If no one remembers, is any of it true?
CHAPTER 6
I table-hopped at lunch the next day, handing out flyers to anyone who offered to help. Sure, I knew that most of the posters would decorate the bottoms of lockers and be forgotten, but a few might end up on the wall of a gas station or restaurant. Every little bit, right?
Lunch periods overlapped, and a few seniors were still in the cafeteria. As I moved around the lunchroom, I noticed Jean and Kady sitting together, which was not usually the case. For as long as I could remember, the moment they arrived at school each day they’d split up. At the beginning of the year, if they’d been assigned adjacent lockers, one of them would always swap with a friend. School meant different things to each twin. Kady, who couldn’t stop herself from excelling at everything, loved it. Jean was like me: she did well at what she liked and muddled through the rest
But there they were, together. Or more likely, Kady had joined Jean after eating, because there was no sign of lunch mess where she was sitting.
“What have you been doing?” she said as I pulled out a chair.
“Passing these out.” I dropped the remaining flyers on the table. “Want some?”
Jean took the top one. “Pretty good picture. Good for this, at least. Kind of creepy to look at him, though.”
Kady wasn’t looking. She had her eyes fixed on me. “I think you need help,” she said at last
“Sure do. There are a lot of stores and gas stations in the area. And a zillion bars. If you’d—”
“I meant something else, Arden. I think you should see someone. A counselor.”
Jean whistled softly and stuffed empty wrappers into her lunch bag.
“I’m fine. Feeling better than I have in weeks. I’m getting lots of rest”
“You call pursuing some fantasy ‘fine’? He’s dead, Arden, dead. They found his sled, they found the rope, they found his wallet, and soon enough they’ll find him.”
“Then I’ll be wrong, won’t I?”
“You’re in some kind of denial. You’re wasting your time and money.”
“We’ll see. Do you want to help?”
She rose and turned to her sister. “You tell her.” Then she left.
“Tell me what?”
“Our grandma’s in the hospital. She fell last night and cracked a hip. We’re all going to Green Bay today after school. Mom wants you to come too, because she doesn’t want you to be alone. She told us to tell you so it wouldn’t seem like a command.”
“Is it a command?”
Jean wadded her bag up into a wrinkled ball. “Mom said yes, Dad said no. He wants you to come, but he’s not ready to make it an issue.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ve got plenty to do, what with studying and this stuff.” I tapped the stack of flyers.
“I think that’s why she wants you to come, to get away from things.”
“Things like my ‘fantasy’?”
She shrugged,
“Do you think that’s what it is, Jean?”
She tossed the bag from hand to hand as she looked at me. “Life got a lot easier for me when I just gave in and admitted that Kady’s always right.”
I angrily grabbed at the bag, but only tipped it away with my thumb. Jean’s hand immediately pulled it in and resumed tossing. Didn’t miss a beat.
“Tell your mom I’m staying home. I can handle a few nights without a watchdog. And I hope your grandma’s okay.”
Ms. Penny was packing up to go when I stopped in her classroom.
“You’ll be glad to know I finished two more assignments during study hall,” I said.
“I am glad to know that.”
“Yesterday you said you’d help.”
“Yes.”
“I have these.” I held out a dozen flyers.
“Of course. I’m on no fixed schedule this weekend, so I’ve got time to stop along the way.”
I fished in my book bag. “Here’s some tape.”
She took it from me absently as she studied the flyer. “The phone number could give you trouble. You might get some crank calls.”
“I didn’t dare put the sheriff’s number. They don’t want anything to do with the idea. I’ve got a machine, so I can screen calls.”
She opened a desk drawer and pulled out a fresh manila folder. She slipped the flyers inside. “He asked me out once.”
I nearly peed in my pants. “What?”
“Your shock isn’t flattering, Arden. I’m not that ancient, probably only a few years older than Scott was.”
Scott is. I didn’t correct her.
“How old was he?”
Is he. “Twenty-nine.”
“Seven years, then. We met three years ago at the library book club.”
