The Goodbye Girls

by Lisa Harrington

  I’m confused. Why would people at school be talking about Mom and Greg? “About what?”

  She gives me the same look that Trish always does, like I’m a complete moron. “The Goodbye Girls.”

  Thank god. “Um, nothing?”

  Now she seems confused. “And nothing about Olivia?”

  “Olivia?” It’s like I’ve walked in halfway through a conversation.

  “Olivia Munden,” Willa says, all frustrated.

  “Trish’s friend?”

  “Yes!”

  “I didn’t hear…” I scratch my forehead. “Wait. They were all together yapping about something at lunch, but….”

  She grabs my arm and drags me upstairs. “Come on. We’ve got trouble. Trouble with a capital T.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s been another rogue basket.” She pushes me inside her bedroom and closes the door. “Someone claiming to be us again delivered a basket to Olivia.”

  “She goes out with Trent Butler, doesn’t she?”

  “Oh, it wasn’t a breakup basket,” Willa says, sitting down at her laptop. “Trust me. I wish it was.”

  Uh-oh. “What was it then?”

  “It was a…chubby basket? A…I dunno.” She taps the screen. “You tell me. She posted a pic on Facebook.”

  I lean over her shoulder. “It does look like one of ours.” But only at first. From the photo I can make out a can of SlimFast, Weight Watchers pamphlets, a package of Dexatrim pills, some kind of diet bars….

  I press my fingers to my temples. “Shit, shit, shit.”

  “Olivia is out of her mind. And from the comments, so is everybody else. Not feelin’ any love for The Goodbye Girls at the moment.”

  “Don’t read them to me.” I feel the panic start to build in my chest. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Shit.” Willa scrolls down the screen. “She’s saying it’s a form of bullying.”

  “She’s right.” My breathing speeds up.

  “Calm down,” Willa says. “No one’s looking at us. I just wish we could convince everyone it’s not from The Goodbye Girls.”

  “Maybe put another disclaimer on the website?”

  She nods. “And since Olivia and Trish are friends, maybe you could talk to Trish, fish around a bit.”

  “I’m not sure she’d tell me anything.” My mind races. “I just don’t understand. Who would do this? Who would deliver such a mean basket?”

  “Everyone thinks we did.” She turns to me and rolls her eyes. “It’s the same type of comments as last time. Basically that we’ll do anything for money.”

  “Why don’t they believe our disclaimer?”

  “Guess it’s easier to believe it’s us, than not.”

  A bead of sweat trickles down the small of my back. “We need to walk away from the business before someone connects us to it. Dissolve it. Kill it.”

  “We don’t have to be that drastic,” Willa says.

  “Are you crazy? Why aren’t you freaking out more?”

  “Because I told you before, there’s no way anyone can trace it back to us. Plus, we didn’t do any of this!”

  “Willa, please. There’s enough money for the trip. It’s not worth it.”

  “But we had tons of requests for bookings before all this started. It’s still a viable business, beyond the trip stuff. We’ll never have to work a part-time job again. I don’t want to just give it all up. That means those idiots, whoever they are, win!”

  “Nobody will want to book us. They hate us!”

  “Right now they do, but hear me out. What if we find out who the hell’s behind this and prove The Goodbye Girls is innocent? We can broadcast it to the world, and hang the guilty party in village square.”

  I have a moment in which I contemplate telling her about Mom and Greg just to distract her from all this. I open my mouth. “Willa…” But then I close it again. I just can’t seem to form the words.

  “Admit it. You must want to know who’s trying to take us down.” A smile slowly spreads across her face. “Let’s get our Nancy Drew on.”

  Chapter 21

  “I’m serious about channelling our inner detectives,” Willa says.

  “Yeah.” I nod. “I know.”

  “Okay. So what are our options?” she says all business-like. “Like, is someone out to get Claire and Bradley, Allan, and Olivia? Like, is someone pissed off at all of them?”

  “Or…” I chew the inside of my cheek. “Are they pissed at The Goodbye Girls, or even at us, as in, you and me, and the others are just collateral damage?”

  “One more time from the top,” Willa sighs dramatically. “There’s no way anyone knows it’s us.”

  “Okay, okay.” Wish I could feel as confident as she does. “So someone is totally pissed at The Goodbye Girls. We’ve obviously ruined a life or something along the way.”

  “I’ve no clue.” She rests her chin in her hands. “That seems unlikely. I mean, to go to all this trouble?”

  I review the dozens of breakups we’ve handled. I know people got hurt, but that’s what happens in relationships, isn’t it? Especially in high school. “I’ve no clue either,” I say. “Because our business, it’s just the vessel. Think of all the crap that goes on Facebook. I don’t know of anyone trying to bring it down.”

  “Then, could it be us?” Willa asks. “But we barely associate with anyone.” She starts shaking her head. “And no one knows it’s us. No way.”

  I let my eyes flick around her room, racking my brains, trying to come up with something that makes sense. I zoom in on a family vacation photo on her dresser.

  “There’s one person who knows,” I say.

  Willa spins her chair around. “Who?”

  “Sean. Sean knows.”

  “Sean,” she repeats.

