Choker (11 page)

Cara and her mother climbed from the car, the brisk wind blowing around their legs. Cara held her dress down with both hands. Well-dressed people in overcoats and suits were standing in clusters on the step, chatting. Cara spotted Sarit in a group of their classmates. She smiled and nodded, but Sarit either didn’t see her or didn’t want to see her. Cara let her mother steer her by the elbow through the crowds into the overheated vestibule of the church.

The church bell rang once, and people began filing inside. The air in the vestibule quickly took on the smell of damp wool. The babble of people around her was low but unceasing. Cara felt the noise worming its way down her ear passages and into her brain, where it lodged above her forehead like a swarm of bees. She let the crowd carry her into the large, airy sanctuary, decorated with stained-glass windows in abstract designs. No gory crucifixes for the Methodists—the only cross in the whole place was a modest, light-wood structure over the altar in front.

Cara spotted Sarit, Julie, and the others crowding into a back pew. Alexis limped up the aisle with her friends surrounding her as if she were a grieving widow and was inserted into a side pew halfway from the front. Ethan was nowhere to be seen. Sydney’s parents were visible as stick figures sitting stiffly in the middle of the front pew. A large photo of Sydney in a low-cut black dress—Cara recognized it as cropped from last year’s Prom Court portrait—sat on an easel at the front, flanked by large sprays of purple delphiniums.

Dad hurried up the aisle, and Mom nudged Cara into a nearby pew. She obediently slid in with her parents on each side. Their presence seemed to close in on her. A bland-looking young man with spectacles stood up from his chair at the side of the altar and opened a large black binder. He was clearly the minister, though he wore an ordinary suit and tie. The crowd grew respectfully quiet.

One of the doors at the back opened. Cara turned to see Ethan, looking impossibly handsome in khakis and a crisp blue shirt, his hair still damp from the shower, hurrying up the aisle. A little murmur ran through the crowd as he slid into the pew next to Alexis and put his arm around her. She pressed her damp face into his shoulder.

The minister began. “Dear friends and family, today we are gathered to remember a special young woman, someone who left us too soon.”

Cara wiggled in her seat, trying to get comfortable on the hard wood, while the minister buzzed on about Sydney’s lust for life, as he put it, her love for her parents, friends, school, the world. A parade of relatives and classmates appeared on the podium and disappeared. Lips mouthed words of sadness, mourning, remembrances of Sydney on the football field sidelines, at family holiday parties, stocking the local food pantry for World Hunger Day. Cara could feel her legs going numb as the edge of the pew cut into the bottom of her thighs. A draft curled around her ankles. She glanced over at her mother and caught her surreptitiously checking her BlackBerry. Mom looked up guiltily and slid the phone into the open handbag at her feet.

“Let us pray.” The minister bowed his head. Cara stared at the bitten nails pressed together in her lap. The cuticles were ragged, and the backs of her hands were rough. She really had to start using hand cream.

“Amen.” The minister looked up. Everyone stood and began gathering purses and jackets, talking to one another in low voices. Several groups filtered up to the front and embraced Sydney’s parents.

Cara stood up, knees cracking, and stretched her back.

“Well, now, wasn’t that nice?” Mom sounded like she was on auto-parent.

“Very nice,” Dad echoed.

Cara mouthed Mom’s next words along with her. “I wonder if I have time to stop by the office for a bit.”

Cara nodded. “I’m sure you do, Mom.” Might as well release her as soon as possible. Cara followed her father’s charcoal gray–clad back up the aisle, stopping every foot or so as people moved slowly out of the pews and back into the vestibule.

The noise level increased, as if the congregation had just been let out of class. Cara left her parents making polite conversation with Madeline Brazelton’s parents and made straight for the water fountain in the corner. She pressed the shiny metal bar, drinking deeply until her thirst was slaked. Cara wiped her dripping chin on the back of her hand and turned around, smacking into someone standing in line directly behind her.

“Oh God, sorry!” Cara blurted. It was Sarit, wearing a gray sweater dress and a pair of tall, tight brown boots.

She grinned. “It’s okay. This place is so hot. I’m dying of thirst.” She bent over the water fountain and slurped, while Cara stood there like an idiot, wondering if she should walk away, or wait.

