The After Girls

by Konen, Leah

  She wanted to escape, and wondered if that was exactly what Astrid had wanted. She understood her friend and hated her for it at the same time.

  “I know,” Sydney said. Her hands were on her shoulders now. She was trying to calm her down. She hugged her. She didn’t let go, wouldn’t let go, as Ella felt herself begin to shake. “I wish I was there with you,” she said. “I wish you hadn’t had to find her. I wish you hadn’t had to tell me.”

  Ella wriggled out of Sydney’s grasp. “No you don’t,” she said. “You really don’t.”

  Sydney was quiet.

  “What is going on?” Ella asked, looking straight at Sydney. “What the hell is going on?”

  Sydney didn’t answer at first. She just sat down, setting the empty shoebox between them. Ella followed.

  It was quiet between them for a moment, but Sydney broke the silence first. She always did. “Someone is playing a seriously sick joke on us.”

  “You think so?” Ella asked, her train of thought completely interrupted, thoughts of last night pressing at her from every angle. “What do you mean?”

  “What else could have happened?” Sydney asked.

  Ella didn’t have an answer. She couldn’t think of anyone who even knew about their spot. Ben, maybe Becky, some people at the café. None of them could have done this. Why would they? None of it made sense. Unless …

  “You don’t think,” Ella started, unable to say it, unable to wrap her mind around all that was running through it, unable to pause and think levelheadedly, because she couldn’t pause here. All she felt were the chills and the wind and the image of Astrid, lying on the floor. She couldn’t think clearly.

  “I don’t think what?” Sydney asked. Her eyes widened, and for a second, Ella thought that maybe they were on the same page. Maybe Sydney was thinking what she was.

  But then Sydney got that look she got when she had an idea — the same one she got when she figured out the perfect new line for a song she was working on with Max. “It could have been anyone,” Sydney said, her chin resting on her hands. “She’s famous, and so are we. This is her consecrated ground.”

  “You mean because she — ”

  “Killed herself here?” Sydney interrupted. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. It was in the paper. There are only so many abandoned cabins in the woods that you can get to from her house. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that it was here. Anyone could come here. Think of all the kids from the college. Any of them could have done it.”

  “But why?” Ella asked. “Why?”

  “Who knows,” Sydney said. “Drunk college students do stupid shit all the time.”

  Ella shook her head. Sydney’s bullshit explanation was just that. Bullshit.

  “So you’re telling me that some stupid college guys just decided to come put up photos of a girl they didn’t know right after I get this crazy phone call?”

  “I told you, it was probably just — ”

  “An accident,” Ella said. “I know, but what if it wasn’t? I didn’t tell you because I thought you’d think I was nuts, but it’s not just the phone call,” Ella stammered, trying to get it all out at once. “I posted on her wall — Astrid’s — and I know it sounds crazy but I got a response.”

  “A response,” Sydney said. Slowly. Incredulously. “I look at her page every day. I never saw that.”

  “It disappeared,” Ella said. “Like minutes after I saw it.”

  Sydney raised her eyebrows. “El,” she said. “What exactly are you saying?”

  And she didn’t want to say it out loud — she almost couldn’t say it out loud — because Sydney really would think she was crazy — without a doubt, she would. It almost sounded like she already did.

  But the photos stared back at her, taunting.

  I miss you, too.

  Those six little letters on her phone.

  Astrid.

  “What if it wasn’t anyone else?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?” Sydney asked.

  Ella took a deep breath, and she still didn’t know if she could say it, but the words were right there in her chest, ready to burst forth, and in an instant, they spilled out of her, and then she couldn’t take them back.

  “What if it was Astrid?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Seconds felt like years as Ella waited for Sydney’s response.

  Sydney’s eyes were wide and she was staring at Ella as if she were somebody else. “Maybe we should get out of here. This place is driving you crazy.”

  “Don’t call me crazy,” Ella snapped, but she didn’t know what else to say. All of the worries and fears had turned from thought to reality in a split second.

  Sydney stepped forward and it looked like she was going to reach out and touch her, comfort her. But she didn’t.

  “I’m sorry, I just think this is all really getting to you,” Sydney said.

  “Of course it’s getting to me,” Ella said. “Our best friend died. How is it not getting to you?”

  Sydney’s jaw dropped. She took a step back. “Are you saying that just because I don’t believe all this Falling Rock ghost bullshit that I don’t care?”

  “I’m just saying that you’re very calm and collected for someone whose best friend just died. I mean, you’re going around like nothing’s happened. Like it’s just any other summer.”

  “You better stop right there, Ella,” Sydney said. “Seriously.”

  But the words were coming out so fast that she didn’t know how to stop them. She didn’t want to stop them. They felt so good to say.

  “Why do you want me to just forget about her?” she yelled. “Why?”

  Sydney shook her head, stepping towards the door. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said. “You have no idea what I’m going through.”

  And with that, she stormed out of the cabin, slamming the door shut behind her.

  Ella was left alone, the words ringing in her ears. It was just her and the photos of Astrid — everywhere.

