Half In Love With Death (4 page)

Dicky's stuffed blue rabbit sat on the front step next to me, looking pathetic. Mr. Rabbit had been Jess's, mine, and then Dicky's. He dragged him around everywhere, holding him close and inhaling his sour smell, and he was always losing him. So far he'd left him at the playground, in a department store, and at the movies. Each time we would carefully retrace our steps, never quite believing it would work. But we always found him.

I stared down the empty street, wishing I could follow Jess's footsteps. If you kept walking, eventually there were fewer and fewer houses, the trees got smaller, and the grass stopped growing. Soon all you would see was sand and diminishing dots of green, all you would hear was wind whistling through dry grass. I hated the desert more than anything. It made me feel like I was at the end of the world; one more step and I would disappear.

I was stroking Mr. Rabbit's soft ears when Billy O'Neil came walking across the street, holding an orange soda. He offered me some and I took a long, cold swallow. It seemed like so long ago that I'd talked to Jess about him.

He sat down next to me, picked up the rabbit, and grinned. “Yours?”

I rolled my eyes. “Dicky's.”

He glanced at the top hat and black silk scarf beside me. “Are you a magician?”

I brushed some dirt off my purple toenails. “Not really. Dicky wants me to make his rabbit disappear.”

He stared into Mr. Rabbit's blue-button eyes. “Any more news about your sister?”

For a second I couldn't breathe. “My parents are doing a TV interview right now. I'm sure she'll come home soon.”

He turned to me. He had red hair and so many freckles, it was like there was no space between them. “It must be hard not knowing where she is.”

I inhaled deeply. Everything became so still and strange, it was like I was looking through a door of perception. The leaves of the mesquite tree were like brushstrokes. Dicky stood like a doll beneath the glittering droplets from the sprinkler. A ray of sun touched the metallic blue gazing ball in the middle of the yard.

“It's been hard for me, too, having my brother Steve in Vietnam,” he went on. “Playing football won't be the same without him here.”

I nodded. Billy's brother had been a star football player, and Billy probably would be one, too. Everyone was surprised when Steve joined up, but Officer Barnes was right. Lots of kids were leaving Tucson lately. A few, like Steve, went to war. Others, like Jess, ran away. And not all of them came back. I felt sick to my stomach as I went on, “We thought Jess was going to California to see this boy named Arnie, but my aunt Lila talked to him and he had no plans to meet her.” I stared down at my hands. “Now we don't know why she's going to California.”

Billy turned to me. “Maybe she isn't.”

“Why would you say that?”

“'Cause it's logical.”

“But her friends all say she's going there.”

His knee touched mine. “Maybe her friends are lying.”

“Why would they lie?” I glanced away. “I hate myself for not saying anything when I saw her sneak out.”

“You can't always say something when you need to.” He fixed his serious brown eyes on me and tears flowed down my cheeks, though this was the last thing I wanted to happen. This whole week I hadn't cried once. I felt embarrassed, but Billy just patted me on the shoulder with his freckled hand.

I wiped my eyes. “How's May?”

“We broke up.” He tossed the rabbit in the air and caught it. “I can help you with the trick, if you want me to. Steve and I used to do magic all the time.”

He put Mr. Rabbit in the hat and covered him with the black silk scarf. When he stepped away, it really looked like there was nothing in the hat, but then he pulled the rabbit out as if from nowhere.

We called Dicky over from the sprinkler. Each time we did the trick, he shrieked with glee. He finally got tired and went inside to watch TV. We paused at the gazing ball as I walked with Billy toward his house.

“How'd you do that without him seeing?” I said.

He smiled. “People never look too close. And not just little kids. Everyone wants to believe in magic.”

“I want to believe in magic too, but not the silly trick kind. I want to do real magic.” Billy cocked his head. I forced myself to go on. “Like knowing what people are thinking by slipping into their eyes or . . . .” I took a deep breath. “Passing through a wall and touching a ghost on the other side.” I put my hand on the gazing ball and stared into its shiny blue depths, wishing I could make Jess appear.

Billy shifted his weight from foot to foot. I was worried he was going to say something about Jess or May, but all he said was, “Touch a ghost?”

I looked at the ground. “Yeah.” I paused. “Do you believe in magic?”

He grinned. “I believe you can do anything if you learn the right tricks.” He took my hand from the gazing ball. My breath quickened. We stood there feeling awkward, and then he turned my face towards his and his soft lips brushed mine. He smelled of sweat and wet grass, and his tongue tasted like orange soda. Before I knew it, he was stepping back and looking at me with a sweet smile on his face. “I better go,” he said. As he walked across the street, all I could think was, Billy kissed me!

• • •

That night we ate dinner on tray tables in front of the TV so we could watch the interview. I was still thinking about Billy's kiss as my parents' pained faces filled the screen. When it was over Dad squeezed Mom's hand, and then the reporter said, “Now, we're going to hear from the boyfriend, Tony Santoro.”

“What the hell?” Dad looked at Mom.

Mom let go of his hand. “Maybe it will help.”

Dad grimaced as the scene switched to a reporter with a crowd of kids in front of Johnie's. “None of those little bastards would even talk to me when I was there Saturday night looking for her.”

Tony was leaning against a car in his jeans and Beatle boots. A curl fell across his forehead, and his pale eyes with their dark lashes made him look sad. Behind him a sign advertised Johnie's Fat Boy Burgers. Unlike my parents, he wasn't nervous. He acted like the cool guy everyone said he was, dragging the toe of his boot in the dust as he said, “We were having a little party in the desert when this guy pulled up in a red car. I'd never seen him before. He wasn't from around here.” He took a haul from his cigarette. “He and Jess got to talking. Before I knew it, she was leaving with him.”

“You didn't try to stop her?” The reporter aimed the mike at his face.

“No, I was too mad at her.” Tony stubbed out his cigarette. “I was in love with her. We were planning on getting married.”

“Married,” Dad muttered.

Tony went on, “So I got pretty upset when she told me she was crazy about this dude named Arnie, and that she was running away to be with him, but . . . .” He leaned toward the reporter and said in a loud whisper, “She'd done it before.” Dad's eyes almost popped out of his head.

“Done what before?” the reporter asked.

Tony winced. “Fooled around with other guys. I loved Jess, but she had a wild side.” He raised his sad eyes to the camera. “It broke my heart when she got in that red car.”

The reporter pulled the mike away, saying, “We're going to commercial,” and then there was an ad for Tide.

“I've heard enough.” Dad shut off the TV. “He had a lot of nerve saying he was going to marry her. I'm going to kill that clown.” He rose from his chair.

Mom touched his arm. “Jack, please don't talk that way.” When he sat back down she said, “I thought Arnie hadn't heard from her.”

“Someone's lying.” Dad drank some more scotch.

Mom knotted her hands together. “I can't believe he talked about Jess like that.”

I let out a prolonged sigh. Kids at school sometimes said Jess “put out,” but she didn't care. She once told me she'd rather be a whore than a puppet-person like Mom, trapped in a little house that she was constantly redecorating because there was nothing else to do.

Dad poured himself and Mom another drink. Soon their voices would get louder. They'd yell. They might cry. They might even hug and talk themselves into a deluded moment of happiness, but I didn't have to watch it.

• • •

Jess's black lace bra was still flung on her bureau, where it had been ever since she ran away. I couldn't imagine her wanting to get married, but she and Tony were in love. At least, they used to be. As I picked up her bra I saw a postcard of Schwab's Pharmacy next to it. I remembered sitting there with her while she smiled at herself in the mirror, dreaming of being discovered. When the guy behind the counter told her that Lana Turner actually wasn't discovered there, she became so flustered she almost fell off her stool, but then he'd leaned forward and said, “Sugar, you look more like Lana Turner than anyone I've ever seen.” Jess couldn't stop talking about that for days. Mom and Dad were so impressed they couldn't stop talking about it, either.

I turned the postcard over. There was nothing written on it, but I couldn't help but think she'd left it as some kind of message for me.

There'd been some leads since the interview and that was hopeful, but we still hadn't heard from Jess. No phone call. No letters. All I had was a postcard with nothing written on it. I was swimming in the pool to take my mind off things when from behind me someone shouted, “Hey.”

I almost lost my lunch. Tony was staring at me from over the fence.

“Sorry, I was hanging out with Deb and heard splashing. I thought it might be . . . .”

“Still missing.” I climbed out of the pool.

“This sure isn't easy.” He pushed a dark curl off his forehead. “Someday I'll give you some swimming pointers.”

I smiled. Tony had been state diving champ before he'd dropped out of school. Jess told me that he didn't even have to practice to win. He just had to picture himself doing a perfect dive. “Come here,” he said.

I walked over to the fence, leaving a trail of wet footprints. He looked me up and down, lingering on my purple toenails. “Any more news about Jess?”

“People are seeing her everywhere since you mentioned the red car—Las Vegas, Nogales, New Mexico.”

He jutted out his lower lip. “No one believes me, but I know what I'm talking about.”

“I know how that feels.” I hesitated. “Were you and Jess really getting married?”

“Yeah.” There was a faraway look on his face. He was probably thinking of her. “Arnie screwed everything up.”

I twisted my wet hair around my hand. “But he says he had no plans to meet her.”

He rested his arms on the top of the fence. I could see his muscles. “He's lying.”

“But he seemed nice.”

“Doesn't mean he is nice. All I know is if they find the red car, they'll find her.”

“My parents don't think the police are trying hard enough. They're having a cookout tonight to talk about that with their friends.”

“Guess they won't be inviting me.” Tony cracked a smile.

I glanced over my shoulder. “They're kind of mad at you right now.”

He leaned closer. His lashes were so dark it was like he was wearing mascara. He was in a band, and Jess had told me that all rock-and-roll musicians wore makeup. “I'm going to do some checking around myself. You should, too.”

I swallowed hard and said, “I found something out already.”

His face sort of twitched. “You did?”

“Jess left a postcard of Schwab's Pharmacy on her bureau. I think it's her way of telling us she's not going to California to see Arnie, that she's following her dreams. You know how much she wants to be a movie star.”

“That could make sense.” He rubbed his jaw. “You want to come for a ride with me and Deb?”

I clutched my hands together. “I have to go to the cookout.”

He looked at me sadly. Blue wasn't a strong enough word for his eyes. They were cerulean. “I'll tell you if I hear anything more about Jess. Hope you'll tell me.”

I told him I would, though I wasn't sure about that. Then he reached down, his arm shiny with sweat, and tore a red blossom off the hibiscus bush. His fingers grazed mine as he handed it to me. I stared in awe at the flower on my palm.

• • •

“I want you to help me at the cookout tonight, the way you always do, and try to be cheerful. We all need to do that.” Mom hesitated, and added, “Margo and Joe are coming, and Ron and Betty Beckham. Betty is bringing May. I thought it might be a chance for the two of you to get to know each other better.”

“I do know her, Mom.” I sighed. “She's in my class.”

“Well, you never talk about her,” she said. Of course I didn't talk about her. She was tall and beautiful, with long, straight blonde hair that she was constantly pushing out of her face. Her eyes were a little small, but that didn't mar her perfection. And she was Billy's ex.

Mom and I raced around all afternoon, setting up things for the cookout. I pretended to be excited while we spread a yellow-flowered tablecloth on the picnic table Dad had set up by the pool, and put out pastel-colored napkins and paper plates left over from another party she'd had this summer. But as I gathered up red hibiscus blossoms for a centerpiece, I couldn't stop thinking of Tony handing me the flower, and how strange it felt to be talking to him without Jess there.

Just before the guests arrived, I had to put Dicky to bed. He protested because it was still light out, but soon he was talking to Mr. Rabbit in the quiet singsong voice he used when he was going off into his own little world. When I started to step out, he asked me to wait. He got out of bed, and I followed him into my room and watched as he placed Mr. Rabbit carefully on Jess's pillow. Then he turned to me. “It's a surprise for when she gets back.”