Vanished (14 page)

I stood back a few feet while Chester turned the combination
on Britney's locker. It opened with a pop.

“There you go,” she said, giving me a smile that looked more like a grimace before she left me to my task.

My hand rested on the locker door. It felt momentous pulling it open, like opening King Tut's tomb. Hopefully neither Chester or I would end up cursed. Maybe I would make sense of Britney's death by the artifacts she'd left behind.

It was eerie in the empty hallway, entirely too quiet. The office had given me permission to skip gym class to clean out Brit's stuff. Principal Hamstead didn't want there to be a crowd around when I did it. Someone might
take pictures and try to sell them to the media. Anything from Brit's life was practically a holy relic. The week of the funeral I'd turned on the TV and seen Melissa reverently holding Brit's hockey stick while she was interviewed. I'd turned it off before I kicked the screen.

The school would have had Chester clean out the locker, but Brit's parents didn't want that. Dr. Ryerson had called and told me how they couldn't stand the idea of a stranger “pawing” through Brit's things. I couldn't tell her I didn't want to do it, that it still felt too raw. This was yet another reminder that Britney was gone.

Beth was gone again too, apparently. Four days had passed since our Friday-afternoon emails and chat. I'd had no new messages from her all weekend. I was wearing my phone battery down from constant checking. I'd even had Zach send me an email Monday morning, in case my phone wasn't getting messages right. The phone worked fine. I'd given up.

I swung the door open. A sour-sweet smell wafted out of the locker. Something had rotted. I spotted Brit's lunch bag up on the shelf. I grabbed it between two pinched fingers and tossed it directly into the trash can I'd dragged over, without even risking a look inside.

The knowledge that Brit's body must be rotting now too hit me with a thud. I imagined her skin, soft and bloated from almost three weeks in the water. Her flesh loosening from the bones. I backed up, gagging. I bent over and
put my hands on my knees, sucking in clean air. I shoved the image out of my head. When I was sure I had control, I approached the locker again, breathing through my mouth to avoid any hint of the smell.

I took Britney's sweater off the hook, folded it up carefully, and put it in the box the office had provided. She had a pair of ballet flats at the bottom of the locker. I slipped my foot out of my shoe and tried one on. They fit Cinderella perfect. I kicked it off and put the flats in the box along with her textbooks. Wearing the shoe made me feel uncomfortable, like I might be next.

Brit had papered the inside of her locker with pictures of her friends and glossy pages from magazines. There were photos of her and Jason, one of the entire field hockey team covered in mud after a game, and one of her and me and Beth. It was at the mall. Christmastime. The three of us perched on Santa's lap. Beth was laughing so hard that her face was blurred. Brit had a perfect model smile, and I was grasping a nearby giant stuffed penguin to keep from falling off the lap. I peeled the picture off the metal door and stared at it.

I wanted to reach inside the photo and warn the earlier me that trouble was coming. I should have savored every amazing moment we had before everything went bad, and hugged it close. I hadn't appreciated every second of my time with them because I didn't know then that there were only so many seconds left.

I'd thought we had endless time together. The me in the
picture wasn't able to even imagine this moment, standing in front of my dead friend's locker, wishing my missing friend would call.

I carefully pulled the tape off the rest of the pictures and tucked them into the box, but I kept the Christmas photo for myself. Brit's parents wouldn't miss it. I grabbed another stack of things from the locker. The sooner it was done, the better.

“I know you won't believe me, but it will get easier.”

I spun around, dropping the notebook I was holding. Officer Siegel stood right behind me.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to sneak up on you.” She stepped even closer and lifted a picture out of the box. It was a photo-booth strip of Jason and Brit mugging for the camera, crossed eyes, goofy smiles. In the last frame they were kissing. Brit had crossed a giant red X through Jason's face. The pen had torn through the paper. She must have done it after she knew. “She had her whole life ahead of her,” Officer Siegel remarked.

I took the picture from her hand and threw it out, like I should have done in the first place. Jason's mangled face stared up at me from the trash. “Yep.”

“How are you doing?”

Did she expect me to think she cared? “Fine.” I tossed a stack of calculus handouts into the trash.

