”
Mads was his private nickname for me. I glanced again at Courtney. She was staring at my hand on Adam’s, a look of dismay on her face.
* * *
Str-S-d #7
At school today everyone was talking about how Lucy Cunningham has disappeared. Some people think Lucy ran away and some people think she was kidnapped. I just think, who cares? Good riddance. It’s a relief to walk down the hall without seeing her look at me like I don’t deserve to live. God, I hate her. I’m glad she’s gone and I hope she never comes back.
4 Comments
Realgurl4013 said …
Luuucky you! I wish I could make some of the kids around heeere disappeeear.
IaMnEmEsIs said …
People get what they deserve.
Tony2theman said …
Why be sorry? She sounds like a real bee-ach.
ApRilzDay said …
Don’t you feel a little weird? I mean, isn’t it kind of like your wish really came true?
chapter 5
Tuesday 7:05 A.M.
THE AIR WAS clear and chilly. Val’s and my breaths came out in plumes of white vapor. She was frisky this morning and I sensed that she wanted to canter, but I kept her at a trot because I wanted to think without worrying about where we were going. It was Tuesday, and Lucy was still gone.
The trees were bare, but the ground still had splotches of orange, red, and yellow. As Val trotted down the wooded path, I heard the crunch and clatter of a deer crashing away through the underbrush. It was no use trying to imagine where Lucy was. The night before there’d been rumors and IMs speculating on an impulsive rendezvous with an old camp friend, a chance meeting with an L.A. talent agent, an impulsive fling with one of the guys from FCC who’d been at the party. All were possible. But then again, the impossible never became rumor, did it?
I turned my thoughts to Tyler. Ever since grade school I’d made it a practice every six months to develop a crush on some mysterious boy with whom my path had crossed at a sports field or on vacation somewhere, or in the waiting room at my orthodontist. Usually these mystery crushes were brief and unfulfilled, as I never had the nerve, or guile, to make contact. But with Tyler it was different. He was at school day after day, so there were opportunities aplenty. It was actually hard to come up with excuses for not trying to connect with him. Besides, I kept reminding myself, I was a senior and had never had a real, steady boyfriend. It was my goal to have one by the time I graduated.
<
br /> The alarm on my cell phone chimed. It was time to turn Val around and head back to the stable, and from there, to school.
When playwrights, novelists, and songwriters wanted to pick a town for their characters to either dream of living in, or to hold up as an example of all that was too materialistic and trendy and chic, they often chose Soundview. Almost everybody who lived here was well-to-do, if not just plain rich. Many drove fancy European cars, had vacation homes at faraway beaches or ski areas, and took several long holidays a year. It was said that Soundviewers exuded an air of entitlement—they felt they deserved the best of everything.
Back in the 1990s, a group of parents, worried that their kids might take “the entitled life” for granted, got together and urged the high school to institute a mandatory community-service requirement. Among the programs kids could choose from were Habitat for Humanity, Meals on Wheels, or Safe Rides. That fall Courtney had signed up for Safe Rides mostly because I had.
“Can you believe Ms. Skelling is calling an emergency lunch meeting?” she asked irritably on the lunch line. Everyone in Safe Rides had gotten e-mails the night before from our faculty advisor. I’d actually been glad, since it would mean seeing Tyler.
“Why can’t it wait?” Courtney went on. “We usually meet on Thursdays. She is such a pain. I wish I’d signed up for Meals on Wheels, except old people creep me out.”
“I guess we’ll see pretty soon,” I said, wondering what was really bothering her. “So … still no news about Lucy.”
Courtney slid her tray down the rail and said nothing. One of my faults, I’d been told, was that because I hated confrontations. I always went out of my way to be nice and undemanding. And that sometimes worked against me because some people thought they could step all over me. So I was trying to be more assertive.
Wish You Were Dead Page 3