Vanished (11 page)

I'd only been to see Ms. Harding, the guidance counselor,
once before, to talk about my possible college plans. I suspected she knew, though, about my history with mental health professionals. It seemed the kind of thing that would make your permanent record. Maybe a red dot on the file, indicating the potential for trouble and emotional liability. I'd managed to avoid the meeting with her yesterday, but this morning there was a note waiting for me in homeroom. I wasn't going to be able to dodge it forever.

I slipped down the hall toward the guidance office, feeling people's eyes crawling all over me like insects. Jason hadn't come into school today. I couldn't blame him. There'd been three news reporters and two television cameras in
the parking lot this morning. At least Hamstead had barred them from entering the school.

When I came around the corner I saw her. Sara stood by her locker, surrounded by her fellow band members, nodding at something one of them was saying. I felt a hot rush of anger. Why should she get to be surrounded by friends when, because of her, one of my two best friends was dead? I wanted to shove her against the wall and spit in her face.

Sara must have felt my rage pulsing toward her, because she turned. When she saw me, her mouth dropped open and she quickly looked away. I thought about marching over and confronting her, screaming in her face, despite my promise to Jason. My anger was like a creature inside me, scratching and howling to be set free. If I let it out, I wasn't sure what might happen.

I closed my eyes so I couldn't see her anymore. When I opened them a few seconds later, she and her friends were gone. I realized the note telling me to go to Ms. Harding's office was clutched tight in my hand, the black ink smeared on my skin. I tossed the paper in the trash.

Ms. Harding's office was decorated to look like it was in her house instead of part of the school. She'd gotten rid of the industrial metal desk and replaced it with a wooden table. There was a cheap Oriental rug on the floor, but you could still see the linoleum tile around the edges of the room. The shelves were filled with books and knickknacks.

Ms. Harding gestured for me to take a seat. I dropped
into the nearest chair, trying to ignore Officer Siegel's intense gaze. She was unapologetically watching my every move, like she was assigning a meaning to everything I did. I wondered if I should ask to have a lawyer in the room, or if that would make me look guilty of something. Granted, I was guilty of a lot.

“How are you doing?” Ms. Harding asked, her eyebrows scrunched together in concern. Officer Siegel was leaning against the bookcase with her arms crossed. I didn't want to look at her because she made me nervous, but I also didn't want it to look like I was trying to avoid her, so I kept shooting glances over at her and smiling. Except my mouth wouldn't cooperate and make a normal smile. I probably looked like a twitchy clown.

“I'm doing okay.” I gave Officer Siegel another one of my killer clown smiles. “I mean, considering.” I reminded myself that this wasn't a formal investigation. Not realizing your friend is suicidal isn't a crime. It made me a crappy friend, but it wasn't like Officer Siegel was going to read me my rights, march me out of there, and toss me into prison.

“If you need to talk at any time, feel free to come straight here. I've cleared it with your teachers that you don't require any kind of pass.” Ms. Harding reached into a folder on her desk and pulled out a brochure, which she slid across the table at me. “This is the contact information for the local crisis center, in case you feel upset outside of school hours.”

I must have looked worse than I thought if she was
worried I might not make it through the night without having someone to talk me off the ledge. “I don't have any thoughts of that,” I reassured her.

“Of suicide?” Officer Siegel asked. Both Ms. Harding and I winced at her directness. “Did you know Britney was thinking of ending her life?”

“No.” I could feel the sweat pooling at the base of my back. Maybe I should have known about Brit, but I hadn't. I'd been too focused on Beth.

Officer Siegel nodded, like she'd known that all along. “What was your reaction to the rumors going around that day? Were you surprised to hear why she and Jason were breaking up?”

“I didn't really know much about it.” I glanced over at Ms. Harding to avoid Officer Siegel's eyes. “Brit was really private about some stuff.” I wasn't sure why I'd lied, but I didn't know how to take it back once I'd said it. Keeping Brit's secrets just seemed like the right thing to do.

Officer Siegel rubbed her chin. “That's odd that you didn't know. From what I've heard, everyone at school was talking about it. How Britney believed Beth was sleeping with Jason.”

