A Small Town Dream (13 page)

All this ran through her mind as she sat silently beside Connie. She assumed Connie was quiet because she couldn’t handle the truth about Parker. Annie felt truly sorry that Connie’s dream was crushed. Finally, Connie broke the silence.

“I know, Annie. I know all of it.” Annie’s eyes grew wide. “I love Parker. As least, I
think
I do, and I
thought
... Dammit, Annie, I thought if the
sex
was good, and if
I
was good, and if I didn’t
push
him or... I really thought I could change him and get what
I
wanted. But I don’t know anymore. Maybe you’re right about staying here, all safe and sound in a little town with a predictable life. But once he got back from New York, he was different. I had no hold anymore, no real control.”

“But, you two
are
back together, right? So that’s something.”

Connie laughed. “It’s
something
, alright. We’re back together—that is until you tell him you love him, or he reads another damn book that I can’t
fucking
understand.” She spat the expletive. “Then he’ll go back to
you
, or find somebody else. I know it.”

It hurt Annie to hear talk like that. Connie, in spite of all the current weirdness,
was
her best friend. She
had
been strong and driven, but now Annie could see she was lost and groping. Connie tried to hide wiping her eyes, pretending she had an itch.

“Connie?”

Connie cleared her throat to hide a sniffle, and then looked at her. “What?”

“I have money.” Connie frowned. “I’ve saved almost every penny I’ve ever earned, close to twelve thousand dollars, and I want you to have it.”

“I don’t… What? You have twelve thousand dollars? I don’t get it. What are you saying?”

“I’m
saying
, Connie, after graduation, take the money and
go
. Go on your own. Don’t wait for Parker, or for anybody, just
go
. You’re smart, and pretty...you’ll be fine. Take the money and get out of here. I don’t really need it, not like you do.
Please
. Take it and
go
.” Connie was stunned. She stared at Annie for a long time.

“Why would you give me…?”

“Because I love you. Because I want you to be happy. Because before Parker Levitt came along, it was you and me and the rest of the girls, and everything was… Just take it.”

“I don’t know, Annie…”

“Yes, you do. And to prove it, never mind waiting for graduation. Come on. The bank’s still open.” Annie stood up and held out her hand.

“Annie, I don’t know—”

“Yes, you do. You
know
this is a good idea. It may be the best idea I’ve ever had, so come on. I’ll have them cut a teller’s check, or whatever they call it, enough at least for you to start, maybe buy a ticket to somewhere and go think things through. Then you can plan whatever you want, whenever you want. You’re going to have your dream, Connie, and it’s on
me
.”

This time, Connie’s tears were for joy. This time, when she pulled Connie to her feet, Annie hugged her, because now it was right.
The anger, the venom that had been lingering between them flooded away and old friends, dear friends, close friends were together again. Breaks and cracks were instantly mended and t
he two girls walked toward town, arms around each other, watching the sun glitter on the water.

That’s the end of it
, Annie thought,
it’s done.
Done and gone, and now she could love the rest of her very last year.
 

“I’m dumping Parker in the morning,” Connie said. Annie gave her shoulders a little squeeze. “And you know, Anne…” Connie grinned at her sideways, and Annie took the compliment, “I have nothing to compare stupid Parker to either, so I really don’t know if he’s that good in bed, either.”

Annie laughed at the absurdity of her life, but it didn’t matter anymore. She had a beautiful sunset, a recovered friendship, all was well with her world.

Until it wasn’t.

On Monday morning, Annie overslept. She was late for school, but not worried about it. She had near-perfect attendance, and valedictorian-level grades, so arriving twenty minutes late would not be a serious problem.

The
serious
problem—and the reason she overslept in the first place—was Connie. As of late Sunday evening, her parents had declared her a missing person.

Saturday morning, Connie told them she was going to meet Parker, and hadn’t said where, but that wasn’t unusual. Her parents cut her a lot of slack her senior year, and Parker always presented himself to Connie’s folks as a responsible young man who was very much in love with their daughter. They were used to her going places with him and staying out late.

Sunday, Connie didn’t show up at the family breakfast table. That wasn’t particularly surprising either, because she spent a lot of time at the library during the week or at the diner or the coffee shop on the weekends. Sometimes she took off unannounced, especially if she had a paper due, or an exam to study for. Connie was as serious about her grades as Annie. And when she was studying, Connie often lost track of time and ignored her phone. Then sometimes Parker would show up, and she’d go off with him, so it wasn’t unusual for her to not answer text messages, either.

By late Sunday afternoon, though, Connie’s folks began to worry. They first called Parker’s parents. He had told
them
he was going off for the weekend to visit a friend a few miles away and would stay overnight Saturday, and maybe Sunday, then go directly to school. He’d done that a few times before, and they knew his friend well enough. He’d said nothing whatsoever about taking Connie with him, however.

