The Lives of Desperate Girls

by MacKenzie Common

  “I know, right?” I said. “Chloe and I came here sometimes. It was our favorite spot in town.”

  “Well, I can keep a secret,” Tom said, smiling at me. I smiled back and then looked out at Thunder Creek.

  I had considered asking Tom to bring some booze. It would have been traditional, as it had been a long time since Chloe and I had come here without a drink. But I wanted to talk to Tom, not just get drunk with him. If I had learned anything from the night I’d stayed at his house, it was that I couldn’t do both.

  “Let me tell you what I learned from Alan,” I said.

  Tom nodded and lit a cigarette. He didn’t say anything as I told him about how Helen and Alan had become friends, how she fell for him, and what had happened the night she kissed him. When I finished, he stubbed his cigarette out on the metal scaffolding and whistled.

  “Man, I feel bad for that guy. He rejects a girl and the next day she turns up murdered? I can see why he didn’t mention it to the police.”

  “I believe him, though,” I said. “Do you?”

  Tom nodded. “I do. I mean, you’d have to be pretty dumb to kill a girl next to the place you work. Especially after everyone in the bar saw her with you.”

  “And I could tell he cared about Helen,” I said quietly. “You know, sometimes I feel so ashamed that I never even noticed her before she died. The people who knew her say she was a special person.”

  “I don’t know, Jenny,” Tom said skeptically. “Everyone’s special to the people who know them. I think no matter what you found out about her, you’d have wished you could have met her. We can’t notice everyone.”

  “I think the world would be a better place if we could,” I said.

  Tom smiled and put his arm around me. “I think the world would be a sadder place. There’s a lot of heartbreaking stories out there. I don’t think we can handle them all.” The tenderness of his hug made his conclusion feel even more tragic.

  “So what’s next? How do we move forward?” Tom asked. I glanced down at my feet. I was wearing a pair of ratty knockoff Converse that Chloe had decorated with Sharpie swirls. I could see the tips of my sock-covered toe through fraying holes.

  “I don’t think we can. I don’t know what else we could learn,” I said quietly. Tom frowned and pulled me closer.

  “Hey! Don’t give up hope. I know you need to find out what happened to Helen and Chloe, and I’m going to help you. We still have a couple months, and even when I leave, we can discuss things through e-mail.”

  I nodded and we lapsed into silence, staring out at our tiny section of the world. It was strange to think that Thunder Creek was just a postage stamp on the planet. I thought of all the girls who disappeared like Chloe and all the girls who were killed like Helen. I thought of millions of grieving families and terrified communities. All of those people were unique, and yet loss was so universal. I wished I could tell all of their stories and make sure they weren’t forgotten. But how could I do that if I couldn’t even tell Chloe’s?

  “Tom?” I said finally.

  “Yep?” Tom said, leaning over to light a cigarette. I bit my lip, unsure if I was ready to take this step.

  “I think I might know what happened to Chloe,” I said.

  “What? Really?” Tom pulled away so he could stare me in the face. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m sorry. We should have talked about this earlier, but I think I’ve kind of been in denial about everything. I’m really sorry. But you said you could keep a secret. Can I tell you one?” I asked. Tom still looked surprised, but he took a deep breath and nodded.

  “Of course.”

  “And when you’re keeping this secret, please, just try to understand,” I said. I knew I was teetering on a precipice, but it was too late to go back now. I took a deep breath. Then, I began to tell him about Chloe.

  Chapter Thirty–Three

  February 2, 2006

  At the beginning of February, Chloe began to hope that her ordeal as the town whore was coming to an end. For months she had endured the phone calls, the bathroom-stall comments, the computer screen that spewed forth a never-ending stream of poison. I watched her drink herself into a stupor and hook up with more guys, distancing herself from the girl she had been before that terrible night. It wasn’t easy to witness her deterioration. I had grown to expect her midnight phone calls, deciphering her slurred admissions through wrenching sobs.

