Vanished (13 page)

I tore the Queen of Hearts in half and dropped the pieces in the trash as I walked out of the room.

The cafeteria table where the three of us had always
sat was empty. It wasn't draped in half-dead flowers, molding teddy bears, and notes, like one of those roadside memorials, but no one wanted to sit there either. People avoided it like it was haunted or infected with bad luck. Or like they still knew they couldn't sit there without an invitation from Beth or Brit. Its emptiness stood out as I scanned the busy room.

A few of my teammates sat together at a table near the soda machines. Amy Chan waved to me and pointed to an empty seat next to her. I held up my history textbook and shrugged. I wasn't really going to study, but the thought of being around anyone besides Zach made me want to crawl
out of my skin, and Zach didn't have lunch this period. I could feel the entire group watching me as I walked across the room toward Brit's old table.

Yesterday, Melissa and Amy had approached me in the halls to suggest we resume our Monday field hockey practices, “like Brit would have wanted.” As next year's captain, running the practices should fall to me, but I couldn't imagine playing on that field without Beth or Brit. “Be my guest,” I'd told them. I knew Melissa felt she should have been tapped as a co-captain anyway. As far as I was concerned, she could have it.

I plopped down at the table and opened my book to a random page. I could pretend to read so people would leave me alone, but I wasn't taking in the words. They just swam in front of my eyes. Ever since Brit's death, studying had proven impossible.

I knew everyone thought it was weird I sat by myself. It wasn't just Amy—a bunch of people had tried to let me know I was welcome at their table. Just because Beth and Brit were gone didn't mean I'd lost the status their approval had given me. But I couldn't fathom listening to people talk about their plans for prom, the test in biology, or whatever inane stuff was going on. For most other people, normal life had continued, but I wasn't ready to join in. It was easier to be alone.

I'd promised Zach we would go out tonight, though. He said I could pick anything I wanted to do, but he wanted to
go out. He kept telling me that it wasn't a betrayal of Brit to have some fun. I'd agreed to at least try.

I pulled out my lunch bag and a folded piece of paper fell out. It was a Far Side cartoon my dad had downloaded and printed off for me. He'd scribbled at the bottom,
Love you!
The Tupperware contained my mom's famous mango quinoa salad. She knew it was one my favorites. Both of my parents kept going out of their way to be extra-nice to me while trying to act like they weren't doing anything different. There was a constant undercurrent of “Please be okay” that ran through every interaction I had with them. Pretending to be normal was exhausting.

I stabbed a cucumber slice and made myself chew it. Nothing tasted right since Brit's death. The food actually felt wrong in my mouth—foreign, like chewing Styrofoam peanuts—and it was hard to swallow. A few times I'd spit things back out into a napkin because there was no way to get them down. I knew my mom was getting worried. If I got any thinner she would make me see our family doctor or go back to Dr. Sherman. I didn't want that. I forced down two more bites of salad.

A memory came to me in a flash. Brit had loved this salad too. She'd even asked for the recipe once. We laughed about it because she never cooked, but she insisted someday she would start. Now she never would.

I put the fork down. My life was a minefield of memories of Brit and Beth, and I never knew when one would pop
out of nowhere and blow up in my face. I took a long, slow breath, in and out, trying to calm myself.

My fingers ran over the scarf I'd tied around my neck. It was Brit's. Her parents had given it to me after the funeral. If I held it up to my nose, I could smell a faint hint of Brit's perfume. I knew the scent would eventually fade, but for now it was nice. It made me feel less alone.

A tray plopped down on the table, startling me out of my thoughts. It was Sara.

“Mind if I join you?” She sat without waiting for an answer. “I'm Sara.” She jammed her hair behind her ears, her movements jerky and awkward.

I blinked, shocked that someone had broken the bubble of space around me. It was clear I wanted to be by myself. “I know who you are,” I said.

Sara flushed. I looked down at my book and hoped she'd take the hint to leave.

“I, um, just wanted to say I'm sorry. About everything that's happened.” Sara folded and refolded the paper napkin on her tray.

I felt the fog I'd been in start to clear. It was replaced by sharp, clear anger. “I'm not really the one you should be apologizing to,” I said. “That person's dead. And isn't it a little late for you to be making amends?” I knew I sounded bitchy, but I wanted her out of my face.

