Reconstructing Amelia (20 page)

There was a knock at the front door then, once, then three times much harder. It was impatient, aggressive almost. Kate stood up from the couch and, with her arms wrapped tight around her, walked hesitantly through the darkness to the door. She didn’t turn on the light. She wasn’t ready yet to announce that she was home.

Bam! Bam! Bam!
The knocking came again when she was almost at the door.

Kate’s stomach was tight as she leaned to look through the peephole. There, on the stoop, was Seth, arms crossed, jaw clenched. When Kate swung open the door, his hand was raised as if he were about to pound again. He looked relieved for a second, then angry.

“No. Not allowed, not these days,” he scolded, striding inside past her. “Do you know how many times I’ve called you today?”

“No, I’ve—”

“Twelve,” Seth snapped. “I left you
twelve
messages. But do you bother to call me back? No, of course not. I had to make Thomas leave work at six thirty to go meet the nanny so I could come
here
to check on you. Do you know how early six thirty is at McCann Erikson? It’s like taking a half day. Let’s just say that Thomas is pissed at me for impinging on his workaholic persona and, by extension, he is also pissed at you. Now, what could possibly be your excuse for not calling me back?” Seth looked around the room. “And why are you sitting here in the dark? I’ve told you before that’ll depress you. There are actual studies that—”

Seth fell silent as Kate’s face began to melt. A second later she was sobbing.

“Oh my,” Seth said, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her. “Okay, okay. You can sit in the dark if you want to, honey. And screw Thomas. Lola’s his daughter, too. He can climb down from his ivory tower to pick her up for once. Come on now, what you need is a drink.”

Twenty minutes later, wineglasses in hand—and with Seth up to speed on everything—they were staring down at the pages covering Kate’s coffee table.

“It is a tad
Lolita
,” Seth said. “What are you going to do?”

Kate shook her head. “Find out why he sent them, I guess.”

“Are you sure it matters?” Seth asked.

“What do you mean? Of course it matters.”

“Listen, Kate, you know I love you, right?”

Kate glared at him for a second, knowing he was about to say something she didn’t want to hear. “I guess so.”

“And you know I loved Amelia.”

She nodded.

“I get wanting to know that Amelia’s death wasn’t a suicide,” he said. “But if you already know it, why do you have to prove it? And to whom?”

Kate could tell Seth still thought that Amelia’s death had been a suicide, though. That he thought all of this searching was just part of Kate’s healing process. Necessary, perhaps, but ultimately futile.

“She was my
daughter
. The only one I will ever have and—”

“Listen, I know what that means, with Lola now, especially. But—”

“You think I should let it drop. That if somebody
killed
Amelia, I should just let them off the hook?”

Seth shook his head and frowned. His usually snappy demeanor was muted now, almost completely.

“I’m saying that you should let yourself off the hook,” he said quietly. “None of this is going to bring Amelia back, and it might drive you right off the edge. What if you learn something about her and this Woodhouse character that is creepy and terrible, but doesn’t have anything to do with why she died? Then what? I’m just saying that Amelia would want you to take care of you, too.
I
want you to take care of you.”

He was right, of course, about her learning awful things. She had already learned things she wished she could purge from her memory. Kate’s cell phone vibrated on the coffee table then, making a loud hollow sound against the wood. She and Seth both turned to look at it, then back at each other. Kate didn’t move.

Without her asking him to, Seth got up to check her phone. “It’s just a voice mail,” he said, handing it to her.

It was from Daniel.

“I just want to make sure you’re not worried about the whole Associated thing,” Daniel’s recorded voice said. He was trying to sound cheerful. He didn’t. He sounded wound up, if not exactly angry. “I saw the writing on the wall a long time ago. I’m never going to win Jeremy over. That’s why I’m headed to Meyers, Jenkins in a few weeks. They offered me this insane equity partnership deal, too. So I’m all good, trust me. In the meantime, I’m headed to Scotland to go golfing, if you can believe it. I haven’t taken a vacation in two years. Anyway, I’m sure I’ll see you around. Take care, Kate, and congratulations. You deserve it.”

Kate kept the phone up against her ear for a minute after the message had ended. Daniel gone to another firm after all these years trying to claw his way to the top of Slone, Thayer? Out of her life, just like that. She was relieved, but something else, too. Unsettled.
Deserve it
. That was the part of what Daniel had said that she didn’t like. He didn’t think anyone deserved anything good but him.

