Casey Barnes Eponymous (16 page)

Alex
looked at Casey.
 
“She said it’d be
okay if I stopped by your band practice today.”

“Is that
so?” Ben asked.

“Are you
going to be playing music with us?” Sukh asked.
 
Yull just watched.

“I doubt
it,” Ben said, “Given that he’s already in a band.
 
One that, I assume, is also trying out
for talent show?”

Alex
Deal’s eyes narrowed but his expression remained calm.
 
He turned to Casey.
 
“Is it still cool if I stop by today?”

She bit
her lip and looked to Ben and Sukh, but more to Ben.
 
Just as she was about to speak, though,
she spotted Maxine French.
 
She was
entering the front hall with another girl in a cheerleading uniform.
 
They were laughing.
 
She caught sight of Casey standing with
Alex Deal, leaned over, and said something to the girl.
 
The girl nodded.
 

Casey
looked at Alex.
 
“Talent show
auditions start tomorrow.
 
How about
if you check us out then?”

Alex Deal
stared at her for a moment.
 
Then he
shrugged and walked away.

“We go
now, yes?” Sukh said.

She forced
a smile.
 
“Yes.”
 

On their
way out of the building Yull fell into step alongside Casey.
 
“Well done.”

She made a
face at him.
 
“Don’t think for two
moments your words have had any pull on me whatsoever.
 
I just thought it would be better for
band stability if we kept egos in check for the time being by holding off the
groupies.”

“Of
course, Casey.”

21

They
played even better than the day before.
 
Sukh’s sister came by to pick him up as soon as they finished.
 
But since they were going in the
opposite direction of Casey’s house and Yull said he would be able to get her a
half hour later, she stayed.
 
She
used Ben’s computer to email Leigh.
 
She had to make sure another debacle had not gone down.
 

That day
Leigh took Ben’s advice, as relayed by Casey, to make a plate of brownies and leave
them, under cover of night, on her parents’ front door.
 
Accompanying the brownies would be a
note saying she would return to the parental homestead only when the threat of
boarding school was taken
off
the
table.
 
Leigh, however, fell asleep
while the brownies were baking (she did not sleep well during her first night
as a runaway), and filled the Barnes household with a noxious burned baked good
smell.
 
This was communicated to
Casey via email as Leigh still did not have a phone.
 
Not surprisingly, Casey was also contacted
by Mrs. Robinson that day.
 

During
math a girl from guidance brought Casey to the office, where she had to take
the call in full view of her counselor Ms. James.
 
Casey thought Ms. James was cool.
 
She had a punk haircut, three earrings,
and once, when Casey was there after school, she heard Ms. James playing The
Cure in her office.
 
But cool as she
was, Ms. James was an adult and thus her thoughts on Casey aiding and abetting
a runaway would likely fall along party lines.

“Casey,”
Mrs. Robinson began, “Have you seen or heard from Leigh at all?”

She
averted her eyes from Ms. James’ curious ones.
 
“Uh, no Mrs. Robinson.
 
Is everything okay?”

“No.
 
Leigh’s run away from home.”

“Why
that’s downright shocking.
 
Whatever
on earth might have made her do that?”

“We
discovered a roach clip amongst Leigh’s belongings, Casey.
 
It was from her trip to Los Angeles.”

“No!”

There was
a pause on the other end of the line.
 
“Are you sure you have not seen or heard from her at all?”

“Yes.
 
Though I did take an Ambien last night
which, as I’m sure you know, can have deleterious effect on short term memory.”

“Excuse
me?”

“You mean
you haven’t read about it in the popular media?
 
People take Ambien and do all sorts of
things in the middle of the night they later have zero recollection of
doing.
 
Some people even get in the
car and go to the mall.”

“Malls are
closed in the middle of the night.”

“Exactly,”
Casey said, “But it’s not like the Ambien pill knows that.”

“Why is
your mother giving you access to Ambien?”
 

“You be
surprised what goes on in latchkey households these days.”

Ms. James
made a note on a Scotch pad.
 

“You know,
this Ambien discussion and the inherent and subtle fingers it points at
irresponsible parenting have caused a thought to occur to me.”
 
Casey paused. “Would you like to know
what that is, Mrs. Robinson?”

“What,
Casey?” Mrs. Robinson said sharply.

“That
roach clip likely didn’t belong to Leigh.
 
It was probably Aunt Eva’s or a gift from
one of the college kids Leigh attended the concert with that poor Leigh was coerced
into accepting.”

“That’s a
lot of detail for someone who didn’t even know about the clip.”

“I really
have to get back to class.”

“You will
let me know if you hear anything?”

“Of
course, Mrs. Robinson.
 
You can
count on me.”

