I'm standing in the kitchen beating three eggs together in a plastic bowl when Maria walks in wearing her pea coat and holding her suitcase in one hand.
"Wherever you think you're going, you're not," I inform her. "I'm making you brownies."
"Yeah, that'll make up for everything," Maria replies, sarcastically. "I'm staying over at David Michael Thomas'. Call us when the brownies are ready and I'll send David Michael Thomas over for them."
I drop the whisk and stare at Maria. "You are not spending the night with your eleven year old boyfriend," I tell her.
Maria lifts her chin, defiantly. "Nannie already gave me permission. Don't worry, Shanny. I won't do anything that you and Tiffany would!" Maria shouts, then whirls around and storms out of the kitchen. A few seconds later, the front door slams behind her.
Mom calls while I'm pouring the batter into a pan. She apologizes that she must extend her business trip another day…or two. She doesn't sound apologetic though. She's giggling, then hangs up before I can tell her anything about our lives at home. I slide the brownies into the oven and set the timer, then wander into the living room and flop on the couch with the cordless phone.
"I'm having a rotten day," I inform Wes without a proper greeting.
"What's going on?"
"You know my friend, Abby? The one across the street?"
"Oh, yeah…from the volleyball game, right?"
"Yes. That's her. I found out she's been stealing my old papers. You know, from when I went to SDS and she's selling them to other kids!"
"What?" Wes exclaims.
"I know! It's despicable. She has all these gambling debts or something. And she's letting her mother take the blame, so her sister's mad at their mom, and it's just a big mess. I can't believe her. I can't believe she would betray my trust like that," I say. I cover my face with my hands and groan. "Maria left again. She went across the street to stay at her boyfriend's house. And there's no one to make her come home! Mom isn't coming home tonight, like she promised and Dad's probably meeting a hooker or something. Oh, and I get the feeling Tiffany doesn't plan on coming home either."
There's a short silence on Wes' end. "Your family is really screwed up," he finally says. "Don't you have any…uh…normal relatives to call? You can't handle this on your own anymore."
I start to protest, I'm handling it fine, but I know it would be a lie. One of my biggest lies. I'm not handling anything anymore. "No," I answer, softly. "There's no one else."
"You don't have any relatives?" Wes asks, surprised.
"All my grandparents are dead. Dad has a sister in…Illinois? They don't get along and we've not seen her for years. Mom's brothers both died in a car accident in high school. There isn't anyone. There's only me." And I'm not worth much now.
There's another pause. "Have you ever…uh…considered maybe speaking to someone at social services?" Wes asks. "Maybe they could help – "
"No!" I cry, cutting him off. "They'll take my sisters away!"
"Not necessarily."
"Wes, I can't believe you would even suggest that! It's not even an option." I tell him. Is he crazy? Enough people know our business already. I don't want all of Stoneybrook to know what goes on inside this house.
"I'm sorry," Wes apologizes. "It was just an idea. So, what are you doing now? In a little while, I'm leaving to go watch my cousin's basketball game at SHS. Do you want to come? My parents will be there and you can meet my aunt and cousins."
Enough people at SHS know my business, too. "No thanks, Wes. I think I'd rather stay here. Maybe next time," I say. Or maybe never.
"Oh, okay. But my mom wanted me to ask if you want to come to dinner tomorrow night? Mom and Dad want to tell you all about the house in Miami and start planning what you'd like to see and do while we're there. They're really excited that you're coming. So am I."
I sit up and fold my knees to my chest. I doubt I'll even make it to Miami. Can I possibly keep this up that long? And I don't want to see his parents again, no matter how nice they are. Mrs. Ellenburg's already suspicious of me. There's no telling what more she'll wheedle out of me. But I want to make Wes happy. I want him to believe we're in a normal relationship and I am a normal girlfriend. "That sounds fantastic, Wes," I say, as enthusiastically as possible. "Call me tonight when you get home and we'll talk more about it."
"Sure! I'll talk to you later, Shannon. I love you."
"I love you, too."
Just as I hang up the oven timer buzzes. I toss the phone aside and walk back into the kitchen, where I remove the brownie pan from the oven. I set it on the stove to cool. Then I go upstairs to my bedroom to work on some homework. Homework will distract me. But I can't concentrate. All I think about are all the people I've disappointed and all who have disappointed me. Twenty minutes later, I've only completed half of question one of my microbiology homework. I close the book with a sigh and head back downstairs. I cut the brownies and pile them on one of Mom's serving platters, then dial Kristy's phone number. If anyone but David Michael or Emily Michelle answer, I'll hang up. But no one answers. I reach a busy signal.
