Vanished (10 page)

“Sara Green.”

Sara. My mind raced through the student body trying to place her. She was a sophomore. Quiet and studious, the opposite of Brit. I was pretty sure she was in the band. Brit never would have seen her as possible competition. She
probably never noticed her at all. Someone like Sara was beneath Brit's notice.

Sara was attractive, though. She even looked a little like Beth, at least coloring-wise. I could see how if someone had spotted her with Jason and wasn't looking too closely, they could easily think she was Beth. That would explain some of the rumors.

It was clear Jason didn't mix the two of them up. The way his voice softened when he said Sara's name told me everything. It hadn't been a hookup. Jason was in love.

“Don't tell anyone about Sara, okay?” Jason said. “I don't want her dragged into all of this. I was trying to keep her out of it. Things between us just happened, and Sara felt horrible about it. Neither of us wanted to hurt Brit. We cut things off until I found a way to tell Brit, but then Beth took off and all the rumors started. I never meant to get Beth mixed up in everything either.” Jason swallowed. “All of this is my fault, not Sara's. She was always afraid Brit would find out.”

“Guess she doesn't have to be afraid anymore,” I said. Jason flinched. I hadn't meant for it to come out so harshly, but it's hard to be gentle when your friend is dead.

Sara was smart to have been afraid of Brit. If Brit had discovered Sara was messing around with Jason, she would have taken her apart. There would only have been a Sara-sized smear on the ground with broken bits of her clarinet left to mark the spot.

A wave of nausea came over me. Now Brit would never know that Beth hadn't betrayed her. If only Beth hadn't disappeared, none of this would be happening. We'd both be taking Brit out for fro-yo and pedicures, and blasting breakup songs and singing along in Brit's Jeep, helping her get over Jason for good. Beth would get a Jason voodoo doll and we would have burned it on Brit's barbeque grill while drinking beer Beth stole from her dad. With her two best friends by her side, Brit would have powered through this. Instead, we'd both failed her, and now Brit was gone.

“I won't tell anyone about Sara,” I said to Jason. “Though, of course, when Beth comes back, the truth will come out.” I couldn't blame Sara for not wanting to be connected to this mess. The whole thing was like a black tar pit, dragging anyone who got close into the muck. “Did Brit say anything about Beth in her note?”

Jason shrugged. “I don't know. I haven't been allowed to see the whole thing. The police still have it.”

“The police?” I looked past Jason and saw Officer Siegel in Ms. Harding's office. Of course. I swallowed. “I guess they want to talk to me too.”

“It'll be okay,” Jason said.

But it wasn't okay. I didn't want to talk to anyone, much less the cops. I had to get out of here.

I slumped against the wall. Jason moved quickly to my side.

“Easy,” he said, tucking his arm under my elbow to keep me up.

“I can't talk to them now,” I said. “I can't do this. I'm not ready. I want to go home.” I knew I might break into tears at any moment.

“Do you want me to drive you?” Jason asked.

That was the last thing I wanted. I needed to be myself. I needed time to think and cry and grieve. I stood up straight. “No. I can do it. Thank you. And thanks for telling me the truth about you and Beth.”

Jason gave me an awkward hug. “We're going to get through this,” he said.

I was glad he was sure, because I wasn't.

As soon as I stepped outside the school doors I stopped
short. The harsh white sun bounced off the windshields of the parked cars and stabbed me through the eyes.

I bolted down the front steps toward the parking lot, but with the sun in my eyes I missed the last step and stumbled. I pitched forward, my bag hitting the cement, but just before I wiped out someone caught me by the arm and pulled me up.

“Whoa,” he said.

My heart was pounding in my chest. “Thanks,” I said. I reached over to pick up my bag.

“You a student here?” he asked.

I glanced at him. He was entirely too young and
attractive to be someone's dad. His hair looked messy in a deliberately styled way, and he was wearing enough cologne to take down a horse. “The office is just inside,” I told him.

“I'm not looking for the office. I'm hoping to talk to some students. I'm Derek Iriven. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” He flashed a smile so white it could star in a toothpaste ad.

“I'm sorry, I have to go.” I took a few steps toward the parking lot.

“Did you know the dead girl? Britney Matson?”

His words hit like a shot to the chest. I turned to face him. “What?”

He gestured with the hand holding his phone. “I'm curious if you knew Britney Matson, the girl who killed herself. I'm a writer. I'm doing a piece on her and teen suicide. I'm hoping to get some reaction quotes from other students.”

When I didn't say anything he stepped closer, holding his phone between us. I realized he was recording our conversation.

“It's your chance to be famous,” he said with a wink.

“I don't want to be famous.” I turned away, but he walked behind me as I wove toward the back of the lot, where I had parked my car. “Please go away.”

“Did you know Britney? Have any stories you can share? Something to help readers feel like they know her?”

“I have nothing to say to you,” I spat out.