Sara's hands were shaking slightly as she played with her fork. “I just, I see how Jason's suffering, and I know this
must be really hard for you too. I thought I should say something.”

“And since you've been comforting Brit's boyfriend, you thought maybe you'd sit down at her table too?” I said. “If you're looking for someone to forgive you, you'd better look somewhere else.”

Sara jumped up, her chair squealing on the floor. Her mouth quivered and her eyes were filling with tears. “I'm sorry. I just wanted to help.”

“You've helped plenty already,” I spat out.

Sara bolted, tripping and knocking over a trash can on her way out. Food and wadded-up napkins fell out onto the floor. A bunch of dickhead junior guys let out a cheer.

“She was trying to be nice,” Jason said. He loomed over me, his face hard.

For a split second, his anger scared me, then I stood so I could look him in the eye. “If she wanted to be nice, she shouldn't have fucked my best friend's boyfriend,” I hissed.

Jason jerked his head around to see if anyone had heard me. “We're not talking about this here.”

“Why? Ashamed?” I cocked my head. “Why do you care if everyone knows you're already nailing someone else?”

Jason took me by the elbow and tried to steer me toward the door. I yanked my arm back. Jason flinched. “Would you please come with me?” he asked.

I crossed my arms and followed him out of the cafeteria. I wanted to hear what he'd have to say for himself. We
stepped around the corner so we could have some privacy.

“Look, I know you're mad at me, and I get it,” he said. “You're not the only one who blames me. I've been blaming myself plenty too. But at the end of the day, this was Brit's decision. I'd give anything to change what happened, but Britney's gone.”

“So that's it? We just forget she was ever here?”

Jason rubbed his eyes. “No, of course not, but people can't grieve forever.”

My mouth fell open. “Forever? It's been, like, two weeks.”

Jason looked down. I hoped that look on his face was shame.

“If moving on is the right thing to do, why aren't you telling people about you and Sara? Why are you letting everyone still think you were hooking up with Beth? Does it make it better for you to let the whole world think that Brit's best friend also betrayed her, when really it was only you?”

Jason's eyes were filled with misery. “I know I should tell the truth, but Brit is dead anyway, so the truth isn't going to help her. Beth isn't here to be hurt, but Sara is.”

“I don't care about Sara,” I said.

“But I do. I love her. I didn't mean to fall in love with her, and I sure as hell never meant to hurt Brit, but it happened.”

I did not want to feel sorry for him. “Well, I loved Beth and Brit, but that doesn't mean it's enough,” I said. I spun around and walked away.

If Britney knew how Jason was acting, she would be sick that she'd killed herself over him. It was still hard to believe that it had really happened. I wondered if Brit had believed it herself, if she'd truly understood that what she was doing would be so final. Or if, right until the end, some part of her believed that someone would stop her, someone would save her, or somehow it would all turn out to be a terrible dream.

I pictured her standing on the cliff above the water, curling her toes over the edge of the rock, preparing to jump. I imagined her turning her head when she heard a noise, and seeing Jason rushing toward her, shouting for her to stop, apologies falling from his lips. I imagined the sad, relieved smile that would have crossed her face as the wind whipped through her hair and dried her tears.

Then I imagined Jason looking at Brit but thinking of Sara, and realizing how much he had to lose. I pictured his face curling up in a snarl as, instead of saving Britney, he shoved her hard, pushing her over the edge of the cliff, listening as she screamed before her body hit the water and her head smashed into the rocks below.

I saw him standing there in shock, realizing what he'd just done. Then, pulling himself together as he realized too that she'd helped him get away with it. Britney would have already written the suicide note. No one would have to know what he'd done.

I squeezed my eyes shut. This daydream was crazy. Jason may have broken Brit's heart, but that didn't make him
a monster. Just because I could imagine something was true didn't make it true. Still, my stomach felt as if I'd filled it with lead. Was the idea that Jason may have killed Brit any harder to accept than the idea that Brit had killed herself?

I leaned against the wall. I didn't want to go back in the cafeteria. It wasn't like I was going to be able to eat anything more anyway.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Zach, probably, wanting to know the plan for tonight.

