by Denise Jaden
“God is all about love,” he says. “Most people have a hard time with that concept. Try to put so many rules on everything.”
I think back to the pages of Bible verses in Reena’s file folder. “What kind of rules?”
“Well, what do you believe, Annie?”
This catches me off guard. But if he was in the same group as Faith and Reena, I should probably play up the fervent religious thing. “I love God,” I say. “I’d do anything for him.”
He stares at me, and I feel a sudden need to study my sneakers.
“So what do you think He wants from you?”
I try to let Faith’s words flow through me. Her humming is still so clear, but her words, I can’t find them anymore. “Well, he wants me to pray and sing to him. And always think about him.” I cringe. It sounded nothing like Faith.
Nathan shakes his head. He must be able to see right through me. “No, that’s not it. He doesn’t. It’s just about the love.”
The way he says it makes me think of hippies stumbling out of a smoke-filled van.
“Well, yeah,” I add. “Of course, love and all that, too.”
“No.” He stops in front of me and takes both my hands in his. “Love.”
I’m not sure what to say to that. Trying not to be obvious, I scan the streets around me. I can’t see Tessa anywhere.
I squeeze his hands and smile, trying to give a back-off signal. But he looks into my eyes and I feel like I’ve already given him the wrong idea.
A second later, he turns and starts walking again. He doesn’t let go of my right hand, and since I’m so relieved he didn’t try to come any closer or kiss me, I don’t retract it just yet. A little rejection at a time.
“You see,” he goes on, as if our little moment hadn’t happened, “most church leaders ignore the Scriptures that don’t suit them, adding their own narrow-minded spin on things. And of course, there’s more good instruction out there besides the Bible.”
Besides the Bible? This sounds like the polar opposite of something Faith might have said. Though I could see it with Reena maybe.
“You remind me of someone,” I say.
“Yeah? What’s his name?”
“Well, actually, it’s a girl. You don’t look like her or anything.” I try to force out a casual laugh, but it doesn’t help the tense knot in my stomach. “She runs this prayer-group thing.”
He stares at me so intently that I have to just blurt it.
“Her name is Reena Monachie.”
His quiet reaction scares me at first, but then he readjusts his backpack and clears his throat. “You know her?”
I swallow. “I met her once, when I was visiting my grandma.”
“At the senior center?” His voice lightens.
“Yeah. You know her?”
He nods.
I suppress a smile. “She was telling me about her group. But then she never called. Do you know anything about when they meet?”
He stares around at the trees for a few seconds. “The group … isn’t really happening at the moment.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” I rub a sweaty hand on my jeans. But he must be lying or not part of it anymore. Reena told me she was going to invite me to a meeting. “I’ve been looking for something like that. Do you think it’ll start up again?”
He looks me up and down, and I feel like my figure might be the deciding factor. “Maybe. I’ll talk to Reena. Does she have your number?”
“Uh-huh.” I try to keep my voice calm, even though the sudden progress makes me so nervous and so excited at the same time.
“We’ll give you a call when we get set up again.” The way he says “we” makes it sound like he and Reena run the group together. He winks. As we turn the corner into my housing development, Nathan’s eyes settle on the large, engraved ARLINGTON HEIGHTS sign. “You live in here?”
“Yeah. You look like you’ve been here before.” I quickly calculate a different route in case it looks Faith-familiar.
He gnaws on his lip. “Yeah, my girlfriend used to live in here.”
My mouth drops open, but only for a millisecond. There’s no way it could be Faith. She didn’t bring boys home or date. Ever. In fact, she didn’t believe in dating until she was ready to get married. The sudden realization that she never would marry now seems so sad. I push myself back to the moment to get my mind off of it.
“Girlfriend? Really? But she doesn’t live here anymore?” I say it as casually as I can muster. When he doesn’t respond, I add, “Did she move away?” I lead him past the turnoff for my street and onto the next one.
“Um, yeah.” He nods, but his voice is hesitant.
