by Amanda Adair
“Who does she think she is,” I ask.
“Maybe she just wants to be nice,” Sage says. “She knew him.”
Knew him? She met him once. It was just on that night.
“By buying flowers not on behalf of herself but of all of us?,” I say.
It’s because she is guilty. Suddenly I wonder why I, or why we, haven’t bought flowers. I did for his parents, of course, and I will do so for his grave but not for school. It doesn’t matter, does it?
“I have to go,” I say and walk towards Mrs. Jeong, then I say to her, “I think I need counseling. I’m Remi’s girlfriend.” Then I look down. “I was.”
Five minutes later we sit in her office, a small room next to the secretary’s office.
“You were Remi’s girlfriend?,” she asks and types something into her computer. “Aspen Varela?”
I nod.
Does she really search for my student file now? What is in there? I’ve never been in detention. I’ve never done anything wrong.
“You were there when it happened? When they found him?,” she asks worriedly.
I wasn’t but I hope she can tell me something about that afternoon. Details, statements, anything she knows.
“When Jessica found him,” I say. “Listen, he didn’t do drugs. None of us did.”
“Are you here to tell me that?”
“No.”
“Why are you here, Aspen?”
Because he’s gone. Because my boyfriend’s gone, and I still expect him to be there after school. If it wasn’t for Sage and Sofia I’d lose my mind. I want him to tell me if he wanted to break up with me or not. I want to know who the other girl is.
“I think the new student, Tansy Walsh, has something to do with Remi’s death,” I say.
She raises an eyebrow. “Did she sell him drugs? Or do you think she made him hurt himself?”
I have to think about it. “Maybe she gave him something without him knowing.”
“Those are serious accusations,” she says. “Why do you think that?”
I can’t tell her we were drinking alcohol. “We were at Remi’s the night before his death. She wanted to play a game with us.”
“What game?” She leans over her desk.
“She told us weird stories about us getting kidnapped or catching a deadly mutated virus,” I say and squint. “It was scary. Like she’s a psychopath.”
“Okay,” she says and leans back, “listen, Aspen, I promise I will talk to Tansy Walsh. But it sounds like a scary party game. I hope you didn’t consume alcohol that night.” It’s not phrased as a question, so I keep quiet. “Is there anything else I can help you with? How do you feel after his passing?”
That’s it? “I’m sad obviously but nothing I do could ever bring him back, right? It’s over.” In front of Mrs. Jeong’s office I stop and breathe out. When I look up I see her standing at her locker.
“Tansy,” I say in a loud voice. Some of the people around us turn towards me.
“Hey,” Tansy says when I stand next to her. She smiles at me and puts a book into her locker.
“Hey?,” I say. Even her greetings provoke me. I lower my voice. “I know that you have something to do with Remi’s death.”
“Aspen,” she says, still smiling. Her blonde hair looks extra glossy today. But her appearances don’t lead me astray. I know she’s rotten. “I told you I wasn’t even near him. I didn’t touch him, I didn’t talk to him and we didn’t have anything to do with each other that day.”
“Listen,” I say and sigh, “I don’t care what you say, something’s wrong with your stories and if you keep harassing us you’ll regret it.”
Now her smile slowly vanishes. “I’m not the one who will regret something.”
“Are you threatening me?,” I ask.
“I’m not,” she says. “As I said I didn’t do anything. But I was very clear about this. I told him not to stop playing. It’s his own fault.”
She slams her red locker door and walks away.
chapter 11
Back home I find Sofia sitting on the couch in the dark, snacking sour cream potato chips and watching an episode of Criminal Minds. I wonder where my parents are. Then I remember they’re at a friend’s house having dinner. Sofia doesn’t even realize I’m here. She winces as soon as she does and almost drops her chips. The only light in the room comes from the TV screen.
I reach into my back pocket, stop in front of her and tap play.
Tansy.
Hey.
