The Possibility of Somewhere

by Julia Day

  I peeked in. Homemade marinara sauce. Yum. “I need your help.”

  She tapped her wooden spoon on the side of the pot and set it on a ceramic spoon rest. “How?”

  “Have you seen this?” I handed over the photo.

  “You two were so happy.” She looked at me with sad eyes. “I wish you had let me in on that. I would’ve loved seeing the two of you together.”

  “Sorry,” I said around the lump in my throat. I’d hurt us both with that decision. “Tiffany took the photo, but she won’t claim responsibility.”

  “Why not?”

  “She broke a lot of rules to post it.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “I think it’s because I humiliated her in front of Sawyer and put Mundy on his radar.” When it was said out loud, the reason sounded so petty. “Tiffany saw an opportunity to pay me back and took it.”

  Marnie shook her head in disbelief. “Seems extreme.”

  “It is. I’d bet that she thought it was a big joke, until it went out of control.”

  “What are we going to do about it?”

  Marnie used we. Like it was her problem, too. I was so lucky to have her. “Ash and I were at North Topsail Beach on October twenty-sixth. Can you help me find out if Tiffany was there too?”

  Marnie turned off the heat under the spaghetti sauce. “Where’s the laptop? I want to do some searching.”

  “We don’t have Internet.”

  “The neighbors do. If you sit in the backyard, you can get it.”

  “Whoa.”

  With a laugh, she grabbed our ancient laptop, went outside, and sat on the deck steps. Nothing moved but the mouse.

  “Damn.” Her eyes blazed.

  “What?”

  “Tiffany’s blocked me.”

  “Not surprising.”

  More clicks interspersed with more damns. Then a crafty smile.

  “What are you looking at?”

  Her gaze flicked to me, then back to the screen. “Desiree has blocked me everywhere except her blog, which has a huge photo gallery. She uses it to show off the best shots that Tiffany’s taken. The gallery has some recent additions.”

  I leaned over her shoulder. There were five shots altogether. One showed Starr and Tatum, arms intertwined, walking backwards on a beach. “Can you zoom in on this?” I said, pointing at the dark line jutting into the ocean at the upper edge of one of the images.

  She homed in on the object and tapped the magnifying glass twice.

  “Ash and I were at that pier. What’s the date on the image?”

  “October twenty-sixth.” She shook her head. “Here’s proof.”

  “Not enough. She’ll deny it. Her friends and Desiree will back her up.” I nudged Marnie over. “Let me check something.”

  After saving a screenshot of Desiree’s web page, I copied the image of Tatum and Starr to my flash drive. “Now, if we check the properties…” I released an excited breath. “The details are still there.”

  “Why is that important?”

  I pointed to some text in the properties sheet. “A Nikon camera was used. A very expensive Nikon. Not many of those around. I think the Journalism Club has the same model. If Tiffany had it checked out that weekend, there’s our proof.”

  “How hard will it be to get that information?”

  “It’ll be easy to make sure it’s the identical model of camera, but who had it checked out will be hard. The club sponsor keeps the sign-out logs put away in the Journalism Club storage closet.”

  “Can’t you just ask?”

  “Not Mr. Applewood.” The guy had no sense of humor, and he was anal about rules. He would want to know why I needed the logs. If I couldn’t find enough proof, it would be bad for me, and he was on the Honors Committee. “I’ll think of something.”

  Actually, I already had. I knew where the master key was, and I wasn’t afraid to use it. But it would have to wait until after my Peyton interview. I wasn’t risking that at all.

  30

  The Future I Needed

  A muffled ringing interrupted my sleep Saturday morning. I peered at my alarm clock. 6:15. Must be a wrong number. It was too early to be awake. Today I met with the Honors Committee, and I could use the beauty sleep. I snuggled deeper into the covers.

  Moments later, my father’s voice boomed in the den, drawing closer. My bedroom door whooshed open. I peered at him through half-closed lids. Thankfully, he’d put on pajama bottoms.

  “She’s here,” he said. “She can be at your house in half an hour. I’ll drop her off. Don’t worry.”

