We stuffed ourselves and talked for a while—small talk, mostly, everyone acting like this was a normal kind of get-together and not a postmurder reunion.
Nick and I were loading the dishes into the dishwasher when the doorbell rang again. I heard Rahim say, “This is a welcome surprise,” and a few minutes later Alice barreled into the kitchen, closely followed by Imogen.
“It’s Chad,” Alice hissed. “Can you believe it?”
“And he’s high,” Imogen added. “I can smell weed on him. Good thing we ate most of the food already.”
Jason stuck his head into the kitchen. “Help me out here, guys. Chad’s off his face, and he’s all weepy. Wants to talk about INTRO, if you can believe it.”
We straggled back into the living room, where Chad had already installed himself on the couch. “It was so heavy, man,” he was saying to Rahim. “I can’t deal.”
Rahim nodded. “It was tough for all of us, but we have to move forward.” He cleared his throat. “I assume none of you have seen Claire since you were at the police station.”
We looked at each other and shook our heads.
“My mom says she’s in jail,” Alice said. “Where she belongs.”
“That’s right,” Rahim said. “She’s been charged with two murders and attempted murder. No bail. Trial’s a long way off, but you may all be asked to testify. I’ll be with you every step of the way. You can call me anytime, talk about anything, okay? It’s a difficult path we’ve been on, but it’s an honor to travel it with you.”
Everybody nodded, and I noticed Alice suppressing a smile.
“And now let’s talk about what’s going on in your lives,” Rahim said. “Jason, I think you have some news?”
“Yeah,” Jason said. “I’m quitting the family business. Going straight. I’m going to be a locksmith.” He chuckled. “Put my talents to good use, right?” He looked down at his hands. “My da and my brothers are pissed, but my sister’s been awesome. And my mom wants to pay for the course, even if Da doesn’t like it.”
“That’s amazing,” I said. I didn’t want to tell them that my mom had all but washed her hands of me, so I said, “Hey, I have something I want to show you—something I made for Tara’s grandmother. I guess you all know Tara’s body was finally found by a fishing boat up the coast? And her grandmother is having a private funeral?”
Everyone nodded.
“Uh, so…” I hesitated. Cleared my throat. “So I drew a portrait of Tara for her, and I’d like you all to sign it. If that’s okay.”
I pulled the portrait from behind a bookshelf, looked at it for a long moment, then leaned it on the mantel.
“It’s not perfect,” I said. “I did it from memory.” I had drawn Tara sitting on the rocks on the beach, looking out to sea with a small smile on her face. In one hand she was holding a raven feather, in the other an abalone shell. She looked happy. At peace.
“That’s beautiful,” Nick said, his voice thick with emotion. “Where do I sign?”
“Anywhere you like,” I said, handing him one of my drawing pens.
One by one, everybody signed.
Then we sat and looked at Tara. Some of us cried. Hell, all of us cried.
And then Chad said, “I could kill for a cupcake right now,” and at that moment I knew we wouldn’t cry forever.
THIRTY-ONE
Alice
I almost didn’t go to the reunion Rahim organized.
The truth was, INTRO was the last thing I wanted to think about. I was still waking up every night, my heart racing and my body slick with sweat, thrashing my way out of frantic nightmares. I dreamed about Claire, sweet and smiling, pinning me down and injecting me with insulin or chasing me through the woods with a machete in her hand. The worst dream though—the one that came over and over again—was of me sitting on the beach, on the driftwood log, watching the waves. At first everything seemed normal—peaceful, even—and then I’d notice that the waves were red, and that the water rushing over the gray stones of the beach was actually blood, rushing higher and higher until it was churning thick and warm around my bare feet.
On the days after that dream, I didn’t even want to get out of bed.
It was Imogen who persuaded me to go to the reunion. “It’s been three months, and you’re still kind of a mess. Your whole let’s-pretend-it-never-happened strategy isn’t working so well,” she pointed out.
I couldn’t really argue with that.
And now that I was at Rahim’s, sitting on his big L-shaped couch between Imogen and Caleb, I was glad to be there.
After we’d all signed Caleb’s portrait of Tara, Rahim called for our attention. He laced his fingers together and gazed down at them for a moment. “I want to apologize to you all,” he said. “I only graduated a year ago, you know? I’ve always wanted to work with teens, and I was pretty thrilled to get the job with INTRO. And I…well, obviously, I had no idea. Still, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not like you could have known,” Nick said. “Claire seemed all right.”
“Yes,” Rahim said. “I mean, I’ve taken courses in psychopathology, but I never suspected anything. Maybe I should have.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, you guys saved my life. If you find yourself thinking about INTRO in the middle of the night, try to remember that. You were in a horrific situation, but you coped with it. You showed yourselves to be strong, resourceful and courageous. You should feel good about that.”
“I always thought I wanted to be a cop,” I blurted out. “A detective. But now…well, it’s the last thing I want to do.”
