Eternal: More Love Stories With Bite (9 page)

My entire body was numb. I kept expecting my cell phone to ring Chel's song—"Just Say Yes," a forgettable number from a girl-band we'd both been gaga over in eighth grade even though we hadn't known each other. When we found out we both had loved the song it was like, whoa, Twilight Zone, and we were
meant
to be friends.

I kept wanting to pick it up and dial her and hear her voice.
Hey, bitch,
she'd say.
What the fuck you up to?

The phone did ring. Bebe Marshall called. And Jenny Mailer. And JoJo Horschak—I didn't know she had my number. A couple other girls.

I turned the little crystal-dotted phone off. They weren't calling to wish me happy birthday or anything. It would be
ohmyGod
and
have you heard
and
did they tell you?

Dad tapped at the door. "Honey?"

Uh-oh. I made a sound, staring out over the backyard. The pool glittered, hard blue. Tomorrow was Sunday. The landscapers would be out at some ungodly hour, clipping and mowing and pruning.

He opened the door halfway. He's so narrow and tall, that was all he needed. "I have a partner dinner at La Scala's, but I can cancel. Would you like—"

"Go ahead and go." I stared out the window. "It's Saturday. Consuela'll make tamales." Like always.

"I can cancel it. I can take you out instead."

Oh, Jesus, no. We would just sit and stare at each other, he would make awkward conversation, I would wish I was anywhere else. "It takes, like, months to get into La Scala's, Dad. Just go. I don't want to go out."

His thin, clean-shaven face flushed. He was trying to do the dad thing. Really, I got it. But Jesus. I hugged my knees even harder. My hair fell over my shoulders. I could still taste the beer from last night, even though I'd brushed my teeth.

"If you're sure." He waited a beat. His hair's cut a little longer than the usual attorney's buzz, because it's thick and wavy like mine. I think he counts the hairs in his brush every morning.

Chel'd thought so, too. A bubble of something hot and spiked burst right inside my chest.

"I'm sure. I really don't want to go anywhere."

He nodded. "I'll keep my cell phone on."

Oh, awkward. I hunched down even further. "Okay."

He left me alone after that, thank God. I waited and waited and finally took a shower, washing all the hangover and rancidness off me.

I didn't use the peach soap. It was on my windowsill, where I'd sat and stared at it. The lump of different soaps in my shower hurt when I scrubbed it over my skin, hard, lather rising in fluffy streaks. Each week the cleaners wipe under the multicolored lump, put together from pieces stolen from parties all over the county, and put it back.

I
wonder what they think.

* * * *

That night I dreamed.

There were cliffs, and the sea. It crashed over and over again, throwing up huge chunks of opalescent bubbles. I stood at the edge looking down, and I
was
suddenly very sure Chelsea was down there drowning. I couldn't hear her or see her, but I knew.

I stood looking down and the bubbles flushed pink. Then they turned red, and a sickening smell belched up, blowing my hair back. I tried to wake up but I couldn't. There was something heavy on my chest, the breath all got squeezed out of me, and the dream turned black until I. . .

. . . opened my eyes to sunlight the next morning and found out my period had started. I
had a nasty sore throat, too, and a hedge trimmer and lawnmower in the backyard were drilling right through my head. I'd bled all through my pajama bottoms and the whole thing made me so sick I stumbled into my bathroom and threw up until I couldn't retch anymore. Then I sat there on my knees on the cold tile floor and cried.

* * * *

By the next Friday I'd stopped bleeding. I had to go back to school, too. Dad got over the treating me like a delicate flower thing and told me so.

I had the same dream—ocean, drowning, bubbles— every night. I'd stopped bleeding but I was cramping, which wasn't normal. And I felt weird. Sore throat, a little tired, but nothing other than that.

I hadn't talked to anyone and it was like being a leper. Girls stared and whispered until blonde Bebe and redheaded Jenny showed up and stood on either side of me like bodyguards. That reassured everyone that I was still part of the clique and there hadn't been any weird moving around in the pecking order. "Hey," Jen said. "How are you? Your phone's been off."