  Totally awake now. I rocketed into a sitting position. “What? Dad?”

  He shook his head at me. “Sure, Heidi,” he said into his cellphone, “it’ll be fine. You go on.”

  Heidi? As in Mrs. Fremont? “Dad, no,” I said, shaking my head frantically. “I can’t babysit today.”

  He held his palm up. I clamped my lips together.

  “Right. She has your number if she needs anything. Bye.” He clicked the phone off. “There’s been a four-car pileup on I-40. The emergency room staff has been called in. Heidi’s expected at the hospital.”

  “I can’t babysit.”

  He kept talking as if I hadn’t said anything. “The kids are still asleep, but I figure you’ll be there before they wake up.”

  He didn’t know about the Honors Committee, and I couldn’t tell him. “I have plans today, Dad.”

  “With who?”

  “Gina Barber.” Which was true.

  “She won’t mind if you pick up extra money instead.” He scratched the stubble on his chin.

  What should I do? There weren’t many people who could control Kurt. Once I showed up, he wouldn’t let me out of his sight. I flopped backwards onto my bed. It was catastrophic.

  “What’s happened?” This from Marnie.

  I turned my head toward her. She was leaning against my father, clad only in his pajama top, mouth rounded in a yawn. Gross. I couldn’t take anymore.

  “Dad booked me a babysitting job this morning.”

  She pinched his side. “Eden isn’t available.”

  “She’ll have to be, doll. Those kids need watching.”

  Couldn’t argue, but I wouldn’t miss the interview either, even if I had to hold Kurt on my lap the whole time. I swung my legs over the side of my bed. “Marnie, can you come with me?”

  My dad grunted. “We have plans.”

  “Not now, we don’t,” his wife said. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

  * * *

  Marnie’s car sputtered to a stop in front of the high school auditorium. I gritted my teeth to keep them from chattering. We were forty-five minutes late. I’d texted Gina, but would that be enough?

  After unbuckling the seat belt, I kicked open the car door. Outside, I smoothed my black skirt and my best blue shirt into place, checked the side mirrors for any last-minute repairs, and combed loose strands of hair back with my fingers. I was ready. Now if they would just be nice about how late I was.

  “You look beautiful, Eden,” Marta said from the backseat.

  “Thanks. I believe you.” With a heave, I pushed the door shut.

  Kurt yelled, “No.”

  I had to walk away. Marnie said she would handle it, no matter how bad he got. She would drive around, bribe him with food, whatever it took.

  I turned from the car and hurried toward the glass doors.

  “Don’t leave me, Eden. Please.”

  My footsteps faltered. I looked with longing into the lobby. I looked back at the car. Marta scowled at her lap, Marnie was frowning out the windshield, and Kurt could barely catch his breath for his sobs.

  I couldn’t leave him.

  Returning to the car, I wrenched open the door. “Marta, unhook your brother.”

  Marnie leaned across the empty passenger seat. “Eden, I got this.”

  I shook my head and held out my hand. “Come on, Kurt.”

  He stumbled ou
t of the back and crawled up my body until his arms locked about my neck.

  “Hey, buddy, you can stay with me, but you have to follow the rules. Promise?”

  He mumbled against my shoulder. “Promise.”

  “Are you paying attention to me?” At his nod, I said, “Here are the rules. You must wait until your turn to talk. You may not touch anything. And you must be able to see me from wherever you are. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m putting you down now.”

  When I set him on his feet, he gripped the waistband of my skirt and waited.

  I gestured at his sister. “Why don’t you climb into the front with Marnie and keep her company until I’m done?”

  Marta nodded solemnly. “You can count on me.”

  I walked to the front of the auditorium, much more slowly this time since a kid was hanging on to me. The door was ajar. We bumped through it and skidded to a stop on the newly waxed tiles of the lobby floor.

  Ash and Mr. Applewood stood framed in the entrance to the stage, talking. They turned as our footsteps clicked across the floor.

  “What are you doing here?” Kurt demanded, his eyes focused on Ash.

