So instead, I was back in the bathroom stall, staring at my sandwich. This time when I gingerly peeled back the bread, I found that there wasn’t even lettuce inside—nothing but a slick of yellow mustard against the white bread. Fortunately, I’d come prepared. Last night, I’d snuck into the kitchen after my parents went to bed and made my own sandwich as backup in case the mustard sandwich wasn’t a fluke. Now it looked like that would need to be my official new system unless I wanted to either starve or inform my grieving mother that she’d been making me condiment sandwiches.
I set aside my mustard monstrosity and began unwrapping the sandwich I’d made.
When the main door swung open, I paused. While the bathroom was probably the cleanest place in this building, I didn’t exactly want people knowing I was eating in here.
There was the sound of heavy backpacks landing on the tile floor in front of the sinks, and then zippers being undone. Apparently, it was primping time. I hoped they’d be quick about it. Yesterday afternoon, some girl had stayed in the bathroom for almost fifteen minutes, screaming into her phone at someone who was either her mother or her boyfriend (she hated them, they were too controlling, and she didn’t appreciate their comments about her weight).
“God, I can’t believe I got stuck with Mona as my lab partner in chem instead of Stephen,” one girl said.
“Thanks, babe,” someone, presumably Mona, replied. As far as I knew, there was only one Mona in the school: Mona Addle. She was a sophomore also, but we ran in very different crowds. She’d been a cheerleader freshman year.
“Okay, you know I love you, but I love love Stephen. Or I would if he’d let me. I sat right next to him so we’d get paired up, but Mr. Ryers is, like, against young love or something, I swear.”
There was a snort of laughter from a third girl. “Whatever, he probably takes lousy notes. Paired with Mona, you’ll actually pass. Besides, you’re lucky you aren’t taking bio. Ms. Tattin has gone completely insane. There are all these crazy labs—it’s like it’s never occurred to her that we might have other classes.”
“They’re all insane,” Mona said. “Matthews is having us read practically a book a week. I couldn’t believe it when I saw the syllabus. Then, when I asked him about it, he acted like I was being lazy.”
“Yeah, I used to think he was kind of hot, but now he’s all mopey and distracted,” the first girl said. “He almost knocked into me in the hall yesterday.”
“Well, we all know why he’s acting like that,” the third girl said, drawing her words out low and deliberate.
Intrigued in spite of myself, I leaned forward and peered through the small gap at the edge of the door. I saw the back of a glossy brown bob and skinny shoulders: Lauren Chambers, known for her big eyes and sharp tongue. Most of the unpleasant but accurate rumors at school could be traced back to her. Beth McConey and Mona, her inner circle, turned toward her in perfect sync, like trained dolphins performing for fish.
“No, I don’t,” said Beth. “Please tell me it’s something good, like he got caught shooting up or something.”
“No,” Lauren said, shaking her head, a tiny smile on her mouth. “Nothing like that.”
“What, then?”
“It’s Anna.”
Anna?
Beth frowned. “What about Anna? I mean, it’s super sad and all, but most people aren’t trying to mow me down in the hall because of it.”
Lauren leaned toward the mirror and slowly applied a light coat of foundation to her nose. “Mr. Matthews was weird about her,” she said.
“Oh yeah?” Mona asked as she applied some mascara. “Weird how?”
“In cross-country he was always taking her aside, going on about how much potential she had, excusing any of her absences.” She lowered her voice. “It was creepy. Like he had a thing for her.”
She let that hang there for a second before she pulled her features into a pious expression. “I’m not saying he did, necessarily, just that that’s what it looked like.”
“Eww,” Beth said. “That’s revolting. The police interviewed everyone on cross-country, right? Did you say anything to them?”
Lauren glanced at Mona, who’d paused, mascara wand poised in the air. Then Lauren turned back to the mirror and rolled her eyes, the whites flashing. “Oh my God, Beth, it’s not like I actually saw anything. Besides, I don’t want to, like, shatter your faith in our police force, but they’re incompetent assholes. No point in pouring grease on that fire.” She stared at her reflection for a second, pursing her lips, and then she grabbed her bag and swept out of the bathroom. Beth and Mona followed close behind.
Only after the door banged shut did I let out my breath, the air escaping with a soft whine.
I want you to know that at first, he wasn’t even part of the equation, wasn’t why I started sliding out my window into the dark of night. At first it was just me and Lily, both of us bored with being ourselves, ready to test out who the world would let us be.
MR. MATTHEWS.
Mr. Matthews and Anna.
He had “a thing” for her.
Lily thought they “should get a room.”
I took some long deep breaths and tried to dissect it all as logically as I could.
