When we get to the bowling alley, Micah marches right up to the counter.
“There’s three of us,” he says. “Me, my date, and Rachel.”
Wow. Talk about rude. And unnecessary. Like the bowling alley shoe clerk really needs to know who he’s with. I hope she thinks I’m Rachel, and that Rachel is Micah’s date. Ha-ha.
“What sizes?” the girl asks, bored by us.
We give her our sizes, and Micah pays for the three of us. Which I guess is nice of him.
“Thanks for paying for me,” I say.
“Of course,” he says. “This is a date, after all.”
Rachel trails behind us, reading her book. This isn’t going so well. I mean, I’m supposed to be bonding with her and finding out all her secret woes, not letting her read her book while Micah acts like some kind of Mr. Moneybags.
“Do you bowl a lot?” I ask her as we remove our shoes and start putting on the bowling shoes. I try not to think about how many people have worn these shoes and how many germs are probably lurking in them. I wonder if it would be lame to go and get the antibacterial spray I saw sitting on the counter and spritz my shoes.
“Not really,” she says. “Me and Lyra used to go sometimes.”
Now we’re talking. “Oh, right,” I say innocently. “That’s Micah’s sister, right?”
“Yes.” She nods. “She died a few months ago.”
“I know,” I say. “That must have been really hard for you.”
“It was very hard,” she says quietly. She finishes tying her shoes and then picks up her book and starts reading. All righty, then. So I guess we’re done talking about that.
I sigh and try not to get frustrated. I mean, I just met the girl. It’s going to take longer than five minutes for her to open up to me. I just hope it doesn’t take more than a night.
An hour later I’m starting to think maybe this is going to take longer than a night. Rachel has been buried in her book, and no matter how many questions I ask her, I’m not getting any closer to figuring out why she was crying and why Lyra can’t move on.
“Just take her phone!” Lyra says. She peers at Rachel. “She’s got to have it here somewhere.”
It’s probably in the small beaded bag she’s carrying. Not that I’ve seen the phone. Shouldn’t she be checking her phone, like, every ten minutes, the way any normal person would?
I make a big show of pulling my own phone out of my bag and checking the screen. I have a couple of texts from Ellie from earlier, just asking me what I’m doing and how my paper is going. That’s because I told Ellie that I was working on a paper for social studies and wanted to get it done tonight before my big date with Brandon tomorrow. It actually worked out well, because Ellie’s having dinner with her grandmother tonight. So she couldn’t hang out anyway.
“Wow,” I say, real loud. “I just can’t believe how attached I am to my phone. I, like, can’t go five seconds without checking it.”
“Maybe you should turn it off,” Rachel offers helpfully. “Sometimes when I turn my phone off, it helps me unwind. It’s like unplugging from technology.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Do you find that you’re always checking your phone too? Or is it just me?”
She cocks her head, like she’s taking the question very seriously. “I check it fairly often,” she says. “But not that much. Not as much as I used to. When Lyra was alive, we were always texting.”
“It’s true,” Lyra confirms. “We used to text, like, a hundred times a day. My mom would be totally shocked when she got the bill. She had to add unlimited texts to our plan and everything.”
“Strike!” Micah yells as he throws his ball down the lane. For some reason he insisted on using a fourteen-pound ball, which is, like, the heaviest one you can get. He can barely lift it, and once he releases it, it ends up going careening down the lane toward the pins and then knocks a few of them over. Every time he throws the ball, he screams “STRIKE!” even though so far he hasn’t gotten even one.
“Yeah, I love texting,” I babble. “What kind of phone do you have?”
“The old Droid,” she says.
“Do you like it?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I see it?” I ask.
Rachel frowns. “Yeah, I guess.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out her phone, then hands it over. I have it! The phone is in my hand! “Oh, cool,” I say. I pretend I’m studying it, like maybe I’m interested in its features or something. But now what do I do? It’s not like I can just start going through her phone and looking for evidence of something. “It’s very, uh, lightweight.”
