The Secrets We Keep

by Deb Loughead

  “Unless …” Zach says behind me, and I freeze just in time.

  “Unless what?” I mouth the words, so Ellie’s mom won’t hear from behind the door.

  “Science test on Monday. Need help studying this weekend. Big time.”

  “That’s so totally worth it,” I say, then spin around and head for the bathroom to hide.

  “Hey, Mrs. Denton,” I hear my brother say just as I close the door to a crack. “It’s good to see you again. It’s been so long.”

  “Could I speak to my daughter, please?” Mrs. Denton sounds the total opposite of happy to see my brother. As if she can barely stop herself from yelling.

  “You mean, Ellie?” Zach says. I can’t help but smile, as nasty as the situation is. This kid, with his big brown eyes, does “innocent” well. Good luck to my parents with that kid.

  “She’s the only one I have,” comes the not amused response. “She said she was here, but I keep calling her phone and she won’t answer. Not my texts either. I need to tell her something. And since when has your family given up your landline? When I called I got a ‘no longer in service’ message.”

  “Yeah,” Zach says. “We all have our own cell phones now, so my folks ditched our landline. No use paying for it anymore since mostly telemarketers call. At first they were —”

  “Zachary.” Mrs. Denton shuts him down mid-sentence. “Where. Is. Ellie?”

  “Um … well … she’s not here, and neither is Clem. They went somewhere, for a walk or run, or something, I think, so I —”

  The door slams. Three seconds later Zach’s peering at me through the crack.

  “That went well,” he says. “Seriously, what is going on with you two?”

  “God, Zach, I wish I knew.” I close the bathroom door and hope he believes me.

  It wasn’t always like this with Ellie and me.

  Way back in kindergarten, when we first became friends, her life and mine were pretty much the same. We both had two parents and a brother, and we lived in bungalows a few blocks apart. Because both my parents were teachers, they had the entire summer off. And Ellie’s parents made arrangements with mine for Ellie and her brother, Tommy, to spend every day with us, sort of like free daycare.

  We would have been together anyway. We mostly spent those summers being schlepped around between swimming lessons and arts-and-crafts camps, and we had a blast. For ages we were one big happy family, until everything fell apart about two years back, when Ellie and I were thirteen.

  It came out of nowhere. Ellie and Tommy’s dad, who was a computer programmer, was transferred to the West Coast, and their mom decided she wasn’t willing to go along. Ellie’s mom wanted a stable life for her kids. She wanted to keep them in the same school, with the same friends. She also had no intention of giving up her own job running a chain of successful consignment shops, and trying to start over on the other side of the country. So she put her foot down and said no. She actually thought he’d change his mind, Ellie told me. But he didn’t.

  Even worse, Tommy decided to go along with him. He said he needed to be with his dad. Ellie said so, too, but her mom was pulling in the other direction. She was desperate for at least one of her kids to stay behind. And since she was a daddy’s girl, that didn’t sit well with Ellie. But she stayed in town, just to please her mom.

  That was when everything started to change for Ellie. She discovered she had a bargaining tool and could get away with just about anything. When things didn’t go her way, if her mom didn’t give her money for clothes, or pay for a brand new iPhone, she’d threaten to leave. And I got dragged along for the ride.

  Back in the kitchen I try to choke down the remains of my soggy cereal while madly texting Ellie. But she won’t answer me either.

  Her mom’s on the hunt for her. Actually, Mrs. Denton is probably driving around looking for both of us. I start to panic, and feel like pitching my phone at the wall. Then finally, finally, a text pops up.

  Coming over to pick u up. Be ready in 5 minutes.

  What’s going on?

  I’ll explain in 5 minutes.

  “She’s making me totally crazy!” I yell at the ceiling.

  “How would we ever know?” Zach blurts from the family room, where he’s playing a video game, as usual. “Anyway, you’re the one who keeps on letting her make you crazy.”

  I stomp to the doorway to glare at him. “Don’t you have some homework you should be doing?”

  “Yup, and I’m waiting for you to help me. Remember?”

