69
I wrote texts that I didn’t send to Tessa. Words I wanted to say, explanations I tried to create, and excuses for the way I was acting. But I deleted them all, because nothing sounded right, especially when there was a hint of truth in her words and I didn’t know what it meant. Was I losing myself? Was that even possible when I wasn’t sure I ever knew who I was to begin with? I’d always been Abby’s sister and that was enough. So now that she was gone, what did that make me? Who did I want to be?
I continued to take Collin outside to the circles, and the secrets Mary Grace and I traded grew darker, as if we needed each other to unleash those worries that were swirling around in our heads. I felt bad that I was confiding in her instead of Tessa, but she understood what I was going through.
“This morning I tried to remember what Abby looked like, but I couldn’t picture her eyes,” Mary Grace said. “It was as if her face was there, but her eyes were empty spaces. I couldn’t even remember what color they were.”
“A bluish-gray,” I answered because I could see them clearly. Her eyes matched mine, and sometimes when I was looking in the mirror, I imagined it was Abby looking back at me. “And she had a tiny mole on her left cheek.”
“You’re right,” Mary Grace said.
“Sometimes,” I confessed, “I run downstairs because I think I hear the doorbell. I’ve thrown the front door open and there’s nothing but the wind out there. The other day I stood in front of the open door for more than a half hour. I was convinced Abby had rung the bell and was out there.”
“I call her phone to listen to her voice mail and look for her when I watch TV,” Mary Grace said, understanding what I was talking about. “I search faces in the crowds on the news, thinking I’m going to find her.”
“I haven’t moved her stuff off the sink in the bathroom,” I said. “Her towel is still hanging where she left it before we went to the bonfire and the cap is off on her lotion.”
“Do you think—” Mary Grace started, and stopped. I didn’t say anything because I knew, I just knew, this was it. We’d arrived at the place we’d been working to cross, and I needed her to step over it first.
She did.
“Do you think she’s coming back?” Mary Grace asked.
“My mom does,” I answered, even though that wasn’t the response she was looking for.
“What about you?”
I felt the familiar sting of remorse before I answered. This conversation. These questions were because of me, and now, here was Mary Grace asking if I thought my own sister was going to return.
“I could hear her voice in my head when she first disappeared,” I said. “It was so clear, but it’s fading. It’s like how I can’t remember things about her. How I’ve forgotten what she sounds like, what she likes, who she was.”
“I’m scared I’m not going to see her again,” Mary Grace said. She filled in the spaces I left open. The real words I couldn’t say yet.
Someone sang near us and more voices joined in. It was a song I’d heard Tessa sing before, the words from a musical that she was once in.
“Day by day, right?” I told Mary Grace.
“It’s the only way to survive until she comes home,” she agreed. And the two of us focused on the song because we didn’t dare mention any of the fears we held deeper inside.
70
The next evening, the entire cross-country team was at the circles. They stayed for hours, some of them falling asleep, heads resting in one another’s laps, music softly playing from a speaker someone brought. We talked about Abby, but we didn’t focus on her the entire time. We also talked about other things, things that really weren’t important but had once felt very important. We gossiped about certain classmates and complained about our teachers. We told one another funny stories and made plans for the following weekend.
As the sky grew darker, the team left, until it was only Mary Grace and me, the way it had been for the last few days. I told her about the time when Abby, Tommy, and I took Collin to the county fair and how Collin was stuck on top of the Ferris wheel with Tommy.
“It was one of the ones where the cage that you’re in swings around. Tommy spun it so fast that I swear you could hear them both screaming from miles away. I don’t know who was more scared.”
I remembered Abby and me at the bottom trying to record the two of them on her phone.
“I’ve never seen any two people more inseparable than you and Tommy,” Mary Grace said.
“We used to be inseparable,” I told her.
“Abby told me that Tommy was going to break up with her. Did you know that?”
“She what?” I asked, taken aback.
“He was different. She kept saying that something was going on.”
I considered acting as if I had no clue what she was talking about, but it would’ve been a lie, and my lies were beginning to add up so high that they’d all topple down soon.
“It was because of me,” I said. “I was the reason Tommy was going to break up with my sister.”
And there, in the hours that come after the sky grows dark, that I told her what I hadn’t been able to admit to anyone else.
“I kissed Tommy.”
It was the first time I’d said the words to anyone. They came sliding out as if it was meant to be known.
I played with the zipper on my sleeping bag and waited for her to tell me how awful I was. For the sting of those words to finally get the reaction I deserved. But it never came.
“I’m not surprised. You two have always been close friends,” she said, as if what I’d told her made perfect sense, as if it were only natural that Tommy and I would be together.
“No,” I said, knowing I needed to correct her, but wishing I could leave it at that. Absolution doesn’t work unless you dive all the way in, and the hardest part was still to come. “I don’t mean . . . recently. I kissed him before Abby disappeared.”
There was a silence before Mary Grace asked, “When they were together?”
“The night she disappeared,” I whispered.