“Do you still have the number that Ms. Harding gave you?” she pressed.

“Do I look like I need a crisis center?”

Officer Siegel shrugged. “Sometimes when one person does the impossible, it doesn't seem that impossible to people around them anymore.”

“You're too late,” I said. Officer Siegel's left eyebrow went up. “We already got the talk from Ms. Harding last week,” I explained. “Suicide can happen in clusters. We should talk to someone if we find ourselves feeling depressed, or tell someone else if we hear one of our friends talking about it.” I parroted Harding's speech in a flat voice.

“Good advice.”

I made a noncommittal noise and went back to the locker. I reached in to make sure there was nothing pushed to the back of the top shelf.

“I heard you didn't go to yesterday's field hockey practice.”

Did Officer Siegel think I needed another mom? “I'm not feeling like it these days.” The truth was, I didn't feel like I would ever want to play again.

“You're the captain. I bet they count on you.”

“Our season is over. The practices are voluntary.”

“Have you heard from Beth? She might have some advice on how to get through this.”

The lie came out before I could think why I was saying it. “No.” I hadn't told my parents or Zach about the messages. I wasn't about to make Officer Siegel my only confidante.

“I wanted to tell you I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot,” she said. I fought the urge to snort. Wrong foot? She'd basically called me a loser groupie. “If you need someone to
talk to, I'm around,” she offered.

“Sure,” I said. “I should finish this. I'm supposed to get back to class.”

Officer Siegel looked like she wanted to say something else, but instead she walked away.

I picked up Brit's notebook that had fallen on the floor, shoving the loose papers back in. I froze when I saw Beth's handwriting.

B—

I need to talk to you. It's about Jason. I'll come over an hour early tonight so we can talk before we pick up K. Don't freak. It's going to be okay
.

B

I turned the note over. Beth had scribbled it on the back of a Donut Dreams receipt. The date at the top was her birthday, the day she disappeared.

I flipped it over to read it again. It certainly didn't sound like Beth was planning to skip town that night when she wrote it. What had happened to change her mind in the hours between when she'd scribbled these words to Brit, and when she'd bailed on our plans and left? And if Beth somehow knew about Sara and Jason, why did she act so surprised when I'd told her? And why hadn't she found a way to tell Brit herself? Brit had said they were in touch, at least at first. Her angry words from our last conversation
came back to me: “She dropped off the planet when I confronted her straight-out about Jason.” But it made no sense that Beth would choose that moment to disappear on Brit.

Unless . . . no. I didn't believe it could have anything to do with Beth taking Brit's money. Whatever Officer Siegel had been trying to hint when she'd told me about that, she was wrong. That wasn't Beth.

Something was off, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I was missing a big piece of the puzzle.

I pulled out my phone and sent a quick message.

Cleaning out Brit's locker. Heartbreaking. Would love to talk
.

The bell would ring soon. I checked once more to make sure I had everything. Brit's locker was empty, with just a faint hint of rot. I shut the door with a clang and hefted the box of Brit's things to take them down to the office.

I slept with
my phone near my pillow so the instant it vibrated I woke up. I fished through the covers to grab it. The clock on my nightstand showed it was almost midnight. The bright light of the phone's screen made me blink.
Beth
.

You still awake? Chat?

Did you get my message?
I typed. I rubbed my face, trying to wake up more fully.

Why were you going through Britney's stuff?

Did she really think privacy was one of Brit's big
concerns now?
Her parents asked me to clean it out. Not fun
.

How are her parents?

I don't know. Probably not good
.

I bet they're sorry they were always so hard on her
.

I didn't want to talk to Beth about Brit's parents. I wanted to talk about her and Brit.
I found a note in B's locker from you. Saying you needed to talk about Jason. But I thought you didn't know about him and S?

I didn't, but I knew something with J was off. I was going to meet up with B, but decided I didn't need the drama after all. My birthday was a big blur. I had so much stuff going on. I was like the White Rabbit: late for my important date at the tea party. Ha!

I pulled the covers up to keep warm. Beth had an answer to everything. I bit my lip. No guts, no glory.
You could have told me you were leaving
.

Sorry. This was something I had to do on my own
.