It's getting dark out, so I begin closing the blinds and curtains. While I'm pulling the dining room curtains closed, my gaze falls kitty-corner across the street. I gasp. There are three police cars parked in Kristy's driveway.
"Oh, no," I whisper to myself. My first worry turns to Nannie and Watson. Has something happened to them? Nannie's not exactly young and Watson had a heart attack a few years ago. But there are no ambulances, only the police cars. Then my mind turns to Kristy. She didn't come to school today and Kristy never misses school.
I run out of the house without locking the front door. I barely remember to shut it. My feet carry me fast down the street and across the yard. Has something happened to Kristy? Why hasn't Maria come for me?
Kristy's front door is wide open and I rush right in, passed two police officers standing in the foyer, talking on walkie-talkies. I hear voices in the living room and that's where I head, halting to a quick stop in the doorway. I pause, catching my breath, and scan the room with my eyes, making a mental checklist of who is accounted for and who is not. Maria and David Michael sit together in an overstuffed armchair. Maria's holding his hand and speaking softly to him. There are dried tears on David Michael's cheeks. Kristy's on the couch nearest to me, seated between Amanda Kerner and Al Hall. Amanda's arm is around Kristy's shoulders and Amanda's leaning toward her, whispering. On Kristy's other side, Al's fidgeting with the cuff of his shirt.
On the other couch sit Elizabeth, Janet, and Nannie. Elizabeth doesn't see me in the doorway. She's focused on some distant point on the wall, staring, and biting her thumb knuckle. It looks like she's been crying. Janet is crying, sobbing into her hands, face hidden from us all. Behind the couch, Watson and Janet's parents, Dr. and Mrs. Gates stand near the fireplace, speaking to two police officers. Watson rubs his forehead while the Gates' look rather cross, arms folded tightly over their chests, shaking their heads.
"What's happened?" I ask, voice ringing into the room.
Everyone's head snaps toward me. They stare.
"Sam's gone," Kristy says, so quietly I almost don't hear.
I glance around the room, for the first time noticing that Sam is not present.
"What do you mean he's gone?" I ask, perplexed.
"He's gone," Kristy repeats. Her eyes are rimmed bright red. She's been crying, too.
"He isn't gone," David Michael snaps from the armchair. "He's missing. Something bad has happened to him!"
Maria takes his hand and pats it comfortingly.
Al jumps up off the couch. "Well…" Al says to Kristy. "Shannon's here now. We should probably go. Shannon will…er…take care of you. Come on, Amanda, I'll walk you home."
Amanda looks unsurely from me to Kristy. "I can stay," she tells Kristy.
Kristy shakes her head. "No. It's okay. Thanks for staying this long."
Amanda rises from the couch. "I'm sorry about your brother," she says.
"Yeah, sorry," echoes Al.
Kristy nods her head and stares down at her hands, which are folded in her lap.
Amanda and Al slip passed me in the doorway, offering small smiles. I remain in the doorway a moment, standing awkwardly. Everyone has returned to their previous conversations, or vacant staring, taking no further notice of me. Kristy sits alone on the couch now, still watching her own hands, fingers laced together. I enter the living room, finally, and sit beside her on the couch.
"What's happened?" I ask because, really, no one's told me anything.
"Sam left. No one's seen him since Tuesday night. Janet just today had the courtesy to inform everyone. She said she thought he would come back," Kristy explains, still speaking far too quietly for Kristy. "Mom and Watson called the police. The police found Sam's car at the bus station. He's gone, Shannon. He left just like my dad." Kristy sniffles and dabs at her eye with a tissue. "He's just like our dad. I never thought…"
"Shut up, Kristy!" David Michael yells. I'm not sure how he overheard. Kristy's speaking so softly. "That's not what happened!"
"David Michael…" says Elizabeth in a strained and weary voice.
David Michael glares at Kristy then turns his glare on Janet and his mother. "Thanks a lot, Janet, for making Sam leave!" David Michael shouts, nastily.
"David Michael!" Elizabeth warns, her voice rising.
Janet's sobs grow louder. I don't understand. Janet's crying over Sam? The same Sam she claimed to hate? It's a sickening thought that maybe Janet actually loved Sam. How could she?
"I'll get you a soda," Maria tells David Michael, releasing his hand. She stands and leaves the living room without ever once looking in my direction.