“Who was it?” Seth asked, not falling for Kate’s phone-to-the-ear routine. “Jeremy want you to come in so you can scrape gum off his shoe?” He lifted his hands in the air and waved them around. “Oh Kate! Help me! Help me! I can’t touch my shoes with my lily-white hands.”

“Are you done?” Kate asked.

Seth took a sip of his wine and sighed. “I suppose.”

“Anyway, it was Daniel, not Jeremy.”

“Oh boy,” Seth said. “Even better. What did Captain Corporate Crusader have to say for himself today? Did he climb over some old ladies to get to a bag of cash? Or maybe he threw some puppies into the river in exchange for a chance to first chair a trial.”

“I thought you were done?”

Seth shrugged. “Daniel deserves it. You know, I ran into him at an alumni event last year and he said he was considering a class action to stop Human Rights Watch from soliciting donations on his block.”

“I’m sure he was joking,” Kate said.

Seth raised an eyebrow. “That makes one of us. You know, I’ve heard rumors that his ex-wife, Gail, had to seek inpatient treatment after their divorce.”

“Now you’re just making things up.”

“Maybe, but come on. Daniel definitely exploits people. You know that better than anyone. He’s been taking liberties with you ever since you and he—”

“Can you please not remind me?”

“Sorry,” Seth said, looking chastised.

Kate’s phone vibrated again, in her hand.

“Daniel is not calling you
again
, is he?”

“It’s not a voice mail, it’s a text,” she said, though she’d only glanced at her phone. “Will you read it, please?”

She handed the phone back to Seth. He snatched it from her and looked down, as if he were going to sort this nonsense out once and for all. But as he read, his face slowly sank.

“Read it,” Kate said.

“Kate, I don’t think— It’s only two words. Who knows what it—”

“Seth, please.” He took a breath and fidgeted in his chair, like he was trying to buy time.

“Okay, okay, fine,” he said quietly, lifting the phone up to read. He took another short, loud breath.
“ ‘Fucking whore.’ ”

gRaCeFULLY

OCTOBER 10TH

Because there are 176 definitions for the word
loser
on urbandictionary.com.

Don’t Be a Statistic

So, there’s dissension in the ranks of the chess club, everyone . . .

We know, we know, who wants to hear about those dorks right? But wait, this is seriously good. Apparently, a certain young lady on the team known for her aggressive style of, um, gamesmanship (okay, it’s Ainsley Brown) turned up late for her match at Horace Mann last Saturday because she was otherwise occupied in the lavatory with a certain male opponent from Stuyvesant. Word is that the opponent was more than happy to throw the match in exchange for services rendered.

School administration officials claim they are narrowing in on the sticky-fingered cad who lifted two of the school’s new iPads. It’s either those lame asses from Wolf’s Gate or the Gamblers Anonymous chemistry prof, Mr. Hale. In which case I hope they fire his ass, ideally before he grades my last test.

And the Maggies are at it again. This time there’s pictures and a blog involved. I don’t have the deets, but I bet they are sweet.

Also, looks like both Ian Greene and Dylan Crosby have wandering eyes. We knew, poor Sylvia, that your hours were numbered. And Dylan seems to be wandering to somebody at LONG last. Details will follow.

Check me back later, people. I’ll have more mad scoop.

Amelia

OCTOBER 13, 8:47 PM

DYLAN

u free 2morrow

AMELIA

def what time?

DYLAN

after schl

AMELIA

what d u want to do?

DYLAN

hang out; park maybe; movies

AMELIA

like a date

DYLAN

sure, I guess

AMELIA

sounds good c/u ltr

OCTOBER 13, 9:03 PM

BEN

what’s up?

AMELIA

nada how r u?

BEN

fine; u talk to your mom?

AMELIA

not yet; still on fence

BEN

why?

AMELIA

did u tell your parents right away?

BEN

pretty much

AMELIA

and they were cool?

BEN

dad came around faster than mom

AMELIA

my mom wld be cool, but its still weird; like a bad sex talk

BEN

yeah, but u will feel better after, trust me

AMELIA

maybe; I’ve g2g. ltr xo

OCTOBER 13, 9:11 PM

SYLVIA

did you see the last gracefully?