Instead of leaving me alone, he seemed encouraged by
my reaction. “I understand she was pretty popular. I know how those girls acted when I was in school.” He made a face like he'd tasted something foul. “Now's your chance to tell the world what she was really like. Maybe she killed herself because she realized she'd made so many other people's lives miserable. Maybe she was nothing more than an airheaded, lip-glossed bully.”

I knocked the phone out of his hand, and it hit the asphalt with a loud crack.

“Hey! What did you do that for?”

“Leave me alone,” I said. “Leave Britney alone. You have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Bitch,” I heard him mumble as I yanked open the car door and fell inside. I slammed the door behind me and started the engine.

“You cracked my screen,” he yelled. I cranked up the radio and gave him the finger. He jumped to the side as I started to pull out. Maybe he thought I was going to run him down.
Good
.

I peeled out of the parking lot, tires squealing. I made it two blocks before my hands started shaking. I pulled over into a Wendy's to park before I crashed.

A hysterical giggle-sob rose up in my throat. If I crashed it would make us pretty much three for three: one runaway, one suicide, and one accident. Our group would become one of those urban legends that other kids talk about in hushed voices over summer campfires.

I jammed the car into park, opened the car door, and leaned out. I thought I might vomit, but nothing came up. I spat, trying to clear the sour taste from my mouth. A few crumpled napkins blew past, the smiling logo on them tumbling over and over. When I was sure I wasn't going to be sick, I closed the door and leaned back in the seat.

Jason wasn't messing around with Beth
. I repeated it to myself over and over—six times, six more times, and six times again. By the sixth set of six, it was starting to sink in.

Jason hadn't been messing around with Beth, but Brit had been certain he was. She'd died believing that her best friend and her boyfriend had both betrayed her, and everyone knew and was laughing at her. That would have been hard for anyone to take, but for Brit, it was unbearable. I wished I could tell her that despite her perfect image and polished appearance, the ways she was imperfect had only made me love her more.

Brit had said that on some level, she'd known all along. I wondered what Beth knew. If it was possible Beth had left because she was afraid of what Britney might do.

But that made no sense. Beth wouldn't have been afraid of Britney's wrath, because she
wasn't
messing around with Jason. All she'd have had to do was tell Britney the truth: that it wasn't her. Beth was probably as clueless as I'd been as to why Brit had been acting so short-tempered with her lately. The timing of Beth skipping town was just a horrible coincidence.

I felt a spike of anger in my chest. Minutes ago I'd felt bad for Jason, but my empathy was evaporating quickly. Jason and Sara were at least partly to blame. Of course, he couldn't have predicted that Britney would have done this—but if Jason hadn't cheated, Brit wouldn't be dead.

Then again, if Beth hadn't vanished, she could have maybe stopped this too.

My anger deflated. It was my fault as well. If Beth and I hadn't been sneaking around, Brit wouldn't have had good reason to suspect that Beth was hiding something. Beth
was
keeping secrets from her. But it wasn't the same secret Brit feared.

I pulled out my phone and called Beth again. It rang and rang, but no one picked up. When it finally clicked to voice mail, I held my breath, wanting to at least hear her voice on the recording, but it wasn't her.

“The mailbox for this number is full. Please try again later.” I jabbed the phone off.

This wasn't the kind of news I could leave in a text, but I was running out of choices.

B, please call me. It's urgent. It's about Brit. Please, please, please call
.

I hit
SEND
and waited, hoping that she would call me right back, and trying not to read anything into the fact that she didn't.

As soon as Nadir started to talk, I knew our parents
had asked him to call me. My brother is a computer genius, kicks ass at chess, and can touch his tongue to the tip of his nose, but he absolutely sucks at lying.

“Hey, Kay-Kay. I wanted to ask about what we should get Grandma for her birthday.” Nadir's voice boomed through the phone line in my room. He only called me Kay-Kay when he either wanted something or had broken something of mine. “I thought we might go in on it together,” he suggested.

“Grandma's birthday isn't until June,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, but it's a big birthday for her. We should get something special.”

“What birthday is it?” I pushed.

Nadir paused. Even over the phone I could sense him scrambling to come up with something. “I don't know, but at her age aren't they all important?”

I snorted. “That's the best you've got? You're supposed to be the smart one.”

“Fine, brat. Mom and Dad wanted me to call to see how you're doing. I was trying to be stealth-like. Heavy on the subterfuge.”

I flopped onto the bed. “When you report in you can tell them I was never the wiser. No reason for them to be disappointed in both their kids.”

“Hey, it's not your fault you're all deformed and smell funny.”

I laughed and squeezed my stuffed dog, Roogs. If my brother was teasing and insulting me then at least part of the world still made sense.

“Seriously, how are you?” Nadir said.

“Did Mom and Dad tell you everything?” I asked.

“Yeah. It sucks.” Nadir always had a way with words.