"I'm so sorry, Kristy," I tell her. That is a lie. If Sam is truly gone, I am not sorry. But I am sorry for Kristy that she had to realize who her brother is this way. "I guess that's why you didn't come to school today."
"No, Nannie and I, we had…um…something to do. We didn't find out about Sam until this afternoon. How could he leave, Shannon? How could he just get up and walk away? Without a word? He left Amy and he left us. I mean, I don't really blame him for leaving Janet, but…" Kristy lays her head on my shoulder. It's odd because I've been so angry with her all week. I wondered if we were still friends. Are we? I don't know. "I tried calling Abby," Kristy tells me. "She didn't answer, so I sent Al over to get her. I guess she's not home. I tried to call Mary Anne, too. She's not home either."
Kristy never called me. It's like a light punch in the stomach, slightly shocking and dull in pain, but not altogether surprising. But it hurts, in a way, just the same.
"Are the police searching for Sam?" I ask.
"Yes. They're treating it as a missing person case. Sam didn't take anything with him really. Just his backpack and some clothes. Janet's convinced he isn't coming back and – " Kristy lowers her voice further. "Mom thinks so, too. But the police aren't ruling anything out so fast. It's because Sam's Watson Brewer's stepson." Kristy turns her eyes upward at me. "You know what? Mom and Janet are right. Sam's not coming back."
I hope not. I want him far from Tiffany. I want him far from everyone I love.
"I'm sorry, Kristy," I say, again, when there's nothing else to say. I stroke her hair, like my mother did for me when I was small.
Kristy and I sit together awhile longer. I continue stroking her hair. She cries a little. Across from us, David Michael and Maria are seated together again, David Michael sipping from the soda Maria fetched him, and glaring alternatively at Kristy and Janet. The police finish speaking with Watson and the Gates' and say a few words to Elizabeth, then leave. I suppose they've already spoken to Janet. Janet's stopped sobbing. Her mother stands behind her, massaging her shoulders. Mrs. Gates still looks cross and since I've only met her a couple times, I don't know if that's her normal expression or not. Elizabeth has her hand on Janet's knee, but continues to stare into the distance, biting her knuckle.
Janet rises from the couch and crosses to me. She folds her arms and stares down at me, her cheeks streaked with black mascara. "May I speak to you, Shannon?" she requests in a wavering voice. Tears begin rolling from her eyes again.
"Sure," I say and stand, assuming Janet wishes to speak to me in private.
She does. Janet leads me out of the living room and through the foyer. I follow, a bit apprehensively. If she's truly upset about Sam, maybe she blames Tiffany. Maybe Janet intends to tell. Janet takes me into Watson's office and shuts the door behind us. I stand in the center of the room, instinctively crossing my arms, preparing to become defensive. Janet's back is to me and when she turns to me, her eyes are dry and she's laughing.
My first thought is, Dear Lord, Janet's lost her mind. My second thought is, Dear Lord, Janet's murdered Sam.
"God," Janet says, wiping her right cheek with the back of her hand. "How long do you think I have to keep up the theatrics? I didn't wear waterproof mascara on purpose, you know. I thought it'd make my performance more believable." Janet laughs again, low and deep in her throat. "God, can you believe the drama over Sam?" She rolls her eyes.
"Did you kill Sam?" I ask, seriously.
Janet laughs. "No! God, no. But I did break one of my mom's dinner plates over his head when he came home Tuesday night. He wept like a baby. And then…" Janet bites her lip, shaking with suppressed laughter. "And then, I told him the police came to the door looking for him because you told your parents about him having sex with Tiffany, and that your parents were pressing charges. I told him he was being charged with statutory rape, contributing to the delinquency of a minor, and soliciting a prostitute. I acted really upset about it, too. I even cried. Sam almost wet himself. I swear. You would not believe how fast he was up the stairs, shoving clothes into his backpack. I promised to give him a decent head start."
I am slightly disturbed, but mostly I am relieved.
"I told you," Janet says, "that I'd take care of Sam." Janet slaps her hands together. "And now, I've washed my hands of him. He's never coming back. I doubt he planned to stick around much longer anyway. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for him to just disappear. My parents are so pleased. They regret ever pushing for the marriage. But they're worried Watson or the police will track Sam down. God, I hope not!"
"I…I'm so happy for you," I tell her. What else can I say?
"Thank you," Janet replies. "Perhaps now everyone in this house will treat me a little better." Janet whirls around and strides out of the room. She's sobbing again the moment she hits the doorway of the living room.