So four short phone calls later—one to Parker’s friend’s house, one each to the diner and coffee shop, and then one to Annie—Connie’s parents called the police. Not only had Connie not been seen in any of her usual places, Parker had lied about visiting his friend.

Annie’s parents refused to let her stay home from school Monday. There was nothing she could do anyway. It was in the hands of the authorities.

At 8:05, Annie stepped through the school doors into the main hall, silent and empty as usual when everyone else was in class, then headed to the main office. She’d explain, get a pass, and do the best she could to focus on her classes.

“Assembly is in the auditorium,” Mrs. Winkle, the principle’s secretary, at first not looking up. “You’re late and you need to—” Then she looked up to see Annie. She came around her desk and hugged her. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry about what, Mrs. Winkle?” The older woman gently took Annie’s hand.

“Come on, dear. I’ll walk you down.”

She led Annie out of the office and down the hall toward the auditorium, patting Annie’s hand and making cooing noises as they walked, but wouldn’t tell Annie what was going on.

Once in the auditorium, Ellen rushed up to Annie, her face flushed and wet with tears. As Ellen crushed Annie in a hug, Mrs. Winkle patted Annie’s back and whispered, “I’ll leave you with your friends now. I’m so sorry, dear. It’s such a shame.” Then, she was gone, and Annie struggled to extricate herself from Ellen.

“Ellen, what
is
it?” Ellen could only shake her head, her face too crumpled to speak. Annie let her cry, holding Ellen close as she trembled. Finally, Ellen composed herself and took Annie’s hands. “
What,
Ellen? What is going on?” Annie asked again.

Ellen’s face crumpled once more, but she managed to whimper, “Connie’s dead,” then dissolved into more tears.

Annie looked around, watching the faces of the students filing in. Some splotchy with tears, others looking shocked, even more bewildered. Connie’s words just hadn’t registered. Then her eyes found the stage. Behind the podium—on the huge screen that had been lowered—was Connie’s class picture. Under that, the dates of her birth and another date. Saturday’s date. The date of Connie’s—

Annie let go of Ellen and stumbled, trancelike, toward the front of the room. She stood, looking up at the screen, at her best friend’s face, trying to process the implication of the dates. Connie’s birthday, June twenty-seventh, a little over a month away. Then Saturday’s date. It still made no sense. Annie turned to find the entire room looking at her, silent, their faces a crush of sadness and confusion. At that, she lost it.

“
What the hell is going on?!
” she shouted at the crowd. Mrs. Greene, the school nurse, materialized beside her, took her hand and led her to a seat at the back of the room. Ellen and her other friends had gathered in the back as well. As Mrs. Greene spoke quietly to her, Annie watched Dr. Harrington, the school principle, walk to the podium. He began to speak about loss, contending with difficulties, triumph, and the goodness of Connie Baker. In the back, Annie heard some of his speech and some of what Mrs. Greene was saying. All the while, she looked at her friends, searching from face to face for some explanation.

“—someone called Sheriff Grimes,” Dr. Harrington broke through. “—reported a body—”
Oh
my God
. “—woods near the beach. When they responded, they found—”

Annie shook her head, trying to clear her mind. She stood, pushed the nurse away. “
What?!
” she demanded of the room, suddenly frantic. “
Where
is
Connie
?!” She tried to move into the aisle but was gathered back and held by Ellen and the nurse. “Where is she?” she begged. Ellen tried to hug her, but Annie pushed her off. “Stop
hugging
me!” She turned and shouted at the principal. “
Where the hell is
Connie Baker?!”

Everyone turned to look at Annie. Ellen stepped back, and Mrs. Greene stood up. She took both of Annie’s hands in hers, looked into her eyes, and spoke as calmly as she could.

“Annie, honey, listen to me. Connie Baker is dead.” Annie gripped the nurse’s hands. “They found her body in the woods this morning.” Annie began to hyperventilate. “She was raped—”

No
.

“— and her body partially burned.”

No, no, no
.

“Annie, honey,” the nurse looked into her eyes and spoke carefully, “Connie’s dead.”

That got through. Annie collapsed into her seat, too much in shock to cry. Her friends huddled around her as Dr. Harrington continued.

“—a life cut off in its prime—”

Annie stood abruptly.

“—grief counseling will be made available—”

She scanned the room, her face ashen.

“Where is Parker?” Mrs. Greene gently turned Annie’s face to meet her eyes.

“Annie?”

“What, Mrs. Greene?”

“Honey, Parker Levitt is in jail.”

“Just what am I supposed to say to you, Dr. Moore?”

Annie slumped in a chair facing a desk in a makeshift office in her school. She had avoided this room and this man for two full weeks, but her demeanor had changed enough that her parents became concerned. When Annie refused to see a private therapist, the school authorities intervened.

“First off, don’t call me
doctor
.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not. I’m a social worker with a master's, not a doctorate.”