by Jessie Rosen
It wasn’t that Laura somehow knew about Sarah Castro-Tanner—Charlie figured someone had told her, considering it was all anyone was talking about at the beginning of the week—it just weirded him out how bluntly she brought it up. He wanted to believe that he was just being paranoid, but it felt like she’d said it to test his reaction. He could tell he definitely did not intimidate Laura, and what Charlie hated more than everything else was how much that turned him on. There was a distance between Charlie and most girls who could only see him as the Englewood poster boy he played most hours of the day. Laura didn’t seem to care about all that, which was exactly why Charlie found her so attractive.
* * *
Charlie tried to keep his mind off his conversation with Laura as he ran laps to warm up, but couldn’t stop replaying her words: “It seems like there are so many questions that were never answered.”
Charlie shook his head, snapping himself out of his spinning mind. Of course Laura had questions about Sarah, the girl everyone was whispering about behind her back. Of course she would do some Google-stalking to understand what had happened. It didn’t mean that she would go any further than that, and even if she did, the case was closed. Sarah committed suicide. There was nothing else to uncover, and even if there was, some new girl from Los Angeles certainly wasn’t going to be the one to dig it up, especially now that Charlie would be keeping his eye on her.
And yet Charlie couldn’t keep the computer screen image of Sarah out of his mind. He kept thinking back to the very first time he saw the photo, when all the news came out about her death. Even now, he could barely remember her beyond that image, which was locked in his mind. When reports surfaced that she had been an Englewood resident since kindergarten, he was shocked. They had been classmates for years, and he only had one memory of the quiet, strange girl.
It was in Mrs. Berenson’s seventh-grade class. He and Sarah had been tasked with figuring out how to transport liquid in as small a container as possible. It was part of a “Project Mars” program the school was trying out that year.
Charlie remembered sitting with her on the floor of Mrs. B’s classroom, a giant bucket of water in front of them. He remembered being annoyed by the idea of having to work with Sarah.
“I think we should make a long, flat cup so it fits easily inside the cooler,” he’d said. “What do you think?”
“No,” was all Sarah said.
“Well, do you have a better idea?”
“I will,” she said. Apparently she wasn’t interested in brainstorming together.
After a few moments of silence, Sarah looked up. “Ziploc bag,” she said.
Charlie didn’t need to ask her what she meant. He was smart enough to know that she was absolutely right. The most malleable container for any liquid would be a bag.
“That’s a great idea,” he’d said. To this day, Charlie could count his run-ins with Sarah on one hand, but he could still feel the warmth of the smile she’d given him that afternoon. It was like he was the first person to ever tell her that she’d had a good idea.
Charlie shook his head to erase the memory. He had to remember that Sarah was a freak—an unstable, mentally ill freak.
* * *
“Okay! Circle up!” Coach Stanley called from the sidelines. Charlie raced over to join his teammates. It was time to lock in and focus.
The EHS cheering section was already in place on the bleachers just behind the team bench. There were at least two hundred people between students, parents, and local fans that worshipped the team. They cheered as the boys made their way into the huddle. Charlie clasped his hands together and gave them a shake over his head—the athlete’s thank-you. Among the faces, he spotted three of the kids he’d coached over the summer sitting with their parents; Mr. Chapman, the old man from his building who played soccer in his day; Kit, with a glitter-painted sign for Miller; and Mr. Hunter, who was sitting with Coach Stanley’s wife, just like always. He didn’t bother looking for his mom, who would just be waking up from her day of sleep, and he certainly didn’t expect to see Amanda. Amanda never stepped foot on the soccer field. She claimed that it was because she didn’t want to be that girlfriend; they were independent people, and she had her own after-school activities. But Charlie knew the truth, and he certainly didn’t have the heart to ask her to reconsider.
“This is it, boys,” Coach said as they came together. “You’ve done the prep. You know the game. You know this opponent. And you know there’s no such thing as a scrimmage. Every meet counts. Now let’s have your captain kick this season off right!”