  “The same thing as Eden.” Ash’s gaze drank me in.

  I looked back just as hungrily. He was my main rival for the Peyton. I adored him, and I wanted to win.

  Kurt stomped over to him and frowned, head tilted up and arms crossed. “You haven’t come to see us. Why?”

  Ash knelt to Kurt’s level. “I’ve been busy.”

  “I like Raj.”

  “I’ll let him know.”

  Mr. Applewood watched us with keen interest. I needed to take control of this conversation. “I apologize for being late, but a friend had an emergency. I sent a text to Mrs. Barber.”

  Mr. Applewood smiled faintly. “She let us know.”

  “Am I last to interview?” I asked. Please, please.

  “You are. You go on ahead of me, Miss Moore. I’d like to finish my chat with Mr. Gupta.”

  Kurt and I waited in the wings of the stage, discussing the purpose of various objects, until Mrs. Barber called to me.

  All four members of the Honors Committee sat on one side of a long table. Their heads were bent over legal pads.

  On the opposite side of the table waited a lone chair. I sank onto it.

  “What am I supposed to do?” Kurt had followed me.

  “You can investigate the stage,” I said in a low voice. At his eager smile, I raised a warning finger. “But remember the rules.”

  “I already promised.”

  I held out my fist. He bumped it with his and took off. I watched him until I knew he was safe. When I turned back to the Honors Committee, they were staring at me politely.

  “Hi, Eden,” Mrs. Barber said. “As you know, I’ve recused myself from voting on the recipient of our endorsement. My role is primarily to moderate.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good. We’ll get started.” She nodded at Mrs. Parsons.

  “Hello, Eden,” my former track coach said. “As a freshman, you had solid extracurriculars, but they dropped off dramatically the next year and never recovered. Explain.”

  I sucked in a nervous breath. “I’ve held down a job since my sophomore year. I spend all of my free time either studying or working.”

  “So you’ve held a job steadily since you were fifteen?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Without a break?”

  “No breaks.”

  “Why have you chosen to be employed instead of being involved at school?”

  I frowned at her, unblinking. Mrs. Parsons knew the answer. Even though I could see the purpose of the question, I felt betrayed. But she’d asked it, and if this helped me to win the endorsement, I couldn’t afford to ignore the opening. “When my father was laid off, we lost his income and all of his benefits. My family needed money. I had to pitch in.”

  “Thank you.” Mrs. Parsons gestured at the next teacher.

  Ms. Lee smiled, her teeth big and white. “You’ve had no fine arts on your transcript until this semester. Now you are taking 2-D art. Why?”

  This was an easy question. “I can’t sing, dance, or paint. I’m awful at anything remotely artistic. When I originally planned out my high school courses, I decided to avoid electives I wasn’t likely to do well, especially when there were so many others that I could enjoy.” I darted a quick glance at Kurt. “Then I started babysitting for the Fremonts, and I fell in love with the kids. It didn’t take me long to figure out that I wanted to be a teacher. I might have to ask students to draw, and they might not be good at it. I ought to know how that feels.” I smiled. “I love my art class, and I’m not any good.”

  “Thank you.”

  She seemed nice, although I’d never had her for a class. I nodded at her before checking again on Kurt. He was studying a broken chair with complete absorption.

  “Miss Moore?”

  I looked at Mr. Applewood. I’d taken a sociology class from him. He rarely smiled. “Yes, sir?”

  “Which candidate is most deserving of the endorsement?”

  Whoa. I’d often tried to imagine what I’d be asked, but this was a question I’d never thought of. I knew why I was the right candidate. I knew why I needed the money, but the phrase most deserving tripped me up.

  If I’d learned anything from Mundy over the past few weeks, it was that truth, even when it was brutal, was something I liked. The honest answer might completely kill off my chance at the endorsement, but I had to say it anyway. “I’m not the most deserving candidate, not when you look at our high-school resumes. Ash is.”

  Mr. Applewood’s brow scrunched. “Are you suggesting that we choose Mr. Gupta?”