Hey? -- I know that you have something to do with Remi’s death.
“What is this?,” Sofia asks.
“Just listen,” I say and raise my arm, so the phone’s on the same level as her head.
Aspen -- I told you I wasn’t even near him. I didn’t touch him, I didn’t talk to him and we didn’t have anything to do with each other that day.
Listen, I don’t care what you say, something’s wrong with your stories and if you keep harassing us you’ll regret it.
I’m not the one who will regret something.
Are you threatening me?
I’m not. As I said I didn’t do anything. But I was very clear about this. I told him not to stop playing. It’s his own fault.
She winces again as she hears the sound of the locker door slammed shut. She keeps silent and puts the bag of chips away.
“That was like an hour ago,” I say. “Tansy is hiding something.” I’m glad I’ve recorded our conversation. Without it I wouldn’t have any proof for her obvious mental illness.
“Do you think she could do something to us?,” she asks.
She already did. I nod. I want to tell her about what Robert told me, but I can’t.
“We need to tell someone,” I say but then I think about what could happen if Tansy’s second story about me would go public. Thinking about it, I don’t see any difference. If my secret goes public my life is over. If Tansy’s game is responsible for Remi’s dead all of our lives are apparently over as well.
“Wait,” she says, “if your boyfriend died because of the game then we shouldn’t attack Tansy. You said she knows something, so we should rather talk to her.”
Talk to the girl who’s responsible for Remi’s death? Who could reveal that I’m responsible for someone else’s disappearance? Seneca is over it. In a few years there will be articles about the tenth anniversary of a girl’s disappearance. I can’t let Tansy shine a light on the incident. I need this town to forget.
“I just think we should be careful,” I say. I know I can trust my cousin. “She’s dangerous and she’s revealed some things each of us. Things she can’t know.”
“She’s knows my parents are aid workers,” she says. “So what? I told her myself.”
“Okay,” I say. I didn’t realize I’ve been walking back and forth. I stop and sit down next to her. “She can’t know that Finna’s parents are divorced and that her mom’s an alcoholic because of it.” I’ve never said that out loud before. It sounds horrible. Poor Finna.
“She lives in Cherokee,” Sofia argues. “What if her parents know Finna’s parents. People gossip.”
“Could be,” I agree and lean back.
“If those stories were all true it would mean that you have something to do with a bloody box and our math teacher was faking her pregnancy and made a deal with Cristina,” she says.
“Not every detail needs to be real,” I counter and try to distract her form the fact that I indeed have something to do with this bloody box. “It’s just that she’s well-informed about us. Apparently you didn’t make out with a singer.“
“Let’s just continue watching the episode,” she says and presses the play button on the remote.
We watch one episode after another before finally going to bed. Back in my room I google “Tansy Walsh”. I need to know who she is but there are no relevant entries. No Instagram or Facebook. She’s not on social media. I don’t know what her parent’s names are, so I google “Walsh Sene
ca” and “Walsh Cherokee”.
Her family doesn’t own a business and they are not involved in local or national politics. There is no record of any family named Walsh, which is not exactly suspicious.
Most families can’t be found online.
My parents can be found online. Helen Varela is listed as a lawyer. Eric Pieterse is an architect, responsible for most of Seneca’s corporate, public and private buildings. Besides my family Sage’s parents have a rather great online presence. Some of it is because they’re Seneca’s dentists. But right now I don’t need a dentist, I need information on Tansy.
The next day I wake up with a headache. I sit up and stare at my dream board above my desk. I look the Eiffel Tower, Brown’s coat of arms, and a picture of my mom at her graduation from UPenn. I can forget these dreams if Tansy reveals what’s behind the box. I open my laptop and our group chat.
ASPEN
Meet you at Watson’s?
Watson’s is our favorite café in town, maybe even on earth. We’ve emptied thousands of lattes and hot chocolate’s at this place. We’ve talked about our first heartbreaks. We’ve written hundreds of essays and summaries.