The guys threw their hands into the middle of the circle. “E-H-S BEST!” Charlie cried. “E-H-S BEST!” the team echoed.
For the next ninety minutes, Charlie was free. He flew around the field like the game was a map he could already see in his mind. Within three minutes he scored the first goal, and seven minutes later he assisted Miller on the second. The Teaneck High guys were tough, but when Charlie was playing his hardest, he was unstoppable. By the time the first half was over, he was racing around the field celebrating his first hat trick of the season. Nothing feels better than a post-goal victory lap, Charlie thought as he looped around to meet his team for halftime. He could tell how pleased Coach was with his performance, which only made matters better. Coach controlled the recruits’ outreach, and he had incredibly high standards.
But as Charlie did a quick fly past the stands to thank the crowd, another thought crossed his mind: I wish Laura were seeing all of this. Suddenly all the ease he felt was gone.
Sasha
Dinner at seven o’clock tonight, home. All of us.
Sasha couldn’t remember the last time she got a text from her mom, let alone an invitation to dinner as a family. Something had to be wrong.
Her parents had never been the warm-and-fuzzy types. They were both geniuses with a huge passion for their work—his Alzheimer’s detection research and hers metal-based sculpture—but their work smarts did not translate to parenting skills, as far as Sasha was concerned. They loved her, but they didn’t know how to relate to a teenager or middle schooler, or even a toddler for that matter. Sasha could understand. She had more than a little bit of that loner gene in her, plus she was grateful for whatever of their smarts had trickled down into her own passions. She also appreciated the fact that they were rarely paying attention to what she was doing…or so she thought.
The minute she saw Chinese takeout on the table—her favorite—Sasha realized she was being buttered up for a tricky conversation ahead.
“Listen. You’re too smart for games,” her father said before she’d even finished piling the chicken lo mein on her plate. “We want to talk to you about how much time you’re spending alone in your room these days.”
There it was—the real reason for this “family time.” If only Sasha could have enjoyed a few bites before the gauntlet came down.
“How do you guys know?” she said. “You’re never around.” The combative teenager approach felt right at the moment. Besides, it was true.
“I know,” her mom said, “but we want to work on that, too.” Apparently two could play at this game.
“I’m just doing my homework,” she offered. “Sophomore year is way harder than freshman year.”
“You don’t have to lie to us,” her mom said. “Your homework isn’t hard for you. You’ve been doing high school-level work for years. Is something going on? Are you upset about something?”
With that, Sasha understood the point of this meal. Her parents wanted to make sure she wasn’t turning into one of those kids—the ones who shut themselves in their rooms for months before doing something truly stupid. They were concerned that she was going to hurt herself or someone else. For a moment, Sasha was touched by the worry, but the last thing she needed right now was eyes on her every move. She needed to use this as an opportunity to get the exact opposite: even more freedom.
“Yeah,” she said, looking down at her plate to
feign upset. “I’m feeling really trapped here lately. I don’t have any friends at school, and since I can’t drive and you’re never home, I can’t go anywhere.”
Her parents conferred with a look.
“Okay,” Dad said, “so where will you go if we find you a way to get out of the house?”
“I don’t know,” she said, “Maybe just the library or to a park to run for some exercise.” They didn’t seem to like those ideas based on their expressions. “Or, I could maybe get a job?”
At that, her mom raised an eyebrow and her dad nodded. Bingo.
“High schoolers who work are far less likely to fall into the wrong crowd,” her dad commented, as if quoting some article in one of his medical journals.
“What will you do?” her mom asked.
The real answer? Snoop Englewood High School from as many spots as possible.
“I’m not sure,” Sasha said. “I’ll have to find someone willing to hire me since I’m under sixteen.”
“Babysitting,” her dad said, again as if he’d read it in some book.
“Sure, babysitting,” Sasha parroted back.