AMELIA

Not yet, why?

SYLVIA

I just read it and it said that Ian’s eyes are wandering WTF!!!

AMELIA

100 percent of the crap on there is a total lie . . .

SYLVIA

I hope u r rite

facebook

OCTOBER 14

Amelia Baron

“They became part of that unreal but penetrating and exciting universe which is the world seen through the eyes of love.” Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse

Amelia

OCTOBER 14

I woke up with the sun in my eyes. It was low in the sky, just over the top of the brownstones across the street. I squinted and held a hand up to block it as I checked the clock on my nightstand. It was already almost five p.m. and I was babysitting for Kelsey at six thirty. So much for my movie date with Dylan. Not that I really cared. I mean, assuming Dylan wasn’t avoiding going out in public on purpose.

“Have you seriously read all of these?” Dylan asked.

When I rolled over in bed, she was at the edge of my room, staring up at all the books on my packed shelves. She was wearing only her tank top and underwear, her hair tied in a thick knot at her neck with some of it falling in loose tendrils around her face. She looked like a princess.

“I mean, it’s like a full-on library in here.” Her voice was a blend of awe and freaked-out-ness. “I’ve never seen this many books in someone’s house.”

“What about the library in your house.”

“My dad collects books,” Dylan said. “He doesn’t actually
read
them. They might as well be, like, commemorative plates, or guns. You’ve read these, right?”

I looked up and down the long, crammed shelves. It did seem kind of freakish now that I was seeing it the way Dylan must be. Though it wasn’t as if her carrying around black-belt sudoku puzzles like they were a security blanket was exactly normal either.

“Not
all
of them,” I lied. “That would be crazy. Anyway, some of them might be my mom’s, I think.”

Lying made me feel kind of sad. After all the hiding and sneaking around and pretending I’d done so I could be in the Maggies and stay close to Dylan, it would have been nice to be able to be myself 100 percent when I was alone with her. But I kind of felt like she was always about to slip through my fingers, and I didn’t know which of my quirks wasn’t cutting it. It didn’t help that Dylan was also pretty paranoid that people would find out about us. Like that would be a fate worse than death. I didn’t want to run around Brooklyn declaring our love or marching in the pride parade or anything, at least not yet. But I also didn’t care who found out. The only thing I cared about was Dylan. The one time I’d asked if she was embarrassed about us hadn’t gone well.

“No,” Dylan had said, all way testy. We’d been in my bedroom, as usual. “I just don’t like anyone at school knowing anything about my personal life, okay?”

Personal life
. It had rolled off her tongue like it was this major thing she was used to hiding. It made me wonder how many boys had kept Dylan’s secrets before me. There could have been other girls, too, for all I knew. That was a question I’d been keeping myself from asking for weeks. I was afraid of the answer. Either way, there’d be drawbacks. But I did keep hoping Dylan would change her mind about keeping us a secret. Because I didn’t know if I was in love with her, but she was all I thought about. And when we were together, I felt connected to something bigger and better than myself. That felt like love to me.

I wanted Dylan to stay, to order dinner and pretend we were an old married couple. I could even call and tell Kelsey I was sick. I never did that. It was irresponsible, but I would do that for Dylan. I already knew she’d never stay anyway, though. Dylan only ever came over for a couple of hours after school. Then she’d always say she needed to get home for dinner, to do her homework, because her mom needed to talk to her. Maybe that was all true. But it always felt like they were excuses.

Dylan was still staring up at my shelves.

“It’s okay if they are all your books or whatever,” she said. I’d always been a bad liar. “I think it’s cool that you love to read.” She backed up and sat down on the edge of the bed next to me. “I think other people picture things in their heads when they read. They imagine whole worlds. For me, there’s only words on a page, that’s it.”

“You seriously don’t picture
anything
?” I asked. “That’s so weird.”

I watched Dylan’s mouth turn down.
Weird.
Why had I said it like that? Like there was something wrong with her.

“That’s cool, that’s what I mean,” I added, but it was too late.

“Yeah, whatever, it’s totally not. But I’m not like you, Amelia. I’m not like anyone.” Dylan jerked up from the bed then and grabbed her jeans. Her face was empty as she wriggled into them. Once she got that faraway look on her face, I knew our date was over. “I’ve got to go. My mom’s big episode is on tonight. She’s having friends over to watch it. I have to help her get ready.”

