by Beth Neff
JENNA IS RIDING back and forth in the driveway. She thinks about heading up the road a ways. She’s done that before. Grace said it was fine. She could ride out into the road and just keep going. But she doesn’t.
She tells herself she’s not watching for Grace, but she is. Grace went into her little cabin over an hour ago and hasn’t come out since. Each time Jenna gets to the end of the driveway and circles back, she imagines she will see Grace emerging, waving her over to help with some special job that Grace has been saving just for the two of them. But, it never happens. There is nothing to see, just the filtered sunlight drifting down through the trees, a bird crossing over the road, followed by another, too high for any interest in the world falling apart below.
THE MORE LAUREN thinks about it, the more she realizes that she absolutely cannot be here when the investigators come. They already have her side of the story. She needs to be safely on the other side of the fence when this all comes down. There’s just too big a chance that, after Wednesday, they would still leave her here while they figure things out. It’s already obvious that it takes the stupid court system forever to get things sorted out. What in the world would Lauren do if she was stuck here while that happened? She’s just glad she thought of this in time.
Everybody went to bed early and the house is completely quiet, so Lauren is quick and confident as she pads down the hallway and hugs the stairs to stay away from the center creaks. She has already picked the lock on the office before, is gratified, again, that it is identical to the one on her dad’s office door at home where she’s had plenty of practice. She’s had Jason’s phone number memorized forever and realizes how nervous she is when she has to repeat the digits in her head several times before she can punch them into the phone.
The first time she calls, she gets his voice mail and feels so panicked that she is tempted to destroy something in the office.
Punching in the series of numbers for the calling card a second time, Lauren sees her hands shaking, has to disconnect and start over twice before she hears the ring, a click, Jason’s unenthusiastic greeting. By this time, Lauren is so frantic that Jason doesn’t even try to argue. The only way he can calm her is to promise to come, to leave right now, to make the hour-and-a-half trip as quickly as he can.
Lauren knows he’s not happy about it, but he’ll come. She concentrates intensely on the image of Jason closing his cell phone, grabbing his keys, stepping out the door, climbing into his car, and backing out of the driveway. It is as if she controls the events if she just thinks hard enough about them, demands them to work out the way she has designed.
Lauren climbs the stairs and slips back into her room but still has to sit on the edge of the bed for a minute to catch her breath. She decides to plan for an hour. That will give her enough time to pack and put on the makeup she hasn’t worn in weeks, get back downstairs so she’ll see him the minute he pulls in. It is only now, in the slight release of tension and control, that she sees a few possible rips in her carefully constructed plan.
Does it make any difference that Cassie saw her with the cards, that Jenna knows about the letter? Lauren squeezes her eyes shut, tries to concentrate. Why would it? It simply matters that the authorities have all the information they need and, with it, will shut this place down in a heartbeat. But what about Sarah? She knows that Lauren lied. It seems impossible that she would say anything, get herself into trouble. But they’ll ask, won’t they? What will Sarah do when she’s on the spot? Lauren lets her head drop into her hands, massages her pounding temples. Why is everything always left up to her? Why is she the only one, always the only one . . . ? Lauren feels her throat closing, her eyes swelling with tears.
No, she can’t leave Sarah here. And maybe, just maybe, Sarah would be sorry to see her go, would be pissed if Lauren went without her. In fact, yeah. Sarah would probably want to come. Sure, that’s right. Lauren shakes her head, smooths her hair. God, what gets into her sometimes? Everything is fine. Perfect.
Lauren gets back up, reenergized now, and tiptoes down the hall to Sarah’s room.
SARAH IS NOT asleep. It’s not that she has been expecting Lauren, though she’s not surprised to see her either. She’s been staying as far away from her as possible since they first found out about the letter, but Sarah knew it couldn’t last. Sarah is so exhausted from her own turmoil that, before Lauren even speaks, she knows she will probably do whatever she suggests.
