The Lost Causes

by Jessica Koosed Etting

  Gabby was overcome with appreciation. “Thanks for this, Andrew. I would be lost without you right now.”

  “What are friends for?” he said casually, but it made Gabby wonder. How long had it been since any of them truly had a friend they could count on? She’d forgotten the feeling of belonging that came with friendship. She was feeling less and less like a lost cause.

  She started in on the equation, checking back to the periodic table. Then her phone beeped with a text from Justin.

  She blushed before she’d even opened it. Gabby found herself thinking about Justin at odd moments of the day. Even seeing his name on group texts made her happy. She liked to imagine where he was when the two of them were reading the same words.

  So … she’d developed a slight crush on him. Though crush seemed like the wrong word. Crush was what she used to have back in fifth grade. Back then, she’d invite over her three best friends, the “A-list team” they called themselves, and discuss for hours who had crushes on whom, making MASH lists for whom to marry. But of course, that was just silly. Gabby couldn’t remember actually liking any of those boys. With Justin, it was different.

  Hey. I’ve got a game 2nite if you want to come. Trying your idea if I start sucking like I did in the last game.

  He was inviting her out, though Gabby knew better than to get too excited. Someone as popular as Justin probably invited tons of people to come to his games. Still, it had to mean something that he’d liked her suggestion to use psychokinesis on the field.

  Another text came quickly.

  Unless you already have plans. In which case, don’t worry about it.

  Her only other plans were going home and listening to her parents obsess over her sister’s upcoming meets and their relief that Twinkie the cat was safe at home. Maybe Twinkie ran away in the first place because he was afraid Gabby’s parents would pressure him into doing cat shows.

  Gabby knew that when you liked a guy, you were supposed to banter and be witty and flirty with your texts. She always overheard girls at lunch discussing what the perfect response to a What’s up text should be. Gabby must not have been listening hard enough because she had no clue how to jazz up her reply. After a few minutes, with some worry that Justin would text back to rescind the offer, she quickly tapped out a response.

  Sure. I’ll see you there.

  A second later, he answered. I’ll be on the field, but yeah. I’m number 25.

  Even with a simple reply, she’d made a mistake. But she could picture him smiling when he read it, amused by her cluelessness.

  She briefly debated texting again, but all she could come up with was Cool and then maybe Justin would feel obligated to write something back and she’d again be left with the question of what to say next. Better to just leave it for now. For a second, she wished she had her own gaggle of girlfriends to get her text etiquette up to snuff. Could she ask Sabrina and Z for help with something like that? Z’s texts were probably cryptic, loaded with Marxist quotes. Sabrina seemed to have a snappy answer for everything, though. Texts probably flowed right from her brain to her fingertips. Maybe if Gabby got up the courage to ask her, she could help out the same way Andrew was helping her with chemistry.

  Suddenly, Gabby thought of something. Had Justin invited only her or had he asked everyone else to come to the game, too?

  She looked across the desk, wondering if Andrew had gotten a text from Justin about the game. Was that his phone under his notebook?

  Gabby reached for it and accidentally knocked over her backpack. The prescription bottle she’d been toting around with her spilled out along with a handful of pens and pencils.

  Quickly, she grabbed the bottle before it could roll off the table and into the hands of the study group at the nearest table. Gabby had no idea how she’d explain coming into possession of medications prescribed to the most famous murder victim Cedar Springs had ever had.

  Her eyes caught on Lily’s name as she put the bottle back in her bag. What had led her to seek out these medications? What had she been covering behind her smile? Not only had poor Lily died in pain but she’d lived in pain, too. With those thoughts burning in her mind, Gabby was jolted into a vision.

  The colors overtook her first. Tangerine orange melded with grapefruit pink and vibrant purple, the colors swirling together like a melting Popsicle.

  It was a sunset, Gabby slowly realized. Set against craggy baked-red rocks that were dotted with small shrubs and cacti.