“Rachel, it’s your turn,” Micah says sourly. He’s mad that he didn’t get a strike. “I’m going to order some fries,” he says. “You want anything, babe?”
“Um, no thanks,” I say. “You want anything, Rachel?”
“No, thanks.” She stands up and gets ready to take her turn. She heads up to the alley and picks up her ball.
And then I realize I’m still holding her phone. I take a deep breath and push the button for her texts. Then I hold my breath and wait to see what I find.
Chapter
12
The first thing I notice is that there are tons and tons of texts from Lyra. I scroll through them. Wow. Talk about being loyal. Rachel must have saved all the texts Lyra sent to her when she was still alive. I wonder if I would save all of Ellie’s texts if anything ever happened to her. Probably. I mean, it’s a good way to remember your friend. But still. They’re kind of clogging up her phone. Shouldn’t she find a way to, like, print them out or something?
And then, while I’m holding the phone, it vibrates with a new text. I look down. Lyra looks over my shoulder.
It’s a text from someone named Talia.
“Talia!” Lyra shouts. “Oh my God. I remember her! Talia’s this super-annoying girl who I was friends with before I died.” She frowns. “But what is she doing texting Rachel? Those two aren’t friends.”
I hover over the text, knowing it would be wrong to read it. But would it really be that wrong? I mean, it might have something to do with why Rachel’s been crying at night, and why Lyra can’t move on. I push the button to open it.
Hey, it’s me again! Just wanted to let you know that Lyra only hung out with you because she felt sorry for you. Guess you’ll have to pick out your own clothes now, loser! LOL.
Wow. Talk about harsh.
Lyra, who’s still reading over my shoulder, immediately goes into a rage. “That’s a lie!” she yells. “I never said anything about being friends with Rachel because I felt sorry for her. And so what if I helped her pick out her clothes once in a while? Everyone’s friends help them put together outfits. It doesn’t mean you’re a loser.”
It’s totally true. Ellie and I always put together outfits and accessories.
Lyra tries to stamp her foot on the ground, but of course it doesn’t make a sound.
Well, at least we know why Rachel was crying. Obviously this Talia person is sending her texts and harassing her. But why?
“What are you doing?” Rachel asks, coming back over to where I’m sitting. She snatches her phone out of my hand.
“Nothing,” I say.
“Yes, you were. You were reading my texts!”
“No, I wasn’t!”
“Yes, you were.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “And now you’re lying about it.”
I think about it and quickly assess the situation. This might be the only time I ever get to see Rachel, especially now. We haven’t become fast friends the way I’d hoped, and we’re definitely not going to after she found me snooping around in her phone. So I make a quick decision.
“Fine,” I say. “I was snooping in your phone.”
She shakes her head. “Pathetic.” She sits back down and starts reading her book. Micah still isn’t back from getting his french fries, and technically it’s my turn
to bowl, but instead I stay where I am.
“So can I ask you something about those texts?” I ask.
Rachel ignores me.
“Ask her why Talia’s being a brat!” Lyra screeches. “Go on, ask her!”
“It’s just that I noticed there were a lot of them coming from someone named Talia,” I say.
Rachel stays silent.
“And, um, well, I couldn’t help but read one, and it doesn’t seem like she’s a very nice person.”
“It’s none of your business,” Rachel says. She turns the page of her book, but her fingers linger on the corner of the paper, playing with it nervously.
“Yeah, I understand.” I think about how I can make this up to her, how I can possibly get her to talk to me after she caught me going through her phone. And then I have an idea. I reach into my own bag and pull out my own phone. “Here you go,” I say, holding it out to her. “You can look at my texts if you want.”
“Why would I want to do that?” she asks. But her eyes are off her book and on my cell.
“Because I did it to you.” I shrug. “You know, an eye for an eye and all that. I mean, it’s only fair.”