She sounded like a robot.

“Sure, okay,” I sat up in bed and pulled my own shirt back on. Then there they were, pressing up against the insides of my lips again. The questions that had no good answers. But this time I couldn’t stop myself. “Am I the first girl you’ve been with?”

“What difference does it make?” At least she didn’t seem freaked-out by the question. I’d figured it would have sent her jetting for the door. “I’m with you now, aren’t I?”

Dylan pulled her jacket on and picked up her bag, then untwisted her hair from the knot it had been dangling in. She’d told me once that her mom hated it when she wore her hair up. She said it made Dylan’s jaw look too wide.

“It doesn’t matter, I guess. But are you
with
me with me?” I felt kind of sick to my stomach. This was a mistake, trying to make her talk to me about this stuff. I should have just been happy with what I was getting from her. But I couldn’t get myself to shut up. “Because sometimes it feels like maybe you don’t want to be.”

Dylan smiled then, the brightness rushing back to her face. She came over and bounced down onto the bed next to me. Her hip was pressed against my leg as she smoothed some hair out from in front of my face and tucked it behind my ear.

“I like you, Amelia,” she said. “But I want what we have to be about us and not proving some point or whatever to everybody at Grace Hall or in the Maggies. This isn’t anybody’s business but ours.”

She hadn’t answered my question, I knew that. But putting how she felt that way was romantic. Like it was us against the world. I was a stupid jerk, messing with the good thing we had. Why did I need so bad for people to know about us? Because I was a freak, that’s why. I couldn’t just let things be. That was what happened when you spent as much time alone as I did. You got weird and clingy.

I nodded. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“It’s okay. I get it.” Dylan smiled, as she leaned forward to kiss me. “You’re a little needy. Most of the time, it’s pretty cute.”

Dylan hadn’t been gone ten minutes when I heard a weird noise downstairs. I was at my desk finishing my biology homework. I froze and listened again. But I had to be hearing things. I should have turned on some stupid lights downstairs because already it was practically dark outside. And now, I was stuck way up in my bedroom in a house that was getting dark fast. It was a total rookie mistake. The kind I didn’t usually make because I was such an expert at being on my own.

I held my breath and listened for the same noise. For a second there was nothing. I was about to take a deep breath when there it came again. A quiet thump, thump, then a louder thud. Like someone was banging into stuff in the dark because they didn’t know their way around. Holy crap, could there seriously be someone
in
my house?

I grabbed up my cell phone and dialed 911, but I didn’t press Send. What if the noise turned out to be nothing—which I was totally sure was the case—and my mom found out I’d called the police? She’d be totally freaked that
I’d
been that freaked. Then she’d feel all guilty that I was home alone and scared. One way or another I’d end up getting Leelah back. And Leelah would mean the end of the Maggies. And Dylan.

I kept my finger over the Send key on my phone as I crept toward the door. I poked my head out of my bedroom and looked down the steps. It was dark down there except for a teeny glow coming up from the ground floor. Someone must have turned on a light in the kitchen, a small one, over the stove, maybe, or in the bathroom. There was a chance I’d left it on, or maybe my mom had before she left for work. But I didn’t think so.

I couldn’t just sit there and wait to see if there was someone downstairs waiting for the chance to, I don’t know, murder me or something. I was much better off heading down to check it out. If I got trapped up in my room, there’d be no escape. I started down the stairs, my back sliding down the wall. My finger still on Send. I could hear the cabinets opening and closing now. Drawers sliding open and shut. There was definitely someone down there searching for something. Someone who didn’t know where to look.

I couldn’t risk waiting much longer to make that 911 call. Once I saw who it was—and they saw me—it’d be way too late. I was halfway down the second set of steps, the ones to the kitchen, when I hit Send. Then I held my breath.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” an operator asked. But whoever was down there in the kitchen would hear me if I answered. “
Hello?
Nine-one-one, is this an emergency?”

“Yes,” I whispered finally. “There’s someone in my house and—” Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone there, at the bottom of the steps. “Holy shit!”

I turned, scrambling back up the steps. When I did, the phone slipped from my hands and bounced down, far out of reach.

