Trust Me (3 page)

Immediately a hard knot formed deep in her stomach-the fear of getting older, of ending up alone. A craving for the
burn of alcohol streaked down her throat. And the powerful, primal love for her children overwhelmed everything
else.

Tony,
Rae thought.
What about Tony?
She tried to allow herself to go deeper into Anthony’s mother’s thoughts,
even the thoughts she didn’t know she had. Slimy guilt for words said that couldn’t be taken back. Weariness. An
iron spike of anger. And the sweetness of a first kiss. Back in Fillmore High-Anthony’s school. At a dance with crepe
paper streamers. With one of Tony Fascinelli’s hands inching toward her butt.

Anthony’s mother pulled away, giving Rae a forced smile. “Let’s get these drinks in to the bulls,” she said. Rae
grabbed two of the glasses, getting nothing off the clean surfaces.
At least I found out that Tony and Anthony’s

mom went to high school,
she thought. It was a place to start.

She followed Anthony’s mother back into the living room. As Rae handed one of the glasses to Anthony, she
realized there was a streak of numbness running up her right arm, from her wrist almost to her shoulder. She
rubbed it, but it didn’t go away.

“Are you cold, honey?” Anthony’s mother asked.

“No, I’m fine,” Rae answered. She pressed one of her fingernails deep into her skin along the numb streak. And felt
nothing.
Maybe it’s just some holdover from going so deep with Anthony’s mom,
she thought. But Rae’d never felt
anything like it before.

She took a sip of tea. She was probably just stressed or something.

“We’ve got to go,” Anthony said abruptly. He put his untouched glass on the coffee table.

“Aren’t you even going to let Rae finish her-” Anthony’s mother began.

“We should see if we can still catch the last part of group,” he interrupted. Then he took Rae by the wrist and
hurried her out of the house.

“Group will definitely be over by the time we get there,” Rae told him after they got in the car.

Anthony raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me you wanted to stay?”

“Well, you know, Tom was kind of turning me on,” Rae answered, going for a cheap laugh. He didn’t get it. “You
know what he was saying about you and the Sanderson football team?” she plunged on. “I bet he was right. I bet
you are good enough to be a Sabertooth. And that’s what you said you wanted during that what-are-your-hopes-and-dreams exercise we had to do in group.”

“Did you forget what else he said?” Anthony shot back. “About how I’m too friggin’ stupid?”

“But he doesn’t know how much you’ve been working,” Rae protested. “God, Anthony, do you have any clue how
much better your reading is? You told me your teacher even mentioned it.”

“Yeah-I’m really smart. For a moron,” Anthony answered. “And anyway, why are we talking about me? You’re the
one who never coughed up a real answer during that hopes-and-dreams crap.”

Rae felt like asking him why he was bringing it up if it was such crap. But it was obvious why. He was looking for a
subject change, and any subject would do.

“Okay, a dream.” Rae thought for a moment. “Since the fingerprint thing started up, I really like taking baths. It’s
one place where I don’t pick up anything. Every thought is mine. So, a dream would be that I could swim. I bet that
would feel amazing.”

“You can’t swim? I thought all girls like you took swimming and ballet and all that,” Anthony answered.

“I had a bad experience with a defective water wing, okay?” Rae responded. “The idea of being in water where my
feet can’t touch the ground freaks me out. Which makes the whole swimming dream kind of difficult.”

“You’re meeting me at the Y tomorrow,” Anthony said. “I’ll teach you how to swim. I owe you, anyway.” He paused.

“You know, for the reading thing.”

I say I want something, and just like that, he tries to get it for me,
Rae thought. He’d put himself on the line for her
in so many ways, big and small.

I’m definitely finding his dad for him,
she promised herself.
And maybe, just maybe, there’s something else I can do

for him, too.

Rae took another sip o water from the dring fountain outside the cafeteria on Thursday, even though she was
already sloshing inside. It gave her something to do while she waited for Marcus Salkow. Not that she needed
something to do, really-but she felt weird just standing in the hall.
Get over yourself, Rae,
she thought.
Your little

psychotic episode was last spring. People aren’t whispering about it anymore. They don’t walk around all day

thinking about you. Nobody is wondering why you’re standing in the hall all by yourself.

She pulled her curly auburn hair away from her face and took another sip of water, anyway, the wax on her
fingertips preventing her from picking up any not-her thoughts.

When she straightened up and turned back around, she spotted Marcus turning the corner and heading for the
caf. Rae noticed a lot of girls giving him little I’m-not-really-looking looks. And why not? The boy was gorgeous-blond, green eyes, broad shoulders. Your basic high school god.

“Marcus,” she called. A few waterlogged butterflies began circling her stomach when he looked at her and smiled.

But that doesn’t mean anything,
she told herself.
It’s just a leftover boyfriend-girlfriend response.

“Rae, hey, hi,” Marcus said as he hurried up to her.

Maybe he thinks I want to talk to him about that phone call, the one where he said he wanted to get back together,

she realized. She felt like blurting out, “It’s okay, Marcus. I know you’d knocked back some beers that night.” But
she didn’t. If he mentioned it, then she’d deal with it. If he didn’t… it was probably a good thing. The idea of being
with Marcus again brought up so many feelings-bad and good-that her brain froze up whenever she thought about
it.

“Um, how’s it going?” Marcus asked, standing too close to her, so close, she could smell that Marcus smell-a mix
of pencil shavings, Zest soap, a little musky sweat, and butterscotch Life Savers.

Just ask what you want to ask and get away from him, Rae told herself. “How are the Sabertooths going to get
through the season now that Vince is out of commission?” she blurted out.

Marcus’s eyebrows shot up, but he answered as if it was normal for them to stand around chatting about football.

