by Lindsey Lane
EVIDENCE
of things
NOT SEEN
Farrar Straus Giroux Books for Young Readers
175 Fifth Avenue, New York 10010
Copyright © 2014 by Lindsey Lane
All rights reserved
Printed in to come by to come
Designed by to come
First edition, 2014
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macteenbooks.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
To come
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For Gabriella, for always
CONTENTS
KIMMIE JOE
THE PROPOSAL
ALVIN
THE COMIC BOOK
JAMES
THE SMYTHES
HYPOTHESIS
RACHEL
MR. McCLOUD
LOST
MARY LOUISE
WATERMELONS
TIM
RITUAL
THE LAST DANCE
NANDO
CHRISTMAS ORNAMENTS
HALLIE
CHUY
We leave pieces of ourselves everywhere. Every time we meet someone, they take some of us and we take some of them. That’s how it is. Little particles stick us together. Bit by bit. I think it’s how we get whole.
—On a piece of notebook paper found on the side of US 281
EVIDENCE
of things
NOT SEEN
MAY 7 . THREE DAYS MISSING
KIMMIE JO
Really? I might be the last person who saw Tommy Smythe?
I didn’t hardly even see him, Sheriff. It was Friday afternoon. I was heading back to Fred. You know, Fred Johnson High, because of the Cinco de Mayo dress rehearsal. I had to—um, I had to go home right after school because, well, it was that time of the month and I had to change—anyway, I was driving back to Fred and I saw Tommy coming toward me on that red motorbike of his. Ruby. I heard he calls it Ruby. Isn’t that the weirdest? I mean, I named my dolls but that was like in kindergarten. Is that something boys do in high school—name their vehicles?
No, he didn’t look any different, Sheriff. He was wearing his lab goggles so he looked like this nerd scientist on a scooter. But that was how he always looked. Tall, skinny, kind of goofy looking. He would have been cute if he tried a little. He only had acne on his forehead but that’s because his hair always hung in front of his face. If you want good skin, you have to take care of it. You know, wash your face and drink a lot of water. For being such a science nerd, you think he’d understand that stuff.
I’m sorry, Sheriff. Tommy was driving away from school. I was going toward school. It was a little ways down the road from here. I hadn’t passed the entrance to the Stillwell Ranch yet. I’d just gone by this place. You know, the pull-out. I really wish people would call it something else. Like the dirt patch. That’s all it is. Do you know that guys at Fred joke about girls putting out at the pull-out and not pulling out at the pull-out? So gross.
Oh, yeah, Tommy. He was coming toward me on his motorbike. It was ten to four. I know because I looked at my watch and knew I’d probably be fifteen minutes late to the dress rehearsal even though I was already speeding. Oops, I probably shouldn’t say that to you. Ms. Flores, the ballet folklórico teacher, knew I might be a little late and she was cool with it. I knew my part cold. We were doing a couple of traditional Mexican dances in the center of town on Saturday for Cinco de Mayo. Most people don’t believe I’m Mexican until I tell them my whole name: Kimberly Josefina Garcia. That’s where Kimmie Jo comes from. Josefina. I look like my dad but with my mom’s German coloring.
Did I wave to Tommy? No way. I mean, we’re both juniors but we’re really different. Like on two different planets. No, we’re farther apart than that. He’s like a gas molecule and I’m like a tree. Well, I don’t know what we are. I am so not a science nerd. We’re different. You don’t hang out with people who are different than you. 4-H’ers hang with 4-H’ers. Cheerleaders with cheerleaders. Geeks with geeks. There’s a whole group of supersmart science kids in the junior class.
It may not look so separated to you, Sheriff, because everyone from Fred High is here looking for Tommy. But that’s because this is a small town and we all show up when something bad happens, but I bet people are grouped up out there. You know, walking the Stillwell Ranch with their same group of friends.
