13 to Life (17 page)

She had on a soft-looking powder blue dress that just came to her knees and had faint swirls of tiny beads around its scooped neckline, bodice, and hem. She was carrying a dainty clutch purse, the spine of
The Great Gatsby
just peeking out of the top. Even it seemed perfect for the moment.

Sarah looked like a fairy princess—too frail for earth, but too full of life for Heaven. Like she was just caught in our world but not meant to stay. I was envious.

“You look pretty, too, Jessica,” Sarah complimented. “No.” She tilted her head and looked me up and down, searching for a stronger synonym.
“Exquisite,”
she said. “Yes. With your long hair up and that necklace and dress, you look exquisite.”

I blushed, realizing she wasn’t the only one who’d looked me up and down.

“I’ve never seen that necklace before,” Amy commented, leaning around me to block Pietr’s blatant gaze. I suddenly thought the neckline of my top might be too revealing and my hand went up to the pendant that rested at my breastbone.

“It’s a rabbit netsuke.”

I saw Pietr’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“A what?” Amy asked. “Sarah. Is she making that word up?”

Sarah beamed at being deferred to. “Nope. It’s a real word. From Japan.”

“Holy heck,” Amy said with a roll of her eyes. “Music from the eighties, a Japanese bunny, and a Russian guy? Did I ever tell you I’m a distant descendent of the Chippewa Indians? Only thing I got out of it was a few freaky bedtime stories, a couple dream catchers, and probably the family propensity to drink.”

I blinked at her.

Amy shrugged. “Overall, my heritage isn’t important in my life. I think things are simpler if we don’t look too far back. I mean, seriously. Can’t anything just be simple in Junction?”

I couldn’t meet her eyes. Don’t look too far back? Wasn’t my past what made me who I was right now? Sure, I tried to look beyond it, but Amy sounded like she’d rather forget it altogether. I didn’t have that sort of strength.

I fingered the pendant, relaxing at the reassuring feel of its carved surface in my hand and still near my heart. “My mother was born in the year of the rabbit, according to the Chinese horoscope,” I explained.

Something in my voice made Pietr add, “Netsuke were worn by Japanese men—samurai warriors—to help balance things on their belts. Your mother must have had the heart of a warrior,” he said, holding my gaze like an anchor.

I nodded. “She was pretty strong.” Way stronger than my paltry smile. “Mom always said it was the weirdest thing—the way she got the necklace. She was vacationing with her family one summer on Coney Island and she walked into the tiniest shop on the boardwalk and saw this necklace.

“She asked the shopkeeper—this odd little lady—about it but realized she had left her money in the hotel room. But the woman wouldn’t let her leave the shop without the rabbit.” I shook my head, remembering how confused my mom seemed about the woman’s intense reaction, even so many years later. “She insisted it was meant for Mom’s family and that she should just take it.” I shrugged, remembering how sweetly, how patiently, and willingly my mother had told me the story every time I’d asked.

“Mom finally accepted it and rushed out to find her parents, figuring she’d borrow some money and pay the woman back.
Then she could pay her parents back when they returned to the hotel. But by the time she found her parents, the shop was closed. They were heading home the next morning before it opened again. Mom wrote down the address and tried sending the lady money, but the envelope came back marked ‘Address Unknown.’ Weird, huh?” I smiled at them, hoping no one could see the tears pushing at the edges of my eyes, brought on by memories of Mom and her stories.

Amy grabbed me, though, steering me to the side of the gym, and said over her shoulder, “Go get some punch, you crazy kids,” to Pietr and Sarah. Mercifully they took the hint.

“Look,” she snapped, hands on my shoulders. “You need to get back in control of yourself. I know you’re going through Hell. I get it. You lost your mom, and your dad’s never really around. And that fruitcake sister of yours . . .” She shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Like I said. Hell. But.”

“But,” I repeated.

“But this isn’t you—this weepy girl. Every time I turn around you’re martyring yourself over something.”

“Whoa . . .
martyring
?”

“Yeah. It’s a frikkin’ big word for me to be tossing around.
Thank you, Sarah,
” she scoffed. “But it’s the right word for what you’re doing. You see something you want—Pietr—and you give him to the person who ruined your life.”