  But the sky’s warmth couldn’t dispel the chill below.

  Lily was sitting on a blanket, her long hair covering her face as she cried uncontrollably. The harsh sound clashed with the eerie silence around her.

  A small picnic dinner and water were laid out next to her, though they hadn’t been touched.

  But Gabby understood.

  This was no park.

  They were in a cemetery.

  Lily’s body shook as her deep, unrestrained bawling continued, her heaving sobs echoing through the otherwise quiet graveyard.

  Finally, Lily dug into her bag, fumbling for the orange prescription bottle, then washed down the pill with the small thermos of water beside her.

  When her tears subsided, Lily placed her hand on the headstone, her fingers tracing the engraved letters slowly.

  Samantha Hope Carpenter. Beloved Daughter.

  Whose life had lasted only eight years.

  “I’m sorry,” Lily whispered, her voice husky and raw. “I’m sorry.” When Gabby faded out of the vision, her own cheeks were soaked in salty tears.

  * * *

  Gabby’s knowledge of high school football games pretty much came from watching Friday Night Lights with her parents years earlier. They loved the show, no doubt due to the town’s obsession with the athletic accomplishments of its children.

  The Cedar Springs High football game was almost that intense, as the Cedar Springs Bulldogs faced their rival, the Wildcats, the only team who beat them last year. Practically the whole school was packed into the bleachers, and many people had painted their faces blue and white. Gabby saw her friend Ali Hanuman, whom she would have expected to be home studying for their chem exam, sitting a few rows over and waving a blue pom-pom. The whole world had been going to these games except Gabby.

  “Thanks for coming with me,” Gabby said to Sabrina when they settled into the bleachers. Apparently Justin had not texted their whole group about the game (not that that meant anything), but the idea of arriving alone was so terrifying that she’d asked Sabrina to go with her.

  “No problem,” Sabrina replied as the Wildcats broke out of their huddle for the first play of the game. “It’s nice to have a distraction and do something normal.”

  Sabrina gave Gabby’s shoulder a squeeze. They’d made a pact not to discuss Devon Warner or Lily Carpenter or anything else about the case here. It was a welcome relief because Gabby had been driving herself crazy analyzing the vision of Lily crying at what seemed to be her daughter’s grave. Patricia had told them in the cabin that Lily didn’t have children. The vision seemed to prove otherwise, which, of course, convinced Z that they’d finally caught Patricia in an outright lie and they needed to call her on it immediately.

  Gabby and the others thought there was a much more reasonable explanation. Yes, Patricia told them that Lily didn’t have kids, but technically that was true. According to the small gravestone Gabby saw, Lily’s daughter died more than ten years ago. It made sense that Patricia didn’t want to overwhelm them with every detail of Lily’s past if it didn’t directly affect the case. But was Gabby being naive not to consider Z’s point of view?

  Suddenly the crowd went nuts, and Sabrina and Gabby leaped to their feet to join them. One of the players on the opposing team had just caught the ball and was sprinting down the field with half the crowd rooting for a tackle and the other half cheering for a touch
down. The sprinter was almost to the end zone, but he’d have to go through Justin first.

  “Come on, Diaz!” a student exclaimed from behind her. “Destroy him!”

  Justin was poised and ready at the end zone. Gabby clutched Sabrina’s arm, surprised by how nervous she was for him. He tucked his head down and hurled himself toward the guy with the ball, ready to steamroll him, but the runner twirled to the side, shaking Justin away like a fly and blowing past him into the end zone for a touchdown. The fans of the opposing team went crazy, high-fiving and fist-pumping while the Bulldogs fans sank into their seats.

  “Get your head out of your ass, Justin!” a woman screamed loudly from the front row. Even ten rows back, Gabby knew it was his mother, who apparently liked to bask in the glow of celebrity that came from being the star player’s mom … even if she didn’t act like his mother any other time. An unexpected surge of protectiveness made Gabby want to strangle her.