  Then a miracle happened—or at least the closest thing to one that you could expect in Thunder Creek. Liam McAllister, Chloe’s ex, asked her on a date.

  He had called her on February 1—a Wednesday night—asking her out for Thursday. The minute he hung up, she called me.

  “I just can’t believe it!” she said, her voice bubbling with excitement. “I guess he must regret the breakup.”

  “Yeah, he must still have feelings for you,” I said. “I mean, you guys dated for over a year. It makes sense.”

  “Jenny, I know it’s just one date, but if we did end up getting back together…God, that would fix everything.”

  “Yeah,” I said, nodding even though she couldn’t see me. Liam was so popular that reconnecting with him would change how people saw Chloe. I wasn’t an idiot; I knew that people wouldn’t initially understand the reconciliation, but over time, Chloe’s transgressions would be obscured by her rehabilitated image. Inevitably, someone else would screw up, and Chloe’s walk on the dark side would be yesterday’s news.

  “Anyways, tomorrow, can I come and stay at your house? You could help me get ready and then I can tell you all about it afterward.”

  Her voice had become breathy with excitement, and I couldn’t help smiling. She sounded like the old Chloe. For so long, I had felt weighed down by her sadness. Now, I wanted nothing more than to witness her joy.

  “Of course! My mom’s on nights this week so I’d love the company!” I said. I wasn’t sure who was more excited about this second chance at happiness—Chloe or me.

  —

  The next night I sat on my bed and watched Chloe bounce around my room, frenetically changing the music and holding up different outfits for my approval.

  Chloe and I had never been able to satisfy a key aspect of female friendship: the sharing of clothes. I was easily five inches taller than her, and she was petite and curvy, whereas I had a medium build and was completely straight. Chloe poured herself into clothes, the fabric hugging her rounded hips and tiny waist. Meanwhile, clothes hung on me as if I were a human coat hanger. Chloe was the kind of teenage girl that rock songs immortalized with lyrics about cherry-red lipstick and tight jean shorts. Meanwhile, I looked like the kind of white-bread teenager that mothers dreamed of hiring as their babysitter. If Chloe’s appearance screamed, “Put me in a music video,” mine screamed, “I took all the CPR courses and I won’t even drink your chocolate milk, much less invite my boyfriend over.”

  Even if our body types hadn’t been completely contrary, our fashion senses just didn’t mesh. I watched as Chloe crouched over the duffel bag she had crammed with clothes. Finally, she triumphantly pulled out a retro sailor-inspired romper.

  “What about this?” she asked. I frowned at her.

  “It’s the middle of the winter! You’ll freeze your ass off,” I said. Chloe flipped her sable hair over her shoulder. She had already straightened it, and it hung down her back as glossy as a horse’s tail.

  “I could wear tights, but fine. What about a cocktail dress?” She pulled an emerald-green satin tube dress out. I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “You’re going on a date in Thunder Creek, not New York!” I said. Chloe laughed and flopped down on the bed next to me. I leaned back and our heads almost touched.

  “I know. I just want everything to be right tonight,” she said quietly as we stared up at the ceiling.

  “You really loved him, didn’t you?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I did,” Chloe said wistfully. I glanced over at her. She had a small smile on her mouth, as
if her mind was elsewhere. “But I also loved who I was when we were together. If we got back together, maybe I could be that person again.”

  “And if you were dating him, other guys wouldn’t mess with you,” I said.

  Chloe sighed. “Yeah. Maybe people would start paying attention to me for the right reasons. I really hope I end up with Liam again.”

  “You will,” I said. “I just know it.”

  I rolled off my bed and began to sift through the duffel bag. It was a kaleidoscope of colors and patterns, but I found what I was looking for—a teal sundress that Chloe had owned for ages. It was perfect with her hair, and I’d seen her wear it a million times when she and Liam were dating. I pulled out a pair of tights, her pink ballet flats and a black cardigan.

  “Wear this,” I said. “I promise you it will be just right.”