Lauren doesn’t check to see if Sarah is awake, and her voice sounds, in Sarah’s ears, like she’s shouting even when she’s whispering. Lauren leans aggressively over the bed and says, “I’m going. If you want to come, you better get ready. Jason will be here in an hour.”
Sarah pushes up on her elbows and says, “What do you mean? Going where?”
Sarah doesn’t know why she’s asking, can hear how ridiculous her questions sound, even to her. Of course Lauren is going, it doesn’t matter where, and Sarah is perfectly aware of the reasons, both Lauren’s and her own, why she needs to go with her. Maybe she just wants to hear Lauren say it, to confirm Sarah’s own thoughts or to pretend to herself that it’s really Lauren’s idea and Sarah is being somehow forced to go along with it. But she’s not being forced. She can’t be here for the investigation any more than Lauren can. Betraying these people is bad enough—having to tell them about it is unbearable. She can’t keep silent and she can’t come clean and there is no middle ground.
Lauren is watching her, seems to be reading her thoughts.
“C’mon, Sarah. It’s all over and you know it. You’re in as much trouble as I am. This program is totally screwed, and you’re all headed right back to detention. I say get while the getting is good.”
Sarah doesn’t nod or acknowledge Lauren at all, just stares at her knees bent in front of her under the blanket. When Lauren speaks next, her tone is less harsh, almost wheedling, and Sarah tries to dredge some satisfaction out of the fact that Lauren needs something from Sarah, as if Sarah actually has some choice about whether she’ll give it.
“If you’re worried about what will happen next, I’m sure Jason will give you a little cash, and he’ll take you wherever you want to go. All the addies you want until you can get the better stuff.”
The resistance is all an act. Sarah’s already decided. Lauren is right. Why would she wait around to be sent back to detention when she could just find her friends on the street and resume life exactly as she left it? That, of course, is the problem. Life will never be the same as when she left because Sarah herself will never be the same, but any other choices seem too complicated, too dependent on trust in everything coming out right, which Sarah can pretty much guarantee it won’t.
Lauren is becoming impatient with Sarah’s silence. The wheedling tone has completely vanished when Lauren hisses, “One hour. If you’re not ready, we go without you.”
After Lauren is gone, Sarah lies back down on the bed, curls up with her knees to her chest, and gazes out the window into the moonlight. She knows she needs to get up, pack her stuff, empty this room of herself and all that has happened to her here. And yet, for the moment, everything is quiet and she can’t make herself move. She can’t see the garden from this angle, but she can imagine it, the moon bright enough to throw shadows, everything gilded with its silver light. Sarah wonders how she could have ever believed in anything good here, what made her let her guard down and expose herself, even temporarily, to hope.
She barely looks at her clothes as she packs them into the black plastic garbage bags that have spent the summer balled up in the back of the tiny closet. It only takes her a few minutes to stuff everything inside, and then she is sitting on the edge of the bed, willing herself not to climb back in. She’ll miss this bed, that’s for sure. And the food. But she can’t think about the food without thinking of Donna, and her throat starts to constrict and a heavy pressure builds behind her eyes so sh
e goes back to thinking about the bed. Maybe she should change the sheets before she goes. At least she can make the bed. She hops up with some pretense of energy and begins to pull the sheet and light blanket into place. She plumps the two pillows as she must have seen someone do on a TV commercial or something and leans them against the headboard, stands back to admire her work. No sign of Sarah, she thinks. It’s as if she’s never been here. She steps over to the window to look out but even if it was bright as day, she wouldn’t have been able to see anything through the haze of blinding tears.
SARAH HEARS THE purr of Jason’s souped-up engine just as she is returning to her room from the bathroom. She knots the top of her bags after dropping her toothbrush in and hefts one over each shoulder. Neither bag is very full, but they are old and stretchy, banging the back of her legs when she tries to walk. She opens her door and peers out, sees Lauren just closing the door to her own room, so heads down the stairway. She doesn’t want to meet Lauren’s eyes or have any more conversation until they are far down the road.
