The Girl Death Left Behind (7 page)
Home. If only
, Beth thought.
That night Beth had an e-mail from Marcie.
Hi Beth—
Geez, what a day. Red Bank HS is like, HUGE. And incoming freshmen are the lowest life-form in the universe. I was late to every class. I have English in one end of the building and phys ed in the opposite end. There’s no way I can make it over
there and change to my gym clothes in time. I’m doomed to be late
.
I don’t have a single class with anybody I know and only ran into Teddy at the bus stop after school. We decided that we’ll give it just two weeks and if it doesn’t get better, we’re dropping out!
.
Teddy says the renters in your house have four kids—all under ten! And they pester him all the time. Please write and tell me how the first day went for you. Hope it was better than mine
.
Beth felt renewed homesickness. Still, she had to admit that her first day hadn’t been as horrible as Marcie’s. Ninth-graders were at the top of the food chain at Westwood, so she wouldn’t have to hit the bottom until next year. That was a good thing. And then there was Jared. He was a good thing too.
Terri walked into Beth’s room uninvited.
“If you came to yell at me again, go away,” Beth said.
“My friends have been calling, asking about you and Jared,” Terri blurted out. “Everybody saw the two of you sitting together. They know I like him and they want to know what’s going on.”
“There is no ‘me and Jared.’ Where do people get such crazy ideas?”
“Because you were seen together. It made a statement.”
Beth shook her head. “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard. If I’d been sitting there with Santa Claus would everybody have thought I had something going on with him?”
The idea must have struck Terri as funny, because she snickered.
Beth added, “For the record, I think Jared spoke to me because he knows what it feels like to be the new kid in school. He was just being nice.”
Terri looked glum. “He’s nice, all right. But nothing I do makes him notice me.”
Beth didn’t know what to say. She could hardly tell Terri what Jared really thought
about her. “I also ran into some girl named Sloane, and Jared was telling me about her,” Beth remarked, changing the subject.
Terri’s eyes widened. “Stay clear of her. She’s bad news. Nothing but trouble with a capital
T
.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Just look at her. She dresses like a refugee from a punk rock band, not to mention her tattoo. She’s supposed to keep her arm covered during school hours, but she doesn’t. Plus she’s dumb.”
“Dumb?”
“You know, she’s in the retard class. If you care about your reputation, not to mention your
life
, stay clear of Sloane.”
“But Jared was telling me that her home life is the pits and that she hides in the bathrooms to keep from going home at night. That she sleeps in closets and bathroom stalls. Is it true?”
Terri looked unmoved by Sloane’s plight. “She doesn’t do it all that often. Some of the kids think it’s cool, some think it’s creepy. But nobody tells on her. I made a mistake of telling a teacher she was smoking in the
bathroom way back in seventh grade, and she’s never gotten over it. Believe me, I stay out of her way. You should too.”
“Isn’t there anyone who could help her?”
“She doesn’t want help. And who’s going to take a chance and cross her? Not me.” Terri’s eyes narrowed. “And you shouldn’t either, if that’s what you’re thinking. Don’t go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, Beth.”
With that warning, Terri left the room.
Beth awoke in the night hungry. Her leftover Chinese food was in the refrigerator, so she quietly went into the kitchen, retrieved it, and began to eat it cold from the carton at the breakfast bar. The glow from the plug-in night-lights cast shadows, and the moon shone through the bay window, spilling a silvery glow on the smooth floor. Silence. All around her, silence.
The kitchen was spacious, with polished white cabinets and tidy countertops. No dish towels dropped haphazardly. Her mother’s kitchen counters had held a set of chipped ceramic canisters and, beside the stove, a glass jar filled with cooking utensils.
There were always boxes that had never made it back to the pantry, and plastic cups and mismatched mugs of half-drunk coffee. Her father always forgot where he put down his cup and poured himself another.
Camille’s refrigerator was sleek and gleaming, free of fingerprints and smudges. In Beth’s house, the refrigerator had been covered with sticky-notes, photographs, and a collection of Doug’s magnetic alphabet letters. Her family sometimes spelled out messages or left nutty remarks.
The red dog forgot his lunch
. And
PTA meet bring bi$cuits—
the dollar sign used because there was only one
s
.
Until now, she’d never noticed how neat and clean Camille kept her kitchen. Tidy, orderly. And lifeless. Beth shivered. Her hunger disappeared. She walked swiftly to the garbage can and dumped the carton of food. She carefully stepped around the puddle of cold moonlight and hurried back up to her room.
Teddy—
Wow, was it ever great to hear from you. If you’re at Marcie’s sending me e-mail, what else are you doing with my best friend? (Yes, you’re still my best friend, Marcie. The only person I really like down here is Jared, but it’s not like you and me. I see him at school. He doesn’t call.)
Wish I could be up there with you-all for Thanksgiving. Aunt Camille asked me what I’d like her to cook special. As if I care what we eat. I’m still pretending like I’m visiting, and not living here. It makes it easier
.
School’s a drag, everybody’s ready to
bust out. And it’s still pretty warm, so it hardly seems like November. Bet you’ve already had the fireplace going, haven’t you? I remember last year and the big storm and losing power and roasting marshmallows over the fire
.
The weirdest thing happened last week. I was passing a playground and I looked over and saw this little girl on the swings. Her back was to me, but she had long blond hair and she was wearing a red shirt and a red hairband. I kept watching her and all of a sudden it was like time moved backward and I heard Allison’s voice say: “Push me higher, Beth! Higher!”