I don't know what to think. I am simply grateful that Sam Thomas is gone. I hope Janet is correct. I hope he never returns.
Kristy's walking down the stairs when I enter the foyer, wearing her jacket. "I have to go get Emily Michelle," she tells me. "Mom sent her over to the Papadakises before the police arrived. Mom didn't want her here for that."
"I'll walk you," I offer. "Hang on." I return to the living room and stand beside Maria and David Michael's armchair. "Maria, please get your things. You need to come home for the night."
Maria shakes her head. "No," she says.
"Maria…" I sigh. "Elizabeth and Watson have enough to deal with tonight." I hold out my hand. "Please come home. Please?"
"No."
"She can stay," Elizabeth speaks up from the couch. She waves her hand, dismissively. "It doesn't matter."
Maria sticks her tongue out at me.
"Fine. Be a burden then," I tell her.
"That's what I am," Maria replies.
I stare at her a moment, then turn and leave. She may act like a child if she wishes. And the Thomas-Brewers can encourage it if they so desire. I can't force Maria to do anything. She's made that abundantly clear.
As Kristy and I cross the street, she says, "Charlie's on his way home. He finished his last final today. He'll be here soon. I'm glad."
I nod and don't say anything.
"I haven't been a very good friend to you, Shannon," Kristy says.
"I know," I agree. "But it's okay."
"I'm going to be a better friend."
"Good," I reply. "Me too."
We stop outside my house. We say goodbye and part ways. The lights are on inside my house since I didn't turn them off before running over to Kristy's. I know there's no one home. I sit down on the steps and rest my chin in my hands. The porch light isn't on, so I sit in the dark. I watch Kristy walk Emily Michelle back across the street. I am thankful Kristy is on my side again. We'll be friends like we once were. I won't disappoint her anymore and maybe she won't judge me.
The night's cold and I pull my skirt tight over my knees and shiver. Down the street, I hear tires squeal around a curve. In a few moments, headlights shine down McLelland, blazing from a roaring car that's moving much too fast. The tires screech again as the car flies up my driveway and into the front yard. Actually into the front yard, sailing over the curb and drive and landing atop Tiffany's camellias. I scream and scramble to my feet as the car finally stops.
It's Lindsey's car.
The driver's side door opens and Lindsey tumbles out and rushes toward me, hair billowing behind her, free of its braid. In the dimness of the street lamps, I see Lindsey's face twisted in rage.
"Ross Brown dumped me!" she screeches, so loud her throat must burn.
I gasp. Oh, no. Oh, no.
"He dumped me in a booth at Renwick's!" she screams. "While we were eating dessert!" Then Lindsey really screams. Fierce and piercing, burning into the silence of McLelland Road, setting it ablaze.
Porch lights flicker on up and down the street.
I rush to Lindsey and grab her wrist. "Come inside," I order, panicking, pulling her toward the house.
Lindsey breaks loose of my grip, but complies with my request, barreling into the house. I chase after her, flipping on the lights as we cross through the foyer into the living room.
Lindsey whirls around. She looks strange, pale face framed by pale hair. She almost looks sickly and unreal. She isn't wearing a coat or sweater, only tan pants and a white spaghetti-strapped tank top. She crosses her arms and scratches at her arms. "Ross said it wasn't working," she tells me, voice much calmer, but eerie. "He said we should just be friends. He said I'm very nice. He said a lot of things and they were all lies! George and Sadie aren't sympathetic. This is what they wanted! This is what they planned all along! They sabotaged me!"
I stare at her in shock. Should I call her grandparents? Should I call the Papadakises or Kormans? They could be here much faster.
"Lindsey…" I say as soothingly as possible. "Your grandparents would never do that."
"Yes, they would! They want me to be miserable! They want me to be sick! They did this to my mother! They say I am just like her! 'You are just like Charmaine', that's what they say! Sadie says I'm going to drive her to drink, just like my mother did. I am not my mother! And they are not sending me away! They are not sending me away like they did her!"
"What?" I ask, confused. "You said your mother ran away." Of course, Lindsey's said many things that I know are not true.
"She ran away because they were sending her away again. Sending her back to that horrible, horrible place. And now that's where they want to send me. They're planning it. I know it. I hear them talking late at night. They think I can't hear. But I do. I hear everything." Lindsey starts pulling on her hair and pacing the floor.
"I'm calling your grandparents," I inform her. "You don't look well." I start toward the cordless phone that's lying on the couch where I left it.
