Losing Faith

by Denise Jaden

  “You know how argumentative Faith could be.” Reena’s voice has moved back to wistful and she stares down at the rocky ground.

  Nathan looks into my eyes and I try to hold his, because now I hear Reena whimpering.

  “So that’s why you needed to push her,” Celeste says, soothingly.

  “It all happened so fast. I didn’t mean to …”

  “You did the right thing,” Nathan blurts. The sudden noise almost makes me lose my balance again. “Once you believe, you can’t go back!” He moves over to Reena, slides his arm around her, and simultaneously pushes Celeste away with his other. “It was the right thing, Reena. She was straying from the truth, becoming impure. Like you said, it was the only way to keep the true vision—”

  “The vision?” As I’m working this out in my head, I can’t keep my mouth shut. I march toward them, not feeling any relief from being another foot farther from the cliff’s edge. Heat rushes to my face. “You killed my sister for some vision?”

  Everything stops. Even the slight breeze around us seems to still.

  “Wait, what?” Nathan turns and grabs my arm in one quick motion. Reena drops into a lump on the ground, her sobbing becoming hysterical.

  My eyes flash red. So much anger and sense of injustice is rising up in me, I can’t help but tell him what. “I’m Faith’s sister.” His grip hardens on my arm, but I don’t care. “Let go of me.” I try to yank away, but he’s strong. I can’t believe how he went from hippy love freak to this. Fear must come out in different ways.

  He grits his teeth. “Your family is not going to ruin everything for us. Right, Reena?”

  “I—I don’t know,” she says from her lump on the ground.

  “You really think this is right?” I ask. “Send people off the cliff when they don’t believe the same things you do? What happened to your big ‘God is Love’ philosophy, Nathan?”

  Holding my arm, he forces me backward, toward the edge, and I scream.

  “Get away from her!” Alis appears at the base of the trail, covered in white fluff, his pocketknife hanging from one hand.

  He must have ripped apart the car seat to get it unlatched. Nathan spins and looks at him, then at Reena. “Why the hell is your brother here?”

  Nathan lets go of me and rushes for Alis, grabbing the arm with the knife. Nathan has Alis by at least thirty pounds and it takes only a few seconds for him to shake the knife free. He throws it over his shoulder and we all watch it tumble over the edge.

  “Come on, Black,” Nathan says to Reena. “What’s wrong with you?”

  As in Reena M. Black? But with his words, something changes in Reena. She tilts her head up and wipes her eyes as though she’s wiping all the emotion from her soul. She stands.

  “I didn’t bring him,” she says in a hoarse but determined voice.

  She glares at Alis, but he ignores her and turns to me. “Brie, run.”

  I turn to race past the dwindling fire and down the trail, but Reena grabs me from behind. I look over and Nathan has Alis. When they pull us back up to the small flat area, the first thing I see is that Celeste is gone, but I think Reena and Nathan are too busy to notice.

  Nathan gives Alis a shove toward the edge. “They know everything now,” he says to Reena. He pauses, then adds, “It’s like you always say—you can’t go back.”

  Reena’s grip on me is tight, but she doesn’t move. “It’s my brother,” she whimpers. Her emotional state seems to be bouncing back and forth between stoic and basket case. Part of her seems to want to give in to the hypnotic state, to stick to the rules, but she can’t because it’s Alis at stake here.

  “It’s the only way,” Nathan says. “It will set them free.” But he waits for Reena’s agreement. She’s still the leader and he’s committed to following her word.

  There has to be a way to talk her out of it. Should I sing and chant at the top of my lungs? Bow down and offer my undying devotion?

  “This isn’t what God wants, Ree!” Alis yells at her.

  She scoffs and swings me around face-first toward the cliff. “What would you know about what God wants? God is good. Merciful. And I think he’ll forgive you both, if you give yourselves now. With me.”

  Nathan’s head snaps to Reena. “No! You can’t. I need you!” His head swivels to the fire and then back to her. “I’ll stay and cover for you. Like last time.”

