A Missing Peace (19 page)

“Wow!” Her son killed a man—killed a man only because he aimed to kill a girl and the man got in the way. He came home and lied about it. When he knew he was caught rather than facing the consequences, he asked the victim to stay quiet. Her son killed himself because it was easier than living with what he had done. How dare she blame Caleb for that?

“Caleb, this is not your fault. She's looking for someone to blame because she doesn't want to admit it's her son's fault. But it
is
his fault.”

“He was following orders.”

“Orders he knew were wrong. If he didn't, he wouldn't have killed himself.”

“You think I did the right thing?”

“I think so. You should get justice for what they did to you.” To us.

When I put the phone down, I realized a day had passed since the YouTube video posted, and neither
Ommy
nor Abrahem had blown my door down to tell me we were moving. In truth, none of us trusted the American media. We still got most of our news from Al Jezeera. Maybe, it would blow over without them noticing, but it was a big deal here. The video exposed the military in a military town, and the suicide had people up in arms about PTSD and the morality of allowing eighteen year olds to enlist. Gade's background had come up. Apparently he stayed in trouble constantly in high school, and the experts said this should have been a red flag to the army that he wouldn't be able to handle military life.

Another day went by without my family threatening me. The day of the funeral came, and I skipped school again. This time, I was prepared. I knew I couldn't let Caleb deal with this alone, so I took a note around to all of my teachers about my out of town doctor's appointment.

I spent the day with Caleb making tea and doing homework. I lectured him on getting caught up with his schoolwork, and then we worked on our project together.

“Do we have to worry about school today?” he asked.

I knew he had to think I was heartless, but staying busy was the best way to get through it. “We're running out of days to worry about school.” I put my pencil down and looked at him. “Dwelling on it isn't going to help anything. Going on with life is the best way to get over something.”

“Is that what you did after your—after our dads died?”

I nodded.

“You're the toughest girl I know, Mirriam.” He looked at me over his laptop. He had been e-mailing companies to sponsor our final project all afternoon.

Four o'clock rolled around and four fifteen. “How are you going to get home without Abrahem seeing you leave? He's out mowing the yard.”

“I'm at the library tonight. I've become a remarkably better liar since I met you.”

“I'm sorry.” He was quiet for a minute, but then asked, “M, how long are you going to hide me from your family?”

I knew the answer, but I wasn't prepared to say it out loud. An Iraqi boy wouldn't have asked this—wouldn't have had to. I never made friends easily after we came here, so I was no expert on American culture. From what I saw in movies though, he'd either freak at my answer or be offended. Unfortunately, there was only one way to find out.

“Until we decide to get married, so after graduate school?”

“Eight years? You plan on keeping this a secret for eight years? M, that is not cool.”

“We have arranged marriages.
Baba
promised me I wouldn't as long as I finished graduate school before getting married. In my country, people—proper girls especially—don't date.”

“If you love me, you should be able to tell your family about us. What are you afraid they're going to do?”

“Get mad.”

“And in eight years, they won't?”

I sighed. “They will, but it's different.”

“How?”

“I don't know. It just is.”

“I'm not going to be your secret until after graduate school.”

I sighed. “I'll tell them in September.”

He was amused now. His eyes sparkled as he laughed. “What's in September?”

“I'll be eighteen and away at school. They can't stop me from seeing you.”

“Is that what you're worried about? That if they find out, they won't let you see me?”

I nodded.

“Fair enough,” he said.

The next morning as I left for school, Abrahem sat on the couch watching cartoons. “Hey, Mirriam?”

Oh crap.
“Yeah?”

“Did you go to school yesterday?”

Whew. Not moving yet.
“Yeah.” I laughed like it was the stupidest question I'd ever heard. “Why?”

“A kid at the gas station couldn't remember seeing you.”

“Why are you asking about me?”

He shrugged. “It wasn't like that. She has a class with you. She asked if you were sick.”

“Who?” No one would ask if I was sick.

Abrahem looked away from me before he answered. “I didn't catch her name,” he stumbled over the words.
Why are you lying about this?

Caleb

After Gade died, Mirriam turned into a drill sergeant. I knew what she was doing—keeping me too busy to think. I didn't argue, because I was so behind with everything. It was kind of cute. She really thought I didn't know what she was doing.

Mirriam and I had survived so much: a hit and run, a military cover-up, and the suicide of one of my former best friends. This weekend was prom, and I wanted to take her, but I hadn't asked her yet. I wasn't sure she would go for it, because she was so worried about her family finding out we were dating.

I would have to enlist help. I picked up my cell and dialed a number I never thought I would call. A number I only had because Mirriam called me from it once when her phone died.

“Goddess at your service. Well, not really but what do you want?”

“Uh, hi, Morgan.”

“Hi.”

“If I give you money, will you go shopping for me? But none of that ridiculous Morgan stuff and no hooker hose.”

“Wow! I'm only mildly offended. You're into cross-dressing now? Does Mirriam know?”

“No, not for me.” This was why no one talked to her. “For Mirriam. For prom. I want to take her, but she's not allowed to date. I figure if I make things easy for her, and minimize the chance of her brother finding out, I'll have a better shot.”

The phone line went silent.

“Morgan?”

“Why do you want to take Mirriam to prom? You haven't been at school in weeks. I heard you can't walk. How can you dance?”

“I'd like to see everyone again, and Mirriam—well, I don't know what she's told you, but she's been through a lot since she got here.”

“She didn't tell me anything, but I knew something was wrong. That's it right? You don't have any other reasons for taking Mirriam to prom?”

“Like what?”

“You tell me.”