And I heard myself say, “I’m tired of pushing you. Learn how to pump your legs, Allison. I can’t push you forever.”
And I kept thinking, Allison! Allison! And all of a sudden I yelled, “Allison!”
The girl on the swing stopped and turned. She looked right at me. Then she jumped off the swing and ran away. I shouted for her to stop, that I didn’t mean to scare her, but she kept going. I don’t blame her. She probably thought I was crazy. Maybe I am. But for a minute, she
was Allison and I was teaching her how to pump her legs. I DID teach my sister how to swing, you know. I don’t know what got into me that day, but I hope the girl wasn’t too freaked
.
I’d never tell anybody except you guys about this. Sometimes I think I see Allison or Doug in a crowd at the mall. But, of course, I don’t. It’s not real. It’s never real
.
On the Wednesday before Thanksgiving break, Beth whipped into the bathroom after lunch and collided with Sloane Alonso.
“Hey, watch where you’re going!”
Beth staggered backward. “Sorry.”
Sloane stooped down to retrieve the contents of her purse, which had spilled across the tiled floor. It looked as if her purse held everything she owned. Beth knelt to help.
“I can do it.” Sloane grabbed her mascara from Beth’s hand.
Beth stared. Sloane’s lip was swollen, and one of her eyes looked bruised. “What happened?” Beth blurted out the words before she could stop herself.
“None of your business.” Sloane stuffed makeup into her purse and stood. “I told
you once before not to stare at me. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Beth saw a duffel bag and a rolled-up sleeping bag propped against the wall. Her heart thudded. “Is that your stuff?”
“Yeah, it’s mine. Leave it alone.” Sloane rose and tossed her purse over her shoulder.
“Are you just going to leave it there?”
“Who are you, the bathroom police?”
“I—I just wondered if it was safe.”
Sloane stepped closer, glaring at Beth. “It’s safe. Everybody knows to leave my stuff alone. And you should know it too.”
“I’m not going to mess with your stuff.”
“Good.” Sloane stepped around Beth.
“Are you spending Thanksgiving with someone?”
Sloane paused and gave Beth a cold stare. “Yeah. I’m going to Grandma’s.”
The tardy bell rang, and Sloane muttered a curse word. “I better not get a detention because of you.” She shoved past Beth and fled the bathroom.
Beth didn’t move. Slowly the truth dawned on her.
Sloane had plans to spend the night in the school bathroom!
She chewed on her bottom lip. Should she tell somebody
and risk Sloane’s fury? It was a big risk.
Jared!
Yes, she’d ask Jared.
She squirmed through algebra class, and the second the bell rang, she seized Jared’s arm and dragged him into the hall. She told him her suspicions and ended by asking, “What should I do? Hurry—my aunt’s picking us up today, so I’ve got about ten minutes to figure out how to handle this.”
“I think you should stay out of it.”
“But why? It isn’t right to spend the night in a sleeping bag in the school bathroom.”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t know,” Beth answered honestly. “It—It just isn’t right! Someone should
do
something.”
“Maybe she’s going to meet her boyfriend and spend the weekend with him.”
His explanation, so stunningly simple, made Beth feel stupid. “I—I didn’t think of that.”
Jared shrugged. “I don’t know what she’s doing. But if she wanted it to be your business, she would have told you.”
“She said something about Grandma’s, but I thought she was just being sarcastic.”
“She probably was.” He shifted his books. “Look, Beth, you don’t know what’s going on and I don’t think you should get involved. Sloane knows what she’s doing.”
Jared was right. She was better off staying out of Sloane’s life. “Okay, you’ve convinced me.” By now the halls were practically empty. “I should get of out here.”
As she hurried away he called, “Have a nice Thanksgiving.”
“You too.” She didn’t look back.
She was passing the bathroom where Sloane’s stuff was stashed when she heard voices. Beth stepped inside and saw Mrs. Olsen, Beth’s homeroom teacher, confronting Sloane. “Answer me,” Mrs. Olsen was demanding. “What are you hiding in this bathroom, Ms. Alonso?”
“Can’t a person stash her stuff without everybody becoming unglued?” Sloane answered crossly.
“Are you ready?” The words were out of Beth’s mouth before she could stop them.
Mrs. Olsen and Sloane turned. “Ready?” Sloane asked.
“Ready to leave. My aunt’s waiting out front.”
Mrs. Olsen looked positively shocked. “Is Sloane going home with
you
, Beth?”
“Um, sure.” Beth smiled. Sloane glared. “Sorry I’m a little late, but I got to talking after class,” Beth added.
“I never dreamed … I mean, I had no idea the two of you were friends.” Mrs. Olsen said.
“Sure,” Beth said. “And I invited her for the Thanksgiving holiday. That’s why she’s got all her stuff. She’s staying with me for a few days.”
“Well … if you say so …”
“Come on,” Beth urged Sloane. “Can’t keep my aunt and Terri waiting.”
Sloane reached down and scooped up her duffel and sleeping bag. Beth breezed out of the bathroom and down the hall toward the main entrance. She was almost at the door when Sloane caught up with her and grabbed her arm. “Just a minute, girl.”
Beth took a deep breath and turned to face her. “What?”
“Just what do you think you’re doing?”
“Taking you home with me for the
Thanksgiving holiday,” Beth said, suddenly irked by Sloane’s attitude. “And trying to save your butt. Are you coming? Or do you really want to spend Thanksgiving in the girls’ bathroom?”