“Understandable,” Rahim said. “Do you have other ideas?”
My eyes met his. “Law maybe,” I told him.
“I could see that,” he said. “What about you, Imogen?”
“I’m still clean,” she said. “I haven’t used since before INTRO.”
“That’s impressive. Especially after what you’ve been through. How do you think you managed not to fall back on that as a way of coping?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. But I’m not hanging out with the same people…”
“She’s busy with Alice,” Chad said.
I waited for his usual snigger, but it never came.
“Well, congratulations to all of you,” Rahim said. “I’m so impressed with your strength and resilience, and I’m truly honored to have walked with you on your journey.”
It was funny—the way Rahim talked was as goofy as ever, but no one rolled their eyes now. Because those goofy things he said? We all knew he meant every word.
“I’ve been thinking,” Imogen said. “I told Alice this when we were still on the island—about maybe going into counseling. I want to…well, help people. Like you, Rahim.”
Rahim blinked a few times and gave her a funny little bow. Then he nodded to himself a few times, like he was collecting his thoughts. “Remember that ceremony we had on the island? With the paper boats?”
I pictured the stiff white paper, the sharp folds. “I wrote GROUP THERAPY SUCKS,” I admitted.
“Alice!” Imogen gave me a shove.
Rahim laughed.
“Sorry,” I said. And then suddenly I was flooded with memories. I could see the tiny boats disappearing in the waves, feel the cold rain on my skin as we left the beach. I could see Tara standing there in the water, jeans rolled up, her back to us all.
“I thought we could do it again,” Rahim said. He nodded at Caleb’s sketch on the mantel. “For Tara. To say goodbye. To let her go.”
My eyes followed his, and I gazed at the portrait. “I’m in.”
“Me too,” Imogen said. As everyone murmured their agreement, Rahim passed around a stack of white paper and a little ceramic pot full of pens and pencils.
I wanted to write something for Tara, but I didn’t know what to say. So in the end I just wrote Goodbye.
English Bay was only a few blocks from Rahim’s apartment, a short walk. It was a cool, breezy evening, the sun hang
ing low over the horizon. The sky was striped with color—clear blue fading to orange and pink and gold, with long streaks of backlit cloud.
Imogen and I held hands as we walked along the waterfront. Sometimes I couldn’t believe we’d met—that in the middle of all this awfulness, I’d found someone like her.
“How about right here?” Rahim said, pointing.
Boats in our hands, we stepped off the paved path and walked across the sand to the water. There were people sitting on the beach, reading, eating picnic suppers, watching the sunset. Enjoying the late-summer weather. We must have looked funny—seven of us, sticking tightly together and clutching paper boats—but no one seemed to pay us any attention.
I kicked off my sandals, let go of Imogen’s hand and waded into the cold water. The tide was ebbing, and the waves gently lapped at the shore. I bent and lowered my boat. All around me the others did the same.
We stood there silently, watching our boats bob up and down in the water.
After a few minutes I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Caleb smiling down at me from his absurd height. “You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said, surprised by his concern. I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered. “Other than the fact I’m freezing to death.”
Caleb shrugged off his hoodie and handed it to me. “Here.”
I hesitated—it was such a guy thing to do—and Caleb rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid, Alice. You’re cold; I’m not. Okay?”
“Like you’d wear my jacket if you were cold,” I said, putting on the hoodie. It came down to my knees, and my hands were lost somewhere way up in the sleeves.
“I would,” he said solemnly.
And we both burst out laughing at the image.
“What’s the joke?” Imogen asked.
I grinned at her. “Hey. Nothing. Just…” I waggled my long sleeves. “I was cold.”
“Yeah, me too. Jason suggested going somewhere for a round of hot chocolate or something. You want to?”
I nodded. “You in, Caleb?”
“Yeah, I’m in.”
Imogen grabbed the end of one of my dangling sleeves and Caleb took the other, and we all left the beach together.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book was a great deal of fun to write. Thanks to Agatha Christie and all the other mystery writers whose novels we devoured as kids. Thanks to Kit Pearson and Kath Farris for letting us stay in their Mayne Island cottage to write the final chapters. Alex Van Tol, Cheryl May and Ilse and Giles Stevenson all read early versions and gave us valuable feedback. Barbara Pulling was our fantastic editor, and her insights were much appreciated. And as always, thanks to the wonderful Orca pod.
Sarah N. Harvey writes for both children and young adults. Some of her books have been translated into Korean, French, German and Slovenian. She lives in Victoria, British Columbia, where she works as a children’s book editor. For more information, visit www.sarahnharvey.com.
Robin Stevenson is the author of twenty books for kids and teens. Her novels include The World Without Us and The Summer We Saved the Bees, as well as the Silver Birch Award winner Record Breaker and the Governor General’s Award finalist A Thousand Shades of Blue. She lives in Victoria, British Columbia. For more information, visit www.robinstevenson.com.
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