It is our retreat, our fortress, our headquarters.
I remember Sage telling me how she met someone and got her first kiss. She was fifteen. Pretty late, huh? But she wasn’t interested in guys and guys (except the nerds in her computer games club) weren’t interested in her. She never told me his name. It was probably just an affair.
SAGE
I’m in
SOFIA
Meet you downstairs in 30
CRIS
I’ll join you later
Half an hour later I meet my cousin downstairs. She’s wearing a grey checkered skirt. I’m wearing a blue checkered skirt. It’s like we’re twins.
“Love your skirt,” she says.
“I’ve tried to reach Finna three times now,” I say. “She doesn’t answer any of my calls.”
With my Audi A1 we drive to the town center. There’s a parking lot at the end of Seneca Park, right in front of Watson’s. Sage is already sitting at a table near the window. It’s our favorite spot because you can sit on pillows on the low windowsill and watch the people, mainly pedestrians going shopping and mothers with their buggies and strollers. Watson’s is a cozy café with dark blue walls and wooden interior. On its walls there are hundreds of framed art prints. Next to the counter a staircase leads to the upper level.
“I love this place,” I say to Sofia, then turn towards Sage. “White hot chocolate?” It looks like hot milk but since Watson’s serving hot chocolate with either dark, milk or white chocolate, Sage is a fan of the white version.
She nods and puts her palms around the mug. “Have you heard from Finna?”
“No,” we both say and sit down on the two colorful pillows on the windowsill.
“We should check on her,” she says.
“I’ll text her,” I say, then change the subject. “Have you studied for the Spanish test yet?”
“Not really,” Sage says.
“Me neither,” Sofia agrees.
“Mr. Wilson keeps thinking I’m bilingual and I keep telling him I’m not,” I say. “That’s why he’s always surprised when I get a B or C on my test.”
Mr. Wilson is a sixty-year-old white American who expects everyone with a non-American name to be bilingual and to have a foreign passport. I don’t know exactly why my mother wanted me to have her last name instead of my father’s, which is Pieterse, but that’s how it is now.
I love my name.
“Isn’t your grandma Spanish?,” Sage asks and looks at Sofia, then at me.
“Portuguese,” I say. And I’m not fluent in Portuguese either. “She is fluent in Spanish.” I point at my cousin.
“Crazy,” Sage says, “I always thought you’re partly Spanish.”
“Spanish? We’ve been friends for years now,” I tease her. “Can’t believe it.” I grab my phone. “Let me ask Finna to come over.”
ASPEN
Finna? Hello??
FINNA
Hey Aspen
ASPEN
Come over to Watson’s
FINNA
I don’t know
ASPEN
Seriously, we haven’t seen you in ages
FINNA
I know, I feel sick
Aspen, I’m so sorry for what happened to Remi
ASPEN
Just come here
I don’t want to be reminded of Remi’s death. I’m trying not to think about it but when you’ve spent so much time with someone it gets to you. Sometimes I think we wouldn’t have stayed together after high school anyways but other times I can’t believe I lost him. What if we were meant to stay together? To grow together. I haven’t talked to Robert yet, but he’s returned to college. He was on the phone when we continued playing this stupid game, so he has no idea what was going on.
“What do you want to drink?,” I ask Sofia and get up. “Hot chocolate? Latte?”
“Hot chocolate,” she replies. “I want to try the white one.”
I walk towards the counter. There is no cue, so the barista asks me what I want. I think is name is Jason. He’s a senior just like us but I rarely see him at school. He’s a basketball player and I think he was Trisha’s boyfriend, at least until last year. I think his parents made him work here. The Watson’s is owned by his uncle.
“With cream?,” he asks.
I turn around. “Do you want cream on top of your white hot chocolate?,” I shout.
Sofia shakes her head.