  But she couldn’t take them down. Not now. Someone had put them up. For some reason, someone had done it.

  It wasn’t up to her to take them down. It was up to her to find out what they meant.

  • • •

  Ella walked straight from the cabin to Trail Mix. She didn’t want to be late. She got to the café just as Becky was finishing up.

  “Hey,” she said, all shocked and somber, like, You’ve missed a lot of work lately — are you sure you’re okay?

  “Hey,” Ella said, trying to sound as normal as ever.

  Jake barely looked at her. She couldn’t tell if he was intent on counting up the tip jar or just purposely trying to avoid her. She couldn’t tell if she was mad at him from the night before or just mad because he wasn’t saying hi. She didn’t know if she really even wanted to talk to him or not.

  Ella headed to the back room to get her apron. Claire turned around as soon as she walked in.

  “You’re here,” she said, giving her a big hug. “I’m sorry about last night. I really am. Grace just gets a little … overwhelmed sometimes.”

  “Thanks,” Ella said, and she felt her voice start to crack. “But she wasn’t overwhelmed, she was furious,” Ella said. “She was so mad at me. I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. She should know that. I’ve never seen her like that.”

  Claire’s mouth opened as if to say something else. Then she shut it again, quickly. Succinctly.

  “You don’t worry your pretty little head about Grace,” she said, patting her on the shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

  “But — ” Ella started.

  Claire’s hand was on her shoulder, almost pushing her out. “Jake needs your help, sweetie. Go on.”

  Reluctantly, Ella turned and headed back to the front.

  Becky was gone, and Jake was staring at her, an inquisitive look in his eyes.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” he said, th
rowing his hands in the air and turning back to the register without saying another word.

  She grabbed a rag and started wiping down the tables. He was probably mad that A) she’d had the nerve to go into Astrid’s room, and B) she’d come here and asked about Grace — he had pushed her out, after all — so she spent the next twenty minutes purposely avoiding him, making every chair and table spotless, brewing the pots, restocking the sugar containers. After what had happened with Sydney, she couldn’t take any more confrontation. Not now.

  But then he did the last thing she expected. He started whistling.

  First, it was “I’m a Little Teapot,” and then it was the Star Wars theme. Ella moved on to mopping the floor while he took the occasional customer. But when he hit the long note of a song he’d just done about ten times, she couldn’t help herself.

  “What in the world are you whistling?”

  Jake raised his eyebrows, his mouth stilled a second, mid-whistle. He gave her a half-smile. A don’t be mad at me smile. “Swing low.”

  “Swing low?” she asked.

  “You know,” he said. “Sweet chariot?”

  Ella narrowed her eyes. “The church song?”

  “What’s wrong with that?” he asked, mock hurt spreading across his face. “We’re in the South,” he said. “Gotta get my gospel on.”

  Ella half-laughed, half-scoffed. “West Virginia’s the South, too,” she said, scrubbing the table harder.

  “Not like this,” he said.

  She didn’t respond.

  “Okay, we also might sing it in my a capella group …”

  “A capella?” She looked up.

  “I know,” he said, raising up his hand. “It sounds mad nerdy. Trust me, it’s cool when I do it.” Then he gave her this killer smile that was so goofy she couldn’t do anything but laugh.

  Claire shut the door to the back room, and Ella gave the place a quick glance — there were no customers to be seen. She realized that this was her chance.

  “Last night,” she said.

  “I really wasn’t trying to get rid of you,” he said. “I was just trying to help.”

  “I know,” she said, smiling again. “But I was just thinking about Grace and — ”

  But Jake just shook his head. “Let’s not talk about it. It’s a new day. We’re past that.”

  “I know, but — ”

  “Ella, last night sucked. I shouldn’t have asked you. It was my fault. Let’s just enjoy today. Okay?”

  “But Grace. Did she really think that I was trying to — ”

  Jake held up his hand. “Let’s just put it behind us. Please.”

  And his eyes looked so sad and pleading that she felt like she didn’t have any other choice.

  “Okay,” she said reluctantly.

  Jake smiled. “Thanks.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. She put the mop down and walked back behind the counter to heat up some milk. She was worn out from the night before — she was worn out from this conversation — and she wanted a chai.

  Jake turned towards her, but she stayed focused on the machine. “Ella,” he said, his voice soft now. Friendly. “I’ve actually been meaning to ask you something.”

  “What’s that?” she asked, her ears perking up. Maybe he’d changed his mind. Maybe he did want to talk about last night.

  “You know that band I mentioned, The Black Rabbits?” he asked. “You know the ones that sound like The China Dolls?”

  “Oh,” she said, “yeah.” She tried to hide the disappointment in her voice. He definitely did not want to talk about last night. The milk started to bubble.

  “Well it turns out they’re playing in Pinbrook tonight, and I wondered if you wanted to go with me.”

  “What?” she asked, without turning around so he wouldn’t see her surprise. She thought he might wax poetic about Indie music. She didn’t think he was going to ask her to go somewhere with him.