The passenger door on the car doesn’t work, so all their stuff has to be pushed into the back from behind the driver’s seat. The dome light doesn’t work either, but the moon makes it bright enough to see. Sarah can’t quite make out Jason’s features, but she quickly concludes that he is nowhere near as good-looking as she thought he might be and far from as glad to see Lauren as she is to see him. When Lauren wraps her arms around him, he pats her back kind of distractedly a couple of times and then almost pushes her away in order to concentrate on making their escape.
With all of Lauren’s stuff, there is hardly going to be room in the back for Sarah, but she is prepared to make do. She has hardly thought past this point, finds her legs are stiff and uncooperative as she moves toward getting into the car. She pauses with her hand on the roof, feeling some acknowledgment needs to be made to her surroundings before she literally slams the door on this short deviation from her real life.
She is just trying to decide what that should be when a triangle of light appears at the edge of her sight causing her head to turn involuntarily in that direction. She hadn’t noticed the light on in the shed when she came out, doesn’t begin to shake until the shadow in the doorway starts moving in their direction. Grace’s figure moves lightly but determinedly across the expanse of yard, stops inches from Lauren, and leans over her, hands on hips. She never looks in Sarah’s direction at all.
Before Grace can speak, Lauren says, “There’s nothing you can do now,” in a tone that makes Sarah believe she can almost see the spit spew out of her mouth. “This stupid program is totally fucked, and we’re not in your control anymore.”
As Lauren moves toward the car, Grace moves in front of her, almost bumps into Jason who is forced to step aside.
Grace’s voice is low and menacing. “Well, I still have control over my property, and I don’t want him on it,” she says, gesturing with a thumb in Jason’s direction. “You can take your stuff back out of the car, or you can just have him take it with him. Either way, he is leaving right now.”
Lauren still tries to move around Grace to the car, but Jason has already squeezed in behind Grace, is folding the driver’s seat over and pulling the bags and suitcases out of the back of the car. He pauses for a second when Lauren grabs his arm, hisses, “What are you doing? She can’t stop us. Just get out of the way and let me in—” But the second Grace steps aside, he jumps into the seat, slams his door, and roars the engine into reverse. He never even looks at Lauren or says a single word to her, merely gives a feeble little wave out the open window and pulls with a charge of spinning, grinding gravel out into the road, the sound of his acceleration rattling the night air long into the distance.
Lauren, Sarah, and Grace are standing in front of the house like three forlorn figures who have missed the last bus. Grace turns to face the other two but says nothing. Finally, Sarah moves to retrieve her belongings and begins to shuffle toward the house, bent as if the weight has grown considerably since she carried them in the opposite direction. Lauren still seems unwilling to move from the recently vacated site of Jason’s car, touches the handle of one of her suitcases but doesn’t pick it up. Grace takes a step toward her, but Lauren holds her ground.
“What are you going to do?” Lauren asks. “Hit me? Or maybe you just want to go cry to your dear departed grandpa. Or tell on me to Ellie.”
“I don’t need to do anything, Lauren. You’re already doing it to yourself,” Grace says. Lauren doesn’t reply, stands for a moment, and then turns abruptly away. Her luggage is a bit scattered from Jason’s hasty retreat, and Lauren struggles a bit to get the various pieces strapped back together in the semi-dark. She glances once at Grace as if intending to argue more, but Grace’s posture and expression prevent Lauren from any further action besides grasping the handles of her suitcases and heading sullenly toward the porch steps
Sarah hears Lauren’s clumping footsteps behind her, and then they stop. She turns to see that Lauren has paused, emboldened a little by the space she has put between herself and Grace. She is facing Grace, but Sarah can still hear her harsh whisper, can see the stony expression on Grace’s face when Lauren says, “Maybe it’s a good thing that your mommy isn’t here to see what you’ve become. But then, she obviously didn’t care enough about you to stick around anyway, did she? I hope you know though, whether I’m here or not, you’re going down. I’ve already made sure of that. It’s just like you said yourself—all it takes is the accusation.”