  “No, I’m being realistic. If you’re judging based on academics, extracurriculars, and leadership, I won’t be your choice. I’m hoping you’ll decide based on other reasons.” I paused and looked at my hands. I wouldn’t mention that a full scholarship was my only chance for a bachelor’s degree or that Carolina was my dream school. I wouldn’t say that neither was true for Ash. If they didn’t already know those things, they wouldn’t hear them from me.

  Nor would I drop in what I knew about Tiffany. Until I had solid proof, I wasn’t saying anything.

  There was laughter from the wings of the stage. Kurt knelt on the floor, studying the pulleys and ropes operating the curtain. In that instant, I knew what I would say.

  “My friend Kurt is why I’m the right candidate for the endorsement.” I scanned the panel, my confidence swelling. “Kurt has special needs. He’s loud, grumpy, and easily frustrated. But he’s also charming, eager, and smart. He deserves to be surrounded by people who care enough about him to push past the obvious.”

  I hitched forward on my chair, anxious for them to understand. “Kurt’s on the autism spectrum. I’m committed to teaching kids like him. Carolina is the place to be if I want to learn from the best.”

  Mr. Applewood sniffed, as if insulted. “There are many excellent colleges where you can learn to teach.”

  “Eden,” Kurt shouted. He ran to my side. “Is that man talking about you? Marta says that you’re going to college to be a teacher.”

  I gave him a stern look.

  “Sorry.” He frowned. “It wasn’t my turn to talk.”

  “No.”

  “Can I ask anyway?”

  I threw the panel an apologetic look. “Sure.”

  “Marta says that we won’t see you anymore. Is she right?”

  Oh my god. I blinked back tears. How could I leave him? Or Marta? Or Marnie?

  No, I had to shake off the doubts. It would hurt, but this was what I had to do. I had to fight for what was best for me. Whether it was the Peyton or something else, college was more than escape. It was the future I needed.

  “You and Marta will see me less, but I’ll visit. We’re friends forever.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”


  “Good.” He ran back to the wings.

  I looked at the panel again. “Mr. Applewood, you’re correct. Plenty of colleges have good education programs, but Carolina will give me experiences that I can’t get anywhere else. That’s why I want the Peyton. All four of your candidates have what it takes to excel at UNC. If you don’t give the endorsement to me, I’ll still find a way to work with kids on the spectrum, but there is no way you could endorse someone who wants it more than I do.”

  31

  The Missing Link

  With the interview behind me, I had a crime to wrap up.

  I arrived at school early on Monday morning and went to the Journalism Club’s storage closet. It was unlocked, no one lurked about, and the logbook sat on a table by the door.

  Oh, yeah. I didn’t have to use the key, and there were no witnesses. Very un–Mr. Applewood–like.

  First, I rummaged through the equipment locker, and there she was. The Nikon. A beautiful camera with the same model and specs used by our perpetrator. It even had a shiny new telephoto lens.

  Next, the logbook. I flipped through the pages. November, September, August.

  Um … Let me recheck that.

  November, yes. September, yes. August, yes.

  The October page was missing, which could be no coincidence.

  I’d be impressed if I weren’t so pissed. Tiffany was a natural at crime. I stormed out, letting the door slam behind me.

  Mrs. Barber walked out of the computer lab as I was leaving the storeroom.

  “What were you doing in there?”

  I pasted on my innocent look. “The door was unlocked.”

  “I wonder if one of the custodians forgot.”

  She’d taken the bait. “That’s probably it.” I hurried past her, glad to have dodged that problem.

  “Eden.” Her voice vibrated with suppressed excitement. “I have a secret.”

  I halted. “Does the secret have to do with me?”

  “It does.”

  “Will you tell me anyway?”

  “I’m not supposed to.” She pumped her fists and wiggled around in a bad imitation of a football player’s touchdown dance. “I won’t tell you directly, but if you guessed, my face would give it away.”

  Something alive and dense swirled deep inside me. There was only one thing that I wanted desperately enough to warrant a bad dance from her. “Heron High will endorse me for the Peyton Scholarship.”