I stop just before the driveway of the house behind mine. Through their open yard, I can tell my parents have turned in. Only the porch light shines. “I live over there.” I point the opposite direction. “But my dad, he’s kind of—”
“No, I understand.” He squeezes my hand. I still feel odd, letting him hold it, but if that’s the worst he tries, I’m not going to break out the pepper spray over it. I squeeze back and he gets a glint in his eye. A small smile breaks.
“I should probably go.” The trees in the neighbor’s yard move in the wind. Even though my house is dark and Tessa’s car is nowhere in sight, strangely, I feel like I’m being watched. Protected.
Nathan leans in, which catches me off guard. I snap my head to the side, so he ends up planting his lips almost on my ear.
“Thanks for walking me,” I say, backing away. “I’ll drop into the store again soon. And tell Reena to call me.”
He lifts his hand for a casual wave. By the time I fall into the shadow of our neighbor’s house, I turn to look for him and he’s halfway down the street, jogging in the direction we came from.
Looking both ways, I ball my hands into fists. I can’t believe Tessa left me on my own with that guy! What if he didn’t stop with a kiss on the cheek?
On my way up our front steps, something catches my eye behind Mom’s rosebushes. A few feet closer, and the flash of red is unmistakable.
Alis’s bike.
“Alis,” I whisper-call around the side of our house. When he doesn’t answer, I try the other side. I look inside and around Dad’s van, but I can’t find him anywhere.
I don’t want to shove the bike in the garage where he can’t get it in case he’s still around somewhere. Instead, I push it a little deeper into the bush so it can’t be seen. Then I circle the house once more, calling his name.
Finally, I give up and head inside. When I shut the door behind me and see movement in the dark, a scream comes up my throat and almost leaves my mouth.
“Oh, Dad. Hi.” I wonder how long he’s been standing there waiting for me. Seeing the worried look on his face, I sense his pain. I feel so sad for him, and so horrible for all the sneaking around I’ve been doing.
“Good night,” he says. He touches my back and heads up the stairs to bed without another word.
I stand there, stunned. If he’s so worried, why doesn’t he yell at me or do something about it?
chapter TWENTY-SEVEN
the next morning, Alis’s bike still lies buried in our rosebush. I wonder if something happened, if he came to try and find me for some reason. Maybe he heard about Reena planning another meeting. Or what if she found out about our snooping in her room? I take a slow breath to clear that thought. But why would Alis leave his bike behind?
When Tessa shows up at her locker, I turn and give her as hard a glare as I can muster and then angle into my own locker to grit my teeth.
“Wow, someone woke up on the wrong side of the Midol,” she says.
I don’t reply. Maybe she thrives on hanging out with strange guys in the middle of the night. Doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to.
She goes on as if nothing’s wrong. “So I guess I pictured your family as the huggy/kissy type. The curt ‘good night’ was a curveball.”
I turn and scowl at her. “What?”
; “Your dad. He doesn’t say much, huh?” She pulls a binder from her locker. “Hey, can I get that receiver back? I don’t want my dad going out and buying another one.” She holds out a hand.
My mind quickly fills in the blanks. The Pooh walkie-talkie. Which is still in my vest pocket at home. I make a show of patting my pockets anyway. Tessa must have stayed with me right until I got in the house.
“’Course, I shouldn’t be surprised. Your boyfriend doesn’t say a hell of a lot either.”
She’s lost me again. “You saw Alis? Where were you?”
“The guy walks like a cockroach on uppers. Found him halfway down Marshall.”
Marshall. The street adjacent to mine at the end. No wonder I didn’t see her.
“I give the guy a ride home and all he does is scowl the whole way. I thought we were making progress.” She shakes her head and shuts her locker. “At least he said thanks.”
“You gave Alis a ride home last night?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” She clicks her lock on and walks away.
I dig out my books for first class. Hopefully Alis will call after school, and translate all that into English.
