The Other Side of Dark (8 page)

I nod.

“So I’ll get in touch with you next week,” he says, and walks with us to the elevator.

We’re in the same squeeze of bodies as we leave the building. I’m glad to get out of that place.

It’s good to be home again. Dad was right. I am tired.

“Are you sure you don’t mind staying alone?” Dad asks.

“Of course, I don’t.” I lie, so he leaves to go back to the bank where he works. The aching loneliness of the house soon creeps around me, clinging, crawling, trying to seep through my skin to the hollow inside of me. I push myself out of the deep armchair and hurry to the backyard.

As I walk to the center of our backyard I take a deep breath of the mingled sour-warm geraniums, honeyed jasmine, and spring-sharp air, remembering, remembering, and turn to face our house.

The screen door flies open, and someone races through. He pauses, stares at me—his pale eyes frightened and glittering—and raises the gun.

“No!” I shout, backing away in terror. He evaporates, and the memory turns as blank as unexposed film.

“I saw his eyes,” I whisper, furious at myself for giving in to the fear that erased the face I was almost able to see.

I know I should walk that mile Mrs. Montez insisted on, but I’m reluctant to leave the house. Finally I find a book to read and settle back into the armchair, deliberately forcing myself to concentrate on the book. Slowly I manage to relax and curl into a cocoon of sound spun by the hum of the air conditioner.

The sudden jangle of the telephone smashes the silence of the late afternoon. I drop the book and jump from the chair, staring at the phone, wishing it would stop.

On the third ring I answer and sigh with relief and gratefully flop back into the chair as I hear Jan’s voice. “Stacy! Your dad said you’d be home. I’m so glad!”

“I’m glad too,” I answer, and wonder what to say next.

It doesn’t matter because Jan says, “You’re going to a party!” She doesn’t give me time to answer but probably has guessed what my answer would have been because in one long breath she adds, “You’ve got to go, so don’t say no. The party’s being given in your honor.
Besides, it’s important for you to meet some of the kids.”

“Jan, I’m not ready to go to a party.”

“You are too. You just don’t know it.”

“But everyone’s different. I mean, they’re like you. They’ve grown four years older, and—”

“Hey, Stacy, cut it out. We’re friends. Remember? I wouldn’t make you go to this party if I didn’t think it was right for you, and it is. It’s going to be Friday night at Tony’s house. You know Tony. And he’s got this great house that is super for parties, and everyone is going to be there. Not just the kids you remember. All sorts of people will be there. There always are at Tony’s parties. I mean, most of them are really neat, but some—oh, well, I’ll brief you on those, and they won’t bother you anyway. All in all, it will be a great party.”

“Jan, listen to me. I can’t go. I haven’t got anything to wear.”

Jan sighs so elaborately I have to laugh. That dramatic sigh hasn’t changed. “Everyone is wearing jeans. You have jeans. I know you have. You’re going.”

“I don’t have a date.”

“You don’t need a date. It’s not a date party. B.J. and I will pick you up at eight Friday night.” She giggles. “That brings me to the best news of all.”

“Jan, listen to me! That party’s just the day after tomorrow. I’m not ready!”

“Hmmm,” Jan murmurs. “That’s partly true. I’m going to come over early and fix your makeup. We’ll be there at seven, so don’t argue anymore.”

“You haven’t given me much chance to argue.”

“There. You see? It’s all settled. And I’ve been talking
long enough because you’ve got to come over to my house right away.”

“Why?”

She giggles again. “Wait and see!”

“Jan?” But she’s no longer on the phone.

The party’s a dumb idea. I don’t want to go. Who are these people now who used to be in the seventh grade with me? What are they like? Will they think I’m just a stupid kid?

I walk into the bathroom and study my face in the mirror. No, I’m not a stupid kid. “Who knows?” I say to the green-eyed girl who is staring back at me. “The party might be a lot of fun.”

I grab my house keys and make sure the door is locked. It doesn’t take long to walk to Jan’s house, which is just a couple of blocks from ours; but the air is humid and sticky, and my shirt begins to cling to my back. My finger is still on the doorbell when the door flies open and Jan says, “Stacy, guess what?”

She takes a long look at me and rolls her eyes. “Thank goodness we have time!”

“Time for what?”

