by Lisa Jackson
What had possessed him to go under the rope? What the hell was the matter with him? Nihilistic behavior, for sure. Ellie had jumped in the water after them. A kind of knee-jerk response, as if she’d thought she could save them somehow.
As if he could read her thoughts, Oliver said, for about the fiftieth time, “Lucky for you that young teacher pulled you out of the river.”
Ellie ground her teeth together. Miss Billings hadn’t helped her all that much, though she’d certainly taken the credit for saving “one of the students.” Principal Kiefer was especially proud of her, and though she pretended to be shy and humble, Miss Billings had clearly basked in the praise these last few weeks.
“She’s a student counselor,” Ellie corrected him.
“At least someone was using their head that night.”
It was clear that Oliver found Billings memorable, and not just because she’d been such a savior. Meanly, Ellie said, “She didn’t save Carmen.”
“Ellie,” he said in rebuke.
Ellie shrank down in her seat. She should be grief-stricken and sad and sober, like all the rest of them, mourning the loss of a friend and classmate. And it wasn’t that she didn’t feel sick about losing Carmen; she did. It was almost impossible to comprehend. But everything had gone to hell since that night in so many ways. She couldn’t keep mourning Carmen the same way some of the others were, especially Bailey. It was nearly too hard to keep pushing forward with her own life. These last few weeks of school, with the grief counselors, and the talks with the police and the general horror and malaise . . . it was a nightmare. The Five Firsts had cracked apart like a broken egg. Amanda and Delta weren’t talking because of Tanner, who’d spent a few days in the hospital but seemed to be okay now. Bailey was completely destroyed, losing her best friend and maybe lesbian crush—it was still hard to tell on that—and basically had broken with Carmen’s family, who kind of blamed her as the bad influence, which was crazy too, but Reverend Proffitt was a strict disciplinarian who allowed no room for error. Bailey had split from the Proffitts and, as a by-product, her own mother, who’d left the family anyway apparently. She’d aligned with her father and had actually spoken at one of the grief meetings they’d been forced to attend and announced that she was going into law enforcement herself.
Great. Knock yourself out.
Ellie caught herself up, surprised by her callousness. Bailey had damn near killed herself trying to help Carmen.
And Zora . . . her parents were divorcing, and it was getting really ugly, apparently, although Ellie almost envied her. She would be delighted if Mom and Oliver called it quits.
They’d held a school assembly, a candlelight vigil, and then the funeral. Reverend Proffitt had talked about his little girl, so pure, so innocent, so . . . ripe to be taken advantage of, and he’d looked straight at Bailey. It had been terribly unfair of him. Ellie and most of the other kids surmised he’d heard the lesbian rumors, which really was a crime for Bailey. Made her grief twice as hard.
Now, however, most of that was behind them, and there were just hours left until graduation. Tanner had recovered and was going to walk with them. Freddie, the aide, was on crutches, but he was back at school and being hailed as a hero because he’d been responsible for keeping Tanner’s head above water after he’d knocked himself out in the rapids.
Woody Deavers, Justin Penske, and Brad Sumpter, the first guys to follow after Tanner, had been counseled and counseled by Miss Billings and professional psychiatrists as well. Ellie could have told them there was nothing wrong with them. They’d followed the most popular guy in school. Stupid. Rash. But not unexpected. It happened. It was a bad deal, but it just was. Ellie had interviewed them herself, in a kind of casual way, with her own sort of journalistic method, along with all the kids who’d been at the barbecue. She’d talked to Coach Sutton and Miss Billings and Freddie and written it all down in a report. She’d done it for herself, but she’d shown it to McCrae, and he urged her to send it into the West Knoll paper. She’d been surprised. She’d mostly done it as a means to gather her thoughts, and then she’d used it as an intro to talk to McCrae, who’d been hard to get close to since their night together. She’d feared he’d been purposely avoiding her, but when she finally buttonholed him and practically shoved the report into his hands, which he’d initially tried hard not to take, and then learned his reaction, her heart had warmed. Maybe he was a little embarrassed about what had happened. Or maybe Carmen’s death had tainted everything for him. It had for her, so maybe it was like that for him a bit too.