“What do you—”

“Don’t what-do-you-mean me. Sarah was driving the frikkin’ car that night. She’s not legal now, she sure wasn’t legal then.” Her eyes glowed grimly. “Her joyride cost you your mother.”

“Stop it,” I whispered.

“What? You don’t want to hear it? What, not here, not now?
Crap,
Jessie! Wake up. She killed your mom, and you helped
feed her in the hospital. You’re so stuck on forgiving her, you’ve forgotten to forgive yourself!”

I covered my ears. Amy pushed me into the corner and pulled my hands back down.

“She had no one else,” I protested. “Her parents were totally clueless, and her so-called friends were the first to ditch her. Believe me, when I went to the hospital that day, the last thing I imagined was helping her. But it was such an amazing opportunity . . . to give her a fresh start. . . .”

“Opportunity? Shit! You’re still in denial! Sarah killed your mom, and you helped her learn to walk again. She killed your mom, you read to her so she was ready for school this year. She
killed
your mom—”

“Dammit!” I snapped, glad the music covered my sudden outburst. “Don’t you think I know?” Tears slid freely down my face, slipping into the corners of my mouth. “I was
there,
remember? Mom came to get me and—and . . .” My feet slid out from underneath me, and I slumped in the corner. Amy followed me down, crouching before me, obscuring the looks of curious dancers. “But she’s not the same Sarah now,” I insisted.

“No, she’s not,” Amy ground out. “She’s not
herself
at all.”

Pietr was suddenly there, nearly knocking Amy over in his haste to reach me. “Jess—”

I glimpsed Sarah not far behind him, carrying cups for four. “Jessica—?”

Pietr slipped his hands under my arms and lifted me, hurrying me out the gym door. My feet barely touched the ground.

The last thing I saw was Sarah standing there, dumbstruck, cups of punch in her hands. “Jessica? Pietr—?” she called.

But we were gone.

He half-carried, half-pushed me all the way to the restrooms.

“Oh,
no
—” I protested with a sniff when I saw boys written
on the door. He opened it and shoved me inside. I stood in front of a broken mirror while he checked the stalls.

Satisfied, he put his back to the door and slid down until he was seated on the tiles, jamming the door shut with his body.

We had our privacy.

I focused on the mirror, only occasionally glimpsing him out of the corner of my eye. “I guess I should have invested in the waterproof mascara.” I chuckled.

From the stony silence I could tell he was not amused. “Don’t,” he said.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t put that mask back on.” He wasn’t looking at me. Instead, he studied the tip of his sock-covered feet. “You do that, you know?”

“What?”

“Lie. Like it’s nothing. Like lying will protect people. It doesn’t,” he said—though I thought it was more of a confession. “It just ruins things.”

“I don’t—”

“You lied about liking me. You lied about wanting me to bring Sarah here. You’re lying right now if you say that you don’t lie. And”—he looked up at me, eyes searching—“the biggest lie you’re telling is
not
telling me what’s really going on with you and Sarah.”

“The sin of omission.” I shrugged. “So why do you want to help me, when you know how willingly I lie to my best friend?”

“Because I know you,” he said.

“How?”

“I just do.” He shrugged. “And I know lies can’t last.” He paused a moment before asking, “So what’s got you so wrecked?”

“Look. I’m just a mess, okay? I’m going through some stuff and I’m not doing it gracefully.”

“You’re skirting the issue.”

“What issue?”

“What’s the problem between you and Sarah?”

I looked at the door.

He shook his head. “You aren’t going through this door until I have some answers.”

So I told him.
Everything
. About the car accident and my mother’s death, about helping Sarah recover and hiding the truth of what she really was like before the accident. About not telling Sarah she
caused
the accident . . . I even confessed that the best friend I loved so much I really hated sometimes, too.

He listened while I poured my heart out. And, oddly, that was what I needed.

“Is she dangerous?” he asked softly.

“What?”

“Is Sarah dangerous?”

“I don’t—” I rubbed my eyes. “I don’t know. She’s so different now. She was cruel before. Vicious. She was definitely dangerous
then.
”

He looked at his hand, turning it over silently. He seemed to be making up his mind about something.