Tell me where you are
, I typed.
Let me come see you. I won't tell anyone
.

You shouldn't be up so late, you'll turn into a pumpkin! Get some sleep. Talk to you soon
.

Beth, wait
.

I stared at the screen until it turned itself off, plunging me back into darkness.

I scrolled through our conversations again, looking for something I'd missed, trying to pin down what was off. But it wasn't a Nancy Drew mystery; there was no secret code.
Just the clear message that I wasn't wanted.

It was like Beth had decided to act like we'd never been together, or like she'd forgotten what we'd meant to each other. But nothing about that made sense.

Unless the person writing me wasn't Beth.

And if it wasn't Beth, there was only one person I could think of who could pretend to be her this convincingly.

Britney.

I scanned through the chats over and over. I felt uneasy, like when you hear a noise late at night when you're supposed to be alone in the house. The idea that Brit might have faked her own death and was now reaching out to me as Beth was absolutely insane. But so was the idea that Beth was ignoring our entire past. And, after all, they'd never found Brit's body. Maybe, just maybe, my friend wasn't really dead.

Wanting it so badly didn't make it true.

I paused, rereading the line about the White Rabbit being late for the tea party. It had been a few weeks since I'd read that part of the book, but I was suddenly certain that wasn't right. I grabbed Beth's copy of
Alice
from under my bed and flipped through it madly.

I found the section and skimmed through it. I dropped the book. The White Rabbit hadn't been on his way to the tea party. He'd been late for his job to announce the Queen of Hearts.

No way Beth wouldn't know that. No way.

Zach came up behind me at my locker. He slid his hand
under the hem of my shirt and around my waist. His palm was callused from building theater sets. It made a whispering sound as it slid across the skin of my belly. My flesh rose up in goose bumps. He pulled me gently back against him and kissed me just below my ear.

“Hey, Zach,” I said. I leaned back into him, grateful for how solid he felt.

“I brought you something.”

I turned so we were facing. He held up a paper bag. Parts of it were transparent from grease. My stomach rumbled. “Honey's?” My nose was already twitching. I reached for it. Zach held it out of my reach for a second, then handed
it over. I bit into the donut. “Oh God, these are the best,” I said, spraying crumbs.

“Best donuts for the best girl.” He leaned in and kissed me.

I kissed him back.

“Mmm, you smell like sugar,” Zach said. “Instead of perfume you should just sprinkle some donut behind your ears.” His eyes sparkled. “Maybe down your shirt too.”

I put my hand on his chest and pushed him lightly, but I couldn't help smiling. “I'll keep that idea in mind.”

Zach hoisted his backpack. “Walk you to homeroom?”

“Sure.” I brushed the last crumbs from my face and we headed down A wing, holding hands. For the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe normally. It still hurt like hell that Beth had left, and I had to accept that she probably had abandoned me forever. But the small flicker of hope that maybe Brit was still alive had brought part of me back to life again too.

Late last night, lying awake in the dark, it had seemed almost obvious. Britney had pretended to kill herself in the heat of the moment, to teach Jason a lesson and go off to cool down. But she missed me, just as I missed her, so she'd reached out to me, pretending to be Beth. She couldn't reach out as herself, of course, since everyone thought she was dead. But once I let on that I'd figured it out, I would help her see that she could come back. She was probably scared that she'd get in huge trouble—faking a suicide might even
be illegal—but I knew everyone would welcome her back like a queen.

Zach draped his arm over my shoulder. I wished I could tell him the incredible news, but I knew it would sound crazy to him. Instead of believing me, he'd tell me I had to start getting some decent sleep or I was going to snap. I'd convince Britney to come home first, and then I'd tell Zach.

“Kalah!” Ms. Harding was leaning out of her office door and waving like she was trying to flag down a plane. “Can I see you, please?”

I glanced at Zach. “You want me to wait?” he asked.

“No. It's okay.” My stomach tightened around the donut as I saw the look on Ms. Harding's face. Deep lines were etched in her forehead. Whatever she wanted to talk about, it wasn't something good.

“Text me, okay?” Zach squeezed my hand and took off before the bell.

