The Locket (7 page)

The Shelby Street Bridge—the easiest bike route from downtown to the larger city parks—had been taken over by Nashville’s Society for Breast Cancer Awareness for a cross-dressing-the-bridge fund-raiser. They were charging five dollars to bike or walk across the bridge and supplying everyone with opposite gender “costumes” that smelled like they’d come straight from the Salvation Army donation box.

We were probably all going to get lice or bedbugs or something, but at least everyone was having fun doing it.

“How about a tiara?” the costume lady asked, grabbing one from the corner of her table and holding it out to Isaac. “We’re running low on wigs, and it would be a shame to cover that pretty blond hair.”

Isaac blushed and took the tiara. The woman had him. The manners ingrained in him by his southern mama wouldn’t allow him to say “no” after he’d received a compliment. He was going to have to wear the tiara.

“Thanks, ma’am.” He plunked it down on his head and jumped back on his bike. “Are you two coming? Or what?” Oh, he was annoyed, but the tiara was hysterical. The funniest thing I’d seen in months.

Mitch and I managed to hold our laughter for about thirty seconds before we both lost it. I giggled so hard I nearly fell off my bike.

“What pretty blond hair you have, Isaac,” Mitch said, in an exaggerated southern drawl. “You were just born to wear a tiara.”

“Shut up, jackass.” Isaac flipped Mitch off, but I could tell he wasn’t really mad.

“Mitch is right. If I’d known, I would have given you my crown at homecoming last year,” I said, still laughing so hard I could barely form the words.

“I’ll get you later, girl. You just wait.” Isaac’s threat was accompanied by a heated look that made my pulse pick up. I sincerely hoped he’d “get me” later, preferably as soon as Mitch dropped us off at my house and we could sneak up to my room while my parents were watching TiVoed episodes of
Iron Chef
.

“Homecoming’s only a couple of weeks away,” Mitch said. “You know you two are going to be king and queen again. It’s not too late for Isaac to show the rest of the senior class how to sparkle.”

“I think Katie does a better job of sparkling,” Isaac said with a sincerity that made me blush. “You looked awesome last year.”

“She was awesome in the play last night,” Mitch said. “You should have seen her. I was shocked. I thought she was going to suck.”

“Thanks, Mitch.” I forced a laugh, shrugging off the apprehension clutching at the back of my throat. The conversation was similar to the one Mitch and I had at the original cast party. So what? It didn’t have to mean anything.

“No, you were good. You really were.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m not going to miss another one,” Isaac said. “Next time you get to go onstage, I’ll be there, I promise.” His smile made me smile, but I couldn’t help but think that there wouldn’t be a “next time.”

I’d been at the understudy stuff since freshman year and only had to fill in one time. The spring musical was the last play left before Isaac graduated, and I highly doubted he’d have time to come home from college to see me perform even if I managed to land a full-fledged speaking part of my own my senior year.

But, whatever. It didn’t matter. Isaac and I were together. That was the most important thing, the
only
important thing.

“What a beautiful day,” I said, turning my attention to brighter thoughts.

The view from the bridge was one of my favorites. Nashville’s skyline stood out in crisp relief against a perfect blue sky while the Cumberland River rolled slowly by, reflecting the antenna of the Sommet Center, where Isaac had taken me to a Predators game last February. He loved hockey. I loved popcorn and giant hot dogs and the excitement of screaming along with the crowd, so it all worked out.

“We should come back and do this again,” Mitch said. “I forgot how much I love riding bikes.”

“Remember when we rode our bikes across the highway to get McDonald’s ice cream in third grade?” I asked, the memory sending a shiver across my skin even now. Our parents had nearly killed us. Dead. I’d never seen my dad so mad. “I thought we were going to be grounded forever.”

“That was all you, Minnesota.” Mitch shook his head at me. “That was your big idea.”

“It was not, it was Isaac! It was always Isaac,” I protested. Isaac had gone out of his way to get us in trouble as kids, his daredevil nature inspiring Mitch and me to heights of bravery and stupidity we never would have achieved on our own.

Isaac was the one who dared us to sneak into the old mill when it was still condemned, instigated a race across the deep end of the pool when all three of us could barely swim, and had to call the fire department when he’d talked me into climbing out on his roof and I’d been too scared to climb back in. Isaac had been
trouble
when we were little, but Mitch and I had loved him for it. Without him, our play adventures wouldn’t have been nearly as exhilarating.