  When I glance over my shoulder, I’m shocked to see Reena’s face suddenly calm. Nathan focuses on her too, and an understanding seems to pass between them. His face goes white, but I don’t know why.

  “You’ll have me,” Reena says. “Forever now.” She walks me toward Alis and Nathan. Toward the edge. I try to dig my heels in, but there’s no use. Reena is too strong. “If we sacrifice my brother,” she says, “we’re all going with him.”

  chapter THIRTY-FOUR

  nathan stares at Reena.

  “Nathan …” And now she laughs. “Don’t you see? This is the path to peace.” Her voice is almost singsongy.

  So her way out of this is to die? For all of us to die.

  Nathan lets go of Alis and puts his hands up like he’s under arrest. Like he’s giving in. Reena takes a step to block Alis and me from any path other than straight down.

  Alis moves slightly, like he’s trying to shield me from the edge, but it’s clearly a useless effort.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I tell Reena, but she’s still glazed over.

  She takes a step forward so she’s almost up against me. With one good swat, Alis and I would both go flying.

  “I know you want to die, Ree, but is this how you want it?” Alis tries to penetrate her gaze with his own eyes.

  “There is peace,” I plead with her. “There’s forgiveness. For everything.” They’re not my words. My sister didn’t deserve to die, and this is what Faith would have said at this moment.

  Reena’s grip loosens on me, and her breathing accelerates, almost as though she’s hyperventilating.

  “It’s okay, Ree,” Alis says. “Somehow it’ll all be okay.”

  I start to breathe, but behind Reena’s head, down the slope of the mountain, I see a bluish haze. Or maybe red.

  Cops. And suddenly, a siren blares, then cuts to a jarring silence.

  Reena’s head jerks toward the echo and she takes in the lights. “It’s too late.” She tightens her grip on my arm and grabs Alis with her other hand.

  “Wait!” I say, trying to wrench out of her grip without budging my feet. “We should pray first. I mean, to commit this moment—”

  But my words are interrupted by another sound. A loud, clear, eerie sound, echoing from … from … I don’t know where. After a few seconds, I recognize it.

  This time it’s not Faith’s voice. It’s her shofar.

  Reena’s head whips around looking for the source. Her hand loosens on my arm, but I stay motionless. Soon it drops away and she wraps both arms around herself like she’s in a straightjacket. And maybe she should be. The shofar is loud, but her sobs are louder. Without a sound, I inch along the edge of the cliff until I’m out of her reach. Alis follows my lead on the other side. Nathan is nowhere in sight.

  The bellow of the shofar keeps sounding, like it never runs out of breath. Like Faith will not be silenced.

  “Tessa,” I whisper to Alis when he’s close enough.

  When I turn toward the path to make a run for it, I barrel into a big figure. Wearing a police uniform.

  Plan Y: The truth, and nothing but the truth.

  Four of them appear, one by one, and surround us. The last one, Detective Malovich, has Tessa by the arm in her pink shirt and my jeans. With her other hand, Tessa holds Faith’s shofar.

  “You’re here,” I say, but my throat feels like cotton. Two of the cops move over by Reena and murmur something to her. The echo of the shofar still seems to hang in the air over the scene like an eerie funeral procession. The other two officers lead Tessa and me back down to the cars, but Alis
jerks away when a cop tries to herd him along.

  “That’s my sister,” he says.

  At first I’m surprised that he’s defending her after everything that happened. But Alis has a bigger heart than she deserves. Maybe a bigger heart than anyone deserves.

  “Are you okay?” the cop at my arm asks when we reach the cars.

  I nod, and then he lets out a string of questions about how long we’ve been up here, who the others are, and how I know them. I exchange a glance with Tessa.

  “Hey, Osterman,” Detective Malovich says to the interrogating cop. He stands from his bent position near Reena’s car and wipes off a bunch of fluff from her torn-up backseat. “We need to talk to her parents first.”

  My parents. The thought makes the knot in my stomach spread through my whole torso. How will they handle the whole awful truth, and the fact that I came up this mountain to get it?

  Tessa’s dad’s car is angled in sideways ahead of the cop cars, looking like it slid into home plate. Obviously the VW won’t be getting out until after the cop cars are gone.

