Harmonic Feedback (29 page)

I scanned the area for him. He was on the ground in cuffs. More paramedics were checking him out. “I don’t have one. He’s Naomi’s boyfriend.”

She asked more of the same questions.

“How many times do you have to ask me? I already told you, goddamnit!”

“You can answer them at the station, if you’d like. Your choice.” Her voice was cold. Didn’t she know that I needed to be with my friend?

“Just answer them, Drea!” Justin called to me. “It’ll be okay.”

I took a deep breath and finished answering her. They pushed Scott into the back of a squad car. Kari and Roger were nearby somewhere. I could hear their voices at least.

Mom appeared at some point. She leaned against her car door, her face crumpled, fingers hovering over her mouth. Grandma stayed inside the car.

They finally let me go, saying they’d call me with more questions. I glanced over at Justin. He didn’t have the cuffs on anymore. His sister was talking to him.

Mom hugged me tight. I tried to tell her what happened. She said she knew and she’d take me to the hospital.

Justin walked over to me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I rested my head against his chest, closing my eyes. His heart was still racing.

“Are they letting you go?” I asked.

“Yeah. Do you want me to ride with you to the hospital?”

I nodded, squeezing his hand.

“I’m going to go with them,” he called to his sister.

Grandma glanced at us as we got into Mom’s car. I expected her to start yelling, but she didn’t say a word. Her mouth formed a straight line, and there was something different about her eyes. They were softer somehow.

Naomi’s dad was a crumpled ball outside the hospital entrance. One look at his shaking hands, and I knew. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Mom and Justin moved to either side of me as we approached him. Grandma trailed behind us, still silent.

“Tom?” Mom asked.

Naomi’s father looked up at us with trembling lips. I’d never seen a grown man look so frightened. “She’s gone. My little girl is gone.”

Mom knelt down and put a hand on his back. He buried his face in her shoulder, his entire body shuddering.

Justin wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close.

“What do you mean?” I asked him. “She’s inside. Isn’t she?”

He pulled away from Mom and shook his head at me. “She had a heart attack in the ambulance. They couldn’t”—he sucked in his breath—“they couldn’t revive her.”

I backed away from him, the world blurring around me. “No. Tell them to try again! She can’t be. She can’t.” My breath came out in short bursts.

Strong arms pulled me close, but I shoved them away. Someone screamed. A high-pitched whirlwind in my ears that wouldn’t let up. It was coming from my raw throat.

I collapsed on the cement, and Justin held me tight. His body shook against mine as he rocked me back and forth. Someone with a scratchy ring held my hand. Grandma.

Naomi couldn’t be dead. Not the girl with the big blue eyes and the hearty laugh. Her voice was too strong. She was going places. They must’ve made a mistake. She deserved another chance.

I deserved another chance.

T
HE SUN BROKE THROUGH
the clouds the day of Naomi’s funeral. And the birds chirped. People mowed their lawns and walked their dogs. Like they didn’t know the world had lost someone special.

Naomi made it into the local newspaper yesterday. teen’s death breaks up major drug ring, the headline read. Scott faced many charges, including manslaughter. Justin said he’d probably ratted everyone out within five minutes.

Naomi’s official cause of death was a meth overdose. Justin said a dose that makes one person twitchy can kill another, depending on how their body reacts. Naomi probably didn’t know she’d taken too much.

I scanned the comments on the newspaper’s Web site. Some of the comments were nice, but others were cruel. None of these people knew Naomi, despite what they claimed.

I typed my own comment. I wanted them to know that she was a person. Not just some name to trash.

Grandma made her way down the stairs. She hadn’t said much to me the last few days. Justin and Mom hovered around me practically every minute, asking if I was okay.

“Are you ready to go?’ she asked.

I slumped in my chair. My legs felt like tree trunks. “I’ll never be ready.”

Grandma walked over to my bed and sat down, her eyes combing my face. “I had a brother once. Did you know that?”

I shook my head.

“His name was Paul. He was drafted in World War Two—got shipped to Japan. I was only four years old when he hugged me good-bye, but I remember everything he was wearing that day. Everything he said. He gave me his guitar—a Martin—and made me promise I’d play it. Even if he didn’t come back.”

“And he didn’t come back?”

She lowered her eyes to the floor. “No. He was a prisoner of war—almost made it out alive too. But his friend fell during the Bataan Death March. They’d make the soldiers walk for days without food or water and kill anyone who stopped. They caught Paul helping his friend up, and they killed him for it.”

“What happened to his friend?”

“He survived to tell the story. But even at that age, I remember feeling cheated. Paul was only eighteen. He had his whole life ahead of him, and I never got the chance to know him. It’s hard losing anyone, Andrea. And it’s really hard when they go before their time. So in that sense, no, you’ll never be ready. But it does get easier. You get to the point where you have no choice but to pick yourself up by the bootstraps and keep living.”

I couldn’t imagine that. Nothing felt real. I just wanted to wake up and see Naomi standing at the foot of my stairs again. Begging me to check out her drum set.