I paused and didn’t say anything. Off to the right a group was singing and I swear that off in the distance, softly, so softly, I could hear Tommy playing the piano, the notes sliding over the night like a faint breeze.
“I’m the reason she’s gone,” I said, the words thick and substantial. “Tommy was going to break up with her that night. We kissed and Abby saw us. I’m the reason she ran into the woods.”
My eyes stung with tears, and I willed myself not to cry, because I didn’t deserve to feel bad about what I had done. But it was no use. Something in my chest was broken and it all fell out. Everything I’d kept hidden deep down seeped up like when you knock a glass over at the dinner table and it spreads out all over.
When we were little, Abby and I used to curl up and lie back to back. We’d pretend we were connected, that we were one person, pressed against each other. I moved onto my side and pulled my knees to my chest. I shut my eyes tight and imagined Abby next to me. “And I wasn’t even sorry I’d done it.”
There it was. Everything. Out on the table. Exposed.
I waited again for Mary Grace to snap at me, to recoil in disgust. To shun me.
It didn’t happen.
“Tommy’s always liked you,” Mary Grace finally said.
“What?” I asked. I could hardly believe that was her answer to my secret. That after everything . . . there was no shouting, no accusations, no shame.
“If we’re telling secrets, I guess this one is worth a million.” She paused, and then sat up, as if preparing herself for what she was about to reveal. “Abby was jealous of the way Tommy felt about you, even after they were together.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said, and it was. Abby had everything. Why would she be jealous of me?
“She told me once that she was afraid he’d realize he was with the wrong person and leave her.”
That couldn’t be true. Mary Grace had to be
lying. Abby had never shown any indication that she was worried about my relationship with Tommy. But then I remembered Abby’s words in the woods that night.
I always knew, she had said tearfully.
And there was the time when Tommy had come over to give Abby some notes she’d missed in class, but she wasn’t home when he got to our house. Instead of heading back home, he’d sat on the porch steps with me. We were doing impersonations of people at our school and cracking up. It had been like old times, when we were still close. Tommy had me laughing so hard, I was bent over to catch my breath when Abby walked up.
“What’s so funny?” she had asked, her hand on her hip.
“Nothing, just stupid stuff,” I’d said, but when I’d looked at Tommy, the two of us fell into another fit of laughter.
“Really?” she’d asked.
“Your sister is hilarious,” Tommy had said. He’d stood and grabbed my hand, pulling me up too. “Here’s the papers. I’d better get going.”
“You don’t want to stay?” Abby had asked, pouting.
“I told my mom I’d help take some boxes into our shed. I need to get it done before it’s dark,” he’d said, and then turned to me and grinned. “I don’t think I’ve laughed this hard in months. You’re hilarious, Rhylee.”
I’d taken a bow as Tommy waved good-bye to the two of us.
“He never laughs like that with me.”
“What?”
“Tommy . . . the way he is with you. It’s different.” She had given me a look I couldn’t quite place.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing, it’s stupid. Forget it. I need to go inside and study.”
“Tommy’s my friend,” I’d said. I’d been angry. She had no right to get mad at me. “I’m allowed to talk to him. He was my friend long before you two were together.”
“I know,” Abby had said and sighed. “But sometimes it seems like he’d rather be with you than me.”
“Believe me,” I’d said, my voice low and serious. I’d remembered the night I had pushed him away. I’d pictured him kissing my sister. “You have nothing to worry about.”
“I’m not worrying,” Abby had said. Her voice had had a bit of an edge to it, as if she was angry that I’d have to reassure her of this.
“Abby used to say that it seemed so easy between the two of you. She worried about that,” Mary Grace said.
“And then it happened,” I said. “In the worst possible way.”
“It’s not your fault, Rhylee.”
“How can it not be?” I remembered the look on Abby’s face when she saw us. There was no way I could say that I hadn’t caused that.
“You didn’t know what was going to happen.”
“No, but if it wasn’t for us . . .”
“You can’t think that way. No one caused Abby to disappear. It was an accident.”
“Sometimes I believe that if I can find her, I can fix everything. I can tell her that it was a mistake, and Tommy and I will never, ever be together again. But most of all, I’d tell her how sorry I am.”
“Are you?”
I turned to her. “Of course I’m sorry.”
“But for what? Kissing Tommy? When she knew someday it would happen? When we all knew?” I couldn’t see her face, but Mary Grace’s voice got lower. “She didn’t have to run away. She didn’t have to run away from us.”
Her words struck me hard in the chest. I’d never thought about it that way. About how maybe Abby had been just as much of a coward as me.
I gazed at the star-flecked sky and wished it was okay to believe Mary Grace.
71
I stayed outside all night with Mary Grace and the rest of the Miracle Seekers, and as soon as the light began to show in the sky I texted Tessa to call me.
“Seriously?” she grumbled when I picked up. “This is way too early to be awake, let alone trying to make conversation.”
“Sorry, I needed to talk to you before you left for school. It’s important.”
Tessa yawned. “What’s up?”
“Is there any way you could get your mom’s car today? And then maybe cut school with me?”