I dragged my feet. I could see Officer Siegel standing in Ms. Harding's office. Centipedes of nerves ran down my back. I swallowed hard.

“Kalah, come have a seat.” Ms. Harding motioned me toward a chair. She shut the door behind her and a wave of claustrophobia buried me. I wanted to open the window so I could breathe.

“Is everything okay?” I kept my eyes on Ms. Harding. My toes curled up and released and curled up again inside my shoes. Ms. Harding and Officer Siegel were exchanging
looks. I wished they would just tell me whatever they had to say.

When I was a kid I needed allergy shots, and I used to close my eyes while waiting for the jab of the needle. The waiting was always the worst. Nadir was the one who taught me to keep my eyes open.

“There's been some news,” Ms. Harding said. “I thought it would be best if you heard it from us. However, I'm going to have to ask you to keep it quiet for now.” She pressed her lips together.

I nodded.

Ms. Harding swallowed. “I'm not sure how to say this—”

“We've found a body,” Officer Siegel said. “We believe it's Britney.”

There was a strange ringing in my ears. It felt like I'd run right into a cement wall. I blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog in my head. “But . . . how?” I said. I'd been so convinced Brit wasn't dead.

“A fishing boat found the body when it came to the surface,” Officer Siegel said.

I felt light-headed and ice-cold, as if I were floating in a half-frozen lake.

Officer Siegel moved so she was directly in front of me. “This will give us some answers, maybe put some questions to rest.”

“Can I see her?” I asked.

Ms. Harding shook her head. “Oh, sweetheart, I don't think that's a good idea. She's been in the water a long time. You should remember her the way she'd want to be remembered.”

I clenched my fists, squeezing until my nails bit into my palms. My hands almost didn't feel connected to the rest of me. I pushed away the ugly image that threatened to surface. Britney's body bobbing on the waves. Fish eating her eyes.

My lungs couldn't pull in enough air. Black spots started to crowd my vision and the roar in my ears grew louder.

“Okay, put your head between your knees.” Officer Siegel's hand was on my shoulder pushing my head forward. I started to push back when I realized she was right, I was about to pass out.

“Are you sure it's her?” My voice came out sort of whispery. “How do you know it's Brit?”

“We're very close to certain,” Officer Siegel said.

I lifted my head. “But not
certain
certain?”

She frowned. “Her face was . . . damaged, so it's a bit difficult to make a positive visual identification.” She lowered her voice. “Her body likely smashed against the rocks and it looks like a boat hit her with its propeller. Not to mention she's been in the water for quite some time.”

My stomach hitched as I pictured a boat motor slicing through Britney's face. More black spots blurred my vision and the room tilted. My lungs felt like they were filling with
icy water. I was drowning. I swallowed hard to keep from throwing up on my own shoes.

“We're still sure it was her. The body type was a match and she was wearing Britney's clothing and sapphire ring.”

Brit's dad had given her the square-cut stone when she turned sixteen. She used to say it was like a purity ring, only less creepy and less pure. She always wore it.

“We're waiting on some tests for final confirmation of identity. In the meantime, the family has pulled some strings to keep the fact we've found a body out of the press. There's no reason for her parents to be hounded for a reaction until it's official. But they agreed we should tell you on the off chance that there's a leak. None of us wants you to be blindsided by more hard news. We trust you to keep this quiet.”

I nodded. The room tilted again and I whimpered.

“Oh, sweetie.” Ms. Harding wrapped me up in her arms. She smelled like oranges. I knew I'd never be able to eat an orange again without thinking of this moment. “I know this is hard. Sometimes when we lose someone, it's hard to accept how final it is.” She rubbed my back.

“I want to go home,” I said.

Ms. Harding was already reaching for a pad on her desk. “Of course. I'll write a note for you. I'll call your mom to pick you up.”

“No, it's okay. I drove in this morning, and she's at work.” I stood. I wanted to bolt for the door, but I knew I
had to act calm if I wanted them to let me go. “I'll be okay, I just need some time.”

Ms. Harding looked ready to argue, but Officer Siegel nodded and opened the door. As I passed her she handed me her business card. “I put my cell number on the back if you ever need to talk.”