“I don't listen to rumors.” I hated how my voice came out sounding prissy.

“Not even when they're about your best friends?” Officer Siegel smiled and I hated her. “She and Beth are your
best friends, aren't they? Beth must be really upset about Britney's death.”

It felt like the room had gotten about twenty degrees hotter. I shifted in my seat. “I don't know what she thinks. Beth isn't around.”

“Has she been in touch with you?” Officer Siegel pressed.

“No,” I admitted. “Just one text a few days after she left. Saying she needed some time off.”

“Huh. That's odd too, isn't it?”

“What's odd?” Ms. Harding asked.

Officer Siegel cocked her head like she wanted to see the situation from a new perspective and spoke to me as if Ms. Harding wasn't even in the room. “It seems odd that Beth hasn't been in touch, or told you where she went. It seems odd that Britney didn't tell you her suspicions about Jason and Beth when she was so upset that she felt driven to suicide.” She chuckled, but it sounded forced. “Heck, when I was your age my friends and I never shut up. We'd talk for hours. My dad used to say that the phone was connected to my head. It seemed like there wasn't a single thing I didn't know about their lives. I guess friendships are different now, huh?”

I shrugged, refusing to take the bait. “I guess.” I couldn't even imagine Officer Siegel in high school. She looked like she'd been born in that uniform and holster.

“Beth and Britney were a year ahead of you, is that right?” She waited for me to nod, even though we both understood she already knew the answer. “When I was in high school you practically had to pay a senior to hang out with someone younger. Course, that didn't keep some from hanging around, like groupies.”

My back stiffened. Were cops allowed to keep sticking your face in it? “I wasn't their groupie. We were friends.” Even to my ears, the claim sounded pathetic, like I was really trying to convince myself.

“
Were?
Aren't you still friends with Beth? Or did something happen between you two? Maybe a reason she left her two besties behind?”

If she was trying to upset me, it was working. “Of course Beth is still my friend. I just meant we were all friends. I don't know why Beth left. She used to talk about it all the time. Her home life wasn't great.”

Officer Siegel nodded. “Sure.”

I pressed my lips together. There wasn't any point in arguing with her about it. She was going to twist anything I said.

“If it makes you feel any better, I haven't heard from Beth either,” Officer Siegel said. “I've left her a bunch of voice mails, but it seems she has her phone off. She sent a handful of texts those first few days after she left, telling people she didn't want to be contacted, but since then, nothing. Her parents asked the phone company to track her phone, but she'd taken the SIM card out. There's not much
else her parents can do since she's eighteen. If she wants to disappear, she can.” Officer Siegel inspected her nails as if the conversation was starting to bore her.

“Do you think she's okay?” I asked.

“Do you?”

I wanted to throw something at her face. “I don't know. I told you I haven't been in touch with her.”

Officer Siegel brushed her hands on her pants. “Well, I don't know how she's doing exactly, but she's used her ATM card a few times, so she can't be doing all bad. She logged into a couple of her online accounts from a library in Cadillac. She also registered for a night in a hotel, just outside of Charlevoix. She paid cash. I drove up and talked to the clerk, but he doesn't really remember her very well. She didn't look distressed to him.” The officer paused. “He couldn't remember if she had anyone with her. Of course, if there was another person, he or she might have been waiting outside. Maybe the person who gave her all that money.”

I jolted. “What money?”

Officer Siegel seemed to be watching for my reaction. “She didn't mention that either? The day after Beth left, she deposited almost ten thousand dollars into her bank account. Technically, it was nine thousand, nine hundred fifty. Just about the same amount, minus a few hundred, that Britney had withdrawn from her education savings account. How's that for a coincidence? Course, it's almost all gone by now.”

I stared at her, blinking. Was she trying to tell me Beth had stolen from Britney? That Brit had paid Beth to leave? “I don't know anything about that,” I said.

“Guess Beth and Britney both had a few secrets, huh?”

“I guess.” I realized I was tapping sixes with my foot. Officer Siegel was watching.

“Anxiety?” she asked.

“Just a habit.” I clenched my hands together to make sure my fingers didn't start tapping, but I could feel the pressure inside starting to rise. I wanted out of there.