The high school paper wouldn’t print it. There were lawsuits hovering around the Forsythes and the school. With that, she’d done as McCrae—Chris—suggested and taken it to the city paper, which was printed once a week, and the West Knoll Sentinel had published it without a qualm. It brought Ellie a bit of notoriety and even helped thaw Mom and Oliver a bit.
Of course, Bailey was keeping a journal now too. A copycat? Ellie had been pissed, though she’d realized Bailey was using her writing as a coping tool.
Ellie slammed the door on Oliver’s “Enjoy your last day,” which sounded a bit ominous, like he was warning her that things were going to be different from here on out. They undoubtedly would be. She was going to make them be. But it still put a shiver sliding down her back like a cold drop of rain.
* * *
Delta felt like she was floating . . . or on drugs . . . or something as she walked up the steps to the stage and accepted her diploma from Principal Kiefer.
They’d made it through the ceremony. One by one, walking up the stairs to the media-room stage, accepting their diplomas, shaking hands with Principal Kiefer, a short, wiry, gray-haired man with a wide smile that somehow worried Delta. There was just something anxious about him that she couldn’t put her finger on. Worse now, since the barbeque.
Or maybe she was flat-out crazy. The events of the past few weeks had sent her over the edge. Maybe her aversion to the principal was a symptom of a neurotic, paranoiac mind.
She walked back to her seat, clutching her leather-bound certificate, eyes on the myriad maroon gowns and mortarboards with their yellow tassels. They were the Cougars, and above, painted on the wall, a tawny, prowling beast came straight at the group, stealthily watching with cold, yellow eyes, although the paint was chipping slightly, which you’d think would render the image harmless but somehow didn’t. Delta had never liked sitting beneath the stalking cat, and today was no exception. Again, neurotic. Susceptible. Too imaginative. Although Amanda, once upon a time, had offered up a similar view.
“I hate that cat,” she’d said, jerking her head in the direction of the cougar mural.
“You do?” Delta had asked, thrilled that her friend felt the same way she did.
“I hate this school. I hate the teachers. I hate the staff.” Amanda bit the words out. “My parents wanted to send me to Jesuit or Catlin Gabel,” she said, naming two private schools in Portland’s western suburbs, “but I didn’t want to leave the Five Firsts.”
“Well, that’s good.”
Amanda snorted. “At least I can audition without having to worry that I’ll get behind in school. This place is a breeze.”
Is it? Delta had thought. Sure, some classes were fairly easy. She was good at English and history and even Earth science, but math didn’t come all that naturally. She’d had Bailey help her a time or two. Once, she’d even gotten up the nerve to ask Ellie for some help, and Ellie had grudgingly shown her a simpler way to come to the answer. Ellie was a whiz at everything.
Amanda was no slouch, either, but she was always busy. In those days, she had enjoyed auditioning. She’d been cast a lot as the blond, blue-eyed darling daughter. There’d been talk about moving to Los Angeles to try to get a national commercial, or maybe even a part in a film. But that had all disappeared as Amanda had become a teen, and now she was disgruntled and sort of fed up in that bohemian, “I’m too cool for this whole thing” way.
&nbs
p; Now Delta’s gaze searched out Tanner. She knew just where he was seated. She’d had a dark night of the soul after she’d learned that he’d been pulled from the river unconscious, and she’d nearly been out of her mind all the while he was in the hospital and she couldn’t get to him. She, Ellie, and Zora had been at the Forsythe home when Mr. and Mrs. Forsythe had returned from the beach, both of them white with shock, though Mr. Forsythe hadn’t held back, berating his wife for allowing the party in the first place. He accused her of trying too hard to be a cool mom to the high schoolers, and now she’d left them open to all kinds of lawsuits.