It’s not a bad thing. People sticking with their same interest group. It’s more peaceful. People are happier. Even new kids know that. Like there was this new girl. Leann something. A senior. Can you imagine transferring someplace new your senior year? Anyway, you could tell right away she was this kind of loner person. Like she didn’t fit in. Well, guess who she is hanging out with? The only senior going to an art school. Mary Louise. See? Even the loners stick with loners.
I’m really sorry, Sheriff Caldwell. I talk a lot when I’m nervous and I guess talking to you and being the last person to see Tommy makes me nervous.
Unhappy? Tommy? I don’t think so. Why would he be unhappy about being in the science nerd group if that’s who he was? He seemed like a regular nerd. Always reading. Or writing in that notebook. Probably about his scientific discoveries. Isn’t that how nerds act? All kind of preoccupied with things they’re thinking about?
We mostly crossed paths in the library. That’s where I had my Latinitas meetings. It’s a group I started for all the Mexican girls at Fred. Like a support group. Anyway, whenever we sat near Tommy, he was always by himself writing or studying. As soon as we sat down, he jumped up and walked away really fast stuffing his books and notebook and pencils in his backpack as he went. We weren’t being loud or talking about dumb stuff. I don’t know. Maybe he was late for something. Or maybe he didn’t like being too near us. Whatever. My point is it looked like he’d rather be alone.
Withdrawn? Maybe. But I don’t really know, right? Cuz I don’t hang out with the science nerds. Not even the girl nerds. Two of the nerdiest ones are in my class. Izzy and Rachel. They’re part of the whole junior nerd squad. Like they’re already in AP physics B, which is a senior class. Izzy seems nice. She tutors in my pre-AP physics class. She’s hitting on one of the guys. Tim. He’s a total jock. Talk about mismatched.
I don’t know if Tommy had a girlfriend. I doubt it. I saw Rachel get on the back of his bike once or twice. She wasn’t with him on Friday though. It didn’t look like a girlfriend thing. I mean, he didn’t smile at her or have his arm around her. But I don’t know. Maybe nerd boyfriends act like that. Which is why I wouldn’t be interested in any of the science nerds as boyfriends. Even the illustrious James Houghton. Total eye candy. But really snobby.
James thinks we should be in separate groups because he doesn’t want to dilute his gene pool. I’m serious. He’s a total segregationist. He wrote about it in the Fred newspaper. He says his IQ is a 140 and he won’t go out with anyone less than a 120. James thinks cheerleaders and football players are holding back evolution. As if. Cheerleaders are not stupid. I told James he sounded like a Nazi. You know, very Final Solution. I think he was surprised I got up in his face, like there’s more to me than pom-poms.
That’s why I started Latinitas. I want to be a cheerleader. I want to go to college. I want to study history and political science and economics. I want to do a lot of things. But sometimes when you’re Hispanic, people think all you can do is have babies. Especially Mexicans. You know, we’re the house cleaners, the ditch digge
rs, and the crop pickers. I used to say that I was Hispanic. But after I went online and read about other Latinitas groups, I started thinking about how I didn’t say I was Mexican. Like I didn’t want to claim it. Now I do. Not a lot of girls have joined, but maybe when I’m a senior next year more girls will. Like I’ll be more of a role model. I don’t know. It’s hard to break out of a stereotype and be different. I guess that’s why people hide out in groups, you know?
Tommy was definitely weird. Not in a creepy way. In a really awkward way. Like he was tuned into another frequency. I mean, I’ve been in school with him since middle grade and he was always the weird nerdy kid. But not like an outcast. Just awkward, really awkward. Like one time I was ahead of him in the lunch line and I dropped my spork. It landed right near his foot and all he did was stare at it like it fell from some other planet. I finally picked it up and all he said was, “I wonder if that fell through a wormhole.”