“You`re Aspen,” he says while pressing some buttons in the machine next to him. “The girlfriend of…” He stops. Maybe because I lowered my gaze, maybe because he remembers that what he’s about to do is rude.”
“I’m sorry,” Jason says. “We’re all …” He’s searching for the right words. “… surprised.”
Surprised isn’t exactly the word I would choose. A seventeen-year-old boy, fit and healthy, died out of nowhere for no reason.
“I know,” I say. “I am, too. He was a great guy.” It sounds like I’m his buddy. Why do I talk like this?
“Anyways,” he says, “here are your drinks. One white hot chocolate and a dark hot chocolate.”
I thank him and walk back to Sage and Sofia. For a moment I wonder if the three of us are what’s left of our clique. I can’t believe one stupid evening should tear our friendship apart. Of course, Finna doesn’t show up. Sage and I agree that we would stop by her house the next day. We sit at Watson’s and drank hot chocolate until Sage say she needs to pick up a package from the parcel shop down the road.
chapter 12
It started with Remi, but Remi shouldn’t be her last victim. When Sage called us it was half past five. Half an hour ago we sat at Watson’s, talking about going out tonight. When I came downstairs my mom was on the phone with Sage. I could see it in Mom’s face that something was wrong. She handed me the phone. Apparently Sage couldn’t reach me or Sofia. I was in the shower and Sofia was downstairs helping my mother with decorating the cupcakes she wants to bring our new neighbors. Our phones were still in our bags. Sage told me to come to the hospital asap.
“Hurry,” she said, so we drove to the hospital right away.
The St. Mary’s Hospital is technically located in Cherokee but from the town center of Seneca it takes less time to get there than from Cherokee. When we arrived, we didn’t know where to go. We hurried upstairs and ran towards a counter with some employee talking on the phone. But then we saw Sage and Cris sitting on some blue chairs in the hallway.
“What’s going on?,” I ask.
“This is the most awkward thing ever,” Cris says and gets up. Sage doesn’t move. She looks nervous. She touches her golden necklace and looks to the right. “Finna had a car accident.”
“An accident?,” I say. “Is she okay?” Apparently she isn’t, otherwise we wouldn’t stand here without her. Is she in surge
ry?
“Where is she?,” Sofia asks. “Did you see her?”
I bet when Sofia agreed to move to Seneca she didn’t expect so much drama. Horror. It’s been a few weeks and it already seems like Seneca is hell. To be honest life in Seneca has always been ordinary. There have been a few things that made life complicated, trust me, but overall living in Seneca is average. We have a low crime rate and little scandals other than husbands and wives cheating on each other or teenagers sneaking alcohol to prom. Normally nothing exciting, horrifying or scandalous ever happens in Seneca.
“She’s in surgery I guess,” Cris says. I wonder what she was doing before coming here. She’s wearing sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. She’s wearing her black thin hair in a messy bun. A very messy bun. “The accident was really bad. Apparently a car hit her.”
Sofia and I remain silent. Are we thinking the same right now? That a truck hitting her car is what Tansy predicted? It was supposed to happen at night, with Finna being drunk, and not in the middle of the day. Does it matter? These are details. The outcome is the same. Finna had an accident.
“Where are her Mr. and Mrs. O’Connor?,” I ask. “What happened?”
Cris is used to calling them by their first names but I can’t. She’s way more casual than I am, even around authority figures. She swears around them and she talks about topics like alcohol or politics. I’m not as tough as her when it comes to communicating to people older than me. I’m not shy but I’m definitely not casual around people the same age as my parents. I always feel like I just keep a certain distance to adults, including my friend’s parents.
“Talking to a doctor,” Sage pipes up. “They were too agitated to talk to us. We don’t know what happened. And Mr. O’Connor flew here from Florida. He seems angry.”
“What are we gonna do?,” Sofia asks. “Wait?”
It’s a good question. Of course, we wait for her. We wait for someone to tell us how she’s doing. We want to be there for her when she’s ready to see us.