“What are you thinking?” I asked, unsure I really wanted an answer.

“Hey!” Someone bumped against the bathroom door.

Pietr reached up from where he still sat and rapped the door with his knuckles. “Bathroom’s closed!”

I was glad he’d answered. I wasn’t ready to talk to anybody. Except Pietr.

Someone outside snickered, but their footsteps grew softer as they left.

“Wipe your eyes,” Pietr suggested.

“How did you know
this
was what I needed?”

He shrugged. “You looked the way I’ve felt lots of times. Destroyed.”

“You really know how to flatter a girl.”

His mouth turned up at one edge, giving him a crooked smile. I liked it. But that corner soon fell back in line. “There’s something I’d better tell you, too.” He seemed to reconsider as soon as he said it. But it was already too late. “It’s only fair,” he muttered.

I leaned against the single sink.

“My parents are both dead,” he said, so softly I suddenly found I’d moved to crouch by his knees, my hand on his left leg. He didn’t look up at my face, but focused instead on my hand. I thought about pulling it away but couldn’t.

“The people in the office—”

“My brothers and sister.”

“Oh.” I sat. “What happened?”

“I—” He shook his head. I understood. Sometimes there were no right words. So I sat there beside him on the cool tile floor and gave him the time he had so willingly given me.

I finally broke the silence. “So, how long ago . . .”

“Almost a year.”

“Promise me something, Pietr,” I said.

“What?”

“That now that we both know . . . that since we understand . . .” My voice cracked before I got it back under control.

“What?” He reached up and touched my cheek.

“That on the anniversaries of their deaths—”

“We’ll be around for each other?”

“Yeah. It probably sounds cheesy,” I blushed. But I realized I wasn’t alone in my grief. Pietr had been through it. He was
still
going through it. It was somehow more profound knowing that it wasn’t just me. Just my family. I mean, I always knew
that death was the great equalizer. Everybody died eventually. It was universal. Common. But that evening it all became real to me. And Pietr understood.

“
Nyet.
It doesn’t sound cheesy to me.” He pressed his lips together. “Only, I don’t take promises lightly.”

I looked away. I couldn’t say the same thing. But this was a promise I intended to keep for as long as he let me. It was tough finding someone who really understood. Who really
got
you.

It was almost as if he could read my reluctance. He straightened. It was like I was watching him mentally rebuild a small section of wall. “It doesn’t matter so much that they died early, I guess. We don’t tend to live long, anyway.”

“Heart disease?”

He nearly choked. “Not quite. Well, maybe in a way.”

“I’ve seen how you eat,” I pointed out. “You totally wolf down your food. You should try eating a salad or two. Not so much ‘
meat.
’ ” I put the last word in quotes with a dig of my fingers.

This time, he did laugh. “I think you’re okay to go back to the dance.”

“Yeah.” I checked myself out in the mirror one last time. My eyes were still puffy, but I’d wiped away most of the blurred
mascara. I touched my hair, making sure the mousy brown mess of it was still stable.
Something about me should be stable,
I thought. I looked at Pietr as he rose to his feet. Even when his presence made me feel totally out of control—when he caught me crying and dragged me from the gym—I still felt secure. Anchored. “Let’s go,” I agreed.

“You do really look exquisite,” he said as he opened the door for me.

I would have replied but I saw Sarah sitting out on the bench in the hall, three carefully arranged cups of punch beside her. Amy stood behind her, sucking down the contents of the remaining cup like someone returning from the desert.

Amy motioned to me frantically, her hands telling me she’d
tried
to keep Sarah away and—what took us so long? Frustration pinched her features.

Sarah watched us emerge and I thought I saw in her expression a glimmer of her old self. The thought terrified me, so I did the only thing I could: I rushed forward and hugged it right out of her.

Sarah pushed me back, her eyes lingering on the details of my face. I felt plain and dull beneath her speculation. “Why did you fall apart back there?” she asked.

I moved a cup of punch aside and sat next to her on the bench. “I don’t know exactly what did it,” I said. “I think sometimes it gets to be too much.”

Sarah nodded. Her gaze shifted to Pietr. I read suspicion there and I hoped he did, too. “Why did you two need to be
sequestered
for so long?”