  “I mean, he must know what we’re doing. He takes us to get supplies, he drives us to all our deliveries, he’s probably heard of The Goodbye Girls by now—he’s still friends with some people in grade twelve. It wouldn’t take much to put it together. It has to be him.”

  “I dunno. We’re talkin’ Sean here. I don’t know if he’d necessarily put it together.” She gets up to come stare at the same family photo. “Plus, what would be his motivation?”

  “Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but you kind of treat him like shit. Maybe he’s had enough.”

  “But he likes you. He wouldn’t sacrifice you to get to me. Not to mention, all this sabotage takes a lot of work. Sean is possibly the laziest person on the face of this planet.”

  “In every movie, it’s the person closest to you, the one you least expect, who’s guilty.”

  Willa twists up her mouth. “Sean may be a turd, but he’s not the vindictive, vengeful type. He just wasn’t born with those chromosomes.”

  I drag my hands through my hair. “You’re probably right.”

  “Though…” Willa looks thoughtfully off into space. “I suppose we should leave no stone unturned.”

  “If only to eliminate him.” I stand, straighten my sweater, and square my shoulders. “Let’s do it.”

  We find Sean in the den on his PlayStation. “Sean!” Willa stands directly in front of him, blocking the TV.

  He ignores her and leans sideways, his fingers frantically hitting buttons on the game controller.

  “Sean!” Willa reaches behind her and turns off the TV.

  “What the hell!?”

  “I need to ask you something!”

  “Jesus! Hurry up, then. I’m in the middle of an online game.”

  “Your loser friends can probably pull off the carjackings without you for two minutes.”

  Sean tosses the controller on the coffee table. “What do you want, Willa?”

  She crosses her arms. “Are you tryi
ng to take down our business, or get me in shit?”

  “Well, I’m always trying to get you into shit,” he says, smiling. “But what business? What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t screw with me, Sean.”

  His eyebrows scrunch together until they become one long line. “You mean the basket stuff?”

  “Yeah,” she says impatiently. “The basket stuff. The Goodbye Girls. Our breakup business.”

  “Breakup business,” he says slowly. “What’s a breakup business?”

  “We break up with people, on behalf of other people,” I explain. “For money.”

  His face clears. “Wow.”

  Willa scrunches up her nose. “What did you think we were doing?”

  “Dealing drugs,” he says.

  My jaw drops. “What?!”

  He shrugs. “I figured the baskets were a cover, and you hid the drugs in the lining or something. I was actually impressed. It’s kind of genius. I mean, who’s going to suspect a couple nerdlingers like you two?”

  “I can’t believe you thought we were dealing drugs!” Willa exclaims.

  He shrugs again. “Like I said, it’s the perfect cover.” He strokes his chin. “You know, if the business is going tits up anyway, would you mind if I took it over? Tweaked it a bit?”

  Willa looks over at me with raised eyebrows. “I think we can safely cross him off our list.” She reaches for my hand. “Come on.” She marches out of the room dragging me behind her, but then she stops at the door and turns. “Did you tell anyone, Sean?”

  “About what?” He flicks the TV back on.

  She throws her head back. “About the baskets. Or our supposed drug operation.”

  “Nah.” The sound of an explosion comes from the TV and he punches his knee with his fist. “None of my business.”

  “I think he’s telling the truth,” I say.

  “Me too.”

  Back in her room we bellyflop onto her bed.

  “So we’re back to square one,” I say.

  “I think the key lies with Bradley. That’s where it all started going sideways. His email—there’s got to be something in that email.”

  I flip over onto my back. “Like what?” I ask.

  “Guess we’ll never know, since I deleted it.”

  There’s a knock on the door. “Yo.” The door opens before Willa has a chance to respond. It’s Sean. “Dad just texted. He wants me to pick him up at the airport and he wants you to come.”

  “Why?” Willa whines.

  “How would I know? I’m just tellin’ you what he said. So don’t go sayin’ I didn’t give you the message.” He backs out and shuts the door.

  A sharp pain starts to spread through my stomach. “Where’s your dad?” I ask, playing dumb.

  “At some convention thing.”

  “When’s he coming back?”

  “Late tomorrow night, I think.”

  My mind shuffles through all the possibilities. Does he know yet that I know? Is he going to tell them on the way home from the airport? Is that why he wants Willa to come? Or will he tell Marlene first? Maybe there’s no point in me saying anything if he’s going to tell them tomorrow. Yeah. I nod to myself. I’ll just stay out of it for now.

  Willa sits up on her elbow. “What are you doing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your lips are moving.”

  “Oh. Um. Just…thinking of our next move.”

  “Which is?”

  I’m on the spot and have nothing to offer. “Uh…uh…Bradley. I’m going to talk to Bradley.”

  Willa gives me a weird look. “And say what?”

  “Well…we know somebody used his school email. You need a password. He must have some idea who would be able to access his account.”

  “But we’ve been through this. You can’t ask him without spilling the beans. He’ll want to know why you want to know.”

  I chew on a fingernail. “I’ll come up with something,” I say. At least I hope so.