“I wouldn’t ever look in your phone,” she says. “That would be a gross invasion of your privacy.”
“Oh, come on,” I say, waving the phone around in front of her in what I hope is a tempting way. “Don’t you want to snoop?”
She slams her book shut. “Fine,” she says. Then she takes my phone. “Who’s Brandon?” she asks after a moment.
Oops.
“Um, my boyfriend.”
“You have a boyfriend?” She has a disgusted look on her face, like she can’t believe I’d be here with Micah when I have a boyfriend. You and me both, sister. I think about lying, but I already told her that Brandon was my boyfriend, and I don’t want to lose her trust. Well, any more than I have already.
“Yeah,” I say. “I have a boyfriend.”
“Then why are you here with Micah?” She looks interested, but a second later she shakes her head and hands me back my phone. “Actually, never mind. It’s none of my business.”
“No, it’s okay.” I pause for a second and try to think of a good excuse as to why I would be here with Micah when Brandon’s my boyfriend. Something that doesn’t include “Because of Lyra’s ghost.” Finally I just settle for telling Rachel as much of the truth as I possibly can without seeming like a crazy person. “Well,” I say. “When I met Micah at the salon, I thought he seemed nice. I knew that he’d just moved here and that his sister had just passed away. So I thought I would be his friend. It wasn’t until later that I realized he wanted to be more than friends. Otherwise I never would have hung out with him.”
She nods. “That makes sense. So does your boyfriend know you’re here?”
I open my mouth, but luckily her phone vibrates again before I have the chance to answer. She looks down at the screen. She doesn’t say anything, but her face starts to get scrunched up, and her jaw sets. And I’m not sure if I’m imagining it or not, but it looks like her eyes are welling up with tears.
“Was it Talia again?” I ask softly.
“Why is Talia saying mean things like that?” Lyra demands. “She is slandering and libeling my name! People go to jail for things like that.”
I highly doubt that’s true, but whatever. Let her get upset. I’d be upset too if someone was sending texts to my best friend, pretending I said mean things about her. And I’m actually alive.
Rachel slides her phone back into her purse.
“Why don’t you just tell Talia to stop texting you?” I ask. “I’m pretty sure you can call the phone company and get a block on her number if you want.” I know because one time my dad had to get a block on this guy who kept calling his phone, asking for Carl. It was a wrong number, obviously, but the guy wouldn’t believe it. He thought my dad was Carl and was pretending not to be. I think Carl owed him money or something.
“You wouldn’t understand,” Rachel says. But she doesn’t pick her book back up, and I have this feeling that she might be ready to talk about it.
“You know,” I say, “sometimes it’s easier to talk about things with someone you don’t know. Because they can’t judge you. And because you’re probably never going to see them again.”
“That’s a horrible plan,” Lyra says, disgusted. “I would never talk to someone I don’t know.”
But apparently Rachel doesn’t agree with her. Because a second later she takes a deep breath and says, “It’s complicated.”
I nod. “Most things are.”
“Those texts?” she says. “I . . . I kind of want them to keep coming.”
“What?” Lyra asks. “Why? Ask her if she believes them! She better not believe them. And that Talia better stop. I’ll go haunt her right now.”
I almost laugh out loud at the thought of Lyra taking off to haunt some person and threatening them with a lawsuit when they can’t even hear her.
“So what’s the deal?” I ask.
Rachel sighs.
I just sit there, not saying anything, just waiting, giving Rachel the chance to tell the story in her own time, in her own way. And after a second she starts to talk again.
“So Talia, the girl who’s sending those texts to me? She, um, she used to be friends with Lyra.” But even as she’s saying it, I can tell there’s more to the story. I can tell because Rachel’s voice gets really quiet, and she looks down at the floor of the bowling alley and starts blinking really fast, like she’s trying to stop herself from crying.
And at the same time she’s doing that, Lyra gasps. “Talia!” she says. “Oh my God, Talia!”