  —

  Liam picked Chloe up at eight o’clock. He didn’t knock; he just texted her when he’d parked his SUV outside. As she was leaving, Chloe paused at the door and turned back to give me one last hug.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thanks for being there for me this year.”

  “Of course. I’ll always be there,” I said. I wanted to hug her longer, but she was already pulling away, her face radiating excitement.

  “See you later! I can’t wait to tell you everything!” Chloe crowed, zipping up her jacket. She paused when she spotted her mittens lying on the floor near the kitchen. I had knitted them for her birthday a few years ago during my short-lived knitting phase, before I became embarrassed by the lame image of a teenage girl who knits and gave it up. Chloe always made a big deal out of how much she loved them, but I could never figure out if she was being genuine or just sparing my feelings. “Oops! Almost forgot these!” Chloe said as she pulled them on and slipped outside.

  Through the frosty window in the door, I watched Chloe walk down my steps, her shoes sliding on the film of snow. I felt strangely empty as I watched her climb into the dark car. The SUV’s headlights were pixelated by the ice on my window, their origin obscured. Chloe had filled the whole night with light and noise, and now, without her, the house had become a vacuum, devoid of anything. I had the haunting feeling that everyone else was out in the world, spinning under starlit skies, while I stood at a door alone, waiting for someone to come home.

  —

  Later that night, I was in the kitchen washing dishes. I was already in my pajamas, though I had no intention of going to bed until Chloe came back. I wanted everything to be perfect for her, and coming home to a sleeping friend would have been anticlimactic.

  I was tense with waiting as I got ready for bed. I even peed with the bathroom door open to listen for Chloe’s footsteps on the stairs. As it got later and later, I felt more acutely the difference between Chloe’s magical night and my lonely evening of television and aimless flicks through magazines.

  When I heard the door slam, I grabbed a dishtowel to dry my hands and walked around the corner, my mouth already curving into an anticipatory smile. Seeing Chloe immediately wiped the happiness off my face.

  Chloe was shaking, her jaw clattering from the cold. The skin on her face was a mottled pink. She had two circles of frostbite on her cheeks and another on her chin. The frozen patches were pure white and so arresting that it took me a moment to realize that Chloe’s eyelashes were rimmed with frozen tears. I watched as fresh tears welled up, tracking circuitous paths around the icy clumps.

  “Chloe! What happened?” I cried.

  Chloe leaned against the door, sliding down to the floor. She cradled her head in her frozen hands and began to sob violently, as if she were splitting apart.

  “Please, Chloe. Please tell me what’s wrong,” I begged helplessly.

  Chloe’s face screwed up into a mask of gritted teeth and clenched features. Suddenly, she reared back and began to smack her head against the wall. With every strike she emitted an angry grunt, as if she was trying to knock herself clear out of her own body.

  “Stop it!” I shouted, grabbing the back of her head. I could feel her neck strain, trying to force my hand back. Finally, she stopped fighting and slumped forward.

  “Oh God, Jenny,” she said, tears running down her face as she wrapped her arms around her knees.

  “Please,” I said. “Please just tell me. I’m listening.”

  “Well, uh, Liam picked me up,” Chloe whispered, wiping her face on the sleeve of her coat. “We had pizza at Catalano’s and it was really nice, you know, like it used to be,” she said, her voice wavering dangerously.

  “Then what happened?” I asked hurriedly. Chloe’s calm was as precariously balanced as a child learning to ride a bike. If I didn’t keep her going, I was afraid that she would lose momentum and fall.

  “Uh, he drove us to the beach,” Chloe said. “Which I thought was weird because it’s night and, you know, it’s winter.”

  “Okay…” My heart sank as I began to suspect what lurked in the time between then and now.

  “And then, then he just sort of jumped me,” Chloe whispered, a new wave of tears streaming down her puffy face. She seemed astonished that one action could so abruptly change the course of a night. “He was just touching me, you know, everywhere. And he kept trying to get me to touch him. And he was saying all these terrible things, like, ‘You should feel lucky that I took you out for dinner first. That’s more than the other guys did.’ ”

  “Oh, Chloe, no,” I said, my eyes welling with tears. I wiped them away furtively before she saw them.