“You’ll never believe this. No one will believe it. Jeff Clinton is coming over!” Jan grabs my arm and pulls me inside and down the hallway.

“Come on, Jan. Make sense,” I manage to say. “Who’s Jeff Clinton?”

“He’s a guy at school,” Jan says, “and we’re talking real hunk. He comes to some of the parties, but he doesn’t date. He told Bick once that there’s a girlfriend in Michigan, where he came from, and they’re sort of
going steady, which makes this whole thing absolutely amazing. B.J. will die when she finds out!”

“Finds out what?”

Jan glides into the den with one of her elaborate sighs. “Pay attention, Stacy. I’m telling you. Jeff Clinton called me and said he’d be going to the party, and he’d like to meet you, and one thing led to another, and I said how about today, and he’s coming over in a few minutes, so let’s get some makeup on you.”

“Jan! You fixed up a date for me?”

“It’s not really a date. We’ll just get acquainted and talk and drink some cola. And you and Jeff can get acquainted.”

“Wait a minute!” I back away from her. “Why did he want to meet me?”

Jan’s eyes open wider. “I don’t know. Maybe he saw your picture in the paper and thought you were cute.”

“That’s not a good reason.”

“Honestly, Stacy! That’s as good a reason as any.” She studies me, her head tilted to one side. “What’s the matter? You look so—I don’t know—suspicious. And that’s silly. There will be lots of guys who will want to get to know you.”

“But I want to know why.”

Her mouth makes a large pink O. “I get it. It has to do with the guy you saw on your back porch, the one who—”

I interrupt. “Jan, I still can’t see his face!”

“He wouldn’t be Jeff. I told you, Jeff just moved here from Michigan last year. And anyway, you can’t go around being suspicious of everybody.”

I lean against the wall and sigh. “You’re right. I guess I sound like some kind of nerd. It’s just that—” Jan is looking at me with so much concern that I change the subject. “When he’s here—Jeff, I mean—what am I supposed to do? I don’t know what to say to him.”

“Oh, you will.” She tugs at my arm, dragging me into the bathroom. “Aren’t you using the makeup kit I gave you?”

I shrug. “Sometimes.”

“You’re supposed to use it, Stacy! Look at you. Naked faces are not
in!
”

“In what?” I ask, trying to be funny, but Jan doesn’t appreciate my humor. She’s too busy doing things to my face.

The doorbell rings, and she hisses, “Here’s the lipstick. Quick!”

“You answer the door,” I tell her. “I’ll put it on.”

“Not much,” she says as she runs from the room. “Just enough to count.”

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, startled again by the girl who looks back. I like what Jan did. There’s a kind of peach color over my eyelids, with a brown eyeliner. It makes my eyes look bigger. I fumble for the lipstick and put on just a little, following Jan’s directions.

Taking a deep breath, I give one last glance at the mirror and head for the den, where I can hear Jan chattering.

As I enter the room a tall sandy-haired guy pulls himself up from Jan’s father’s reclining chair and faces me. His pale blue eyes crinkle at the edges as he smiles at me.

I can’t help smiling back.

He’s wearing snug jeans and sneakers without socks and a white T-shirt and a light kind of unbuttoned jacket with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. It looks strange. It’s probably another new style. He must work out a lot. I wonder if he’s on the football team. His shoulders are broad, and even the jacket doesn’t hide the muscles in his arms.

Jan introduces us and says, “Sit down, Stacy. I’ll get something for us to drink.”

Suddenly I’m shy. I clasp my hands together and stare at them, wishing I knew what to talk about to a guy.

“Have you thought yet about going back to school?” Jeff asks. “Will they let you make up some of the classes in summer school?”

I’m so thankful that he didn’t ask me about Mom or the murderer that I stumble all over myself answering his question. “Dad and I were talking about that. I don’t know what they’ll want me to do. I do know one thing. I can’t go back to junior high school. I’d be so much older than everyone else.” I stop for breath. “What I’d like to do is study the things I’ve missed. I could study hard and make up some of the work. If they’ll just let me.”

Jeff smiles. “It’s hard to study alone. Maybe some of the kids could help tutor you and get you ready for exams. If you could pass exams, they might give you credit for the courses.”

“That’s a great idea.”

“I’ll volunteer to be a tutor. I’m pretty good in math.”