I guess she’s remembering something. Figures that she remembers it right when Rachel’s about to tell me anyway.
“I ditched her,” Lyra says quietly, staring at Rachel. “I ditched Rachel for Talia, because Talia was cool and popular.”
“Talia’s cool and popular,” Rachel says, almost like she heard Lyra and is now echoing what she said. “And Lyra liked hanging out with her. At first they were just on the soccer team together. But then they started hanging out, and then they started hanging out more, and then Lyra started hanging out with Talia instead of hanging out with me.”
God. That was really mean of Lyra. I raise my eyebrows at her, but she’s not even looking at me. She’s just staring at Rachel with a really sad look on her face.
“Okay,” I say. “So why is this girl Talia texting you?”
Rachel shrugs. “Just to be mean. Talia was always jealous of me, which was crazy, since obviously Lyra was choosing her over me anyway.”
“No, I wasn’t.” Lyra shakes her head. “I wasn’t. I always thought I would have a ton of time to hang out with both of them, and then . . . well, I guess I ran out of time.”
“So she’s texting you just to be mean? I don’t get it.”
Rachel nods. “Yeah. I mean, I guess that’s the reason.”
But Lyra’s shaking her head. “No,” she says. “That’s not the only reason. We had a fight. A day or so before I died. I remember now. I was yelling at Talia, telling her that I never should have ditched Rachel for her. That Rachel was a better friend than she ever was. Talia’s probably still mad about it, and since I’m not there, she’s taking it out on Rachel.”
“Wow,” I say, “that’s a little cruel.” And by “a little,” I mean, you know, “a lot.” I mean, who does that? “So why don’t you tell someone? You could tell your mom, and I’m sure she’d help you do something about it.”
“Yeah, I thought about doing that.” Rachel gets really busy pulling at her hair.
“But?” I prompt.
“But . . . I told you, I kind of don’t want them to stop.” She looks at me, her voice shaking. Some of the color has gone out of her face.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m . . .” She trails off, and I get the feeling that whatever she’s about to tell me is going to be really hard for her. S
he taps her foot on the floor nervously and twists her hands in her lap. “It’s just . . . I feel like maybe Talia might be able to tell me what it was like being with Lyra for those last few days before she died. You know, like if Lyra was happy or not.”
“Let me get this straight,” I say, shaking my head. “You want crazy-mean Talia to keep texting you horrible things because you want to know what Lyra’s last days were like?”
“Yeah.” She swallows hard. “What?” she asks, jutting her chin out. “You’re the one who’s on a date with someone other than her boyfriend.”
“It’s not a date,” I say.
“Yeah,” she says. “Tell that to Micah.” She swings her feet under her chair and takes a deep breath. “Look, I know it’s crazy,” she says. “I just don’t like thinking about how I wasn’t with Lyra those last few days. She was with Talia, and I just . . . I wish she could have been with me.”
“So you didn’t talk to her in the days before she died?” I ask softly.
“No, not for a couple of days. I was away, visiting my aunt for the weekend, and when I got back . . . she was gone.” Her eyes are really filled with tears now, and one slides down her cheek and drops off her chin. “And I read online that some of the heart stuff, like with the kind of disorder she had, can be caused by stress. And I knew that. But Talia didn’t. And so I’m just wondering, if I’d fought harder for her, if I’d been the one hanging out with her that day . . .”
“If you could have stopped her from dying.”
Rachel nods. She’s full-out crying now, the tears streaming down her face. Even I’m getting a little choked up. I mean, let’s face it—it’s super-sad.
“No.” Lyra shakes her head. “Go on, tell her she’s wrong. Tell her it wouldn’t have made a difference. Tell her Talia’s a big jerk and I hate her.”
“It wouldn’t have made a difference,” I say. “It wouldn’t have stopped her from dying.” I decide to leave out the part about Talia being a jerk, for now.
The Harder the Fall Page 14