From Ben’s
computer, Casey opened the following email from Leigh:

Where’d you say the Oreos were again?
 
Also what’s the button that brings back
saved recordings I might have but probably didn’t erase on Tivo???
 

Casey
responded.
 
After you
locate the Oreos behind the orange teapot in the china cabinet please REFRAIN
from going near that remote again and go back down to the basement.
 
There should be, near where I keep my
old guitar, a sketchpad and colored pencils.
 
You are hereby commanded to use
them.
 
And stay hidden until I
return.
 
Arrivaderci.

When Casey
turned back around Ben was flipping through the day’s paper.
 
He put it down.
 
“Wanna see something?”

She sighed
and wondered which coffee table prop he was going to show off his intellectual
superiority with.
 
“I already read
the pop-up book on British Imperialism.”

He grabbed
his jacket from the chair. “Come on.
 
You’ll need yours too.”

“Huh?”

“You said
your brother’s not gonna be here for a half hour, right?”

“Yeah.”

“We have time.”

22

Ben’s
house was five minutes from Glen Echo, a former amusement park that had been
transformed into a
community center consisting of artists’
huts, a Spanish ballroom where dance lessons were held, and broken down rides
from the old park.

“How long have you been in Bethesda now?” she asked as they
walked.

“Two months.”

“Do you
like it?”

He
shrugged.
 
“Not sure.”

“What’s
the
best place you ever lived?”

She was
hoping he would say Paris and then explain why his Dad lived there.

“San
Fran.
 
I have cousins there.”

She
sighed.
 
“And how was it living in
Paris?”

“I never
lived in Paris.”

“Why not?”

“Why
haven’t you ever lived in Paris?”

“Because
when my Dad was alive he never lived in Paris either.”

A moment
went by and Casey realized that by dropping the dead Dad bomb she had
inadvertently given Ben a way out of discussing his increasingly elusive padre.

“When did
your Dad die?” he asked.

“When I
was four.”

“Do you
remember him?”

“Not
much.”

Ben got
quiet.
 
She knew he wanted to know
how her Dad died.
 
Whenever anyone
found out she had a dead Dad they always wanted to know more.
 
But ninety nine point nine percent of
the time they didn’t ask.
 
Aisling
Cheng asked the year before in Spanish. It was when they were doing family
vocabulary.
 
Casey informed her that
her father was dead and Aisling Cheng point blank asked how.
 
Merely for the fact that Aisling Cheng
wasn’t so freaked out about Casey having a dead Dad that she asked, Casey
burned her a disc the next day.
 
Aisling Cheng reciprocated by giving her a sparkly Hello Kitty pen.
 
The friendship did not develop much
after that point.

But Ben didn’t
say a word.
 

“He got
sick,” she said, “with cancer.
 
And
then he died.”

They
reached the entrance of the park.
 
The gate was classic Art Deco, but there was a low wall made of stones
beneath it.
 

“Wonder if
this was some kind of old fort or something,” Casey said as she kicked it.
 

“No, those
stones are from the Chautauqua era.
 
This whole place was originally built as a sight for it.
 
They built the Art Deco structures on
top.”

“The what?”

“The Chautauqua.
 
It was
a series of community lectures on cultural
and academic issues of the day that started in the late 1800s.”
 
Ben suddenly looked nervous.
 
It occurred to Casey that he might be
scared he sounded nerdy for knowing that.
 

“That’s
cool,” she said.

He walked
over to the carousel.
 
“How many
people do you think have gone on this ride over the years?”

“Some of
us would argue that in order for something to be considered a
ride
people need to scream and get dizzy on it,” she said.

Ben looked
at her.
 
“Some day.”
 
He kept walking.
 

Casey fell
into step alongside him.
 
“Someday
what?”

He seemed
not to have heard her though.
 
“There used to be a lot of suburban amusement parks, but most closed in
the 70s.
 
This one closed earlier
because of race riots.”
 
He
paused.
 
“I like this place because
it’s got history.
 
It’s not like the
rest of this town where anything unusual is crammed under the surface so
everything looks perfect to the outside world.”

“That’s
what you think?”

“That’s
what I see.
 
Even if my mom says
people in the suburbs are every bit as odd as people in cities.”
 
He paused.
 
“They’re just better at hiding it.”

He led
Casey to a far end of the park and stopped.
 
There was a gate covered in ivy.
 
Casey never noticed it before.
 
Through the ivy there was a sign.
 
The Crystal Pool.
 
Ben walked a few paces past the gate to
a chain link fence.
 
He leaned and
the fence gave way.
 
Casey followed
him through.
 
Inside she saw
that, in its heyday, the pool had been long and shallow with sitting areas
throughout.
 
There was enough of the
original base peaking through the overgrowth to catch the light of the moon and
give it a ghostly feel.