  “I think you’d like them,” he said. “It could be cool.”

  Cool, she thought. Cool. He probably just wanted to do something nice after last night. It couldn’t be anything more … She pushed the idea out of her head. It was a show. A harmless little show. In Pinbrook. It wasn’t even that far away.

  “And I know you have tomorrow off,” he continued, “so you don’t have to be worried about being out a little late.”

  The milk was really bubbling now, threatening to go over the rim.

  Ella managed a laugh. “What, do you, like, memorize my schedule?” she asked, buying time. Ben had mentioned something about hanging out at one of the football player’s houses, but she never really liked that scene anyway. She hadn’t even really said she’d go. He’d just kind of offhand mentioned it. It’s not like she was a required attendee.

  “I like it when you’re here,” he said.

  She felt herself blush, and she turned the steamer off. The milk was about to spill any second. He was standing right behind her, waiting for an answer. It was unnerving.

  “Okay,” she said finally, as she dipped her finger in, testing the milk. “I guess.”

  “Perfect,” he said, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw him turn back towards the front. “The show’s at nine and Google says its like an hour drive, so I’ll come get you around eight?”

  “Sounds good,” she said and she wiped down the machine instead of turning to face him, because she knew if she did, he’d see a smile written all over her face.

  And she didn’t want him to see it. Not yet.

  • • •

  When Ella got home, she sent a quick text to Ben telling him she couldn’t go. She said that she was going to a show, and thankfully, he didn’t ask anything else. So what if he’d just assumed it was with Sydney? She hadn’t said a word that wasn’t true.

  She still had a few hours before nine, so she headed up to her mom’s studio. She wanted to feel the clay again — to work on something real, hell, maybe even make something this time — something she could touch, something she could use for the fair. She knew it had to be coming up soon — she needed to check the dates.

  Plus, she knew if she didn’t keep busy she’d just start to think — about how a dead phone could call her, how the photos got on the wall, how Grace seemed almost like a different person now, how much she’d hurt Sydney by what she’d said — and how even after all that, she hadn’t gotten one step closer to understanding why.

  Ella grabbed a mound of clay and threw it as hard as she could onto the wheel. She dipped her hands in water and she started to work, spinning the wheel fast while she carefully centered it. She didn’t want to ruin this one.

  She thought she’d make a simple bowl — she always made them for the girls on each of their birthdays, giving them beautiful edges and bright colors. Astrid had loved them. She’d place them around her room and fill each one with jewelry, coins, notes, and knick-knacks.

  Ella was almost done when her she heard footsteps on the stairs. She saw her mother walk in as she finished the edge, slowly taking her foot from the wheel.

  “Sorry,” she said, backing up. “I didn’t know you were working.”

  “It’s okay,” Ella said, taking her hands off the bowl. “I just finished.”

  Her mom smiled. “I just came to ask what you wanted for dinner. I didn’t know you’d be at the wheel.” She clasped her hands together. “I’m so glad to see you up here again.”

  Ella just shrugged and gave her mom a look like, Don’t get used to it. I’m not making any promises. One little bowl would not put the world back together.

  Her mom walked closer. “It looks good,” she said. “It’s almost a perfect form.”

  “Maybe I can sell it at the fair,” Ella said.

  But her mom leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. “El, you know that the fair’s this weekend. It won’t be ready.”

  “What?” Ella asked. She’d known that it was coming but had no idea that it was so soon. In the wake of everything, she’d
completely lost track of time. She always made pots for the fair. The Falling Rock Fair was like the big deal of the season. Her mom had a booth. River Deep played. It had always been such fun. It was their thing.

  Her mom must have seen how upset she was. “It’s why I’ve been up here almost night and day, baby,” she said.

  “I know,” Ella looked down at her hands. “I just thought there was still time. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You’ve had so much going on,” her mom said. “I didn’t want to add another thing for you to worry about. You can do some pieces next year.”

  But Ella stood up and just walked towards the sink. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, as she started washing her hands.

  She could hear her mom walk towards her. “I know you’re upset, dear, but — ”

  “I said it doesn’t matter.”

  “Okay,” her mom said. “I’ll just be downstairs.” And Ella heard her footsteps slowly echo down the stairs.

  Ella turned on the water as high as she could and scrubbed her hands until they turned red. She wiped them off on the towel and then stomped back to the wheel. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t made anything for the fair. It would be the first time she’d ever missed it.

  Ella walked back to the wheel and looked at the bowl — exquisitely centered, nicely formed — and she hated it. She hated how perfect it was, how it would need to dry and be glazed and be fired; she hated this summer, how it made no sense; she hated her mom for not reminding her about the fair, and Ben and Sydney for not being able to ease any of this pain; and a part of her, a tiny part of her, hated Astrid for leaving her in this messy broken scary terrible world. For leaving her all alone. For taking the easy way out.

  And without thinking, Ella scooped up the bowl and threw it down on the ground as hard as she could, watching it splatter and break and ruin.

  And then she knelt down slowly and began to clean up the mess. Because there was nothing else she could do.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN