Ask Me (5 page)

“When
she comes back,” said Delilah. I held no particular love or hate for her, but I had to admit that she looked lost without Jade and it had only been a day. Her normally perfectly straightened brown hair had been allowed to frizz, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She was probably going to look like an absolute wreck tomorrow if Jade hadn’t reappeared by then.

“Why did she run away anyway?” asked Shelley, challenging Delilah directly. A few other girls in class nodded as if they couldn’t imagine any reasonable answer to that question either. Other than the personal crisis Jade had been suffering under on Monday morning, I couldn’t see why either.

“We all run from what chases us,” I answered softly
and only to myself. Everyone else had gathered close to the front, especially after Mrs. Pratt had said the word brownies.

“I don’t know,” said Delilah defensively. “But—”

“Welllllll,” said Mrs. Pratt again, drawing it out this time in an annoying little trill, “we’ll be sure to ask her all about it over a plate of yummy brownies when she gets back. Now let’s get cooking!” She picked up a wooden spoon and twirled it in the air like a wand, as if she could magic away any bad feelings or nasty tempers. She’d been stuck teaching home ec for so long she’d forgotten what the real world was like.

For some reason, Delilah turned around and looked right at me. I ducked my head, pretending to look for a pen, like we ever took notes in home ec anyway. I felt oddly naked without my earphones in.

Mrs. Pratt wrote out the ingredients on the board and began her spiel about the wonders of chocolate, like any of us needed convincing of that. I started pulling ingredients out of the cupboard while everyone else sampled from the block of chocolate Mrs. Pratt had on the front counter. There was an odd number of people in the class, which meant that I normally got to work by myself or team up with Mrs. Pratt for those things that actually required two people for something other than social interaction.

I was cracking eggs into my bowl when Delilah walked over to me.

“Can I work with you today?” she asked.

“Today is no more special than any other day,” I said,
“and work is work, but this is hardly working, I’d say.” Stupid, stupid rhyming.

She gave me a look but took my nonsensical reply as a yes. What was she up to? I passed her the bowl to stir. Mrs. Pratt raised an eyebrow then smiled, showing all her teeth. She evidently thought we were bonding over brownies. I didn’t know what we were doing, but I was pretty sure nothing good would come of it, except maybe some decent baked goods for once. Delilah was a better baker than I was. I’d inherited my cooking skills from Granddad.

She stirred a few times and then passed the bowl back. “Why do you always say stuff like that?”

“Because I have to.” I stirred furiously, not looking at her. “I’m not making fun of you or anything,” I added quietly. Maybe I owed her that.

“Okay,” she said. I was grateful she didn’t roll her eyes. She started grating the chocolate, spreading out some parchment paper across the counter first. “Look, do you know anything about where Jade is or not?”

“No,” I said. I thought that was it, but then more words came tumbling out of me, like an afterthought. “But try asking me again.”

I felt a flicker of some strange joy. That had never happened before. Why would I ask someone to question me further? It had to be good, right? I fished a bit of eggshell out of the batter with a fingernail and licked the batter from my finger.

She was quiet for a moment. “So, do you know where she is or not?”

“No, I do not. Try again.”

She blew out her breath and closed her eyes. I was amazed at her persistence. “Are you playing games with me or what?”

“Or what.” My inner oracle was apparently feeling playful today. “No games,” I added. “I’m sorry.” I wouldn’t have been surprised at all if she had walked away, but she kept on grating, the pile of chocolate growing ever taller.

“Are you going to tell me where she is?”

“Yes,” I said, surprising us both. She stopped grating, and I stopped stirring.

“Where is she?”

“South of Laurel Creek. North of the oldest oak. East of no man’s road. West of the wind.”

“Laurel Creek … so she’s not far.” Delilah looked relieved but bewildered. “What’s she doing out there?”

“Nothing.” I was as confused as Delilah. I walked the woods all the time, and that was near the lake, though I didn’t know exactly what I’d meant by no man’s road. Was she hanging out at the swimming area? Hiding out at the bluff? Did her dad have a hunting cabin out there? A lot of local families did. It was best to wear bright orange when walking around during hunting season.

“How do you even know she’s there?”

“I don’t,” I said.

Delilah shook her head, obviously annoyed. Chocolate curls scattered across the counter as the grater went across the top of the pile. “Okay, seriously, what the hell?”

“Hell is in the details,” I whispered, stepping back. I couldn’t really blame her, but I didn’t know what else
to say. There were no explanations I could offer that wouldn’t damn me. Gran was always telling me to keep the truth of my gift to myself. I could hear her oft-repeated warning in my head.
Be careful, Aria. People will want to use you
.

“Girls!” Mrs. Pratt cried. “What a
scrumptious
mess!” Did she not know how annoying that shrill warble was? “Here are some paper towels for you!”

She held the towels out to Delilah, who just looked at me. I put my spoon down and took the roll. I pulled off a few towels and wiped ineffectually at the counter, managing to smear the chocolate rather than clean it up.

“Try some water, dear,” said Mrs. Pratt, not budging.

Delilah glowered at her.

“Now, then, it looks like it is time to incorporate the chocolate.” Mrs. Pratt smiled at Delilah, who grimaced but picked up the parchment and unceremoniously dumped everything into the bowl.

I sighed and picked up the spoon and started stirring again. Actually, I was a little glad Mrs. Pratt hovered over us with no intention of leaving. I had no idea what I was going to say to Delilah that would fix or explain what I had already said. Yet another example of why I could never talk to people.

Delilah was leaning against my car when I got to the parking lot after school. I walked as slowly as I could across the steaming asphalt, hoping she was only taking a breather from the heat, but she didn’t move as I approached. I stopped a few feet away.