“Did you play his guitar?”

She smiled. “I did. Even did a little tour around the country with my sister. We dedicated every set to Paul.”

“Do you still have it, the guitar?”

She nodded. “It’s in my room, and you’re welcome to play it anytime you want. But it can’t leave this house. And it needs to be put back in my room whenever you’re done. Right where you found it.”

“Of course.” I studied her face for a few moments. “Did you hate Naomi?”

Grandma frowned and exhaled softly. “No. She was a troubled girl who needed discipline, but I never hated her. We talked a little when she helped me with the garage sale. She was very smart. The kind of person who could do anything if she put her mind to it.”

I looked at my hands. “People are saying horrible things about her online.”

“People will always talk. But you have her memory inside you. They can’t take that away from you.”

But memories fade, I wanted to say. What happens then?

We went back to Justin’s after the funeral. I didn’t know what was worse—the muted sobs or the overpowering scent of roses. They weren’t even yellow roses. I remembered the way Naomi’s eyes lit up when she talked about the yellow tulips Scott gave her. Yellow was her favorite.

Kari tried to speak, but she choked up halfway through. Roger stood apart from the rest of us, unmoving. And Naomi’s dad had this flat stare the entire time. He reminded me of a blank sheet of paper. Her mom was there too, with her hands over her face, crying.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Naomi couldn’t have been in that shiny box. It was too pristine for her. Too clean. She would’ve wanted frayed edges and bright colors. And laughter too. She would’ve hated the tears.

I fell back on Justin’s bed and rolled onto my side. He pressed his body against mine and wrapped his arm around me.

“How’re you doing?” he whispered.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. I can’t sit around with wads of Kleenex like everyone else. Naomi wouldn’t want that—she’d probably tell me to laugh. But I can’t do that, either. It’s not normal. It’s not right.”

Justin stroked my arm, his breath warm against my ear. “Nothing feels right at first. And there isn’t a
normal
way to deal with this. If you need to laugh, do it.”

“If I’d been there Friday night, I could’ve talked to her.”

“What would you have said?”

“I could’ve told her everything I liked about her. How she was the first person to give me a chance in a really long time, how much I wanted us to stay friends. That’s why she got so mad at me and ran off with Scott. She thought I didn’t want her around anymore.”

Justin kissed my shoulder. “Naomi had one foot out the door before you even met her, Drea. Don’t blame yourself. You were a good friend to her.”

“Not good enough. I let her leave the day of the garage sale, Justin. And I knew something was wrong. Why didn’t I go after her?” I punched the pillow underneath me. “I could’ve stopped this. I know it.”

“I feel like I could’ve done more too. What? I have no idea. But I’ve been where she was. The more people tried to
help
me, the less I wanted it. With Naomi, I hoped that being there for her was enough. That our music was enough. But sometimes nothing is enough.”

Lizzie hopped up on the bed and rubbed her face against mine. Her green eyes looked sad and lost—just like me.

“I don’t understand why anyone would choose to need drugs. I’ve spent my entire life wishing I didn’t need them. I feel like a guinea pig all the time.” I ran my fingers through Lizzie’s soft fur. “I want to know who I am without them.”

Justin shifted against me. “I didn’t want my life. I mean—I didn’t want to die, but I wanted to be someone else. Someone who didn’t care about coming home to an empty house. Someone who didn’t feel alone all the time.”

“I feel alone a lot.”

He drew circles against my forearm. “But you aren’t. I’m here for you, and so is your family. You’ve got Lizzie too.”

The cat perked up at her name. Her entire body vibrated under my hand.

“I never told Naomi the truth.”

“I think she picked up on more than you thought. And she cared about you. A lot. She told me to take care of you in her letter.”

“What else did she say?”

He rolled off the bed and walked over to his computer desk. “Come over here and read it.”

I followed and sat in front of his computer. My stomach tensed, and I closed my eyes. It seemed too soon.

“Read it, Drea. I think it will make you feel better.”

My hand shook against the computer mouse. I opened my eyes, swallowing hard. My throat still felt scratchy. It began by telling him she was taking off with Scott, and that she was sorry.

I didn’t even realize I was crying until Justin brushed his fingers across my cheek. “I miss her.”

“I know. I do too.” He stroked my hair, his voice cracking.

We held each other as the sunlight faded into dusk. Lizzie cuddled next to our feet. I told him about the day I moved in. How Naomi slobbered in my didgeridoo. He laughed and told me it sounded like something she’d do.

Then he talked about Italy and said that his grandma wasn’t much different from mine. But she’s a better cook.

“I want to take you there in the summer,” he said. “I have a couple musician friends there. We’ll jam. It’ll be cool.”

The idea made me smile, but I still couldn’t get Naomi out of my head. She would’ve really enjoyed a trip like that.

Going back to school was hard. A lot of people asked me about Naomi—they wanted every last detail. Kari eventually told them to
fuck off
.