Lindsey blocks my path. "No!" she bellows. "No! I'm not sick! I am perfectly fine! And I am taking my medication. No one ever believes me! Dr. Petrinski said it would take some time to get it all in my system. She said I was under-medicated before. I've fixed that. Don't worry, Shannon. I fixed it. Too much is better than too little. Better safe than sorry." Lindsey moves away from me and resumes scratching at her arms.
I have no idea what she's talking about.
"Why doesn't anyone ever want me!" Lindsey screams, bending to her knees. "Why does everyone leave me?"
I'm about to run out the front door to get Mr. and Mrs. Papadakis when headlights shine through the blinds in the formal living room. Two car doors slam. I race through the foyer and flick on the porch lights, then throw open the front door. The Drs. Dupree are crossing the driveway. Mister Dr. Dupree's fully dressed, but Dr. Dupree's in a long white nightgown and a mint green silk robe. She isn't wearing any shoes.
"She's in the living room!" I shout to them. I didn't realize I was so panicked.
"I'm not coming home with you!" Lindsey shrieks the moment her grandparents enter the house. She points a finger at them, accusingly. "You want me to be sick!"
"Calm down!" Mister Dr. Dupree exclaims.
"I am calm!"
"You're – " but whatever her grandfather intends to say he thinks better of it. Instead he marches over and grabs her around the waist.
Dr. Dupree pulls on the belt of her robe. "I can't do this again," she informs her husband. "I can't."
"Is Lindsey…" I almost say "okay" but clearly she is not.
"She'll be fine," Dr. Dupree assures me, briskly. "She's upset. That's all."
Lindsey thrashes in her grandfather's arms as he carries her out of the living. "I'm sorry," he says, as he passes me.
Dr. Dupree follows him and I follow her. Lindsey's still kicking as we walk down the front steps and across the lawn. When she and her grandfather reach Dr. Dupree's station wagon, Lindsey's entire body suddenly goes limp. Her grandfather sets her in the backseat and closes the door.
"I think her car keys are still in the ignition," I tell Dr. Dupree.
"I'm sorry about your yard," she replies. "I'll call your parents tomorrow."
"They won't be here."
Dr. Dupree gives me a brief, peculiar look, then starts across the lawn toward Lindsey's car. Mister Dr. Dupree's already backing out of the driveway in the station wagon. Lindsey never appears at the window. Dr. Dupree backs out of the flower bed and off my front lawn and the car bounces as it falls back off the curb. I watch both cars disappear into the night.
I've never been so concerned about Lindsey. Not when she heard a voice in my kitchen. Not when she hit Kristy with the bat. And I don't understand what's wrong with her. I don't know what I can do. Is Lindsey deranged? I suspect she may be. How did I never realize?
I don't want to be alone. I lie on the couch and dial Kristy's phone number. Watson answers and I request he send Maria home. He calls back two minutes later and says Maria refuses to leave. He suggests I allow her to stay and work out whatever problem we have in the morning. My face flames with embarrassment as I hang up. Watson's very nice about the whole thing, acting like not anything's wrong there or even more wrong here.
Next I dial Tiffany's work number.
"Are you coming home tonight?" I ask when she comes on the line.
"Who is this?" Tiffany demands.
"Tiffany!"
Tiffany sighs, exasperated. "Well…if you won't say…"
"Fine. I take that as a no."
Tiffany hangs up.
Astrid wanders into the living room then. I realize no one's fed her dinner. We go into the kitchen together and I pour fresh kibble into her dish along with a can of her favorite dog food. I sit at the table, watching her eat for a while. Then I call Wes.
"You didn't call me when you got home," I inform him. Or maybe he did. I haven't been upstairs.
"I just walked in the door. Really. My keys are still in my hand."
I sigh. "I'm sorry. I'm having an awful night. I have so much to tell you. How was the basketball game?"
"Stoneybrook High lost."
"Is your cousin on varsity?"
"No, junior varsity. He isn't very good. Never tell anyone in my family I said that! After the game we went out to dinner at Chez Maurice. So, what's been so awful about your night? You already had a rotten day."
"I know. It got worse. Can I come over?"
"Sure!"
I pause a moment, thinking. "Can I…can I stay overnight?" I ask. I've never done that before. There's always been someone here to come home to.
"Sure! Yes. That would be really great."
"All right. I'll be over in about twenty minutes."
I hang up the phone and let Astrid outside, then run up the stairs to collect my things.