“Not that time,” Mitch said. “It was
you
who had to have ice cream at ten in the morning.”

“Yeah, it was totally you,” Isaac agreed. “Remember, you already had your piggy bank in your backpack when you showed up at my house.”

“Then we had to break the bank when we got to McDonald’s to pay for the ice cream, but there wasn’t enough money in there, so they called our parents.” Mitch waved at a group of girls standing at the edge of the bridge, staring and pointing at his outfit. With his wig and fake boobs, he was one of the girliest men on the bridge, but he didn’t seem to care. Mitch honestly didn’t worry about what other people thought of him. It was one of his best, and most enviable, traits.

“Okay, fine,” I said, smiling. “But you two should have known better than to listen to a nine-year-old.”

“You were very persuasive, always have been,” Mitch said, something in his voice making me glance over my shoulder.

Even his wig, dress, and padding couldn’t detract from the intensity of his look. He was thinking about something other than little kids getting in trouble for riding their bikes too far from home.

For a second, the air between us hummed with that “not just friends” energy, but then he stuck his tongue out at me and it was over. It probably had never been there in the first place. I was just having a hard time forgetting the things I didn’t need to remember anymore.

I turned around, pinning my eyes on Isaac, who had come to the end of the bridge and was turning his bike around with some kind of crazy wheelie.

“And we were only ten. Boys are dumb at ten.” Isaac’s front wheel plunked back to the ground. He pulled at the neck of his sparkly gown. “Dudes, I’m about done being a girl. It’s too itchy. Ya’ll want to take these clothes back and go get a beer? You’ve got a fake ID, right, Mitch?”

“Yeah, I’ve got one.” Mitch shrugged. “I’m not up for beer yet, but I’m definitely in for some music. Legends has good stuff on Sundays and it’s all ages until seven o’clock so Katie won’t have any trouble getting in.”

“Awesome. You in, babe?”

“Sounds perfect.” And it did. The perfect end to a perfect afternoon with my two best friends.

I was so glad Mitch had invited himself on our date. He and Isaac and I hadn’t had so much fun together in years. I couldn’t believe we’d nearly lost this. Friendships like ours were rare, special, not the kind of thing you tossed away because you were too busy with basketball or your band or angry with your boy-friend and had a few too many shots of rum.

The three of us had too much history to let it all slip away. Thanks to the locket, we’d gotten a second chance to save our friendship. This wasn’t just about me and Isaac, it was about all of us. Three lives were going to be better because of my do over.

I pumped a little harder, catching up with the boys, full of enough energy to light up every honky-tonk on Broadway.

Chapter Five

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 12:24 P.M.

L
unch hour is the most overrated forty-five minutes of the entire school day.

Even at a well-funded school like BHH, the cafeteria food stinks, the lines are horrible, and the choice of where to sit is fraught with dangerous social implications. Last year, Isaac and I hadn’t had the same lunch, so I’d sat with Mitch, Michael—the drummer in his band—Sarah, and a couple of our drama-club friends. I’d missed seeing Isaac but enjoyed significantly lower stress levels than the year before, when I’d shared a table with Isaac and the other platinum people.

This year, however, I’d been lucky enough to get second lunch with my senior boyfriend. Or
unlucky
enough, depending on the day and whether Rachel Pruitt decided to eat lunch on campus and bless us with her shining presence.

Today was a “blessed” day.

“It’s going to be amazing, Isaac.” Rachel stabbed a tomato from her salad, managing to make even that simple movement elegant, perfect. Her dark brown hair caught the sunlight streaming in from the nearby windows and gleamed like the coat of a ridiculously expensive horse, attracting the attention of every male passing by our table. “You and Rader should come with us to Ziggies to pick out outfits. You’d be great models.”

“I don’t model.” Rader took a huge bite of whatever meat was masquerading as chicken-fried steak and glared at the rest of the lunchroom. He looked cranky. But then, he always looked cranky. Ever since he and Rachel had broken up their sophomore year, Rader had been in a foul mood.

Losing Rachel inspired years of mourning.
Years.
She was
that
kind of girl.