“Whoa, rebel,” she said. “Now you have my attention. What for?”
I thought about what she’d said about living and about what Mary Grace had said about Abby making the choice to run. We all made choices; those of us who chose to stay and those of us who ran.
What would it mean to move on? What would it feel like to live outside the shadow of my sister?
“I was thinking we could go somewhere. Somewhere far away. Somewhere Abby isn’t the focus of everyone’s attention,” I said, and to Tessa’s credit, she didn’t argue with me.
“I’ve got this. Let me shower, and I’ll be over in about an hour.”
“Thanks,” I told her, relieved that she understood.
I got dressed and made sure Collin was ready to catch the bus.
When Tessa pulled up, I gave Mom a hug good-bye.
“I’m going to hang with Tessa after school,” I told her in case she wondered where I was, which was silly. Mom was so consumed with these circles and the people inside of them that I could probably run away to Mexico and she wouldn’t notice I was gone.
I climbed into the passenger seat and Tessa handed me a bag from my favorite doughnut shop.
“Here you go, vanilla custard with sprinkles,” Tessa said and pointed at a cup of hot chocolate. This was the breakfast we used to grab together when Tessa had the car. Our morning sugar rush, she’d joke.
“You’re wonderful,” I said and sank my teeth into the glazed doughnut.
“Of course I am. That’s why you love me,” Tessa said. “Did you call in sick?”
“Yep, we’re set.” I faked a cough. “I have a very bad sore throat today, so I need to stay home.”
“Perfect! Now let’s road trip the hell out of today!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. As guilty as I felt to admit it, it was nice to be with Tessa and just be ourselves. “Where are we heading?” I asked.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” she said, and I was okay with that. Life had been so much about doing what I thought I was supposed to be doing, that it was nice not to have to make a choice for once. So I settled into my seat and watched the streets that were so familiar to me disappear as Tessa did exactly what I’d asked her to do, drive us far far away from Coffinberry.
72
I must have fallen asleep, because it only felt like seconds later that the car was stopping and Tessa was declaring that we’d reach our destination.
I stretched and glanced at the clock. “I slept for two hours?”
“You needed it,” she said. “I can’t imagine you get the best sleep outside in those circles.”
I didn’t bother to argue with her, especially since she was probably right. I felt a million times better after that nap. My head wasn’t foggy, and the world was clearer.
“Where are we?” Tessa had parked in a big parking lot packed with cars, so it was impossible to tell.
“Our future,” she said. “We’ve fast-forwarded two years so you can see what’s waiting for you.
I laughed. “I slept for a long time, but I don’t think I slept that long.”
She got out of the car, so I did the same.
“Trust me, this is where you want to be. And if it’s not, we’ll go somewhere else tomorrow until we figure out the perfect place for you.”
She grabbed my hand and gave me a gentle pull. I followed her, curious about where we had ended up. She took me through the parking lot, along a sidewalk.
“Okay, keep your eyes on the ground until I tell you to,” she said.
“Really?”
“Come on, Rhylee.”
“Fine.” I relented and let her lead me around the corner. We walked for a few minutes, and then she stopped.
“All right, open your eyes,” she said, and when I did, a giant stone gate stood in front of
me. It was the entrance way to a long path lined by old brick buildings. Boys and girls were all over the place, most with backpacks slung over their shoulders.
“We’re at a college?”
“Not just any college, Westing College. One of your dream colleges!”
And she was right. I recognized the buildings from the brochures I pored over. We had a student who went there visit our study hall one day and talk with the class. The school sounded amazing. Tessa loved their musical theater department, and I thought the art therapy program sounded interesting. The girl talked about all the work-study programs they had to make it affordable, and the cost wasn’t crazy expensive. The school actually seemed within my reach. But it was what they didn’t have that had caught my attention: a strong athletic program, which meant that it was a school Abby would never consider. A school where I could go and be my own person.
“So here’s the deal,” Tessa said. “I’m going to go check out the theater department. Hopefully, they let me sit in on a few classes. And I think you should do the same. Sign up for a tour or walk around. Talk to some people about their majors. Walk through the art building. Figure out what the heck it is you want to do.”
“Wait? Showing up here and taking a tour, is that the answer to figuring out my life?” I joked.
“Yep, I fully expect that you have a major figured out and a plan for your life,” Tessa said.
“If I had only known it was that easy,” I said.
“Don’t be so serious. Have fun. You don’t have to decide anything now, just check out college life.” She paused and gestured toward a group of boys across the street. She let out a low whistle to show her appreciation. “And when I say college life, I mean all of it. Check it out from top to bottom.”
“You’re too much,” I said, but laughed.
“We’ll plan to meet up in a few hours. Give this a chance.”
“I will,” I said, but this was all a bit crazy to me. Westing College was the last place I had expected Tessa to take me today.
“Remember, you’re still here. You’ve got to make the most of that.” She opened the giant bag she was carrying and pulled a backpack out of it. “Here, put this on your shoulder. Now you look like an official college student.”
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