“How would you describe your last interaction with Britney?” Officer Siegel asked, switching gears.

I looked over at Ms. Harding for help. “I don't know what you want me to say.”

Ms. Harding looked a bit nervous. “If you're planning to ask these kind of questions, maybe I should contact Kalah's parents.”

Officer Siegel raised her hand to her chest as if shocked. “I didn't mean for this to come across like some kind of interrogation. I guess I can't help myself—habit of the job. There's no formal investigation. Britney's death has been declared a suicide. I'm just trying to get a better handle on why.”

“I don't know anything,” I said.

“No guesses at all?”

My tongue felt dry. “Things weren't always as easy as they seemed for Brit. There was a lot of pressure from her family to be perfect. She went out of her way to seem flawless,
but of course she was only human. But anything less than the appearance of perfection always felt like a huge failure to her.” I felt a little bad about shifting blame to Brit's parents, but it was clear I had to tell Officer Siegel something if I wanted the questions to stop. “I'm sure all the rumors were devastating to her. She didn't always want to talk about things, though. Not even with her closest friends.”

“So with all that Beth and Britney were keeping from you, did you keep secrets from them too?”

I twitched. “People are allowed to have secrets,” I said. A trickle of sweat ran down my chest and into my bra. Maybe I shouldn't have agreed to talk without a lawyer, but there was no way I could ask for one now.

Officer Siegel pushed off from the wall and moved toward the door. “Of course. Everyone has a secret or two. I didn't mean to upset you further. I'm sure all of this has been really difficult. I'm just making sure we have all the information we need. I wouldn't want to overlook anything.”

I wanted to shove her the rest of the way out the door. “I understand,” I said.

Officer Siegel paused. “Of course, you know what they say about secrets. They never stay buried for long.”

“That's enough!” Ms. Harding had finally found her voice. She gave the officer a glare as if she'd only just realized a line had been crossed.

Officer Siegel held her hands up like she didn't mean any offense, but I could swear she smirked at me as she left.

A week later, Britney's parents had decided they
wanted “closure” and would go ahead with a funeral, regardless of the fact that Brit's body had not been found. Word spread quickly around school that Doctors Matson and Ryerson had hired party planners to arrange the memorial service. Technically, they were “event” planners, and the funeral was certainly shaping up to be an event, but still. The idea of it set my teeth on edge despite Zach's gentle reminder that everyone mourns in their own way. They'd lost their daughter, their only child. However they wanted to say good-bye was up to them.

At least Brit's parents' way of coping was better than how Beth was dealing with things. She hadn't answered a single
text. I assumed by now that she'd abandoned her phone, but unless her new residence was under a rock, it was hard to imagine she hadn't at least seen the news reports.

Not that I was coping any better. I'd sleepwalked through the days. I was there, but not present. Unlike the clusters of girls who kept bursting into tears in the hallways, I'd walked around school with a poker face. It wasn't that I was in control of my emotions; it was that I felt half-dead.

The church was decorated with fluffy white tulle bows on each pew, like at a wedding. Maybe Brit's parents figured since she'd never get to take a walk down the aisle, this would have to be the next best thing. There was a huge framed picture of her at the front of the church and a giant display of white roses with a single bloodred rose in the center.

The casket hadn't arrived yet, but I knew it would be closed, since there was no corpse to show. The reporters had said it was likely that Brit's body had been swept out by the tides and might never be found. But one of her strappy Manolos had been discovered washed up on the beach. Apparently Brit had dressed up for the occasion. That was like her. She would have wanted to look good to the end.

I wasn't sure why Brit's parents were bothering with a casket at all. Maybe the party planners had told them no memorial service was complete without one. Might as well have a birthday party without a cake. I wondered what they were going to do with the empty casket when it was over.
Keep it in their garage until Britney was found? Or were they going to bury it?

Brit had already been dead for nine days, but still nothing about this felt real to me.

I kept thinking of all the firsts there would be without her: the first summer, the first birthday, the first Christmas. I wondered if I would ever stop slamming into the realization that she was gone.