That’s how he was. Or is. Like you couldn’t have a conversation with him because he was thinking about esoteric stuff all the time. Or I couldn’t. I mean, I talk a lot, right? My best friend Tara says that I sound a little ditzy because of the way I talk about everything all over the place. But I’m not ditzy, right? I’m smart. I have a 3.98 GPA and my IQ meets the James Houghton standard, but like I never talked with Tommy because he didn’t talk like I talk. You know?
I probably shouldn’t refer to him in the past tense. I mean, he’s only been missing for three days. Do you think Tommy could be dead? Wouldn’t that be creepy awful if I was the last person to see Tommy alive? Like maybe if I’d waved or stopped or talked to him, you wouldn’t be interviewing me about Tommy. Like something might have changed if we’d done one thing different before. You know?
MAY 10 . SIX DAYS MISSING
THE PROPOSAL
Marshall steers the lumbering station wagon past the edge of the pull-out behind the cactus and scrub cedar. He turns off the car and opens the windows. No one can see his car tucked back here. At twilight, behind the cedars, it’s like the gathering shadows swallow him. With everybody looking for Tommy Smythe this past week, it’s been hard to come out. Now that the big search teams have left, it’s finally quiet again. He closes his eyes and tunes his ears to the sounds outside his car. First, a few birds chirrup. Then there’s a rustling. Maybe an armadillo is creeping under the brush. Last, a breeze. Marshall can hear it stir through the trees before it creeps inside his car. Always the air moves out here even when it’s dead still in town.
As soon as his grandfather gave him the old station wagon last year, Marshall drove around looking for someplace quiet. When he stopped in the pull-out near the Stillwell Ranch, he noticed a break in the cedars at one end of it. At first, he thought maybe he shouldn’t let the branches scratch the sides of the car, until he realized there were already so many dings and scratches on it, a few more wouldn’t matter. He likes to think out here. Sometimes at school—people, gossip, drama—it all comes at him too fast. Out here, he can slow it down, think about what each person said, how they looked when they said it. Out here, he can think about Leann.
Asking Leann to the prom a month ago had been the easy part. All he had to do was bring it up at lunch when he was sitting with Leann, Robert and Mary Louise. All he had to do was bring it up casually.
First, he pointed to the poster announcing the prom like he’d seen it for the first time. Then he said, “Hey, this is our last chance to go to prom. Why don’t we all go together?”
Once they were all like, “Cool idea,” he brought up the next part.
It was a little trickier.
“What do you say we go together, but as dates? Like, I’ll take Leann. Robert and Mary Louise can go together.”
Leann sounded suspicious. “Why would we want to do that?”
Marshall was prepared. He rocked back on the cafeteria bench and shrugged his shoulders. Then he looked into her eyes. Her translucent blue eyes. “Because it’s prom. We should have the full prom experience. You know, tuxedoes and corsages. It doesn’t mean we’re going to be romantic. But why not go for the full-meal deal?” Marshall made sure his tone wasn’t defensive. He couldn’t sound like he wanted the corsage or the tuxedo. Even though he did.
Marshall knew Mary Louise would go for it right away. “I think it sounds awesome. We could be prom pretenders. We’d get the experience without getting all weird and nervous.”
“But we’re the ones who have to shell out the money for the corsage and the tuxedo,” Robert said.
That’s when Leann jumped in and backhanded Robert on the shoulder. “Quit whining, Robert. You think I have a prom dress hanging in my closet? This sounds weird enough to be fun. Let’s do it. You and me, Marshall, the prom pretenders.”
Marshall couldn’t have planned Robert’s reaction any better. He was usually negative about spending money. As for Leann, he’d seen her counter Robert’s resistance before. Her hesitation about all things social seemed to evaporate when Robert dragged his cleats outside anything athletic. Pushing him moved her.
Marshall smiled. Not too big. Just a slight upturn on one side of his lips and then he grabbed the apple from his lunch tray and took a big bite, saying, “Cool,” as he chewed. Getting her to come out here after the prom might be a little more difficult.
