THE SHADOWED ONYX: A DIAMOND ESTATES NOVEL (7 page)

What had they been thinking? How could they have done that to her in her own house?

Joy stood on Melanie’s porch. Her hand dangled like an anchor at her hip
.

What would Melanie say? What excuse could there be for what she’d done? Oh, she’d come up with something slick—she’d had plenty of time to concoct a great story since she bolted as soon as it happened. To kiss your best friend’s boyfriend and then say nothing? Of course she was embarrassed, but that was no excuse for fleeing the scene of the crime. A drive-by heartbreak
.

Austin had stuck around at least long enough to beg for mercy. He had no excuse for what he’d done, but strangely, Joy was numb to him. The blinders had fallen off in an instant, and Joy saw him for who he was. A cheater. A liar. It only took her a year of dating and a decade of friendship to figure it out
.

But, Melanie? That was different. A girl should always be able to expect more from her best friend than her boyfriend. Especially a lifelong sister-friend like Melanie. Those once-in-a-lifetime friends were supposed to bring healing when other people hurt, not heap on the pain. Joy was mad at Austin, but she was grieving for Melanie. She and Austin were through, but she and Melanie would have to find a way past this. To get back to the way it was. It would be difficult, but Joy would manage to forgive Melanie. Somehow
.

Well, she’d wasted enough time. No point in pressing the buzzer. No one had come for the kids. She’d have to walk in just as she’d been doing for most of her life, no matter how grave the situation. It seemed too familiar to just walk in after what happened, but it was the only way
.

Joy drew a deep breath. Was Melanie avoiding her? Or maybe she had her headphones on with music blaring and had no idea anyone had rung her doorbell. Joy stooped and fished under the porch mat for the front door key where it had been hidden for years. Stealthy. Mrs. Phillips could be CIA
.

Joy fumbled to shove the key into the lock and turned the knob only to find the door opened easily. She stepped inside, listening for signs of life in the house. Television? Music? Conversation? But there was nothing. At least nothing she could hear right off. Joy kicked her shoes onto the mat beside the door
.

Walking past the green-and-gold brocade sofa, Joy let her fingernails trickle across the back of the only piece of furniture in the formal family room. Mrs. Phillips always joked that she and Melanie’s dad had fought over who had to keep that sofa in the divorce. She lost
.

Would Mel and Joy be able to laugh about something today? This week? Would it take a month? The closer the time drew to when she’d lay eyes on Melanie, the more confident Joy was that she’d forgive her. They’d only been divided by the chasm of betrayal for a couple of hours, yet Joy already missed her
.

Footsteps soft on the carpeted hallway, Joy tiptoed to the kitchen. So quiet. No pop can on the counter, no Hot Pocket crumbs leading from the microwave. The first day since Joy could remember that Melanie hadn’t eaten a ham-n-cheese Hot Pocket after school. Wow, she really must be taking this hard. Joy did a three-sixty. No cell phone on the countertop, no backpack on the floor. Melanie always left a trail as she shed her items and extra clothing on her way through the house
.

Mel must not be home after all. Where could she be? Joy’s stomach sank. Austin’s? She wouldn’t do that…. She couldn’t. But then again, Joy had discovered that very day Melanie was quite capable of many things Joy had never thought possible. Should she go to Austin’s to find out? If she didn’t find Melanie in the house, she’d have to know. What if she did find her there? Joy would have to figure that out when, or if, it happened
.

Joy peeked down the hall to Melanie’s bedroom. The closed door and absence of light and sound made it highly unlikely that Mel was back there. But at least Joy would find out for sure before she tucked her tail between her legs and fled. After all, maybe Melanie was hiding herself away from Joy’s accusations, from her pain
.

Her socked feet fell silently onto the carpet. Melanie had to know Joy was there by then, but it felt better to be quiet. She passed the bathroom, then nine-year-old Matthew’s room. Mrs. Phillips had the next bedroom, leaving Melanie with the master
.

Arriving at the door, Joy pressed her ear against it. No sound escaped the door cracks. Then where had that music come from earlier? A passing car, maybe
.

Joy twisted the knob and lifted the door up over the squeak. They’d practiced that move a thousand times in preparation for sneaking out while Mel’s mom slept. Wonder if they’d ever do it again?

Ah. There she was, sprawled on her bed face down, sound asleep. Her luscious brown hair spread out in a wave across her back, her hands balled into fists beside her face like a sleeping baby
.

Oh. Poor girl. She must have collapsed on that bed. Her feet rested at odd angles—like she’d fallen asleep on the way down. Her pants rode low on her hips, showing a bit too much of her somewhat ample behind. Joy chuckled. That would make a good picture for Facebook. Oh man, talk about getting even. But Joy had no desire for that sort of childish revenge
.

She could sit at the desk and wait. Then she could talk to Melanie when she woke up. But staying there uninvited and unannounced somehow felt uncomfortable. Like it was no longer her home away from home and Joy was intruding on Melanie’s privacy. No longer was Melanie’s room as comfy and at ease as Joy’s own. Joy longed for her bedroom at home. Mel had the right idea. A nap sounded like a great escape
.

Boy, Melanie was awfully still. Joy peered a bit closer. There didn’t seem to be any rise and fall of her back, none of the soft snores or twitching that Joy was so used to. Joy brushed a lock of dark hair off Melanie’s cheek
.

Her cheek was cold
.

What was going on? Joy leaned over and shook Mel’s shoulders and patted her on the back. Nothing happened. Could she just be passed out?

“Melanie?” Joy’s hand trembled as she shook her friend’s arm. “Wake up.” She grabbed both of Melanie’s upper arms hard enough to bruise them and bounced her hard on the bed, shouting
.

Nothing
.

Joy reached for her phone and fumbled to turn it on. Mom would know what to do
.