“It’s going to make it tough for us,” he said. “Without Vince, getting into the state play-offs isn’t a done deal
anymore. None of the second-string guys comes close.”

Rae nodded. It was exactly what she wanted to hear. “I should go,” she said. “I’m in the middle of a painting. I’m
going to eat in the art room.” She knew she should talk for a few more minutes instead of bolting, but she didn’t
want him to bring up the phone call, and she didn’t want to breathe in any more of the Marcus scent. It was making
her dizzy. “See you,” she said, and she started away from him.

“Rae.” He caught her by the elbow, and she reluctantly turned to face him. “I wanted to tell you… I thought you
should know…” He tightened his grip a little. “I broke up with Dori this morning.”

Rae stiffened, her heart doing an involuntary extra beat in her chest. Marcus and Dori were split up? So Marcus
was… available?

What are you thinking?
she immediately chided herself. It didn’t matter if Marcus was with Dori or not-he and Rae
were over. For good.

Rae blinked, realizing that Marcus was still standing there, so close to her, waiting for a response. So am I just
supposed to fall into his arms? she wondered. Or am I supposed to curse him out and say I’d never take him back in
a million years after what he did to me? Getting together with Dori two seconds after Rae was tucked away in her
hospital bed wasn’t exactly an easy I-forgive-you.

Marcus was looking at her with such intensity, Rae thought she was going to end up with two green marks seared
onto her face.

“Um, well, I hope you’re both doing okay,” she finally mumbled. Then she turned and rushed away without giving
him a chance to say anything else.

She headed straight for the gym.
This isn’t the time to think about Marcus, anyway,
she told herself.
You’re on a

mission for Anthony.
She pushed open the double doors and stepped inside. The football coach was sitting on the
bleachers, eating his lunch. She knew she’d find him in there. She wouldn’t be surprised if he kept a sleeping bag in
the corner and never went home at all.

“Mr. Mosier, hi,” Rae said as she approached him. He took a minute before he looked up from the sports section in
front of him. “I… I…”
Why didn’t I rehearse this?
she thought. “I know this great football player who goes to
Fillmore. Playing on our-your- team is, it’s pretty much all he ever talks about.”

“Great, huh?” Mr. Mosier asked. He took the last bite of his PowerBar. “How great?”

Stats. He’s looking for stats. Which I don’t have,
Rae thought. “Wow great. Tearing-up-the-field great. State-champion great,” she added, inspired.

Mr. Mosier narrowed his eyes. “He your boyfriend or something?”

“No,” Rae said quickly. She sat down next to Mr. Mosier. “He’s just someone I thought you should know about-with
Vince out for the rest of the season and everything. Marcus was telling me Vince left a big hole in the team.”

Said the magic word,
Rae realized. Mr. Mosier had forgotten all about the sports page. She had his full attention.

And all it took was invoking the name of Marcus.

“It’s not impossible to get a scholarship for the right public school kid,” Mr. Mosier told her. “His academics okay?”

Damn. The question. She’d wanted him to see Anthony play before the school situation came up. “Here’s the deal,”

she answered. “Anthony has dyslexia. It was just recently diagnosed.” She didn’t add that the diagnosis had come
from her. “He’s working really hard on it now, and it’s starting to come together for him. But his academic records
are going to say that he sucks-at least until he gets this semester’s grades. Then I’m sure there will be big
improvement.”

Mr. Mosier folded his PowerBar wrapper into a little triangle. He used his thumb and forefinger to flick it down the
long bleacher. “Touchdown!” He turned back to Rae. “If the kid’s willing to come to tomorrow’s practice, I’m willing
to watch. That’s all I’m saying.”

Rae jumped up. “He’ll be there,” she promised. “His name is Anthony Fascinelli. And he’ll definitely be there.” She
headed for the doors.

“If I like what I see, he’ll have to take some academic placement tests,” Mr. Mosier called after her. “But if he’s all
that good, I can probably make it work for him.”

“He is. He is,” Rae called back. She’d never seen him play, but she knew he was. Knew it.

She couldn’t feel her feet hitting the ground as she headed to her locker. Anthony was going to be so psyched.

And going to Sanderson… God, it could change his whole life.
Yay, me,
she thought as she dialed in her locker
combination. She snapped the lock open and pulled open the metal door. A large, deep purple envelope was
jammed in front of her books.

Rae swallowed, staring at the envelope without moving. Her first impulse was to just slam the locker shut and run.

She didn’t want to know what was inside that thing, did she?

God, everything unexpected doesn’t have to equal bad,
she told herself. She took a deep breath, then grabbed the
envelope and ripped it open, revealing the top of a photograph. “See, someone left you a picture. Nothing scary,”

she whispered, then glanced down the hall to make sure no one had caught her talking to herself.

Maybe Marcus,
she realized. Here she was freaking out at the sight of what was probably a perfectly harmless
envelope from her ex-boyfriend. She sighed, then pulled the photo all the way out.

As soon as she saw the rest of the image, her breath caught in her throat. Marcus had nothing to do with this. She
stared down at the picture, unable to move her eyes away although she wanted to, wanted to more than anything.

But her gaze remained locked on the woman in the photograph. She was so beautiful, standing in the surf with a
big beach ball tucked under one arm, a huge grin on her face.

But on her forehead… on her forehead someone had used red nail polish to paint a bullet hole and drops of blood.

A coffin drawn in thick black enclosed her body.

“And you’d never seen the woman in the photo before? She didn’t look at all familiar?” Anthony asked.

Rae shook her head. She wrapped her towel tightly around her shoulders, even though they hadn’t even stuck
their feet in the pool yet.

“Did you get anything off the picture? Or the envelope?” he pressed.

“The first thing I did was get the wax off my fingers so I could do a sweep. And nothing,” Rae answered.