CASSIE KNOWS SHE’S not the only one trying to figure out what the complaint could be about. That would be enough to worry about by itself, but she also saw the look Ellie gave Jenna, is terrified what it might mean. She’s sure that Jenna saw it, too, wonders what she thinks about it, if maybe she even knows. Cassie would never be bold enough to ask, and Jenna closed herself off even more than usual today. She worked far out in the garden even though she wouldn’t have to on a Saturday, and left the supper table when the others had barely gotten started, heading out, probably to the river, by herself without saying a word to anybody. Cassie was completely convinced Jenna knew nothing about the complaint, seemed just as surprised and worried as the rest of them, but can’t suppress the seed of doubt that has been swelling since yesterday’s meeting. At first, it was like a tiny stone wedged into her shoe, so small and innocuous that she hardly noticed it, but after walking on it all day, the blister has made concentrating on anything else nearly impossible.
Cassie sits up in bed. She won’t fall back to sleep now, gets up to look out the window, and sees that the moon, though still bright, has dropped behind the tree line, shimmering through with a hazy, almost ghostlike incandescence. Cassie is considering going downstairs, maybe even going outside, when she hears something, a mild crashing sound, more like tumbling. She walks to the door, opens it a crack, and peers into the hallway. Nothing. She moves quietly out her door and tiptoes to the top of the stairs and then backtracks down the hall to Jenna’s room. She considers knocking on the door but decides to just go on in.
The hall is dark but when she opens Jenna’s door, Cassie can easily make out the mound of Jenna in her bed, is just ready to tap her on the shoulder when Jenna rolls over, says, “What?”
Cassie whispers, “Wow, you’re a light sleeper.”
Jenna sits up. “I guess I wasn’t really asleep. Something else woke me up.”
“Me too. That’s why I came in here. I thought I heard a noise downstairs. Do you want to go down with me?”
Jenna doesn’t answer but she climbs out of bed. She is already wearing a T-shirt and boxer shorts so Cassie just follows her out and down the hall. They slowly move down the stairs, hugging the wall, stopping every few steps to listen. Still nothing. When they get to the bottom of the stairs, they can both see immediately that the hall closet is open, and something appears wedged in the opening, spilling out.
; Cassie whispers, “Should we turn on the light?”
Jenna shakes her head, whispers back, “Let’s check the other rooms first. Maybe it’s just someone else awake.”
Before they take a single step toward the living room, Ellie opens her door and steps out into the foyer. She bends forward to see better, says, “Jenna? What are you doing down here?”
Her voice is deep and threatening, and Jenna takes a step backward just as Cassie steps forward. “And Cassie,” she says. “We heard a noise and came down to see what it was.”
Ellie just says, “Oh,” and then seems to come to herself. “Turn on the light.”
Jenna reaches behind her to flip the switch and, for an instant, the three of them are flooded with light and then plunged into darkness with a loud pop. Ellie mutters, “Shit,” and then turns to go back in her room, comes right back out. “C’mon in. I’ll get a flashlight.”
Ellie’s room seems way too bright when Cassie and Jenna step in, even though there is just a small lamp on beside the bed. Ellie is rummaging through a drawer in her bedside table, stands with a concerned frown on her face, clutching a flashlight in one hand.
“That’s odd,” she says, not really to anyone, more to herself.
“What’s odd?” Cassie asks.
Ellie looks at Cassie distractedly and then turns back and peers into the drawer.
“That drawer. All my cards and letters . . . I’m sure they were in here . . .” She appears momentarily confused and then seems to notice Cassie and Jenna again. She flips the flashlight on to see if the battery is good, and even though the light is weak with the lamp on, they can see that the bulb is illuminated. She glances back down at the drawer, bends to lift the corner of a few stray envelopes to look underneath, lets them flap back into place.