Jason was at my side the instant the door closed behind me. I flinched. He must have been waiting. “They told you?” he said.

I nodded. “I knew she was gone, but it's still . . .”

His Adam's apple bobbed. “I know. When they hadn't found her body I could almost pretend it hadn't really happened.”

His eyes were red and wet. I felt bad for ever thinking that this wasn't hard on him too. He'd done Britney wrong at the end of it all, but he'd been good to her too, for a long time before that. Maybe better than I'd been to Zach. And nobody deserved to suffer through this kind of loss.

Jason walked me to my locker so I could gather my stuff. I could hear the hum of classes going on behind closed doors, but it was like a radio station that you can't quite tune in to.

“I owe you an apology,” Jason said. “You were right the other day. What I did to Britney was unforgivable. Me saying that we needed to move on was unfair.”

“It's okay. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have snapped at you or Sara.” We stood silently for a moment. “I need to go,”
I said. I couldn't deal with Jason or his guilt right now. I wanted to curl up under my covers and shut everything out.

“Sure. But I wanted to let you know, I'm going to talk to Sara. We need to tell people the truth about us. It's not fair that Beth is getting smeared in this whole thing. If I'd listened to her in the first place and just told Brit about Sara myself, maybe Brit would still be alive today.” He choked on the final sentence.

My attention focused and I gripped his arm. “Beth knew about you and Sara?”

Jason nodded miserably. “Yeah. She saw us together. She was furious. She told me Brit deserved to hear it from me, but if I didn't tell her myself, she'd do it. But I chickened out and Beth left town without outing me.”

I stared at Jason, trying to connect the dots. Only one thing was clear: the messages weren't from Beth.

The messages weren't from Beth.

The messages weren't from Beth.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but I turned around and left.

I paced back
and forth alongside the bed. My brain was like a hamster wheel, spinning around and around. I felt jittery, like I'd drunk an entire gallon of coffee. The messages had to be from Beth.

Britney was dead. They'd found her body. Britney was dead.

Unless Brit wasn't dead.

But the body wore her ring.

But the messages weren't from Beth. And whoever had written them knew Beth very well, and was very interested in the life Brit left behind.

Almost nobody knew Beth that well. And no one was as interested in Brit as Brit was.

I felt the room tilt and I sat down quickly. I was breathing heavily, almost panting.

If the body wasn't Britney's, then it had to be Beth's.

I was starting to panic. I could feel myself clinging to normalcy by my fingernails. If I let go I'd go spinning out of control like a character in a science fiction movie sucked into space from an airlock. I closed my eyes and made myself take a long breath in, counting to six before releasing it. This was beyond my tendency to imagine worst-case scenarios—this was insane.

I could totally picture Britney faking her death. It had all the soap opera drama she would love. It would give her a chance to punish Jason, make her the focus of attention,
and
teach all of us a lesson in how we should appreciate her so much more than we already did. But I couldn't imagine Brit killing Beth.

My phone beeped.

Time for a chat? —B

I sat down at my computer and opened the chat screen. My fingers shook as I typed in my password.

One problem with faking your own death is you can't stick around to see how crushed everyone is to lose you.

God, have you been watching the news? I'm sick of people talking about me
, B wrote.

People are worried about you
, I typed.
I'm worried about you
. This was an understatement. The last news story I saw had a picture of Beth and the caption
Where is she?
running across the screen.

I'm fine
, B insisted.
But it's gotten to the point where I'm afraid to go out because someone might spot me and call in the media. I don't need this hassle. I'm trying to start over
.

A flare of anger burned in my chest.
If you would tell someone where you are, everyone would stop talking about it
.

It's not that easy
.

You know what's not easy? Being left behind to deal with all this. Missing your two best friends. Or being DEAD
. My fingers jabbed down on the keyboard.

The cursor blinked. B didn't type back. I rubbed my temples.

You're right. The focus should be on Brit. She was lucky to have you as a friend. I'm being selfish. And I miss you too. I wish we could be back in your room hanging out with that huge plate of your dad's famous cookies
.

I stared at the computer. Maybe it really was Beth. I hoped so. God, did I hope so.

I missed her. I missed her every day with every atom of my soul.