I'd vote for a movie. At least then I wouldn't have to talk. I glanced at the notice on my screen. There was a strange buzzing in my ears. After all this time.

Beth.

Hi K—

Surprise! Bet you thought you were never going to hear from me. I'm sorry I've been so out of touch. I promise I'll explain everything soon. You'll have to trust me that I can't right now. It's complicated
.

How are you holding up? Thanks for telling me about Britney. I heard the funeral was beautiful and standing room only. How is everyone at school taking it?

I don't want to use my old email and stuff (long story) and texting is complicated (even longer story!) so write me back at this address okay?

Beth

I stared at the email, trying to rearrange the words and letters into some sort of new pattern that would make more sense.

That was all she had to say? I shoved the phone back into my pocket.

Maybe I wouldn't answer for a couple of days. Let her see what it feels like to be ignored. Let her wonder if something happened and her message didn't get through and then realize that it did, but the other person couldn't even be bothered to respond.

I chewed the inside of my cheek. There was no way I'd wait. I might like the idea of teaching Beth a lesson, but I wanted to talk to her more than I wanted to be in the right. I couldn't even lie to myself.

I was going to have to lie to someone, though.

“No, don't cancel
on me,” Zach said. “Please.”

“I'm just not up for it tonight. Maybe next week,” I said.

“We could do something low-key, like a movie,” he said. “I really think it would be good for you to get out.”

I knew he was trying to be supportive, but I was irritated. I wanted to go home so I could reread Beth's message in private and think about how to answer. I wanted to be alone. “I'm really tired. I haven't been sleeping well. I need to go to bed early tonight.”

Zach sighed. “Kalah, I know how hard this is for you, but you have to at least try. It might feel like your life is over,
but it isn't. Come out with me. Do some of the things you used to do. Live. Brit would want you to be happy.”

That showed how little Zach understood Brit. She would love it if the rest of us never moved on.

But this wasn't about Brit. It was about Beth. “I can't go out and act like everything is fine,” I said.

“You'd be out with me. You don't have to act,” Zach said, taking my hand.

How could I tell him I'd been acting for so long I didn't even know who I really was anymore? “I'm sorry. I can't do it.”

Zach's mouth pressed into a tight line. “Fine.”

“Don't be mad,” I said.

Zach shrugged like he was fine, but the tension in his shoulders told the truth. “I'm not mad.” He grabbed his bag off the floor and walked away.

Now both of us were lying.

I shut the door to my locker and headed down the hall. As I passed by the art room, my memory flashed on the last time I'd seen Britney in school, fighting in this hallway with Jason. The hair on the back of my neck went up, and for one crazy moment, I thought I could feel the presence of Britney's ghost, standing there just beyond where I could see.

I peeked into the room. There was no floating specter, no ghost version of Britney.

I let out the breath I'd been holding. I was actually
disappointed. Part of me had been hoping Britney would be there, my own personal ghostly advisor, like from one of the books she used to read. Dead, but not gone.

Brit would have known how to handle the email from Beth. She would know exactly what to say.

“Brit, I need you,” I said softly. I didn't expect her to answer, but I was still sorry she didn't.

Beth
,

I was really glad to get your email. I'm sorry things are so messed up for you. I hope you know you can talk to me about anything, and if you don't want to talk about everything that's okay
.

But you also have to know things have been difficult for me too
.

You should have been at Brit's funeral
.

I miss you
.

Kalah

I deleted the “I miss you” and then added it back in a thousand times. I didn't want to come across as clingy, but I also wanted her to know how I felt. I was mad, but at the same time every atom in my body ached for her. There was an inescapable gravity still pulling me to her.

I'd barely sent the message when there was a ping indicating I had one in return. She must have been waiting for me to respond.

I know I let you down. I'm sorry
.

B

 

It's not just me. You let Brit down
.

K

 

Let's switch to chat. I'll send you an invite. I want to explain and I can't call
.

B

I sat in front of the computer, waiting. My emotions kept shooting from one extreme to another—excited, nervous, relieved, furious. I wanted to jump up and down because she'd finally reached out and at the same time I wanted to shake her and demand she tell me how she could leave me.

The chat window opened with a beep and I leaned forward.