On the one hand, even if Anna had been interested in Mr. Matthews, even if Mr. Matthews had given her special attention, that didn’t mean he was who she’d gone out to see that night. Having a crush on a teacher was one thing, but actually getting involved with one was totally different. And a teacher wasn’t what I’d have expected for Anna at all. I’d have expected a guy at school, some guy with nice hair and a slow smile. Preferably one who read the occasional book. Not that a teacher was literally impossible—I’d seen the Lifetime movies—but I really struggled to see Anna going that route.
On the other hand, there were things it would explain, like why Lily refused to talk about what happened and why the guy hadn’t come forward. And why Anna had snuck out in the middle of the night to see him.
That last one had seemed particularly strange to me. Because it would be one thing for her to sneak out and meet someone I’d already known she was seeing—I got that people did that—but I didn’t understand the secrecy about the guy himself. Our parents weren’t strict, had never laid down any rules about dating. At most, they might have teased her briefly if she’d told them she was going out with a guy at school, joked about making him come over for dinner so they could grill him about his intentions.
I did know that Anna had liked Mr. Matthews. As a teacher, as a coach. I remembered her telling me he asked students to call him by his first name (Ben), that he assigned good readings and thoughtful homework. She’d also mentioned that he took his role as the cross-country coach very seriously—unlike the volleyball coach, who was known for spending entire games playing Candy Crush.
And I’d been surprised when Anna had signed up for cross-country. While she’d always had an innate athleticism, always done well in gym, she’d never been particularly interested in sports. I’d assumed cross-country was Lily’s idea, but now I wondered if Mr. Matthews had been part of it, even the main motivating factor.
I hated that idea. Hated the idea that Anna might have been involved with some creepy guy at least twice her age.
Still, I thought back to Mr. Matthews at the funeral, his head bowed, seated apart from the other teachers.
And I thought…maybe.
The first time we went to a bar, it was more of a dare than anything else—like kids taking two steps into a scary neighbor’s yard. The outcome was the same too, in that less than nothing happened—we were turned away literally as soon as we walked in.
I STAYED IN THE BATHROOM for a long time, all through lunch and the next period. When I finally made my way out, there was Charlie walking by. Alone. Which was perfect, because now I needed to speak with Lily more than ever.
/>
“Hey, Charlie,” I said. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Charlie paused, his hands wrapped loosely around the straps of his backpack. “I’m running late for practice,” he said. “So actually—”
“This is quick. I just need Lily’s number.”
“Lily’s number?” He gave me an odd look. “I didn’t realize you two were friends.”
“We’re not.” He continued to look at me strangely, so I elaborated. “If we were friends, then I’d have her number.”
“Well, sorry, but I don’t have it,” he said, starting to walk away.
I didn’t understand. “You don’t have your girlfriend’s phone number?” I called after him.
He turned back around. “Ex-girlfriend. Lily and I aren’t together anymore.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
He shrugged. “Well, she moved to Florida—I guess that’s how it works. Anyway, I got a new phone and I don’t have her in my contacts.”
“Okay, so who would have it, then? One of the girls from cross-country?”
His laughter surprised me.
“Oh, I don’t think so. Lily wasn’t exactly a girl’s girl, if you know what I mean.”
I had absolutely no idea what he meant, but I’d long learned to treat that statement as rhetorical.
“Okay, so who might, then?” I asked.
He looked at me, annoyed, like he really wanted to tell me to stop asking questions and get out of his way already. “You could try Brian,” he said. “He’d probably have it.”
* * *
—
I FOUND BRIAN SHOOTING HOOPS in the gym. He was dribbling back after making a basket when he saw me standing silently in the doorway. The ball bounced twice before he started dribbling again.
“Has nobody ever told you it’s creepy to watch people like that?” he asked.
I shrugged. “You were concentrating. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
The ball hit the floor another two times as he stood there staring at me. “Is there something you want, Jess?”
“Do you have Lily’s phone number?”
He palmed the ball. “Why do you want her number?”
“She left a sweater in Anna’s room. I wanted to get her address and send it to her. Charlie said you might have it.”
He didn’t say anything. This, I felt, was harder than it should be.
“Do you have it or not?” I asked. “If you don’t, I’ll ask her mom.” I didn’t relish this idea, since Lily’s mom was a new age hippie type, prone to trying to read my aura, but I’d do it if I needed to.
Brian deliberated for a moment, then shrugged. “Fine, I’ll check.” He walked over to his jacket, took out his phone, and made some quick flicks across the screen.
“I guess I do have it,” he said, and held his phone out to me.
I took it and added Lily’s number to my phone. Then I paused, curious, and scrolled from the Ls to the As. There was an entry for Anna.
“Were you and Anna friends?”
“Me and Anna?” He paused, as if surprised into considering this idea. “We were lab partners and our friends were together,” he said eventually. “We weren’t exactly close or anything.”
“She said you were a good lab partner,” I said. “Better than she’d expected, anyway.”
His mouth twitched. “Funny, that first part sounds like her, and then that second part sounds a lot more like you.” He stuck out his hand and motioned with his fingers. “Time to give back my phone, Jess.”