“Were you lying to me earlier?” she asked, getting straight to the point.

“No,” I said.

“So do you or don’t you know anything about where Jade is?”

“Yes,” I said, though that wasn’t much of an answer. I held up my hand before she could ask another question or slap me. I knew it was one or the other. I had to think of something to say, something plausible. “I overheard her talking on her phone,” I said.

Delilah opened her mouth, and I rushed my next sentence without really thinking it out.

“She said something about going out in the woods by the creek, that’s all. I don’t know who with. I don’t know why. That’s it.”

I stepped forward and pulled on my door handle. It was open; the locks were broken and the Colt wasn’t worth stealing anyway.

“That’s all I know,” I said. “Really. Okay?”

I forced myself to look in her eyes.
Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask
, I kept repeating in my head, even though I didn’t have any hope it would work. It never had before.

She backed off and nodded.

I sighed and climbed in my car, slamming the door. The heat wrapped around me, and I drew in a deep breath, then wished I hadn’t. My lungs burned with the stored heat. I turned the key and pulled out, watching as Delilah receded in the rearview mirror like an accusation.

GRAN SEEMED TO KNOW
something was going on as soon as I walked in the door. Had she been casting the stones on me? She stood at the threshold of the kitchen silently watching as I dropped my book bag on the floor by the couch. Then she held out her arms, and I walked into them.

“So,” she said, leaving it at that.

“Let’s see if we can find out where Jade ran off to,” I whispered. “Somewhere in the woods, that’s all I know, really, so far.”

“Okay,” said Gran. She took me by the hand and led me to the dining room table. Granddad was there reading the paper. He folded it and put it down when we entered and regarded us both silently. I sat down.

Gran jumped right in, no preamble, no preparation. “Where is Jade?” she asked me.

“South of Laurel Creek. North of the oldest oak. East of no man’s road. West of the wind.” I shook my head. “That’s the same thing I answered earlier. It doesn’t say much, just that she didn’t go far.”

“Hm,” said Granddad. I wanted to hug him; he didn’t question a single thing. He simply got up and pulled a map out of the hutch. He unfolded it and spread it out on the table. It was tattered and ripped in a few places, but it was a pretty decent map of this part of Florida. I recognized it from when he took me out fishing.

“Good idea, dear,” said Gran.

“I have one every now and then,” he said.

I offered him a small smile and leaned over the table to look at the map. I pointed to Laurel Creek. It was actually the name of a whole section of land, which included swamps and scrubs and everything in between, and ran into a larger wildlife protection area. The creek itself ran around the eastern edge of the park far enough north to run into another larger river. There were a number of unmarked roads and trails running through it and tons of oak trees. Jade could be anywhere, though it would stand to reason she’d be somewhere with shelter. Maybe by Three Oaks? That was near the swimming area and one of the boat ramps.

“Well,” said Gran, considering the map, “if you’re talking about being south of the actual Laurel Creek, it would place her somewhere around here.” She circled an area with her finger and then looked at me. “Is she here?”

“She’s nowhere,” I answered.

Gran considered for a minute and went in a different direction entirely. She reached out and took my hand. “Is she … alive?”

“Her spirit has flown,” I said. “She’s gone, gone, gone.”

The words caught in my throat, burning and raw like I had swallowed acid. My vision darkened for a moment, Gran’s concerned face receding and then looming large. I swayed and blinked, pulling back, Gran’s fingers loosening. I fell off my chair and landed hard. I sat dazed for a moment and then let myself sink back onto the wood floor.

“ARIA! ARIA!”

I blinked groggily. What was Granddad yelling about? What time was it? It couldn’t be morning yet. I opened my eyes to see both of my grandparents looking down at me. Behind their heads I could see a spider spinning a web in the corner of the ceiling, circling around and around. What was I doing on the floor? I sat up.

“You are okay now,” Gran said awkwardly. No questions in it.

“Yes—” I stopped as I remembered why I was down there. Jade wasn’t missing. She hadn’t run off to the woods. She wasn’t hiding out in an old hunting cabin or swimming in the lake. Jade was gone.

Granddad pulled me to my feet and helped me back onto my chair. The map had been pulled askew by my fall and suffered another rip, right across Laurel Creek, tearing it in two. I couldn’t even look at it.

“She’s dead,” I said. Gran nodded, looking at me warily like I might pass out again. It had only ever happened a few times before. Only with the big questions. Like whether or not there was a God. Why we were here. Unknowable things. Or things I didn’t really want to know.

“If you think you can do it, I need to ask you one more question,” said Gran.

“About Jade?”

“Yes. To help the police … find her body.”

I swallowed and nodded. Granddad put his hands on my shoulders, presumably to help keep me on my chair, just in case.

“Where is Jade’s body located?”

“South of Laurel Creek. North of the oldest oak. East of no man’s road. West of the wind.” I closed my eyes to combat my nausea. Same nonsense as before. I stood up, surprising Granddad. “I need to lie down,” I said.

He let me go. I stumbled to my room and sank down on my bed, then pulled my MP3 player out of my book bag and plugged myself in to K.T. Tunstall’s honey tones.

Four songs later, Granddad came in and sat on the corner of my bed. I hadn’t expected him. It was usually Gran that would come to me with her advice. Her plotting. I thumbed off the music and sat up.

“Aria,” he said, “Ellie thinks we need to go to the police with this information.”

I looked at him, not saying anything.

“Ellie thinks we should just waltz into the station and let you say your piece.” I heard Gran snort from the living room, but she stayed where she was.
“I
think we should stay
out of it. There’ll be an investigation. Probably the state police. Who knows what. We don’t need to be involved in that, not right now. Too many questions.”

I couldn’t agree more.

“But we are talking about someone’s daughter here.”