Wait. Think clearly. Call for an ambulance first. Then Mom
.

“911 emergency. This is Amber. Can I help you?”

“I don’t know. I think there’s something wrong with my friend. She’s not moving at all. I thought she was sleeping….” A sob escaped Joy’s throat
.

Reality came flooding in along with the sunlight that tried to pry Joy’s eyes open. The same dream again. If she lay there with her eyes closed, maybe she could make it go away. Make it untrue somehow. Joy pulled her hand out from under the covers and felt the pillow beside her case.

Drenched.

No wonder she woke up exhausted since she spent the whole night crying.

T
he wheels on the bus went ‘round and ‘round. They bounced over the speed bumps as the driver steered into the parking lot of North Platte High School. Who’d have thought when she attended her first year of volleyball camp that her little-girl daydreams of playing in a championship meet like the big girls on TV would come true? And … here she was.

She kicked at the empty orange soda can that rolled against her shoe and tried to close her mind from the chaos of the small space narrowing all around her. The stale air—rank with gym clothes, sweat socks, and excited athletes—choked Joy. Why had she chosen to sit at the back of the bus? She wanted off. Even if she had to climb over people or claw her way out.

Joy stood from her window seat and ducked her head along the sloped ceiling as she searched for an escape. She shouldered her overnight backpack on one side and slipped the strap of her Adidas gym bag onto the other one. She picked up her water bottle just as the driver reached for the handle and yanked the door open. Finally. Joy stepped into the aisle. She’d fight her way to the door if she had to. There wasn’t a player on the team who could hold her back. She lurched toward the door just as Coach climbed aboard the bus, blocking her exit.

Great. So much for fresh air. Maybe Joy could open a window. If she didn’t do something, she would pass out. Or vomit. She slumped into a spare seat halfway to the front.

Now, now. Calm down. Take a deep breath
. If Joy didn’t relax, she was headed for an all-out panic attack. Where had her patience gone? It had been replaced by a super-short fuse.

Coach looked up and down the rows like a farmer at harvest time. “You know I love you girls. It’s remarkable that we’re here, and I want you to be proud of what you’ve done and how hard you’ve worked. You’re here to represent your school, but even more than that, you’re representing your own commitment.” She made eye contact with several players. “This team is a group of amazing people who know what they want and go after it even in the face of tragedy, disappointment, grief, loss, sadness, and everything else that’s been thrown at you. I have so much respect for you all. Honestly? I admire you, and I’ve learned so much from you this year.”

Nice words, but would it kill Coach to say them outside?

“Now it’s time for us to go in there and fight our first team of this championship tournament.” She consulted her clipboard. As if she didn’t have the schedule memorized. “Gothenburg. When we win that, we continue on. We’ll worry about what comes next one game at a time.”

Heather raised her hand. “What if we don’t win?”

Seriously? Joy rolled her eyes. Come on. What did she want Coach to say?
“Then we go to McDonald’s?”

Coach smiled. “Most of all, I am proud that we are here. I’m not going to say that I don’t want to win. I’m not going to say we won’t be disappointed if we lose. Of course we will, but I don’t want you to forget we made it this far. Now go in there. Play this game with all your heart. Be a team, work together, and win it!”

The group erupted.

Joy saw her opportunity and stood up again. She sidled past the dawdling players and then the coach. Almost to freedom.

As soon as Joy’s feet touched the top stair, she leaned her upper body out of the bus and felt the cool air on her face. She sucked in a deep breath of brisk Nebraska air mingled with diesel fumes as she climbed down to the pavement. Way better than sweat socks and hairspray.

Somewhat refreshed, or at least back to a socially functional level, Joy waited for the team to disembark and then fell in step with the rest of them as they headed for the school doors. Silent, except for nervous giggles that rang out every few seconds.

Warm air engulfed Joy as she walked through the double doors into the school lobby where the crowds milled around the entrance. Excitement and energy buzzed on the surface of Joy’s skin like an electric charge. Of course, before they could find their gym, they had to squeeze past rows of merchandise tables with price sheets posted everywhere. Nothing like appealing to the emotions of high-strung teenagers and proud parents to get them to spend fifty bucks on a sweatshirt and thirty dollars on a piece of wood with their name scratched on it.

But the crème de la crème of State paraphernalia was the combo pack. One hundred and ten whopping bucks for a sweatshirt with or without a name on the back and the extra-large wooden plaque presumptively pre-engraved with individual players’ names already on it, with a spot for the team photo and an individual photo to be slipped under thin sheets of plastic. Pictures not included. Of course.

Well. Joy felt her pocket. Mom had given her that blank check, probably hoping to buy her way out of guilt for not attending the game. She probably deserved the price of an extravagant souvenir purchase drained from her bank account. Joy checked out the rest of the team. Most were already purchasing something. Lauren and Heather had the combo pack tucked safely under their arms of course.

Should she do it?

Joy stepped over to the rows of wooden plaques, lined up in rows, sorted into alphabetical order. She flipped them forward as she read the names.
Marcus. Miller. Moultrie
. Joy was way past
Christianson
, but she had to know.
Parker. Peters
. And there it was.
Phillips. Melanie Phillips
.

Joy lifted it from the box and ran her finger over the letters.

“I’m sorry.” A whisper in her ear made Joy jump. Coach squeezed her shoulder. “I should have checked to see it was removed before you saw it.”

“Yeah I … I wasn’t expecting it…. Yet, somehow I knew it would be there. Maybe that’s how it should be. She was part of this team.” Joy shrugged. “I’m thinking about buying it.”

Coach nodded.

“I’ll think about it.” Joy handed the plaque over to Coach then shouldered her bag and headed off to find their locker room in the freshman wing. Her spending mood had crashed and burned.