“Okay. Glad we had this talk,” he said. “Let’s say that you can take the local bus within a ten-mile radius so long as you’re home by…what? Ten o’clock?”
“Yes, ten,” her mom responded. “That’s as late as most weeknight babysitting jobs should go anyway.”
“Okay,” Sasha said. “Cool. There’s a site I can use to search for people looking for help.”
As she spoke those words, a light bulb went off in Sasha’s head that made it almost impossible to hold back the massive smile threatening to creep onto her face.
“Thanks, you guys,” Sasha said instead, and she really, truly meant it.
Chapter 3
Laura
Laura took a deep breath. She wasn’t quite ready to walk through Jeff Haskell’s front door, especially since, from the sounds of it, the party was already in full swing and it was only ten o’clock. She peered down at the billowy, Aztec-print crop top and ripped jeans she’d chosen for this very first EHS social event, wondering if it would make her stand out even more. I’m not supposed to care, Laura thought to herself, but that was tricky now that there was Charlie to impress and Amanda to avoid. Neither would happen if she continued to stand on the Haskells’ front stoop. Laura turned the knob and walked in, head held high.
It was Amanda who greeted her the minute she entered the packed living room. “You came!” she said. “Charlie said you might! Let’s get you something to drink!”
Amanda didn’t know that Laura had heard what she said to Charlie after lunch that first day of school, so she didn’t know that Laura would see right through this welcome-wagon routine. But the best friend act benefitted Laura in more ways than one. She could meet the senior class on the arm of their lady leader and carefully dig for some clues about Amanda’s deal with Charlie.
Laura had to hand it to Amanda; she was an expert escort. “Hey! Johnny, T, Kev. Come here. You need to know Laura immediately. She’s brand new, from California, and couldn’t be cuter. Come fight over her.”
Every intro was just as quick, cute, and smooth, so that by the time Laura made one lap around the house, her number was officially entered into ten guys’ phones. On more than one occasion she actually heard Amanda shut down someone’s whisper about the Sarah similarities.
“So what,” she said to some super-muscly dude wearing a way-too-tight tank top, “You look like half the cast of Jersey Shore and you don’t see anyone staring at you. Get over it.”
Thanks to Amanda, Laura started to actually feel the confidence she was channeling when she’d walked into to Jeff’s house. She could be herself in her funky print top with her California attitude and find a way to fit in with this tight-knit group that had been partying together for years.
It wasn’t until Laura was finally guided out to the fire pit tucked to the left of the pool that she got part two of the Amanda treatment.
“So, which guy would you like?” Amanda said. She was barely even looking at Laura as she took what seemed like a thousand photos of her bare feet dangling in front of the fire pit.
“What do you mean?” Laura said.
“You met like a dozen guys tonight. Who do you want to date?”
“Oh. Um. I’m not sure,” Laura said. “Do I have to pick one right now?”
“Yes.” The sweetness in Amanda’s voice was officially gone, replaced with that bossy tone Laura heard her use with Charlie.
“And why is that?” Laura said. Dealing with Amanda required an equally direct approach.
“Because it will help you keep your mind off my boyfriend.”
With that, Laura understood everything that had happened for the past hour. It was the classic mean-girl power play. The only thing that made her feel better was the knowledge that Amanda viewed her as enough of a threat to spend time pretending to be her friend. Laura didn’t respond for a moment, which Amanda took as an invitation to explain herself further.
“Listen, Laura, Charlie is damaged goods. Seriously damaged. Even if you could have him, you wouldn’t want him.” Now Amanda actually seemed genuine.
“What’s wrong with him?” Laura asked.
“It’s not my place to tell you, but let’s just say he’s been through a really hard time, and he’s only just getting over it all.”
“So then why do you want him?” Laura asked. Amanda’s eyebrows almost shot out of her head. It took her another second or so to respond, and when she did it was with a tone so scary that Laura’s skin actually tingled.