Through the day, I’m surprised that Steph and other ex-friends actually make eye contact with me. It’s nice to walk through the halls no longer the school pariah. But at the same time I know it’s so superficial. They’d all so easily turn against me again.
When the last bell of the day sounds, I reach into my purse and scroll the ringer volume on my cell up.
“Miss Jenkins,” Clairvoyant Clancy bellows over the stream of students leaving his classroom.
I nod and wave, but don’t divert my path toward the door.
“I’d like you to stay for a moment, please,” he calls.
With my back to him, I purse my lips, and then turn around with a forced smile.
“I’m concerned about you catching up with the rest of the class,” he says.
He’s not the only one. And maybe it would help keep my focus if I had a teacher watching over me. I nod.
“I think we need to come up with a plan—,” he says, but he’s interrupted by the sound of John Mayer. Coming from my cell phone.
Clancy stares at my purse and then up at me. I have no idea what to do. Cell phones are so not allowed in classrooms. I cringe as the music starts up again.
“I’m really sorry, Mr. Clancy. It was turned off during class, I swear.” He doesn’t respond, just crosses his arms and taps his foot. Taking this as a sign that he wants me to get it over with, I turn my back and flip my phone open to my ear. “Hello,” I say in little more than a whisper.
“We have to talk,” Alis says. Yes, the words are serious.
“I, um, can’t. Not right now—”
“Oh, no, go ahead, Miss Jenkins. Please,” Mr. Clancy says sarcastically.
“Can you call back in a while?” I inch away from Clancy’s desk and talk even quieter. If Alis is calling so quickly after the school bell, something must be up.
Alis doesn’t say anything, and after a few seconds I realize he hung up.
When I turn back to Clancy, he’s writing in a notebook. He doesn’t look up after I slip my phone into my purse. Or after I approach his desk and clear my throat.
“Um, Mr. Clancy?”
He looks up like he doesn’t know where the sound could be coming from, then glances around until his eyes rest on me. “Oh, right. You have some time for me now, Miss Jenkins?”
I can’t stand his patronizing tone, but I swallow my pride. “I’m sorry, sir, but it’s not what you think. Someone’s helping me—”
“If they’re not helping you get caught up on your history assignments, I don’t want to hear about it.”
I bite my lip to hold in any further explanation.
“Now, listen, Brie. I’ve tried to be patient. We all have.” He motions around him, as though the rest of the teachers from the school are sitting right there in his classroom nodding their heads in agreement. “A tragedy in the household is a big deal, for certain, but none of us can help you if you’re not at least making an effort to get back on track. Colleges, I’m afraid, won’t be as sympathetic.”
I duck my head to my chest, nodding. I know he’s right.
“I’m not asking you to give your essays publicly with the rest of the class. But you have to at least write them, Brie. You have to do something, show some effort in order for me to give you a passing grade. I’ve made a list, but we need to start working through this after school. It doesn’t seem to be happening at home, and I’m sure you have a lot of good reasons why. …”
He has no idea.
“But I’m determined to make sure you get through this. Now, why don’t you turn off your cellular phone and have a seat in the front row.”
I slide into my seat and open my books. He takes a seat beside me.
After an hour, he lets me go and I’m surprised how much actually went into my brain with him hovering over me. Maybe this won’t be such a bad idea.
Tessa’s nowhere to be found in the school afterward. She’s probably at home having cookies and milk. Alis hasn’t called back, so I know Reena must be home with him.
If it was important enough, wouldn’t he find a way to call though? Or maybe he called Tessa.
I shake my head at the thought, remembering the way they looked at each other in Wendy’s. Of course he wouldn’t have told her anything.
I have no choice but to wait it out until either Alis or his sister finally calls.
chapter TWENTY-EIGHT
friday, Alis doesn’t show up to walk with me, but when I arrive home from school, his bike is gone. By Saturday morning, I still haven’t heard from him.