“Amelia! Oh my God, what are you doing?”

I was all the way at the top of the steps before I realized that it had been my mom’s voice. When I turned to look, she was standing at the bottom looking freaked, holding my phone. She put it to her ear.

“Hello? Yes, no,” she said to the 911 operator, who must have thought I was getting beaten to death. “That was my daughter. She thought I was an intruder. Yes. No. Sure, hold on.” She looked seriously bugged out as she held the phone up in the air. “She wants to talk to you, to be sure you’re okay.
Are
you okay, Amelia?”

It took a lot of convincing before the 911 operator believed that I was actually okay and that it was really my mom she’d been talking to.

“Mom, why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?!” I yelled at her when I was off the phone. “You can’t just show up ten hours earlier than you
ever
do!”

Between all the stuff with Zadie and the creepy texts about my dad and all that, I was extra jumpy these days.

“I’m so sorry, Amelia. I didn’t mean to scare you,” my mom said, putting a hand on my back. “I should have texted, you’re right. I was just so excited about sneaking away early. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Mission accomplished,” I said.

I was being a jerk, but I couldn’t help it. My whole life felt so beyond ridiculous all of a sudden. I mean, I was home alone
all
the time. And whatever if it had been my decision not to have Leelah come anymore. It wasn’t really fair that my choice was to be treated like a baby or to live in solitary confinement. I definitely would have been more normal with Dylan if my mom was around more. Maybe I’d have even told her about Dylan and the Maggies and everything, which would have been nice because I
really
wanted somebody to know. My mom looked down at her shoes for a while, then up to the ceiling. She closed her eyes and shook her head.

“You’re right, Amelia. I should never surprise you when you’re home alone,” she said. “I don’t know what to say. I wasn’t thinking.”

She looked so tired. So totally exhausted. All of a sudden my throat started tightening up. I went around day after day pretending it didn’t matter that she wasn’t there. Most of the time it didn’t. But right now, it kind of did.

“It’s fine, Mom, whatever,” I said, because it would be easier on both of us just to pretend that was true.

“Listen, can we at least try to salvage the night?” She smiled even though she still looked sad. “Hey, maybe we could have a Friday date night on a Tuesday. We could even go to Ginza and have hibachi. Your favorite.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling bad for her. And it did sound fun. Besides, maybe this was my chance. Maybe I could finally talk to her while we were having dinner, about Dylan, the Maggies, even the texts about my dad. All of it. “Yeah, Ginza would be good.”

“Great,” my mom said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and squeezing too hard. “Let’s go now, because I’m starving.”

I was feeling giddy as I got my coat. This was all actually working out pretty well. I hated having secrets from my mom. It was going to be good to tell her everything finally. And if she had a secret or two from me—like about my dad—this could be her chance to come clean, too. Lately, I’d started even wondering if there was a chance that Uncle Seth could be my dad. He and my mom—as crazy as it was—had been dating around the time I was born. And if there was a genetic part to me liking Dylan and being a late bloomer on that front, Seth had been that way, too. It would make sense. I kind of liked the idea actually. Seth was funny and interesting and supersmart. I could be totally into having him as a dad. And I’d get a half or step or something little sister as a bonus, too.

There was a knock at the door then. “Who’s that?” my mom asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, feeling a little worried it might be Dylan.

Telling my mom about her would be one thing, but I wasn’t ready for the two of them to meet.

“Oh hi,” my mom said, in her trying-to-be-social voice. “How are you?”

When she opened the door all the way, there was Kelsey standing out on our front stoop wearing a cute red cocktail dress and a full face of makeup.

“Hi,” she said, looking confused. “Amelia, I thought you were babysitting the boys tonight? Did I mix something up?”

I got a text from Heather the next day, in the middle of school. P
HOTOG
. U
R HOUSE 1 HOUR
.
I’d totally forgotten about agreeing to play Zadie’s stupid game.

“Who’s that from?” Sylvia asked, trying to look over my shoulder at the message.

We were sitting in the school courtyard eating the Yogo Monster we’d bought for lunch down on Seventh Avenue. It was sunny, and we were both wearing sunglasses and light jackets, trying to pretend it was still warm enough to be sitting outside eating frozen yogurt. I dropped my phone in my bag so she couldn’t read the message.