  “Okay. I’m going to…dammit!” she huffs. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  I put my hand on her shoulder, feeling guilty about what’s coming her way. “Take a break. You’ve got a sore throat.”

  “Can’t afford another sick day. Look what happened the one day I stayed home.”

  As I get ready to leave, I say, “You know, there’s still going to be lots of talk about Olivia’s basket tomorrow. You should do some hardcore eavesdropping. There might be a clue in there somewhere.”

  She gives me a salute. “I’m on it.”

  Chapter 22

  The next day I’m like a dog hunting for his bone. Except in this case, the bone is Bradley. As I skulk around the halls, I can’t help but catch snippets of conversation. Everyone’s in a major flap over what was done to Olivia. They’re calling it the fat-shaming basket, and they’re also calling The Goodbye Girls complete pieces of shit. Which totally makes me crazy, because even if we had delivered the basket, which we didn’t, don’t they realize we’d only have been the messengers? God. Everyone’s so stupid!

  It’s almost impossible, but I stay focused on my task of tracking down Bradley. It’s not until the last block of the day that I overhear someone say he’s home with mono. Oh god. He’ll be out forever! I feel like slamming my head into the closest locker door.

  When Willa joins me on the bus, she looks like she’s just come off the battlefield.

  “Whaddaya got?” I say.

  “Not much.” She rests her head back against the seat. “That’s not completely true. I was listening to Olivia’s friends outside the caf. They said she’s calmed down a bit and feeling a little better,” she whispers. “So at least that’s something.”

  I rest my head back against the seat too, and close my eyes.

  “Also.” I feel her breath close to my ear. “FYI. I saw Olivia going into the guidance counsellor’s office.”

  My eyes fly open. “What do you think that means?”

  “Probably nothing good.”

  “Or maybe the guidance counsellor was the one who calmed her down.”

  “Maybe.” She sits up. “What’d you find out?”

  “Bradley’s got mono.”

  “Crap,” she says. “Hopefully it’s a mild case.” She touches her fingers to her neck. “I feel swollen. Can you get it without making out with someone?”

  My phone chirps as I get off the bus. It’s a text from Garret giving me the details about the football banquet. It’s semi-formal, he’ll pick me up Saturday at seven.

  I press my hand against my stomach. I’m pretty sure I have an ulcer.

  I have to tell Trish. The banquet’s going to be full of people she knows. There’s no way I can go in secret, word’s going to get back to her faster than I can say “sistercide.”

  Trish’s books and knapsack are in the hall when I get home. I find her in the kitchen, kettle in hand, filling a mug with steaming water.

  I sit at the table wondering if that water is hot enough to leave scars.

  She looks over her shoulder at me. “Want some tea?”

  Great. She’s being nice. That makes two days in a row. “No thanks. Uh, listen Trish. I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Oh yeah?” She squeezes out the tea bag.

  “Yeah…uh…you know Garret?” I can hear my heart thumping in my ears.

  She looks over her shoulder again and raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, I know Garret.”

  “Well.” I swallow. “He needed someone to go to this year-end football banquet thing. And like we talk in band a lot and stuff, you know? And so he asked me to go, just because, like I said, he needed someone to take.”

  She shows no reaction and goes back to her tea bag.

  “We’re just going as fri
ends,” I add as I cross my fingers under the table. “But I don’t want to upset you or make you mad, so if it bothers you at all, just say so, and I’ll tell him I can’t go.”

  She keeps her back to me, stirring her tea. She stirs and stirs for a long time before she taps the spoon against the mug and sets it on the counter. “It’s fine,” she finally says.

  I’m afraid to respond, thinking it must be a trick.

  She turns, leans against the counter, and blows on her mug. “Really. It’s fine,” she repeats.

  “Are you sure?”

  Her head bobs up and down.

  “Because, like I said, if it bugs you or anything…and, like, I know how much you liked him and I don’t want you to think I went after him. It just kind of, well we have stuff in common, and we were fundraising together.” I decide to stop before I make it worse.

  She rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry. I don’t think you set out to go after him or would do anything to hurt me on purpose.” She takes a sip from her mug. “You’re not the type.”

  “Good.” I’m so relieved.

  “That’s more like something I’d do, right?” she laughs.

  I’m not sure how to answer that, so I don’t.

  “Like, it’s a good thing we weren’t twins. I’d probably have absorbed you in the womb.”

  Ew. “W-what?”

  “Oh, lighten up. God. Just kidding.” She reaches into the cupboard for the Oreos. “I mean, I guess I can see it,” she continues. “You’re probably a better match for him than me.” Then she smirks. “I’ll deny that, though, if you ever ask me to repeat it.”

  I manage a smile. Maybe she really is okay with it.

  “You should go. It’ll be fun,” she says. “I went last year with Jason King. It’s semi-formal. The guys clean up real good.” She smiles. It looks forced, but I appreciate the effort.

  “Wow. Thanks, Trish. You’re being so…nice.” The phrase feels foreign on my tongue.

  She gives me a sideways look. “We are sisters, after all. Can’t do much about that. Trust me, I tried.” She laughs again, then holds up a pinkie. “Sisters for life, right?” She stares at me, waiting for an answer.