“Really? You’ll help me learn the math I’ve
missed?” Maybe it’s excitement. Maybe it’s the way he’s leaning forward just a bit, looking at me as though I were the most interesting person he’s ever seen. I feel myself blushing.

Jan comes into the room, balancing a tray with three glasses of cola and a plate of chocolate marshmallow cookies. She remembered. They’re my favorite.

Jan looks at my red face, and one eyebrow rises and falls.

But Jeff starts talking about how much he likes math and how he once tried building a computer, and it gives me a chance to calm down. Afternoon sunlight tilts through the window next to him, highlighting his face. I study it, liking it. For some reason Jeff seems much older to me. I can’t explain it. Maybe it’s something I see in his eyes. He seems more knowledgeable, more aware than kids his age should be. Strangely I have the feeling that I’ve seen him before. It can’t be, but there’s something familiar, something I should remember. I don’t know what it could be.

The conversation has shifted to the party. I don’t know most of the people Jan is rattling on about, and Jeff begins to look kind of bored.

He stands up and smiles at me. “I’d better go, Stacy. If you’ll check into the books you’ll need for algebra and geometry and get an okay from one of the counselors, we’ll start on the tutoring anytime you say. I can come over to your house every afternoon and work with you.”

Both of Jan’s eyebrows go up this time, but I don’t think Jeff notices. He’s looking at me. Jan dashes into
the kitchen, so I walk to the front door with Jeff. “I appreciate it, Jeff. I really do.”

He smiles again. “See you at the party,” he says, and walks to his car. It’s a plain vanilla gray sedan and looks like the cars I remember, so it’s probably four or five years old.

“Stacy!” Jan hisses, and I realize I’m still standing in the open doorway, watching Jeff, so I close the door and hurry back to the den.

“He likes you!” Jan shouts. “It’s obvious instant infatuation! B.J. will go out of her mind!”

“He just offered to tutor me in math,” I tell her.

“Math is as good an excuse for seeing somebody as any other excuse,” Jan says. She’s so pleased with herself that she practically purrs.

The clock in her den chimes five times. I automatically count along with it. “I’d better go home,” I tell her. “Say hi to your parents for me.”

“Mom will be disappointed that she missed you. She didn’t know you’d be here. She keeps asking me how soon you’ll be able to come over for dinner.”

“As soon as possible. Your mom is a great cook.”

Jan opens the front door and calls to me when I reach the sidewalk, “I’ll see you tomorrow! This is going to be some party!”

When I get home, I poke through the refrigerator. I never really learned to cook. Oh, well, I can make grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner.

Donna and Dennis come over, and Donna says next time I have to go back to the police station she’ll go with me since Dad doesn’t think he can take any more
time off his daytime job, and Donna has only one class and can skip it.

That’s when I find out that Dad has been holding down two jobs, so he can pay all my medical bills. I hate the guy who murdered Mom even more.

I wish so hard I could see his face. How do I explain to Dad or to Detective Markowitz about my weird feeling that if I don’t discover the identity of the murderer pretty soon, I may run out of time?

Early-morning mists from the Gulf slither inland, mingling with the pollution from the northeast factories and refineries, giving us a day that’s gray and grimy with smog.

Donna arrives, waddling smugly. She puts a covered bowl into the refrigerator. “The baby kicked all night,” she complains, but she looks delighted. She studies the green cotton shirt and jeans I’m wearing. “We’re going to Foley’s this morning. You have to get some clothes that fit you, Stacy.”

“When do you want to go?”

“As soon as the store opens.”

Later, all the way to Foley’s Memorial store, she chats about the kinds of clothes I’ll need: jeans and shirts. I feel comfortable with those. But she gets me a couple of dresses, and they’re weird.

“I wouldn’t buy you a ‘weird’ dress.” Donna is firm. “You just don’t know anything about the styles for your age yet. Trust me.”

“You’re being bossy,” I tell her as she pulls out Dad’s charge card. “You’re trying to act like Mom, but Mom wasn’t bossy.”

“I’m trying to help you.” Donna looks at me the way she used to when I’d yell at her that it wasn’t fair she always beat me at Monopoly.

I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” I really don’t care about the dresses. What to wear is just one more stupid thing to have to get used to, and right now it seems unimportant.

Donna buys some bras, panties, and a slip. She decides that I’ve got everything I’ll need for a while, so she drives me home.