  “Yeah, and he was on top of me and just grabbing me. I panicked and shoved him as hard as I could,” Chloe said. She was still holding her knees like a little girl, but a distant, haunted look had settled over her eyes.

  “And his whole face just changed,” Chloe said, staring forward into the distance. “Liam just looked so dark and…mean. And he said, ‘It’s not fair. I had to wait half a year for you to give it up, and as soon as we break up, you start giving it away to every guy who asks,’ ” Chloe said, reciting his words robotically.

  “I felt so afraid,” she continued. “I thought your first boyfriend, your first love, would always have this connection to you. But I was so afraid in that car. I really thought he was going to hurt me if I said no.”

  Chloe paused, the sobs welling up inside of her. I sighed and stroked her back. Liam’s words infuriated me—that she was “giving it up” to boys who “ask.” I remembered the night at the party, the night all of this had started. Nobody asked her that night, and Chloe was in no condition to offer anything. Afterward, guys seemed to assume that Chloe was so damaged that she’d lost the ability to say no.

  “I let him touch me some more but when he unbuttoned his pants, I got out of the car and ran away,” she finally said, wiping her runny nose again.

  “Jenny, I was so scared when I was running. The waterfront was so dark, and I kept looking behind me because I felt like he was going to come after me in the car. I felt, like, hunted,” she whispered, her lip quivering at the memory.

  I felt chilled just thinking of that bitter black sky and frozen lake. The only sounds would have been her heavy breath and her feet hitting the sidewalk. She must have been sure that at any moment her shadow would explode in front of her, trapped in the headlights of Liam’s car.

  “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” Chloe said tiredly.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Be the girl everyone hates,” she said. “Well, everyone but you.”

  “But Chloe, as crappy as this is, it will end. High school will be over before you know it.”

  “But all the shit that’s happened to me won’t disappear! I don’t want to be this person anymore, but no one will let me be anything else. Jenny, I have to go to school every day and see the guys who ruined my life last September. They look like they’re having so much fun, while I’m walking around, hoping no one will notice me,” Chloe said, tears welling up in her eyes again.

  It was h
eartbreaking because until this year, Chloe had thrived on attention. It never had to be purely positive; she didn’t mind ruffling a few feathers or getting a reputation for being offbeat. But now, the attention she received was so toxic it seemed to deny that she was a person. Chloe had become our school’s version of a blow-up doll, batted around by guys who acted like the world was their bachelor party.

  “I wish there was some way I could fix all this,” I said helplessly.

  “I wish you could too. I just can’t keep living here,” Chloe said faintly, her hands shaking as she covered her face.

  “This will all feel better after you’ve had a sleep,” I said, not even managing to convince myself. I doubted heartbreak and betrayal were as easily corrected as a hangover, but I couldn’t bear to watch Chloe cry any longer.

  “Maybe,” Chloe said, wiping her eyes. A strange look came over her face. It was almost as if a Venetian blind had been pulled down, rendering her features clear and expressionless. Usually, I could tell what Chloe was thinking, our shared history giving me a road map to her mind. But in that moment, her face was as flat as a snowy field, her eyes as dull as the muted grays of November.

  “Jenny, I really think I would feel better if I slept at home. I really just want to go home,” she said firmly.

  “Uh, okay. I can drive you home,” I said. I should have been glad that she had stopped crying, but what remained didn’t feel right. It was as if Chloe had lost the last piece of herself on that cold run home. Maybe Liam’s betrayal had been the final match that sent Chloe curling up into the sky like smoke around the winter moon.

  —

  I drove her home in silence and watched her walk up the stairs to her house. Chloe stood on the doorstep. The porch light transformed her into a dark silhouette with a halo of light on her scalp. I could see the steam of her breath rise in swirling clouds. Her body was angled toward me and I somehow sensed that she was watching me. Slowly, I raised a hand off the steering wheel. The shadowy arm on the porch gently waved back.