  “Wish I could forget,” I say as I run to my room to change out of my pajamas.

  Five minutes later someone hammers on the front door again. When I fling it open, sure enough Ellie’s standing there. Right on time for a change. She’s a total mess: her mascara’s made raccoon smudges under her brown eyes, her blond-streaked hair’s all snarled, her jeans and T-shirt are crumpled like they’ve been slept in. Which isn’t a stretch for Ellie. Mac’s car is parked at the curb, rumbling and thumping.

  “What the heck happened to you?”

  “Don’t even ask,” Ellie says. “Just get into Mac’s car, and hurry, okay?”

  “Why? Your mom’s been here looking for you, you know.”

  “I know that, Clem. Just get in the car, please, and I’ll explain!” she says, dragging me out by the arm.

  I push the front seat forward and climb into the back of Mac’s old, blue Buick Wildcat. A refurbished classic, not that he did the work. His parents have money. This car was his grade twelve grad present last year. Apparently he’s college-bound at some point, from what Ellie’s told me. But she’s younger than him. And totally gullible. And I don’t like him at all.

  “Hey,” he says over his shoulder. “How’s it goin’ Clem?”

  “Fine,” I say. I sigh as I settle into the stiff seat.

  The Wildcat jolts into gear as the stereo thumps out some hip-hop song that makes the whole car vibrate. I’m sitting right behind Mac. I feel like giving him a slap upside the head for messing my friend up, for changing her so much.

  Ever since Ellie’s fantasies came true, and the two of them hooked up seriously at that field party, I’ve been losing respect for her. Apparently they’re madly in love, and make a big deal of proving it. They even make out in public, which is totally gross. And now it’s October, and those two are rocking their relationship, and meanwhile my life has been going down the toilet. I don’t think I’ve ever liked anyone less than them. Our ten-year “best friendship” is pretty much history.

  That’s why it sucks so much that I’ve become a crucial part of their relationship. Because I’m the one who’s always stuck cleaning up Ellie’s muddy tracks. Every time she does something risky, I become part of the plot.

  Ellie’s mom despises Mac even more than I do. He hardly ever talks and he acts sullen, so I can’t blame her for hating that her daughter spends so much time with him. A whole lot more time than Mrs. Denton even realizes.

  Sure, Mac’s sort of hot, in a dark-and-dangerous way, but it ends there. His personality is a big fat ZERO!

  “So, what are we doing?” I ask, but I have a feeling I already know.

  “Okay, so I talked to my mom, told her that I accidentally left my phone off.”

  “Yeah, like she’d believe that. Your phone is always on!”

  “Just listen, will you?” she snaps over her shoulder. “I told her we went for a walk to the plaza and that we’re both on our way back to our place now. That you’re walking me home. So, Mac will drop us off near the plaza, and we’ll take it from there.”

  What a humongous mess. “So how do you explain the way you look?”

  “What do you mean? How do I look?”

  “Check the mirror,” I tell her.

  She does and she gasps. “Crap. Okay, gotta do some maintenance on the face!”

&
nbsp; Ellie whips a tissue out of her purse, spits on it, and starts to dab at the mascara. Next she has a brush in her hand and starts to fix her hair. I just sit in the back seat and shake my head. How can she stand living this way, always on the edge of getting caught? But I guess that gets easier, too, with practise.

  “You look good to me, babe,” Mac says. He grabs her and pulls her over and starts practically sucking on her face, right in front of me. While he’s driving!

  “Okay, you guys, there’s the plaza. Stop the car, Mac,” I tell him, desperate to get out of that cramped back seat. He pulls over to the curb, but not before swerving a bit to freak me out.

  “Hope your mom won’t be too pissed at you, El,” he says, and he gives her another long, wet one. Yecch! Why don’t you just swallow her whole head?

  Then Ellie and I stand by the side of the road as he speeds off in his way-too-cool car. She just shakes her freshly brushed hair and sighs, like this is all such a huge inconvenience. For her.

  “Let’s go, Clem,” she says. “And try not to look too guilty in front of my mom, okay? You’re not so great at playing it straight.”