WHEN I GOT BACK FROM school, I headed right to my bedroom. I braced myself against my bed and stared at Lily’s number glowing on my phone screen. Then I hit the call button.
Lily answered on the second ring.
“Hello?” She sounded relaxed, bouncy—her normal, hair-tossing self.
“Hi, Lily,” I said.
There was a long pause during which I realized she probably had no idea who I was.
“It’s Jess,” I said. “Jess Cutter.” I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to include my last name.
“Oh,” she said. “Hi.” Her voice lost its bounce, becoming guarded.
“How’s Florida?” I asked. “I bet it’s, uh, sunny down there.”
“Yeah, it is.” She paused. “Why are you calling me?”
I led with the easy part, hoping she’d relax again, let her guard down. “I found a sweater of yours,” I said. “I was wondering if you wanted it.”
“A sweater?”
“Yes. It has a hood and blue stripes. You must have left it here.” I looked at it on the bed where I’d laid it out. “It’s…cute,” I added.
“Oh—I know which one you mean,” she said, her voice lightening. “I totally forgot about it. I really like that sweater. I mean, I don’t really need sweaters outside much, but the air-conditioning down here can be brutal.”
“Sure. Did you want me to send it to you?”
“Yeah, that would be great. I’ll give you my address.”
“Sure,” I said. “Give me a minute—I need to find something to write with.”
There was a pen right in front of me, but I wandered around my room, buying myself time.
“I actually wanted to talk to you about something,” I said. “About how you said that Anna was supposed to meet you that night. That the two of you were going to hang out.”
There was a pause on the line. “That’s right,” she said carefully. “She didn’t show up. I already told the police that.”
“Weren’t you worried when she didn’t show up?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Why would I be? This is Birdton we’re talking about—the place where nothing happens, not somewhere she’s going to get jumped in the middle of the street. Besides, it’s not like we hadn’t done it before—”
She stopped abruptly.
“You’d done it before? A lot?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s what you said.” I doubled down. “So who was he? The guy? The one she was going to meet. Her boyfriend?”
I expected another pause, but this time her response came back right away. “She didn’t have a boyfriend.”
I flinched at the hardness in her voice. I hadn’t expected her to lie. Maybe to deflect or avoid the question. Not to lie outright, though. Not to me.
“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. I just need to know.”
“There was no boyfriend,” she said.
“I know there was a guy. I’m sure of it.”
“Look, I need to go.”
“Why can’t you tell me?”
“Jess…” Then she stopped.
I waited, thinking she might be wavering.
“She was coming to see me,” she said eventually. “We were going to hang out. That’s all.”
I shook my head in frustration. I was done with waiting now, done with being patient.
“Was it Mr. Matthews?”
“Mr. Matthews?” Her voice came out strange, the syllables of his name elongated. Because I was wrong? Because I was right? I couldn’t tell.
“Yes,” I said. “Mr. Matthews. Was she seeing him? Were they…together?”
The line filled with another long pause, like she was weighing whether to say anything. I held my arm tight, making myself stay quiet, willing myself not to rush her.
“Look, I have to go,” she said finally. “I’m sorry about Anna, Jess. I really am. I wish…I wish she was still here.”
Her voice broke, and I believed her. Believed she hadn’t just left Birdton for Florida for the sun, for bragging rights. Believed that she missed Anna, if only a fraction of how much I did.
“Maybe we can talk later—” I tried.
“No,” she said,
her voice suddenly firm. “I’m sorry, but don’t call me again. I won’t answer if you do.”
Before I could say anything else, the dial tone sounded in my ear.
She hadn’t even given me her address.
I’D THOUGHT LILY MIGHT BE bluffing. After three calls that rang only once before going to voicemail, though, it was clear that she’d already blocked my number.
I was still mulling over what to do two days later when my mom summoned me to the living room, saying that she and my dad wanted to talk to me about something.
This was not promising.
Downstairs, my parents arranged themselves on the couch across from me. They looked nervous and full of resolve.
“We’ve been doing some reading,” Mom started.
“A lot of reading,” Dad added.
Mom nodded. “Yes, a lot of reading.”
“Good for you,” I said. “I always thought you should both read more.”
They turned to each other for a moment, as if to regroup.
“Sorry,” Mom said. “Let me start again. The counselor at your school, Mrs. Hayes, reached out to us, and she recommended a lot of books about loss. We’ve been reading through them, and a number of them have really stressed the importance of structure.”
She paused and took a breath. When she breathed out again, the air came slow, like a sigh.
Dad took over. “Yes, they really emphasized structure. So, while we know you aren’t a big fan of group activities, we’ve decided it would be really beneficial for you to be part of a structured activity.”
“I’m in the chess club,” I reminded them. “That’s a structured activity.”
“When’s the last time you actually went?” Mom asked.
The Window Page 4