“I didn't help Britney,” I said, my voice low. “I knew she was upset and I didn't do anything. I feel like it's my fault.”

“Did she tell you she was planning to kill herself?” Nadir asked.

“No. I mean, not directly, like that. She talked about how her life was ruined and how she felt betrayed by Beth.” A tear ran down my face, and I used one of Roogs's ears to wipe it away. I was surprised I was still capable of crying.
I'd done so much of it lately it felt like I should have already dried up.

“You totally should have picked up on that. What with your PhD in psychology, and years of working in the field, I can't believe you didn't see it coming.” Nadir made a tsk-ing sound.

“I'm serious, Nadir.”

“I'm serious too. You were her friend, but that doesn't make saving her, or anyone else for that matter, your job. What about her other friend, Beth? Where's she gone? Why didn't
she
save her? They've known each other since birth or something.”

At least one of those was a good question. “No one knows where Beth is. I've called her like a thousand times and she never picks up. I sent her a text after Brit died, telling her we had to talk, that it was an emergency, and still nothing.”

“That sucks too,” he said.

Even though that was exactly what I thought, I felt the absurd need to defend Beth. “She doesn't suck; she's just checked out. I'm sure she'd call back if she realized what had happened.”

Nadir wasn't having it. “I don't care what her excuse is. She's hurting my sister.”

“What if she can't call for some reason?” I whispered into the phone.

“What kind of reason?”

I wound Roogs's tail around my finger. “I don't know. Maybe she was abducted or something.”

“What I'm about to say is going to piss you off, but hear me out first.”

No good conversation starts with that opener. “I'm listening,” I said.

“You have a tendency for drama.”

“I do not,” I fired back.

“You said not even two seconds ago that you were going to listen. I knew I should have asked for it in writing.”

I took a deep breath. “Sorry. Go on.”

“All I'm saying is that you lean toward the dramatic. You're a one-woman worst-case scenario show. In my programming class when we're trying to figure out a bug with the software, our teacher always tells us, ‘When you hear hoofbeats, look for horses, not zebras.'”

I paused, waiting to hear if he was going to spout any other wisdom. “And your point is?”

“The point is, don't make a conspiracy theory out of thin air. If it looks like she ran away, most likely she ran away. People do that. It happens. It doesn't mean kidnappers or aliens or murderers are involved. Mom said Beth's parents aren't even all that worried. They expected this. If they're not concerned, why should you be?”

“Because I love her,” I said.

Nadir was quiet. I could feel the silence stretching between us.

“Oh, Kay-Kay.” His voice was heavy. “I'm sorry.”

The sadness swelled in my throat, making it almost impossible to speak. “Why are you sorry?”

“Getting your heart stepped on is never easy.”

“What do I do?”

“If you start turning to me for romantic advice, you're in deep shit. What I can tell you, from painful personal experience, is that if you love someone and they don't love you back, you have to walk away. Love isn't something you can talk the other person into.”

I sighed. I hate when he's right. I knew I had to let go of Beth, but I didn't want to. “Maybe she does suck,” I mumbled.

I did blame Beth. Not for Brit's death, but for leaving us both. She should have been here. She should have called me. She owed me that much, even if she didn't love me. Now that Britney was gone, it wasn't right that Beth was leaving me alone to deal with it.

“Look, Kalah, it might seem easy to blame yourself for what Brit did, but you can't do that. And you can't make Beth feel what you want her to feel. People make their own choices. If you want to blame yourself for something, then feel bad about breaking my Xbox, not this.”

I rolled my eyes. “Jesus, you're still upset about that? I was
eight
.” The pressure on my chest felt lighter. Nadir would have told me if he thought I'd wronged Brit.

“Do you know how many lawns I mowed to earn the
money for that?” Nadir sounded indignant.

I scoffed. “You never mowed lawns. With your allergies it's a wonder you don't combust as soon as you go outside. Mom and Dad bought it for Christmas.” I pulled my blanket up over me. I felt like I might actually be able to sleep tonight.

“The point is, I
would
have mowed lawns to buy it. I loved it and you broke it.”

“Does it make it better if I tell you I'll feel bad about it for the rest of my life?” I yawned.

“A bit. You sound beat; I'll let you go. I've got to study anyway. I'm going to tell Mom and Dad you're okay. Do your best to be normal, or what passes as normal for you, so you don't make a liar out of me.”

“I'll talk to you later.” I curled around Roogs. “Hey,” I called out before he hung up. “Thanks for calling.”

“Anytime, Kay-Kay. You know you're my favorite sister.”

“I'm your only sister.”

“True.” Nadir's voice softened. “Take care.”

We hung up. I felt exhausted. My brain, which had been racing for days, seemed to have finally worn itself out.

I clicked off the light and typed one more text.

Britney died. Please come back. I didn't want to tell you like this. Sorry
.

It went without saying that I wouldn't have had to tell her that way if she'd left me any other options.

I closed my eyes and fell asleep.