“Me either,” Isaac said around a mouthful of food. His mom had packed his lunch today—two ham sandwiches and three bananas. Isaac had a strange and unnatural love of bananas. He probably ate more in one week than your average marmoset. It was amazing he hadn’t overdosed on potassium.

“It’s for charity.” Rachel cocked her head and pushed her bowshaped lips into a pout. I could feel the boys wavering, wondering if it wouldn’t be worth the shame of prancing around at the fashion show in the name of making Rachel Pruitt happy.

“I wore a dress for charity yesterday.” Isaac’s reason for refusing was different than the first time around, but I was relieved all the same.

Not everything today had gone down the same way it had before. It was only little things that were different—the reading assignment in AP English, the cracked mirror in the girls’ bathroom—but little things were enough to make me nervous. A part of me wished I could fast-forward to my birthday and be done with my do over. Or at least fast-forward to my gran’s arrival in five days.

Talking to someone else about the locket would really have made me feel better. Too bad she still hadn’t answered the phone at her hotel. Dad said she’d probably changed hotels without bothering to let him know—Gran was over eighty years old and forgot things all the time—but still . . . her vanishing act made me worry. Just a little.

“You wore a dress?” Rader asked, scooting away as if he feared Isaac’s dress-wearing cooties would jump across the table and infect him.

“Dude, I bet that was hysterical! Cross-dressing the bridge, right? I saw some pictures of that on Facebook last night.” Rachel’s best friend, Ally, poked Isaac on the arm. “I didn’t see you, though. Did you look fabulous?”

“Of course. I was wearing a tiara,” Isaac said, a hint of flirtation in his voice. Isaac was a flirt, always had been, but I knew it didn’t mean anything. “So I’ve done my part for the less fortunate. But Katie will help. She’s into charity. She organized that Full Pantry Project thing last year.”

Oh, no. Here we were again, the place where Rachel sweetly infers that I’m too ugly and misshapen to model with the rest of the girls and would be better off running the light grid in the dark to spare the masses my hideousness.

I buried my face in my turkey and cheese, doing my best not to attract attention. Maybe no one had heard Isaac.

“Yeah, that’s great, Katie,” Rachel said.

Maybe not.

“I saw you signed up to work at the Belle Meade fall festival,” Rachel continued, turning her soft brown eyes in my direction. “We’ll have to try to get you assigned to work the Junior League bake sale with us.”

“That would be great.” I forced a smile. I could do this. I’d had a practice run, I didn’t have to make a fool out of myself the second time around. “And Isaac’s right, I’d love to help at the fashion show.”

“Well, that’s—”

“But there’s no way I’d feel comfortable modeling,” I said, cutting her off before she could tell me that she doubted there would be anything “that would compliment my build or coloring” at Ziggies, her mother’s ultra-expensive, ultra-fashionable, ultra-snotty boutique. “I could help out some other way, though. Maybe do sound, or lights? I’ve had training on all the systems in the theater.”

Rachel’s eyes lit up. She looked . . . relieved.

A strange thought bloomed in my mind, a hothouse flower growing in the arctic tundra. Maybe Rachel hadn’t meant to hurt my feelings before, maybe she’d just been trying to get me to work lights the whole time and hadn’t known how to ask.

“That would be perfect. We’re going to set up Friday at noon.”

“I’ll be there,” I said.

“Cool. Thanks.” She snapped her empty salad container shut and passed one of her two after-lunch mints to Ally. This time, however, she slid her own mint over to me. “I love that color on you, by the way. You are amazing in green.”

“Thanks.” My smile was real this time.

Seconds later, the loudspeaker squealed to life and Principal McAdams’s voice boomed through the crowded cafeteria. Saved by the squeal. For the first time the entire school year, I’d had a conversation with Rachel that ended before I’d made a total idiot of myself. The realization was a little giddy-making. “Attention, senior class. The votes are in, and your homecoming-week theme has been decided.”

“Dude, I hope it’s not that jungle thing,” Ally said, sucking her mint so hard her cheeks hollowed. “That was the dumbest idea ever.”

I nodded along with everyone else at the table, agreeing when Radar added that Welcome to the Jungle was 1980s in the lame way, not the cool way, but secretly knowing we all had animal prints in our future. I’d lived through this announcement—and the disappointed aftermath—once before.