By nine a.m., my parents haven’t woken up. For Mom this has become normal, but I wonder if her depression is rubbing off on Dad, since he’s almost always up by seven.
I flip on the TV and don’t bother to turn the channel from cartoons. My cell sits beside me on one side, with our cordless on the other. My stomach lurches every time I think about breakfast. I’m so queasy that if I’d actually slept with Dustin, I might suspect pregnancy. That thought makes me even sicker.
The first time I hear a honk, I ignore it. The second time, I grumble about the time and turn up the TV. The third, I go and look out the window. Mr. Lockbaum’s Volkswagen idles in our driveway.
When I swing open the front door, Tessa gives me a head motion to get in the car.
Since I’m still wearing my pajamas, I hold up a one-second signal and then race up the stairs. After throwing on the first pair of sweats I can find, I shut my bedroom door quietly, hoping my parents will think I’m still in bed. Two minutes later, I slide into Tessa’s passenger seat.
“Where to?” My voice is gravelly, even though I’ve been up for almost an hour.
“The cop shop.” Tessa looks over her shoulder to back up, but avoids eye contact.
“Like, the police station?”
She nods. “Yeah, I’m turning myself in for stealing my dad’s car, and I’m bringing you down with me.”
I stare at her, but her mouth remains in a straight line. Tessa can be so off-the-wall sometimes. What if that is the reason? But then I catch the hint of a smirk.
Is it a power thing or what? Why do I always need to beg just to get the tiniest bit of information out of her? I sit back in my seat and cross my arms over my chest. Fine. Don’t tell me where we’re going.
Three traffic lights, and she doesn’t say a word. Finally, she turns onto Dorchester and pulls over by the library, which is located right behind the police station. I stare at her.
“Come on.” She reaches for her door handle.
I don’t move.
“Come on,” she repeats. “You want my help with this or not?”
I flop back in my seat.
“Fine,” she says. “I’ll do it myself, but I doubt I’ll get anywhere, since I’m, like, no relation at all.”
No relation? I
look at her.
“They’d probably say something if they knew it was the sister asking, but whatever.” She gets out of the car, starts walking for the path that cuts behind the library, and doesn’t turn back.
“Hey!” I slam the door behind me. Questioning the cops hadn’t crossed my mind. I didn’t think they’d tell a teenager anything. Of course I’m not Tessa, the teenage terror. “Wait up.”
Along the path, she fills me in. “I called in early this morning, said I was a relative wanting to talk to the person who investigated Faith Jenkins’s death. It took them a long time to find any info. Said they’ve got way too much paperwork.
“Anyway, they finally came up with this Malovich dude. He’s supposed to be at headquarters all morning. I said I—or actually I gave them your name—would be stopping by.”
A shiver runs up my spine. “Do you think they’ll tell me anything?”
“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll do all the talking.”
This relieves me and scares me at the same time. When we get through the front doors, Tessa stares the receptionist in the eye and says we’re here to see Mr. Malovich. The woman behind the counter chuckles, but only for a portion of a second. Nobody makes fun of Tessa and the lady seems to pick up on this quickly.
“That would be Detective Malovich,” the receptionist says. “Is he expecting you?”
“He’s expecting my friend here, Brie Jenkins.” She gives me a little shove forward.
The receptionist tells us to take a seat and picks up the phone. We can’t hear a word of her murmuring and she doesn’t look in our direction for nearly fifteen minutes.
“This is a waste of time,” Tessa says, standing.
Just then, the receptionist calls my name. She doesn’t appear to be expecting Tessa to follow, but being a pro at thwarting people’s expectations, Tessa barrels her way in front of me anyway.
Detective Malovich is the pock-faced cop who I met in our living room. His stubble makes him look like he’s been working through the night, but when he smiles now, everything changes. He has a nice smile.
He holds a hand out to Tessa, because she’s the first to enter the room. She shakes his hand, hard, and then motions to me. “This is Brie Jenkins. She’s still pretty broken-up about her sister’s … demise.”