  Detective Osterman switches places and stays behind so Malovich can drive me down the mountain. After asking if the purse from Reena’s backseat is mine, Malovich hands it to me with the top unzipped and opens the back door of the cop car for me. I’m surprised when Tessa automatically gets in behind me.

  It’s only after we’re moving down the rocky, winding road that I notice my intense shivering. I turn and stare at Tessa beside me. “How did you know where to find us?”

  “Well, gee,” she says. “When I read ‘Help … POIN …’ I initially thought you might be hanging out at Mr. Poindexter’s house trying to get some extra credit for art class. But then I remembered how bad your drawings were, so I decided it couldn’t be that. Plus there was the smoke.”

  “So my text got through? I had to throw the phone.”

  “Hey, quiet down,” Malovich reprimands from up front.

  Tessa doesn’t exactly take well to directives. “You could have at least told me how to dress,” she murmurs a few seconds later. “I did the best I could to come incognito on short notice.”

  Her spiked hair does look a little silly with the preppy clothes, but I wasn’t going to mention it.

  “Sorry,” I whisper. “But I’m surprised you called the police. Especially when you had your dad’s car.” I add this part so quietly that even Tessa can barely hear me.

  She fiddles with the zipper on her boot. “Dad always goes grocery shopping on Monday nights.”

  Changing the subject again. Why am I surprised? I sigh.

  She rolls her eyes. “But your cryptic message looked important. So I had to go.” She picks at something on her boot and chuckles. “You’d think I could at least get across town before he reported it stolen.”

  “You didn’t bring them on purpose?”

  She scoffs. “You’d better be glad they followed me. What the hell would I have been able to do with Reena holding you two over the edge of a cliff?”

  “It wasn’t quite like that.” I’d like to tell her that I practically talked Reena out of the whole thing before the cops even got there, but it doesn’t seem like the time to gloat.

  “You girls need to keep quiet until we’ve taken your statements,” Malovich says. But there’s a softness to his voice.

  I sit there for a few minutes, letting my equilibrium return to normal. “So you were right.” I whisper. “About Alis, I mean. I kissed him.”

  Tessa’s head jerks toward me. I don’t give her the satisfaction of looking back, but study my nails instead.

  After a few seconds, her shock fades and she asks, “Did you get what you were looking for? About Faith, I mean?”

  “Yeah. I guess. I don’t have all the details, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t kill herself.”

  “Reena’s fault?”

  I nod. “And Nathan’s.”

  The cop interrupts us, and this time I can tell he means it. “Really, girls. We’ll be at the station soon.”

  Tessa’s face drifts to the far window. But I feel better. Everything’s out now. Even if I haven’t given my official police statement, I’ve talked it out with Tessa, which somehow makes me feel like everything else will be easy.

  I reach into my purse and check the contents. My cell phone must still be in Reena’s car, but my wallet seems intact, so I pull out my pad of paper and pen. I’m so tired of thinking, trying to process the last twenty-four hours; I feel like I’d just rather play with some poetry. Glancing beside me, I start with the word Tessa.

  I’m just coming to the end of a stanza when our squad car pulls into the police station, where Dad and Mr. Lockbaum stand with their arms crossed, waiting for us.

  I close my eyes and swallow down my nerves. There is still so much more to face.

  chapter THIRTY-FIVE

  even though he’s out of his bathrobe, wearing jeans and a button-down shirt, Mr. Lockbaum’s hair is no better than the last time we met. His brow wrinkles as he races straight for the far side of the cop car to Tessa’s door.

  Detective Malovich intercepts Mr. Lockbaum and they talk for a minute. Soon the officer backs away and opens Tessa’s door. She and her dad look at each other but don’t say anything. I wonder how he could possibly process his six-year-old being hauled to a police station.

  As much as I want to, I can’t bear to watch anymore. It seems too private. I duck out behind her and walk over to Dad. He doesn’t move, and I wonder if he’s mad at me. Or just scared to death.

  When I’m close enough, he pulls me into a hard hug.