Delta had wrapped her foot in yards of toilet paper and called her parents. Her dad had swung by to pick her up at the same time Zora’s mom and Ellie’s mother and stepfather arrived. Delta had wanted to go straight to the hospital, but her dad had driven her home in a kind of quiet bewilderment. “What did you think you were doing?” he asked, as he helped her into the house, where Mom had gasped at her ravaged foot, then gone about cleaning out the cuts, slathering on some antibiotic cream and wrapping it in gauze and an Ace bandage. Delta had begged to have the car so she could go to the hospital, but her parents had said no. They did, however, call the Stahds, and Tanner’s stepmother had said that she would keep them informed.
She never did.
Delta awoke the next morning in a panic. She just knew if she didn’t see Tanner ASAP that something bad would happen to him. She couldn’t wear a shoe, so she didn’t. Just wrapped her Ace bandage around the whole of her foot and hobbled on it.
She talked her parents into borrowing the car and drove to the hospital. Directed to Tanner’s room, she was stunned to find Amanda there, chatting with Tanner’s dad and stepmom. His mother, who lived in Seattle and whom Delta had met only once, was just leaving the room. She made eye contact with Delta but didn’t seem to recognize her. Her skin was stretched tight, and she looked older than her years. When Delta moved into the room, she saw the current Mrs. Stahd, who was at least ten years younger than her predecessor and dressed in a tight blue dress with matching heels. She ignored Delta, her attention on Tanner, who apart from a bandage slung around his forehead looked well enough for Delta to release a huge sigh of relief.
But it was Amanda, standing in the room as if she owned the place, who really dealt Delta’s confidence and ego a serious blow. Everyone seemed to expect Delta to say something first, so she managed a “You look pretty good, considering,” directed at Tanner.
“Doesn’t he?” his stepmother said.
“Head injuries are nothing to fool with,” his father, Dr. Stahd, put in repressively.
“I agree,” said Amanda, regarding Tanner indulgently. “Your father knows best.”
When had they all become so chummy?
Tanner said, “Hurts like a bitch,” lifting a hand to his forehead.
“Let it be,” his dad ordered. “I don’t want them releasing you until we have further tests run.” His gaze settled on Amanda, and Delta tried to read his expression. He was angry, she realized, and no wonder. The accident had taken place on her parents’ property.
Lawsuits, Amanda’s father had spit at his wife.
Amanda, for all her smarts, seemed completely oblivious to this dynamic, but Delta saw it . . . and felt better.
And now, here they were, at the end of high school. The graduation ceremony was the period at the end of the sentence. There was no post-graduation party. The pig roast/barbecue debacle had been more than enough. Delta had heard that Coach Sutton’s job had been on the line, maybe still was. But he was here today in a suit that looked a bit too small for his growing girth, the shirt pinching his collar. Coach was sober as a judge and looked as if all the energy had been knocked out of him. Counselor Billings, on the other hand, was in her element. In a soft green dress, her blond hair upswept, showing off pearl earrings on her delicate earlobes, she looked fresh and lovely, and she stood by proudly as the class filed up for their awards. Mr. Timmons was there, too, and, near him, Ms. Reade. Neither of them seemed to be able to quite grasp the moment in the same way.
Delta’s gaze swept over Justin Penske, and she automatically searched for his friend, Brad Sumpter, who, like Justin, was a decent enough guy when he wasn’t influenced by the other “bros.” But when they were members of a pack, there wasn’t much to be said for them.
Brad turned her way, maybe feeling the weight of her stare.
Delta watched Tanner step lightly up the stairs. He’d been a little unsteady on his feet right after his head injury, and she knew he’d been worried about his balance. But he was more than okay. The whole student body and faculty and everyone who knew him seemed to have heaved a huge sigh of relief that he was going to be fine.
Delta’s gaze traveled to where she knew Amanda was seated. Amanda’s eyes were following Tanner as if they were magnetized. Delta’s simmering anger flared. She’d attempted to give Amanda a pass, thinking that maybe she was trying to make nice with the Stahds to help her family avoid a lawsuit, but Amanda was after Tanner. Delta wished Amanda would spontaneously combust and, poof, be off the planet. She sent her mental messages of doom.