  Instead of walking on command, I stop on the sidewalk and stare at her.

  “What are you waiting for?” she demands. “Hurry. I want my mom to actually believe this story, so we need to show up, like, now.”

  “Where were you last night?”

  “Don’t worry about it, Clem. We just went for a long ride, and Mac was too tired to drive back. We parked on a country road, so he could sleep for a bit before driving home.”

  “I’m totally sick of this. I don’t know how you can’t be yourself.” I try not to blink, even though my eyes are suddenly full of tears.

  Ellie tips her head and frowns, tries to look innocent. “Sick of what?”

  “Everything. Of covering up for you all the time. Of telling lies. Of being glued to my phone in case you need something. Of always feeling like I owe you. I never should have listened to you that night and told all those lies to my folks, and snuck out to that stupid quarry. Just because you were hoping that Mac would be there.”

  “How come you sound so mad?” She has that quaver to her voice, like she might cry any second. It’s one of her tricks to win me over. She’s extremely good at crocodile tears. “And you kinda do owe me. I mean, look how much I’ve done for you. Just by not telling what happened.”

  I feel sick at her words. This is never, ever going away. I’m tired of wishing I could somehow make it un-happen, or that I could change the way things went down that night. But there’s no turning back time, that’s for sure.

  I slap a wobbly, fake smile on my face. “Okay, let’s go,” I say, and I follow her home.

  She texts all the way, doesn’t even look at me. Keeps on sending messages to somebody else and laughing, then texting some more. Probably Mac. I hope he isn’t texting and driving, the way he was kissing and driving a while ago. Hmm. If something were to happen to him, then maybe this rotten situation would finally change. And as crappy as it is to even think that way, I just can’t stop myself.

  Because that can’t happen soon enough for me.

  3

  Ellie’s mom is waiting for us in the doorway, arms crossed, in warrior stance.

  “Don’t think I can’t figure out what’s going on, you two,” she yells from the doorstep. When we’re closer, she grabs Ellie’s arm, yanks her into the house, and slams the door in my face.

  Ellie won’t get into much trouble, though. She never does. She’s great at laying on guilt trips about the way their life has changed. And if that doesn’t work, she’ll just threaten to move out west with her dad, and her mom will back right off.

  I pass the plaza again on my way home from Ellie’s. The place is a gathering spot for kids, and even this early on a Saturday morning you can find the skaters there, working on their tricks. A few guys have waxed the curb in the parking lot already, out behind the garbage bins where there’s less of a chance that the shopkeepers will chase them away. They’re practising their grinds and ollies, and I stop for a minute to watch.

  Oh, god, Jake is there, too, dressed in his baggy skater pants and loose T-shirt, just like the others. When he spots me he skates right over, and my heart picks up speed.

  “Hey, Clem,” he says, and I grin even though I can barely breathe. Then he actually nudges me with his shoulder. The warm skin of his arm, the one with the spiderweb tattoo, touches my skin for a second and I shiver. “So, what’re you doing here so early?”

  “I just walked Ellie home,” I tell him.”

  “Ellie Denton? She’s going out with that dude with the amazing car, right?”

  “Blue Wildcat.” I scowl even though I’m trying hard not to.

  Jake snaps the back of his skateboard with his foot, catches it in the air, and starts to spin one of the wheels. “My brother went to school with that dude. He was always a bit of a knob, way too full of himself.”

  “No kidding. I don’t know what Ellie sees in him. Sometimes, I think she stays with him just to piss her mom off. He’s a total creep.”

  Okay, so we’re standing here talking like a couple of old friends, just like we used to in middle school. Should I ask him to the dance now? Before it’s too late, before this conversation hits the wall? Do it, Clem! But I start to blush, and I can’t get any words out. And maybe that’s a good thing because what do we even have in common anymore? I still don’t know the first thing about skateboards, so I can’t even fake it.

  “So, anyway …” I finally spit out, but then someone across the parking lot yells Jake’s name. We both turn to look. Something seems to be going on, and one of the guys, Spencer, starts waving Jake over.