“I’ll just say that Charlie and I are eternally bound, and nothing can change that.”
Charlie
“Let’s go, Sanders! Belly flop contest out back! Get your ass in the pool!” Miller yelled from the kitchen through to the living room where Charlie was standing with Billy Cosentino and Cole Williams-Ficarra, two senior guys from the team.
Charlie turned to yell out the sliding glass doors, “Nice! Be out in a minute!” In a minute, Miller would forget the whole thing.
Miller could make a competition out of absolutely anything, but Charlie wasn’t in the mood. A lot of that had to do with the fact that he couldn’t look at him without hearing the recording from that creepy VidBit playing over and over in his head.
All week long, Charlie had been trying to figure out the source of what he assumed was a prank. Maybe Miller was just being a dick. It was possible considering he was known for hiding various vile-smelling things in the lockers of their teammates. And one time, every single player found their boxers replaced with ladies’ thongs when they came in to change after practice. But Charlie had trouble believing that Miller would joke about that night, which left him clueless about the source. The obvious next step should have been to discuss it with Kit or Amanda, but Charlie couldn’t bring himself to ruffle those feathers. They didn’t need an excuse to turn on the paranoia again. For now, Charlie would wait.
As Charlie turned back to Billy and Cole, he saw Amanda slink into the room. The guys clearly saw her, too. She wore dark, tight jeans with tan boots and a simple, white V-neck T-shirt. Charlie could make out the lace of her bra underneath the shirt, and he knew that was the detail Amanda had spent the most time deciding on—which lace bra would peek out just enough to be noticed? Most girls went through some period of awkwardness somewhere around the middle-school years, but Amanda had gone straight from cute to hot.
She smiled in his direction and Charlie smiled back. Charlie often wondered if things would have been easier for him had he and Amanda stayed together after everything. She certainly made the case for that when he finally called it off. Charlie thought back on that painful moment now—Amanda’s uncharacteristic tears and her even more uncharacteristic begging.
“We need each other, Carly,” she’d said. “Who’ll tell you to stop being so naïve and me to stop being such a bitch?” She wasn’t entirely wrong, but Charlie wa
s of the opinion that what they needed most after everything that happened was space. He would have preferred that Amanda didn’t claim to have dumped him, but it wasn’t worth correcting the rumor mill. At the time, he just needed to be apart from her. Of course, since then Amanda had taken it upon herself to treat him like they’d never broken up, insofar as the typical girlfriend discipline was concerned.
“Are you going to wear that dirty polo?” she’d say if he picked her up for a party, or, “were you going to tell me you invited Cassie Butler to homecoming?” Charlie doubted much would change if they became a couple again; Amanda would just be able to do all those things out in the open.
“How are you tonight, Charlie?” Kit said. She was taking a break from following Amanda around and was now standing in front of him holding a red Solo cup with her name drawn on in bubble letters.
Before Charlie could answer, he felt his cell buzz in his pocket. Everyone he knew was here, so who could be contacting him? Then it hit him. Laura. He’d given her his cellphone number in the newspaper office earlier. She must have been texting to let him know whether or not she was coming. It was already eleven o’clock, so Charlie assumed she was going to be a no-show. Maybe this text was her apology? Charlie pulled the phone out of his pocket and punched in his password.
“Something wrong?” Kit asked, but Charlie didn’t hear her. He was too busy trying to understand what he was seeing.
The buzz wasn’t a text from Laura. It was another VidBit message from CO.
“Mom’s calling,” he blurted out as he quickly slid through an open door and into the hallway.
Charlie debated whether he should open the message at all once he was behind the locked bathroom door. He could see that it was another video, but this one had a landing image instead of a black screen, and it was an image he knew very well—the back-corner booth of the Plaza 18 Diner. Everyone else in Englewood went to the Golden Bell, which was closer to town, but Amanda had been genius enough to suggest they travel two towns over that night so they wouldn’t be recognized.