“I never knew he was in a book club. I wonder where I was.”
“Swimming lessons, if I remember correctly. Scott sat in on a few meetings. We were doing Jane Austen that winter. He came for a while each week, but he always had to leave early to get you.” Story of his life.
“One night he called me up, I said no, end of story. I was just bouncing off my divorce and wasn’t ready to date.”
“I never knew.”
She slipped the manila folder into her briefcase. “Well, why would he tell you?”
Scott had tried to date Ms. Penny. What else hadn’t he told me? What hadn’t I shared with him?
First kiss, first period, monthly bad cramps, crush on my student teacher in sixth grade, the twenty-dollar loan to a kid at camp I never got back, the snotty unsigned notes I used to leave in Jennifer’s backpack in seventh grade, the beers I drank at Leesa’s unsupervised seventeenth-birthday party. Hey, we all have secrets.
*
“Get this,” I said to Kady and Jean when I met them at my car. “You’ll never believe who my brother once hit on.”
Jean swatted her hands together and breathed on them. “You really should give us a key, then we can wait in the car.”
“Ms. Penny. Isn’t that weird? She just told me. Geez, he must have a thing for older women. I wonder who else he dated, or tried to date. I should ask around.”
“Leave the dead alone,” said Kady.
*
I was shoveling snow when the Drummonds left for Green Bay. I raised my hand to wave, lifting the shovel, and snow fell on my head. They laughed, apparently thinking I’d done it on purpose. As soon as their car disappeared, I tossed the shovel aside and went in. With their house vacated, my own seemed empty. I closed the blinds and turned on lots of lights. Knowing that the Drummonds weren’t watching made it easy to think someone else might be.
*
Ms. Penny’s confession had piqued my interest in my brother’s secrets. What else was there?
Scott’s room was stuffy, but the outside temp was about ten above so I didn’t open windows. I eyed the bed. Had he ever brought someone here, maybe on a night when I was sleeping at a friend’s? How much did I really want to know?
His desk had been our parents’, one of the few things he’d kept for himself. I opened the top center drawer. Was this where he kept his secrets? Stamps, pencils, a few more photos of the ’Cuda. The guy was obsessed, all right. I pictured the car in the garage, under the tarp, and thought about how he’d worked on it night after night in the summers, the garage door wide open, light spilling onto the driveway, radio blaring.
“But would he leave the car?” John had asked.
The other drawers were just as dull. Receipts, memos from work, sketches of cars. I’d forgotten he liked to draw. He’d taken some classes long ago. Why had he stopped?
The dresser drawers were breathtaking: everything organized by function and color. I hesitated when I opened his underwear drawer, then pushed around the stacks of briefs and boxers. Surely this is where a man would hide something from his sister. The drawers were full of neatly folded clean clothes. He’d done his laundry that weekend. If you were planning to go, why? To throw me off track, of course. Every
thing had to look normal.
The nightstand had one drawer. Cough drops, a watch with a broken band, two books, John Grisham and Jane Austen. What a combination. No letters, no journals, no pornography, no condoms, no secrets. Absolutely zero evidence of a private life. Nothing. I ask you, how many people could die suddenly and not leave even one embarrassing thing behind?
Had he swept it all away, knowing he was leaving, or had his life really been so bare?
Everything in his room was so neat and tidy. Was it all that simple for him—just get things in order and go? Had he ever hesitated, changed his mind, changed it back?
And now—what was he thinking, doing, feeling? Did he wonder about me, wonder what I was thinking, doing, feeling?
I turned slowly around, scowling at the neatness. All was in order. The only mess he’d left behind: my life.
CHAPTER 7
Okay, so life was not exactly idyllic. Still, there was one huge advantage to my situation.
Music. I could play what I wanted, when I wanted, as loudly as I wanted, all over the house. No more headphones in the bedroom because big brother can’t be disturbed during X-Files. For ten years my parents’ first-class sound system in the living room had gone underutilized simply because Scott and I were considerate of each other.