I turned and glanced behind me for what felt like the thousandth time in the past ten minutes, looking for Beth. Even though she'd never replied to my texts, I was certain that she would show up. She wouldn't miss her best friend's memorial service, even if the two of them had been on the outs. Even if she was avoiding me. No matter where she was, I was sure she would come back today.

I closed my eyes and told myself that if I kept them closed and counted to sixty, when I opened them Beth would be there. But she wasn't.

My parents were seated across the aisle. They'd wanted me to sit next to them, but I preferred to be with Zach. I held on to his hand like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth. Nadir had offered to come home, but I'd told him not to. I had to do this without my big brother.

I heard the doors at the back of the church being shut, and felt my hope shut down too. Beth really wasn't coming. The realization sat in my stomach like an ice-cold boulder. I let out a slow breath.

“You okay?” Zach whispered. His thumb rubbed over my knuckles.

I nodded and squeezed his hand, and as if that were the cue, “Over the Rainbow” started playing over the church's sound system. Showtime. I barely managed to avoid rolling my eyes. Brit would not be impressed by the music selection.

The minister led the way down the aisle. Brit's coffin followed on the shoulders of six solemn pallbearers. I recognized her cousin Ryan in front. Brit had told me Ryan once tried to feel her up when she fell asleep on his mom's couch after Thanksgiving. She'd called him Randy Ryan the Creeper Cousin.

Jason was bearing the coffin at the rear. I'd heard that he'd called Brit's parents and begged to be included. He looked horrible—eyes red, face full of pain—and I worried he might not make it through the service. Brit would have been glad for that, at least. I could picture her watching with her arms crossed over her chest, thinking he deserved to suffer.

The coffin was a highly polished dark wood. As it glided past I had the absurd urge to reach out and touch it, to prove to myself that what was happening was real. Maybe that's why her parents had gotten it. It pulled everything into sharp relief. You can't pretend someone isn't dead once they bring out a coffin.

I bit my lip to keep myself from crying. Britney was
larger than life. The idea that she was just gone seemed impossible. I let my head rest on Zach's shoulder.

Brit's parents walked right behind the casket. Her dad kept looking around almost stunned, like he couldn't figure out what we were all doing there. Her mom was more composed. She looked like those photos you see of Jackie Kennedy at the president's funeral, poised and elegant. But Dr. Ryerson's eyes were blank and empty. She was like a shell of a person.

A girl from my history class casually lifted her phone and took a picture of the casket. I looked away.

Tons of people had shown up from school. Even now that she was dead, people still wanted to be part of whatever Brit was doing. Or maybe that wasn't fair. Maybe they were sad and shocked and genuinely felt like they had lost something. I didn't know what other people were feeling. I just knew I was jealous they could feel at all.

Brit's suicide was all anyone had been talking about all week. Like any other disaster, people wanted to share where they had been when they'd heard and how they'd first reacted. They all had stories about her—how she'd once told them how much she liked their sweater, or borrowed a pencil from them for a test, or stood behind them in line once for fro-yo. That time she'd charmed a teacher out of giving the whole class a pop quiz, an amazing play she'd made in field hockey, a boring party she'd turned into the best event of the year. Every time I turned around Melissa
was crying about how she'd talked to Britney just hours before it all happened. She acted like she and Brit had been the closest of friends. That Brit had poured her heart out to Melissa in the bathroom. She'd told the same story to all the cable news cameras too. I'd been avoiding the reporters at all costs.

The yearbook crowd was talking about the page they would dedicate to her and the student council was trying to get a local twenty-four-hour suicide help line started. I'd even heard that some senior had Brit's name tattooed on his arm so he could always remember how fragile life could be. I guess he didn't realize Brit hated tattoos. “Future regrets,” she'd called them.

I tried to focus as the minister started the service. I suppose there really isn't anything good to say when someone has killed herself, but it felt like he'd Googled “what to say when a young person dies” and was reading a generic script. He talked about how she was a “bright light that burned out too quickly” and how we could “take comfort that she is in the bosom of our Lord.” None of it had anything to do with Brit. When he got to the part about how some people are so kind that God can't wait to call them home to heaven, someone in the crowd actually snorted. They covered it up a split second later with a cough, but everyone still heard it. Zach put his arm around me and pulled me closer.