I wondered if she'd gotten
her
period yet. She looked perky. "My dad." I shrugged. "Lawyer stuff. He said not to talk to anyone until the cops . . ." I stopped there. You can only take a lie so far.

Bebe perked up. "You had to talk to the cops? How many times?"

Jenny elbowed her. "Jesus, Bebe. Try not to dance on the grave or anything."

That was something new. Usually Jenny and I watch while Bebe and Chelsea do the blonde follies.

But Chel was gone. And we were on the steps in front of St. Mary's pile of gray stone, the cross on top of the chapel's pointed roof glittering in the sun. There were ten minutes until first period, and everyone was looking at us.

"Sorry." Bebe dipped her head.
Her
long hair
fell over
one shoulder.
She
always looks like a
shampoo
commercial. She swung her bookbag. "We saw
the
guy, too. Chel
looked
drunk."

Christ. "She had a couple beers. Not enough to
.
. . you know."

"Maybe
he
slipped
her
something?" Jenny rolled her green eyes.
The
curls
in
her coppery hair aren't natural. I
know because she smells
like perm
every
once
in a while. You just can't wash that smell out even
if
you get it done
on
a Friday afternoon and stay home all weekend. "Sorry. It's just, Jesus, you know?"

I
did. "Let's go inside." Just then my cell phone started buzzing. I dug in my blazer pocket to fish it out, and cold fingers ran
up
my
back.
My stomach began to hurt.

The phone was tinkling "Just Say Yes."
I
flipped it open and stared
in
disbelief.

Chel.
Four
little letters on the
LCD display.

"Who's calling?" Bebe craned her neck to see, but I hit the power button and held it down. The song died, strangled, and her name winked out.

"I don't know," I said. It was the truth. My fingers felt
cold,
even though the sun was blazing down on us. Getting
from
air-conditioned car to air-conditioned school is sometimes the worst part of the day, and everything was
full of
dust. The wind was up, teasing at everyone's hair. I'd zapped myself twice on the fridge this morning trying to find something I felt like eating. "Let's go in."

Bebe took the hint, and we
all
started up the steps. "There's a party at Kell's tonight."

"Tragic,"
I
mumbled. People were staring. I fought the urge to hunch my shoulders. You can't ever look weak while walking in to school. It's blood in the water.

* * * *

Friday night another blonde girl disappeared. Amy Macanzito. They found her Sunday morning. Throat cut. Body naked.
Schoolgirl Murders,
the paper and the TV blared. It was official.

The next Thursday, Dad was working late and Consuela had retreated to her room with Mexican wrestling on her television. It was a warm fall night, the wind full of dust and smoke but falling off a little around dusk. I plunged into the pool, stroked out to the middle, turned over on my back, and just floated. The stars came out in ones and twos.

If Chel was here we'd be sitting on the concrete edge, dangling our legs and talking desultorily. The winds made everyone nervous. Sometimes during them you heard sirens all night, all over town. People go crazy listening to that low moan day and night. Chel said it was bad electricity that drove them nuts.

My stomach trembled. I'd pushed my dinner around my plate, but Consuela hadn't said anything beyond offering me a double helping of dessert. She was awful quiet lately. I knew she was worried by the way she kept making my favorites.

High scudding clouds hung like veils. Light drained away from the sky while I lay floating. My cheeks were wet, but it
didn't
matter
in
the pool. Hot tears beaded up and vanished
in
the chlorinated water. My hair was going to frizz big-time.

After a while I moved. Water lapped. The pool was lit, a jewel of blue, its reflections starring the back of the house in a wide slice. It
looked like
the house had jazzed up for a party. I thought of bringing the dish soap out and dumping it in here.

She's just tragic,
I
heard Chelsea say.
I
swam slowly for the side
of
the pool. I could haul myself out and sit there,
let
the warm wind dry me.

It took a while to reach the side. I put my hands up, got ready to pull myself out
of
the water, and the just-trimmed bushes moved. There was
a
flash
of white.

I
froze. Water ran
in
warm trickles down my neck, my ears clearing out. I blinked, but it was dark and the shadow- dazzle of the pool made everything shift weird. I was still there, hanging onto the side of the pool, when he
appeared.