Sarit straightened up. She blinked when she saw Cara still by her side, but regained her composure quickly. “So, wasn’t that service, like, so sad?” she said as they crossed the lobby. The place had emptied out quite a bit. Cara’s parents were still deep in conversation with the Brazeltons, while a few groups of kids still hung around talking.

Cara nodded her head, perhaps a bit too emphatically. “
So
sad,” she echoed. They had almost reached the group of track girls standing near the doors. Cara had a flash of her old anxiety—was she supposed to stand and talk with them? Or was Sarit just chatting with her on the way over to them?

She stood at Sarit’s side briefly as they joined the group, feeling intensely awkward. After a minute of standing there with an idiotically casual smile pasted on her face, with no one talking to her still, she crossed the lobby to her parents, and stood near them like the world’s most useless appendage. They didn’t even acknowledge her presence, they were so immersed in their conversation with the Brazeltons—something about property taxes. This might just cap her status as the biggest loser in the world, Cara thought. Her own
parents
weren’t even talking to her.

The track girls were trailing out the door. Then Sarit said something to them and broke off from the group. Cara watched in disbelief as Sarit crossed the now-empty lobby toward her.

“Hey, Cara, a few people are coming over to my place to hang out and, you know, like, remember Sydney,” she said. “You want to come?”

Mom broke off her conversation finally and looked over. “Sarit Kohli?” she asked. Sarit nodded. “Goodness, I hardly recognized you! You girls are getting so big.”

Sarit smiled patiently.

“Thanks, Sarit, that would be great,” Cara jumped in before her mother could humiliate her any further. She tried to control the big sloppy grin that threatened to take over her face.

“Oh, yes, that would be great!” Mom echoed. She gave Cara a little push. “Have a good time, honey.” She waved as if Cara were going off to a kindergarten play group.

Sarit grinned, and Cara rolled her eyes as they hurried across the lobby and outside. Madeline’s red Mazda was idling at the curb. Julie was in the front, while Rachael and another girl Cara didn’t know were stuffed in the back. Sarit climbed in next to them and after a moment’s hesitation, Cara followed.

“Hey, Cara,” Julie greeted her.

“Sarit, get off my leg,” Rachael said.

“There’s no room.” Sarit laughed. Cara scanned the car for signs of irritation that she was horning in, but no one looked annoyed. In fact, no one even seemed surprised that she was there. Cara relaxed against the door, squished as she was, and Madeline pulled into traffic. It was only after they were several miles away that Cara thought about Zoe—alone in her room, waiting for her to come back.

Chapter 12

S
ARIT’S DOORBELL RANG OVER AND OVER, AND THE
large sunken living room quickly filled up with kids from school. People streamed in and slouched onto the couches and floor. Bob Marley played quietly on the stereo in the corner. Cara perched at the edge of a couch, her purse feeling like a suitcase in her hands. A giant bowl of pretzels appeared and slowly made its way around the room. People talked in low voices, with only the occasional burst of laughter. A purple dusk was beginning to gather outside the large picture windows.

Cara looked around for Sarit, but she couldn’t see her or any of the other track girls. They were probably in the kitchen. Through some sliding doors on the right, a group of kids perched on lounge chairs drawn up around a fire pit. She recognized Alexis’s figure, lying against the back of a chair. She looked like she was asleep. Jack was sitting next to her. Ethan was out there too, on Alexis’s other side, poking at the fire with a long stick. His eyes were focused on the dancing flames, and Cara wondered if he was deliberately trying not to look at Jack or Alexis.

She forced herself to smile at a tall guy next to her. He was wearing a blue tie pulled down, with his collar unbuttoned. She didn’t really know anyone—they were mostly seniors. Two girls across from her looked over with blank eyes. One of them took a pretzel and nibbled at it daintily. Cara’s hands felt as big as hams. She placed them next to her on the couch, but that felt weird, so she folded them in her lap, which felt even weirder.

“Where’s Sammi?” a tall dark-haired girl sitting on the floor asked.

“You know,” the guy with the blue tie replied meaningfully. Everyone burst out laughing at Sammi’s unnamed whereabouts, and Cara tried to laugh too. She felt like there was a giant
POSEUR
sign plastered to her forehead.

“What was she thinking?” The tall girl sighed.

Her friend rolled her eyes. “What is she always thinking? She knew they’d be gone.”