There was another advantage, come to think of it: indecent exposure. From the moment years before when I realized I had breasts, I had never left my bedroom without at least a bathrobe on. Scott, too. Did either one of us ever sit in the kitchen wearing just a T-shirt and underwear? Never. I couldn’t even recall him working in the garage on a summer night without a shirt.
Wherever he was just then, I bet he was half naked and blasting music. Like me.
I had the Cranberries cranked up on the CD player, and no clothing on but an old Bob Dylan T-shirt and navy paisley boxers. Both were Scott’s. He’d robbed my memories, but I’d raided his drawers.
The loud music was the reason I didn’t hear the ringing right away. Then when I did hear it, I thought maybe it was background music, some odd little riff I’d never noticed before. When I saw the knob on the front door jerking back and forth I nearly dropped the mug of tea I was carrying to the kitchen to reheat in the microwave. Someone was trying to get in. I hit the Off button and the music stopped.
I heard laughing, heard my name. “Hey, Arden, open the door!”
Cody Rock.
“Just a minute,” I called. I ran to my room and slipped on jeans, slipped off the T-shirt, and put on a bra and sweater.
“Jeee-zoos, it’s freezing,” a girl whined when I opened the door. There were five of them on the steps. Cody marched right in. “Sounds like a party,” he said. “Who’s here?”
“No one.” I nodded at the people following him into the house. “No party.” I peered out into the night. The Drummonds’ house was dark and the Knightleys’, the only other house in sight, had a single light on over the garage. Dead-end street, all right. “What do you want, Cody?” I said.
“Place to keep warm. How about breaking out the glasses?” He lifted a brown bag. The neck of a bottle stuck out.
“That’s not a good idea.”
“What good’s living alone if you aren’t going to party? You know Derek, right? And Tianna? A stupid little freshman, but she’s okay. This buttface with the six-packs is Rah-nold. Lives in Minong when he’s not here in Penokee making his stepmother miserable.”
The boy holding the beer made a face and said, “No one’s called me Ronald since third grade. It’s R.J.”
“The J’s for joint, right?” asked Tianna. “You still got those two we rolled this afternoon?”
“And this is my cousin,” said Cody, putting his arm around the other girl. “Abby.”
“Stepcousin,” she said; then she stood on tiptoes, pressed her face against Cody’s, and they tongue-wrestled for a few seconds.
“You’ve all got to go,” I said.
“Why?” asked Cody after he disentangled his tongue. “C’mon, let us stay, it’ll cheer you up.”
“Let’s get the music back on, only none of that chick crap. What else you got?” said Derek. He dropped his coat on a chair and walked over to the CD player.
Tianna went to the phone and punched some numbers.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Calling a few people to tell them where we are.”
“Don’t. You all have to go.”
“Lighten up, Arden,” said Cody. “Who’s gonna know? I heard that your watchdogs are gone for the weekend. Tianna, just in case she’s got her cop friend patrolling, be sure you remind them to party-park.”
R.J. lit one of the joints and passed it around. I walked to the kitchen and leaned over the sink. Derek followed me and stashed the six-packs in the fridge. “You sure don’t have much food.” He picked up the phone. “Hey, Tianna, whoever this is you’re talking to, tell them to stop for pizza. She’s got squat in the fridge.”
“Can I get some water?” I was nudged from behind and I turned. Cody was holding up a glass and a liquor bottle. “This bourbon needs to be smoothed out.” I took a step to the side and watched as Cody mixed water and bourbon in the glass. “If you really don’t want us here, Arden, I guess you’d better call the cops.”
I could smell the sharp odor of the dope. I heard the tab pop off a beer can, heard the fizzing, heard laughter and cheers, “Chug it, chug it, chug it.” Another tab popped, then, “Oops, there goes half the can.”
Time to clean the carpet.
The cops weren’t one of my options. Cody knew that, because everyone in town knew I was on a sort of probation. If I had to call the cops to bail me out on a Friday night, what better proof that I shouldn’t be alone?