  “That’s weird,” Sabrina said. “Justin never misses a tackle like that. I’ve never been to a game sober, but he’s usually a one-man wrecking ball.”

  “It must be hard to make every tackle,” Gabby replied casually. She hadn’t told Sabrina about her suggestion to Justin to use his new powers on the field because she wasn’t sure if he was actually going to do it. He’d said he’d only try it out if he “started sucking like in the last game.” As Gabby watched him pick himself up off the ground, looking at the end zone in disbelief, she figured that play probably qualified.

  She waited impatiently while the Bulldogs were on offense and Justin and the rest of the defensive team were on the bench. As soon as Justin stood up to take the field again, he looked up to the bleachers as if he was searching for something. Butterflies erupted in Gabby’s stomach when she realized the something he was searching for was her. His eyes found hers and he nodded, his way of telling Gabby he was going to try her idea. She smiled and nodded back, wishing he had Z’s power. Then he could hear her think: You’re going to be great.

  “What was that look?” Sabrina asked, bringing Gabby back to reality.

  “What look?”

  “The one Justin just gave you.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I think he was just saying hi.” Sabrina looked at her skeptically. Had Justin told Sabrina about Gabby’s idea?

  “You really don’t know, do you?” Sabrina asked.

  “Know what?”

  “Justin was the one who had that thought about you at the cabin. The one about your hair.”

  Gabby had completely forgotten about that. “Really? How do you know?”

  “Justin likes you, Gabby. It’s pretty obvious.”

  “It is?” A momentary thrill circled through her, only to be replaced by fear. How was she supposed to talk to him now? She could barely handle texts.

  Sabrina laughed. “I wish I was recording your reaction to this. It’s hilarious.” But she patted Gabby’s arm reassuringly, too. “Don’t overthink it.”

  Down on the field, the teams reassembled and the snap of the ball echoed up to the bleachers. The quarterback for the opposing team dropped back, searching for an open receiver, when Justin began driving through tackles to get to him. He made sure to at least place his hands on the players, but Gabby could tell it was his mind doing all the work. He reached the quarterback in seconds, sacking him before he could get rid of the ball.

  The Bulldogs fans started chanting Justin’s name. Gabby tried to catch his eye again, but he was too surrounded by high-fives to see her.

  * * *

  The rest of the game went by in a victorious blur for Justin. Whoever had the ball, he managed to bring down. Plus he was able to get down the field even faster because he was using mental — not physical — strength to make every tackle.

  Justin had always dominated games, but it had never felt like this. His tackles used to come from the angriest place inside him, and when the opposing player went down, there was only a split second of calm before the rage came back. Almost every game ended with the team rallied around him, but he had never enjoyed it. When you’re angry all the time, even celebrating feels like crap.

  But this time when the clock ran down and the scoreboard lit up with the Bulldogs’ 45–7 victory, he couldn’t wipe the massive grin off his face. He wasn’t going to choke in front of the Florida State scout and he wasn’t going to have to use the antidote or quit the case.

  It all happened at once — the crowd rushing the field, the ice-cold Gatorade dumped on top of him, flying through the air as the fans hoisted him up on their shoulders, even a bear hug from Coach Brandt. Justin tried to break free of all of it, though, because there was only one person he wanted to see. He just hoped she hadn’t left already.

  He pushed his way through the crowded field, random people highvfiving him and patting him on the back along the way. He thought he spotted her at the end of the field and was headed in that direction when Hindy got in his face.

  “Diaz! You were on fire!” Hindy screamed. “We’ve got to celebrate, man!” Justin just nodded, trying to see past him to where he thought he saw Gabby. Hindy was still talking when Justin spotted her again and he practically shoved Hindy out of the way. She was standing with Sabrina by the Bulldogs bench, craning her neck — maybe she was looking for him, too. He had the urge to bulldoze all these people out of the way with psychokinesis so he could get to her faster, but instead he pushed through the crowd until he finally reached her.