“But they weren’t!” A blond girl laughed. More merriment. Cara could feel her smile grow more fixed. She willed her eye not to start twitching, but God help her, it did. Of course. The twitch began slow and small but quickly increased until she could feel the edge of her eyelid almost vibrating with it.

Cara got up quickly, catching her toe on the edge of the coffee table and stumbling a little. “Sorry,” she mumbled to the group. She thought she could feel their eyes following her across the room.

The cluttered kitchen was deserted. Dishes crowded the sink. The window over the sink looked out onto the small backyard, with an old wooden garage at the back and a neighbor’s picket fence beyond. Cara poked around in the cabinets for a clean glass and finally pulled down a coffee mug reading
SHERMAN HIGH JUNIOR PROM COURT, 2005. QUEEN
was emblazoned on the handle. Must have been Sarit’s older sister.

Cara took a deep breath, relaxing for a moment in the unobserved quiet of the room and felt her eyelid twitching slow and then stop. She ran water into the mug and took a sip. It was warm and metallic-tasting. As she dumped it out she gazed at her reflection in the darkening window. Her face stared back at her, the eyes wide and dark. Her hair fell loosely around her face. The shadows under her eyes were deep gray smudges. Then, over her shoulder, she saw Ethan come into the kitchen.

She whirled around. His tie was loosened, and his hair was rumpled, as if he’d run his hand through it a few times. “Hey there.” He smiled in his easy way. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Cara’s throat closed up, but she managed to say, “Yeah, I am.”
Brilliant, Cara. Would you like fries with that?

Ethan opened the fridge and studied the contents critically. He extracted a bottle of iced tea and opened a nearby cabinet. It was full of pots and pans.

“Oh! Here.” Cara handed him a 2005 Prom Court King mug that matched her own.

“Thanks. You want some?”

“Uh, sure.” Cara handed him her mug and watched as he filled it halfway, then poured the rest into his own.

He handed her the mug, and the tips of his fingers grazed hers. Her hand shook.

“Whoops. Don’t drop it.” He smiled at her, and for one second his light blue eyes looked right into hers. Cara thought she might go into cardiac arrest right then, but she forced herself to take a firmer grasp on her mug.

Ethan leaned back against the counter and gulped half his tea. “The funeral party. It’s such a weird thing to do, don’t you think?”

Cara smiled a little. “Yeah, I know. But I guess nobody really wants to be alone right now.” She cast a glance through the open doorway into the crowded living room. “I don’t really know a lot of people here.”

Ethan shook his head. “Me neither. I hate parties, actu-ally.”

“You?” Cara couldn’t help exclaiming. “You always seem so . . .” She cast around for the word. “Social,” she finished lamely.

Ethan raised his eyebrows a little. “Yeah? That’s funny. Usually I feel like I just move around in this little bubble of friends. I hardly hang out with anyone except our group, and Alexis . . .” His voice trailed off. He cleared his throat.

Cara shifted her weight. She was suddenly aware of how close they were standing. “Why do you hate parties?”

Ethan drained the rest of his tea. “Probably because I used to be fat.” His voice was muffled and his face half-hidden by the uptilted mug.

“What?” Cara wasn’t sure she’d heard him right—or if he was kidding.

He lowered the mug. A crooked little smile touched his mouth. “You didn’t know I was the fat kid in middle school?”

Cara shook her head.

“Dude, I was huge!” Ethan dug in his back pocket for his wallet. He flipped it open and pulled a creased photo from behind his driver’s license. Cara studied it. A much younger, much chubbier Ethan stood awkwardly in front of the Grand Canyon, surrounded by his family, everyone squinting into the sun.

“You weren’t so bad.” She handed the photo back, and he tucked it away again.

“I used to wear my dad’s shirts to hide my gut.” Ethan tapped his fingers on the counter. His ears were pink. “Anyway, I was like the loneliest kid in the fifth grade. I literally had no friends.” His voice had a veneer of carelessness.

Sympathy flooded Cara’s heart. She wanted to take his hand, hanging by his side, and squeeze it. “But then everything turned out all right,” she said instead. She could hardly believe
she
was comforting
Ethan.

Ethan grinned. “Yeah. I grew like six inches when I was eleven. But still, every time I see some little fat kid on the street, I want to go up and tell him, ‘It’s going to be okay, buddy. You’ll get through it.’” He put his mug and Cara’s in the sink, and together they walked out into the packed living room.