I imagined Brit standing off to the side, evaluating her own funeral. She would think roses were too common; she
would have preferred something more exotic. She would have spotted from across the sanctuary that Randy Ryan the Creeper Cousin was wearing brown socks with his black suit and shoes. She'd know at a glance if the coffin was real mahogany or just a veneer. She'd sniff at the choice of recorded music over having live musicians. If Britney had known this would be her funeral when she was walking into the lake, she would have turned right around and walked back out.

The minister paused and called Jason up to speak. Jason dragged his feet to the pulpit as if he were on his way to the gallows. He gripped the sides of the lectern, and I could see his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. There was an awkward stretch of silence. I wondered if he'd be able to speak.

“I've tried to figure out what to say at least a dozen times,” he started. “I don't know how to find the words to express what's in my heart. Brit's a challenging person to describe, to give justice to. I know I let her down in the past, and I don't want to do that now. I want to say the right thing.” Jason's voice cracked and he looked down to pull himself together.

“Most of you know I wasn't always the best boyfriend, but I did love her. Britney was difficult. Sometimes she had a temper. If she didn't like you, she was really bad about hiding it. She wasn't patient with people when things didn't go her way. She picked out all the cashews in the mixed nuts
container and would leave everyone else the plain peanuts. She could look you in the eye and lie if she felt she needed to.” Jason's lip twitched into a smile. “If you didn't watch her like a hawk, she would cheat at Monopoly. She used to steal hundreds out of the bank.”

Brit's mom shifted. I could see this wasn't the eulogy she had counted on. But whether she liked it or not, that was the real Britney. She deserved to be remembered as she was.

“Brit was also the kind of person we all invited to our parties because she lit up a room. She made it a party. When she laughed, we all felt like laughing. She was a great athlete with a competitive spirit, and she could organize anything and anybody. She had a fierce sense of loyalty, and if you were part of her circle there was nothing she wouldn't do for you. No lengths she wouldn't go to for a friend. I'm not perfect and neither is anyone in this room. Brit wasn't perfect either, but she should have had a chance to keep trying to be. She deserved a life.” Jason choked back a sob.

“None of this feels real. If there's anyone that I would have described as invincible, it would have been Brit. I don't know what to say, but for me, there will always be something missing because she isn't here. I don't know what would have happened between Brit and me in the future. Heck, I don't know if any of us will stay in touch when this school year ends, but even if we never came across each other again, I am certain that the world is incomplete because she isn't in it. She will always be the first girl I loved. The first
girl who loved me back. And I was so lucky we had that.” Jason started crying.

I didn't even realize I was crying too until Zach passed me a pack of Kleenex. He pulled one from the package and gently blotted my face as if I were a small child.

The minister reached over to guide Jason back to his seat, but he was still gripping the sides of the podium like he had more he wanted to say. In the end, the minister had to tug on Jason's suit jacket before he let go.

Jason stumbled back to his pew. I noticed he wasn't sitting with Sara, and I wondered if they were still together. I wondered if she'd dared to come.

The minister looked at me and nodded. There was a split second when I thought I wasn't going to be able to stand, but then my legs went on autopilot and I walked to the front. Brit's parents had asked me to read something for the funeral. I'd picked a poem we'd learned in English class.

I cleared my throat and looked out over the congregation. I knew people were waiting to see if I'd fall apart like Jason. Strangely, now that I was standing in front of everyone, I felt calm. I'd been paranoid that my anxiety would kick in and I'd be tapping away on the pulpit, but my breath actually came smoothly.

I searched the crowd for Beth once more, but no matter how badly I wanted her there, she refused to materialize.
My eyes fell on Zach. He smiled and I realized I wasn't completely alone.

“‘Remember,'” I said. “A poem by Christina Rossetti.

“Remember me when I am gone away
.

Gone far away into the silent land;

When you can no more hold me by the hand,

Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay
.

Remember me when no more day by day

You tell me of our future that you plann'd:

Only remember me; you understand

It will be late to counsel then or pray
.

Yet if you should forget me for a while

And afterwards remember, do not grieve:

For if the darkness and corruption leave

A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,

Better by far you should forget and smile

Than that you should remember and be sad.”