  She lit up when she saw him. “Justin! Great —”

  She was probably going to say “game,” but Justin didn’t wait to find out. Instead, he grabbed her hand, pulled her in to him and kissed her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Z wound her way down the back staircase of her house that night on her way to the kitchen. She’d gotten Gabby’s text about her vision of Lily at her daughter’s grave, and hours later, it was still bothering her.

  There were usually several text chains a day among the group. Some were funny, like the one when Sabrina had them convinced for over an hour that Tupac asked her to solve his murder. Some asked for help, like Justin’s request that Z listen in for the questions on his English lit test the following week. And some were actually about the case, like this one about Lily’s daughter.

  Why did Patricia think the Lost Causes didn’t need to know about her? There’s no way she and Nash could think it wasn’t relevant to the case. What if Lily was part of a grieving parents support group and Devon targeted her through that? What else were Patricia and Nash not telling them? How were they supposed to work on the case if they were partly in the dark?

  Z knew she had a tendency to read into things more deeply than others. Her very first psychiatrist had told her parents when she was four that she had trust issues with authority figures, something every psychiatrist after him echoed. But Z had never viewed this as a problem. What was wrong with questioning people you were supposed to trust only because they were older? Her paralyzing depression might have disintegrated with the serum, but her belief that trust had to be earned remained. And Patricia and Nash hadn’t earned it.

  Z could admit she was wrong about going to Devon’s apartment alone, but Gabby’s vision of the cemetery provided solid proof that Patricia had lied to them. Why was Z the only one who seemed concerned about this? The five of them had texted back and forth after Gabby told them about her vision, and the consensus (minus Z) was that Patricia must have a good reason why she didn’t mention Lily’s daughter. Justin had even texted before his game, Don’t make this Devon’s apartment 2.0, Z. Andrew was the only one who was partially on her side, but that was mainly because he loved playing devil’s advocate, telling them once that it was like giving his super-brain a workout. The most she could do was get them to agree to bring it up at the Cytology meeting the next day.

  Z’s stomach growled, refusing to be ignored. When she reached the bottom
of the staircase, Scott was standing there. She could hear the exasperated voices of their parents coming from the kitchen.

  “What are you doing?” Z asked.

  “Shhh,” he said. “I’m trying to hear how long this fight is going to last so I can ask Dad for the keys to the Bentley. If he’s pissed off, he might say no.” Z didn’t bother asking Scott why his Porsche Cayenne wouldn’t cut it tonight. She assumed it was about impressing a girl.

  “All I’m saying is it’s illegal!” Nicole exclaimed.

  “What’s illegal?” Z whispered to Scott.

  “She keeps seeing some guy driving by and sitting in his van right outside the house. She thinks it’s one of the reporters looking for a new angle.”

  No wonder her mother was so amped up. The second Z’s father had been put on the suspect short list for Lily Carpenter’s murder, Nicole had taken it as a personal affront to her social status. The first thing she asked Steven was if the police were going to freeze their assets or try to cancel their American Express Black Card.

  Z would never admit it to anyone, but when she’d first heard about the murder, it didn’t seem completely impossible that her father had been involved, considering that screaming match he’d had with Lily the day before her murder. Every other resident of the area that Steven planned to demolish for his new condominium complex had taken the generous buyout he’d offered without putting up much of a fight. But Lily had refused to sell her cabin. Several construction workers recounted in their police statements that Lily had said she’d sell the cabin “over her dead body,” and Steven had angrily replied, “Don’t tempt me.”

  Nothing enraged him more than someone standing in the way of a lucrative business deal. Z didn’t think he was capable of the torturing and killing, but she wouldn’t put it past him to order someone else to do it. Now that she knew Lily’s murder was all about the serum and not the land she was living on, she felt a twinge of guilt about her earlier suspicions.