Cody held his glass up to my lips. “Go on. One drink won’t kill you. No one will ever know.”
“I want some of that,” the stepcousin whined. He smirked at me, then turned and handed her the bottle. She actually licked the rim slowly before tipping her head back to drink. She immediately sputtered and spat the bourbon out. “That’s crap.”
“It’s all my brother would get me,” Cody said. “I only had six bucks. Man, Abby, you got my shirt wet.”
“So take it off.” He liked that idea. She helped him with the buttons.
I went to the living room and sat on the futon. Within ten minutes there were three new arrivals. I peeked out through the blinds. There was only one car in the driveway. The others would be scattered discreetly around the neighborhood to avoid attracting attention. Party parking, I’d done it myself.
“You got any good music?” a strange boy called to me as he flipped through the CDs. “What is this stuff? Etta James, Joe Ely?”
“My brother’s,” I said.
“Her brother’s dead,” Derek said. He was sprawled on a chair.
“Really? How’d it happen?”
“Snowmobile,” said Derek.
“He’s not dead,” I said.
“Oh yeah?” said Cody. He wandered in, Abby trailing behind, his shirt slung over her shoulder. “Then where is he?”
“What does it matter?” asked Derek. “Long as he isn’t here tonight.”
I closed my eyes and imagined the orphan committee reviewing the situation. I could just picture everyone sitting with hands locked, thumbs tapping together, faces soured in displeasure. You say you let them in? You say you let them drink? You say there was disrobing?
Bad judgment, Arden. Just say no at the door.
More people arrived, bringing food and liquor. No one bothered to knock or ring the doorbell. I knew maybe half of them by sight; the others I didn’t know at all. For an hour I floated from room to room, present, but not playing.
“Where’s the bathroom?” a boy with a wispy goatee asked me. I jerked my head toward the hall. “That one’s busy,” he said. “You gotta have more than one.” His fall bladder couldn’t wait for directions. “I’ll find it.” He spun around and took off, trying every door. Closet,
study, my room. I tried to beat him down the hall.
“What’s this?” he asked, his hand on Scott’s bedroom door.
“No, dammit, not there!” I shouted. I didn’t want anyone in Scott’s room.
Too late. Abby and Cody were inside. “Get out!” Cody bellowed.
“Lucky bastard.” The boy whistled and closed the door.
I leaned against the wall and considered my options: go to the living room and join the party; call the cops and forever sign away my independence; play the shrew and make a fuss; retreat to my room and ride it out quietly.
Quiet? Me? My problem had begun because I’d shut my mouth. No more of that.
I pounded on the bedroom door. “Get out!” I shouted, I didn’t want to bust in again; a naked Cody was not something I was anxious to see.
“Want your own turn, huh?” R.J. sidled up to me, rolling a beer can in his hands. “Oh, Arden,” he added softly.
“Yeah?” I banged on the door a few more times.
“This is really cool of you. It’s so nice not to have to drive around and get loaded, you know? Arden…”
“What?” I kept my eyes on the door as I rubbed my stinging hand.
“I need to get laid. Do you want to, with me?”
I shoved him a bit as I walked away and he bounced off the wall before sliding down to the floor. I heard him retch, then I smelled the vomit.
That was it. I turned around and walked straight into Scott’s room just as Cody was pulling up his pants. Abby shrieked and pulled her shirt down as far as it would stretch. I pushed him toward the door.
“Hey,” he muttered, “don’t go ballistic. I used a condom, there’s no mess on the bed. What’s your problem?”
I pushed him through the doorway. He stumbled and stepped right in the vomit. I pounded on his back. “Get out and take everyone with you. You’ve got five minutes to get out or I call the cops. I don’t care what happens to me, I want you all out.” I walked down the hall to my room. Just as I reached for the knob the door opened and a boy and girl came out. I’d never seen them before in my life. They blinked in the bright lights of the hall.
“You don’t want to use this room,” the girl said. “It’s weird.”
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