  “I’m okay, Dad,” I whisper into him. But it feels good to be held. By my dad. He doesn’t let go for several minutes and I burrow into him, slowly feeling his tension subside around me.

  When eventually I pull back, there doesn’t seem much else to say. Things are still uncomfortable because I don’t know if he wants to hear about any of this. When he backs up a step, I take that as a no, and turn back for the cop car to get my purse.

  Dad just stares straight ahead as the police begin their questioning. I’m careful to keep quiet about Alis’s absentee dad. I don’t even tell them that Faith and Reena’s meetings were held at their house. Just that the one tonight started there.

  “And where were Mr. and Mrs. Monachie?”

  “Mrs. Monachie died,” I say softly, as if she was someone I knew. “Mr. Monachie was … must have been … out for the evening.” I shrug at Malovich. “Do you know when they’ll bring Alis back?” I ask.

  “I’m afraid I can’t say.” Malovich scribbles on his notepad. “But I’m sure it’ll be a long night for those two kids. Now, why don’t you give me the details about the mountain.”

  When I reach the end of my story, Nathan running and talking a confession out of Reena, I look to Dad, but he doesn’t flinch from his dull expression. It almost seems like he’s been hypnotized.

  And, in fact, our whole car ride home, he doesn’t say a word. Now that it’s sinking in, I wonder if he’s going to start acting like Mom. Or worse, like Mr. Lockbaum.

  By the time we get home, it’s almost ten o’clock. Nuisance trails behind me and drops onto the floor at the edge of my bed. Lying back, trying to sleep, all I can think of is my parents. I can’t stop the disappointment from rising up inside me. I figured getting some answers about Faith would somehow make things better for them. But now I wonder. Mom still spends most of her time at home locked in her bedroom. I have my doubts that she actually talks to anyone at work. Plants are probably dying due to lack of oxygen. We’ve had canned ravioli three nights this week.

  The paper bag from my new eye shadow still sits on my dresser. It looks like a lunch sack, but a little smaller. It makes me think of the goofy puppets Faith and I used to make when we were kids.

  I push myself up off my bed and go pick it up. Because I can’t sleep anyway, I sit at my desk and draw two googly eyes on the bag. Then a round nose, with two large nostrils, and a long oval to
ngue.

  When I pull it away and take it all in, the face makes me giggle. It’s stupid, but I don’t care. It feels good to laugh.

  When we were kids, I invented something called Kid Deliveries. They weren’t special-occasion gifts, just everyday things to tell Mom we loved her. Faith’s were always better because she was older and much craftier with glue and crayons. I think the last one I made her was when I was about eleven. A picture of Mom and me, both the same height in the picture, even though I trailed her by at least six inches in real life. It was little better than a stick drawing, but I still remember the caption.

  My Best Friend.

  But that was before high school.

  I stand with the puppet, ready to head for her room, but stop at my door. One more thing. I have to make it personal.

  Pulling a sheet of blank paper from my drawer, I write two lines. The same two I always started with back then.

  Roses are red

  Violets are blue

  I stop and think, but it doesn’t take me long. This is like preschool bad poetry for me.

  I miss my sister

  But I sure miss you, too.

  I fold the paper about a million times, until it’s only a tiny square, and then slide it into the bag puppet. Tiptoeing to her bedroom, I push down the carpet to get it under the door without making a sound.

  See, Tessa, I’m not so bad at this covert stuff after all.

  I guess I thought the whole process would get something off my chest so I could go to sleep, but no. Eyes wide, forty-five minutes later, I head down to the kitchen and scour Ms. Frostbite for something to eat.

  Not even leftover ravioli.

  With plenty of cans in the cupboard, I can’t find a single one that looks appetizing. I dig in the back and find a bag of dry linguine. After several minutes of studying it, the earth-shattering idea strikes me.

  Why don’t I cook something?

  I search the cans for something with “tomato” in the title. Tomato sauce and tomato paste. That should do it. I stack them on the counter. At least I know how to cook pasta. Well, for the most part. I’m not actually sure how much pasta one cooks for a family of three.