You're right. I should have been at Brit's funeral. I owed her that
. Brit's words scrolled across the screen.
She deserved so much better. It shouldn't have ended like that for her. How is everyone taking it?

People are still sort of shocked
, I wrote.

Me too
.

It's been weird watching everyone at school react to it like it's their own tragedy. I guess they're allowed to be shocked and sad, but also . . . they didn't know Brit like we did. They didn't lose one of their closest friends. You know?

I know
, she wrote.
How's the team reacting?

Same. Everyone wants to do something for Brit next year, maybe put a patch with her initials on our jerseys
.

Then you guys would win State for sure
.

I pushed aside some annoyance. I didn't care about field hockey right now.
Why didn't you respond to my messages?
I held my breath, waiting to see what she would say. I wanted her to have a good reason, something that would make her silence seem okay.

I'm sorry, K. It's hard to explain. I wanted to start all over. I thought it would be easier if I just cut off all contact. Things with Brit and me were really complicated. Obviously
.

My foot was tapping and I forced myself to stop.
What about things between us?
I typed.

Not complicated at all
, she responded.

I wanted that to mean good things, but I worried it could go either way.
I will always be here for you
, I told her.

I thought you might be pissed. Because of the thing with Jason. How is he? Is he sick about what he did to Britney? I bet everyone hates him. And me, of course
.

I guessed she didn't want to talk about us.
I was angry at first. Since I hadn't heard from you, I thought it might really be true. Maybe I should have known better, but everyone was so convinced. I hate that Brit died thinking that you betrayed her. I wish she could have known the truth
.

I waited for Beth to answer, but there was no response.
I'm sorry, I'm not blaming you
, I wrote.
It's just been really
hard. But of course you would never have done that to Brit
. I considered adding that I knew she wouldn't have done that to me either, but then she started typing.

Who was Jason with?

A sophomore named Sara Green
. There was no response, so I kept going.
People don't know yet, but he told me the day after. She looks a bit like you, so I guess that's how the rumors started
.

Still nothing.
I wish you'd come back and set the record straight
, I wrote.

It's a little late for that now
.

I swallowed against my disappointment. That wasn't the response I'd wanted.

WTF. Sara? Are you kidding me?
Beth wrote.
I can't believe Brit killed herself over nothing. She should have stayed and just crushed Sara. No way would he have picked her over Brit in the end
. I stared at the screen. That was kind of a weird reaction.

Jason still hasn't told anyone else
, I wrote.
He's letting everyone still think it was you because he wants to protect Sara
.

Wait. He's still dating her? After Brit died?!
I could practically see Beth's outrage pulsing through the screen.

He says he really loves her
.

NO FUCKING WAY
, Beth wrote.

I know. And I hate that he did this to Brit. But also I feel kinda bad for him sometimes
.

Why? He deserves to be shot. Or castrated. Or both. Whose side are you on?

I should have known Beth would react that way.
I just meant that sometimes love can get confusing
. I shut my eyes, afraid to see what she'd say.

I've never been that confused
, I saw when I opened them.

I paused. Once again, her words could mean anything.

Besides, look at you and Zach. No confusion there
, Beth typed.

That was a low blow. But she had a right to be angry about him and me. And at least we were finally talking about this.
Is that why you left?
I wrote.

Honestly, Kalah, I don't even know what you mean. For the record, sometimes it's not about you
.

I felt two inches tall.
When are you coming home?

Never. I can't
.

You can
, I insisted.

You have no idea what I'm dealing with
, Beth wrote.
It was a mistake to contact you. Just forget me
.

I wanted to reach through the screen and throw myself against her and beg her to take it back. She couldn't disappear on me again now. Not when I'd finally just gotten her back.
Please don't say that. Hearing from you means everything
.

There was no response.

I lost Brit. I don't know if I can handle losing you too. If
you can't come back, fine, but promise me you'll be in touch again
.

Beth still didn't reply. My foot tapped like mad below the desk.
Please don't do this to me
, I begged. I didn't care if I sounded desperate. I
was
desperate.

I watched the cursor pulsing like a heartbeat.

Okay. I'll be in touch
, Beth wrote. Before I could say
thank you
, she had already signed off.