  Jake holds up a finger. “Just one sec!” he yells. “So, anyway, what, Clem?”

  This is the moment. This is my cue, and I know what I want to say next, if I can just suck it up and get the words out in the right order. It’s no longer about the dance. Instead, I want to say exactly what I’m thinking right this second: So, anyway, why are you still hanging with these losers?

  Like Spencer. In middle school, he used to give Kit a hard time way too often. He’s probably the bully Ms. Stitski was talking about in her speech yesterday, just like Aubrey said after the assembly. To be fair, though, he really didn’t bother with Kit in high school. He seemed to have outgrown it — there was cooler stuff to move on to, new kids to chill with, new shit to disturb. And so many new kids to harass. Smaller ones, geekier ones. The usual suspects.

  He’s become an even sketchier kind of guy, and from what I hear, he hangs out with the most “popular” (for questionable reasons) girls, the same ones who follow Jake around like his own private fan club. And Spencer is totally skateboard obsessed, says he hopes to get sponsored someday, and skips classes way too often so he can practise. I’ve got a feeling he’s not being totally honest about that. Everyone knows he carries around a can of spray paint in his backpack and likes doing graffiti under bridges. He also likes hanging around some of the older skaters, a couple of high-school dropouts, and sharing their joints at the skate park.

  Back in middle school, Jake never really had much to do with him. But for some reason, I see them together all the time now. Maybe it’s just the skateboarding thing. I’m worried though — Jake seems so different these days. He’s changed in a bad way. That sweet nature is gone and he seems pissed off a lot. So I decide to take a chance and throw it out there.

  “Okay, so anyway, what’s up with you and Spencer? You never used to chill with him before.” While my heart punches away at my ribcage, I try to summon a look that’s both earnest and concerned.

  Jake shrugs. “I dunno. He’s just into the same stuff as me, I guess. He’s a wicked skater. Why do you even care?” he asks. “And what does it even matter to you? Spencer’s okay, you know. Everyone talks shit about him. But you don’t hav
e to believe everything you hear.” He looks away for a second.

  I take a deep breath. We used to be good friends. I can do this. “Maybe it’s just, well, you’re not like him. Never were. And now it’s almost like you’re fixated on him or something.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” A hint of frost now in his blue eyes.

  My hands are all clammy. I can’t handle the way he’s staring at me, half angry, half hurt. I look up at the sky just as a sparrow swoops past. Right now I wish I could fly away, too. But it’s a bit late for that. I can’t un-say what just came out. And I have to say the rest because it’s hanging in the air. “Well, it’s just that it doesn’t look so good on you, Jake.”

  Jake seems confused for a second. Then he frowns. “Okay wait a sec, I know what this is about now. That school assembly yesterday. You think …” he shakes his head, almost with disgust. “You think Spencer had something to do with what happened, don’t you? Just like Kit’s mom does. Because of those freaking rumours someone’s spread, about them fighting. Hell, maybe you even think I’m involved somehow.”

  “God, of course not, Jake. And I don’t have a clue whether or not Spencer had something to do with it. All I know is that he was there, too. And he’s kinda badass. You should watch your back, just in case. Shouldn’t you?” His eyes narrow. Uh-oh. I might have crossed the line.

  “Look,” he says. “I know Ms. Stitski’s on a mission. She wants to know what happened, and she’s powerful enough to find out. But I was there that night. And I saw pretty much everything that happened.” There’s a defensive snarl in his voice. “And Spencer had nothing to do with it, no matter what anybody wants to say.”

  Does he really think I’m judging him when I’m just trying to show that I care? I can’t believe how much I totally suck at this stuff. Jake glances over at Spencer, who’s arguing with a shopkeeper out by the garbage bins now. I catch snatches of the yelling match, as Spencer tells the guy to get lost.

  “It’s not like we’re bothering anyone back here, dude, and so what if we waxed the fuckin’ curb? We always do this. So just chill, and act like we’re not here.” Spencer is right in the shopkeeper’s face. Way too close. The shopkeeper takes few steps back and holds up his hands.