“Uh, other than she's my girlfriend, no not really.”

“I'll do this for you, but if you hurt Mirriam, I'll kick your ass. I'm not joking, Caleb. I know you think you're a big bad football player, but that girl has been through enough. If you hurt my friend, you'll be under another car.”

I knew Morgan and Mirriam hung out from time to time, and that she was the only other person Mirriam talked to, but I didn't realize they were so close. I also didn't know Morgan cared about people like this. She always walked around like she was above mere jocks, cheerleaders, wannabe jocks and cheerleaders, and any groupies. I always thought she was riding her time out until she could bail. She'd been saying that since the seventh grade.

I was impressed, though. Someone else saw Mirriam for the person that she was.

“Morgan, I'm not going to hurt Mirriam.”

“Cool. Get me some money, and I'll bling Mirriam out.”

“Can you pick it up during the school day? If M's home, she'll see you here, and she's usually here anyway.”

Morgan giggled. “Sure.”

As I put the phone down, Mom came in and sat down in the armchair. She was usually gone by now.

“Don't you have to work today?”

“I quit.”

“You liked your job.”

“Sometimes, but it was depressing. With everything going on, I didn't feel comfortable working for the base anymore, and I think I want to do something different for a while.”

With everything going on—because I confronted Collins and the whole town was talking about Gade's suicide. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm not. I'm proud of you. You took on the base commander and your friend. It had to feel like the whole military was after you, and you stood up for your family.” Her eyes watered. “Publishing Gade's video was gutsy, but I think you accomplished more in that one action than all my years of counseling have.”

“How?”

“I've talked to enough soldiers with PTSD to know that inappropriate actions are taken in the military more times than should be allowed. Sometimes I believed the soldier telling me this, and sometimes I didn't, but now it's hit home. I think I probably ignored people I should have believed, should have fought for. And Gade's suicide—he was deployed at nineteen—it has people talking about the enlistment age which I can't remember ever happening before.” She shrugged. “I wish you had to be in your twenties to enlist. I think they let eighteen-year-olds enlist because they can pay them less and it seems like a lot of money.”

That was interesting. I always thought the military paid well. It was one of the reasons I had planned to enlist after high school before all this happened

“But I came to tell you the attorney called. They've made an offer.”

“Reyes said not to take the first offer.”

“I know. That's what the new one—Luke—said, too.”

“Have you heard anything about Collins? I want Collins tried.” I wanted more than money. I did need it settled as quickly as possible. There were only two days of classes after prom, and school would be over. Mirriam had held seats at two different schools on different sides of the country—neither in Texas—before we met. She hadn't made up her mind yet. When I asked her about it, she tried to brush it off. I needed to be able to follow her wherever she wanted to go. I'd meant what I said. No one would take Mirriam from me. I wasn't giving her up.

“I know. I haven't heard anything.”

That sucked.

Mirriam

Saturday night came around, and I was going to Caleb's. I should have already been there, but I was waiting on Abrahem to go to work. I was beginning to wonder if he would.

“Don't you have to work tonight?”

“I'm off.”

Sucks to be me.
“How did you get a Saturday night off?”

He shrugged. “It's happened before, but other people always wanted it off, and I never have anything else to do, so I go. But tonight I'm going to dinner.”

He had never mentioned having a friend here. “With who?”

“Someone from the gas station.”

“The someone who asked about me?”

Suddenly Abrahem felt a need to inspect his shoes. “No.”

“Abrahem, we've always been friends. I don't care who you're hanging out with. It's your life, but stop lying to me.”

“I'm not lying. It's just a guy from the gas station.”

“Okay.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Going to the library to finish my project. I'll stay there until it closes, and I might hang out with Morgan after that.”

“Do you want a ride?”

“No.”

“I don't think I can pick you up, but I don't really want you walking in the dark.”

“Well, if you're okay with it, Caleb's mom offered to drop us off and pick us up. It's the government project, and you know he shouldn't be walking.”

“If his mom is around, it's fine. I don't want you alone with him.”

I raised my eyebrows at my brother, half wondering if he knew, and half daring him to accuse me of something.

“Don't look at me like that. I haven't accused you of anything, but you know better than to be alone with a boy.”

“You're not
Baba.
”

“No, I'm not. But he wouldn't want you alone with boys either, and I
am
the man of this house.” His tone dared me to question that.

“Goodbye, Abrahem.” I walked out the door.

Weird.
Morgan's Corolla was parked in Caleb's driveway. I invited her to drop by Caleb's later—after prom, but I didn't expect her so early. It seemed like he would have called me, or sent her across the street.

When I walked in, Morgan was standing in front of the couch. She had black glittery feathers tied into her hair, and the feathers were actually longer than her hair. “I've got something for you, but we have to go to my house. This is going to be so awesome.”

“Okay, but why?”

“Because that's where it is.”

Caleb appeared in the entryway between the living room and kitchen wearing a tux and leaning on a decorative cane. He filled the suit well, and his eyes twinkled. My pulse raced. Caleb had always been attractive, but he had never looked this good.

“Wh—what's going on?”

“It's prom night,” he said.

My lips turned up, and I giggled like a silly girl. A sound you would expect from Kailee, not me. “Okay?” Since I'd been watching ABC Family Channel at Caleb's, I'd seen so many chick flicks with big prom scenes that I really wanted to go. However, I knew I wasn't allowed to date, and Caleb couldn't dance, so I never mentioned it.

“Would you like to go?”

“I—don't have a dress.”

“Morgan said she had something for you.”

From her place beside the couch, Morgan's tendrils framed her face, and she beamed. “Caleb paid for it, though.”