At least it’s going to happen. When that Tommy kid disappeared a week ago, a few parents wanted to cancel it. But some PhD psychologist from Austin who came out to help with the search said it was important to keep life as normal as possible for everyone. Besides, Fred High’s tradition of having prom on the Saturday before Mother’s Day is pretty twisted. It’s not like anyone can stay out all night if you have to wish your mom a happy Mother’s Day the very next day.
Leann had never said anything about her mother. Marshall asked her once if she moved here with her family and the question made her look angry, as if a storm had blown into her light blue eyes. All she said was, “I live with my aunt.” Marshall knew enough not to ask another question. Ever since, he’s noticed she has these dark places that make her shut down. That’s why bringing her out here is so important.
Marshall opens his eyes and looks out at the night. Between now and when prom happens in two days, he’ll figure out how to get her here. Turning the key in the ignition, Marshall presses the gas until the engine chugs and turns over with a roar, silencing all the night sounds. He maneuvers the car through the cedars, across the pull-out and back onto US 281. Marshall wishes the car would go faster, as if its speed would get him to Saturday night more quickly. He wants everything to go perfectly. He’s wanted everything to go perfectly from the day Leann started Fredrick Johnson High last August.
Usually the first day of school is a parade of everyone trying to show off and make the best first impression. Not Leann Jordan. When she showed up in McCloud’s first period astronomy class, it seemed like she didn’t care how she looked. Her long, almost-black hair was, well, messy. And a little greasy. It sort of hung limp, close to her cheeks, nearly covering her eyes. McCloud assigned her the seat next to Marshall and he could see she was watching everyone from behind the dark strands.
When she said her name in class and where she came from—Midland—she didn’t offer up any more information. She didn’t giggle or smile or do anything that looked like she wanted a friend or that she wanted to be liked. Even her T-shirts were dark and baggy, like she was covering up her body. She looked like she wanted to fade into the background.
Marshall wondered if she didn’t want to be noticed on purpose. He wondered if she was scared. Or shy and quiet. Maybe she was waiting to see who she could trust. He watched her. He wanted her to trust him. Marshall wanted to protect her. He’d never felt like that about any girl. A week after school started, no more dirty or messy hair, but it hung in her face like she still was hiding. Two weeks later, she wore a light blue T-shirt. It almost hugged her waist.
Leann slumped in her seat. She shouldn’t have worn this shirt. It was too
revealing. She felt like she had a neon sign pointing at her. Boys were going to notice her. Again. She fought the urge to jump up and leave Mr. McCloud’s class. If she went home and changed now, she’d really draw attention to herself. She stayed put. She kept her head down and tried to concentrate on what McCloud was saying. He was handing back their quizzes. When he stood in front of her desk, Leann glanced up and took the quiz from his hand. “100” was circled at the top of the page. She heard him say “Nice work.” Leann nodded but didn’t look in his eyes.
Then McCloud said “Nice work” again and Leann wondered if he was still talking to her. She looked up. He wasn’t. He was talking to the guy who sat next to her. She glanced to the right and saw “100” at the top of his quiz. She read the name next to the grade. Marshall Johnson. She didn’t want to look at his face but she was curious to see who else the aced the quiz. She glanced up. Long enough to notice that he wore rimless glasses and his eyes were hazel. Long enough to feel her cheeks prickle with heat. Then she looked away.
Marshall hoped the 100 would get her attention. He’d noticed she got perfect scores on every quiz so far. Someone who was smart might be curious about other people with good grades. When McCloud handed him the quiz with 100 circled at the top, it seemed like a sign. Marshall left it faceup on his desk. He felt her look at him but he kept staring ahead as if McCloud were imparting the secrets of the astronomic universe. Really, Marshall was counting how long she looked at him. One one thousand, Two one thousand, Three—
Almost three seconds. She’d noticed him.
After that, Marshall still kept to himself, but one time he looked at her as she sat down and she said “Hey.” He nodded at her. Marshall was careful to hold back. He didn’t want to scare her away. She seemed like she could be easily scared.