Die, bitch, she thought, then immediately said silently to God, I didn’t mean it. I really didn’t mean it. I just want her to leave Tanner alone.
Then it was over, all of the classmates spilling outside onto the lawn. Earlier the temperature had been wonderfully warm, but now there was a chilly June breeze flitting around the soft night, suddenly surprising with a cold slap, if you weren’t careful.
Mr. Timmons was standing to one side with Ms. Reade. They were both in their thirties, unmarried, and maybe having an affair. The events of the barbeque seemed to have brought them together, but it was hard to really tell. Ms. Reade was slim and rawhide tough, as if she exercised herself into a bundle of stiff muscle on a regular basis. She had a sweet expression that belied her standoffish manner. Her eyes were on Miss Billings, who was talking with Principal Kiefer. Mr. Timmons, softer than Ms. Reade, in body and tone, possessed a brilliant smile and nice blue eyes. He was also looking at Counselor Billings, but Delta thought it was in a more admiring way. When Ms. Reade suddenly glanced back at him, he pretended to look away. Seeing Delta watching him, Mr. Timmons came her way.
Shit, thought Delta. No, she didn’t want to commune with the teachers. She wanted to be with Tanner. Where was he, anyway? She glanced around hurriedly, but then Mr. Timmons was there, blocking her way toward the parking lot, where everyone was heading.
“Congratulations, Delta, if I didn’t say so before. So, now, what are you planning? Rock Creek Community College, I hear?”
“Something like that. I’m not really sure yet.”
“Are you going to the service tonight?”
There was a special service for Carmen at the Church of Our God, Reverend Proffitt’s church. In lieu of graduation parties, there had been a number of events to honor Carmen, and Delta had found each one more difficult than the last. She’d told herself it was the least she could do, but she didn’t want to cry anymore, she didn’t want to feel bad, she didn’t want to see Amanda and Tanner sitting by each other, because that’s what had happened at the other events, bowing their heads together and acting all sad, when she just wanted to tear into them, call them out as hypocrites because neither of them had cared that much for Carmen. Only Bailey had truly cared, and she was being unfairly punished by the reverend.
“Is Bailey invited?” she asked a bit belligerently.
Timmons blinked. “Well, I think anyone can certainly join in.”
“Can they, though?”
Timmons looked at Delta in surprise, and no wonder. She’d always been the easygoing, good-humored one, but she’d given up her signature style since Amanda and Tanner had become . . . whatever they were. Now she felt like ripping out her hair and screaming curse words and launching herself at her one-time BFF. The Five Firsts were finishing with high school, and maybe they’d been a fake sisterhood all along.
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“I just know the reverend blames Bailey for Carmen’s death.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Timmons said, looking past her and nodding to someone, or maybe no one, as he quickly moved away. Well, that was apparently one way to free herself from small talk: discuss the truth.
Zora caught up with Delta as she was walking up the concrete steps to the top section of the parking lot. “Jesus, I need a drink,” she said. “I hate this. I hate school. I hate all the lies.”
“Lies?” Delta asked.
“Did you know my parents sold our house? I have the choice of going with Mom or Dad. They’re both moving into apartments. Can’t afford anything else now.”
“What happened?” asked Delta.
“I don’t know. Bad investments? They expect me to make some kind of decision about my future. I don’t want to do anything!”
“We’re all going to have to do something.”
“Why don’t you and I get an apartment together? Go to PCC. Just get the hell away. My parents aren’t completely broke yet, I guess.”
Portland Community College had several campuses around the city, Rock Creek being one of them. But Delta was itching to get down to Eugene and the University of Oregon. “PCC isn’t far enough away.”
“Well, where else are you going?” she queried.
Nowhere.
Delta realized Zora’s plan wasn’t all that bad. Zora’s family would undoubtedly pay for the apartment. Delta could possibly get a break on the rent . . . maybe.
But it wouldn’t be U of O. And it wouldn’t be with Tanner.
And then Tanner and Amanda appeared together, walking together, looking at each other, holding hands.
Delta drew in a long breath. “I guess it’s really over,” she said.