What She Left Behind (11 page)

Don’t get me wrong, mall shopping is great. But the kind of shopping that I like best is at a rummage sale. It’s not like we’re poor or anything, but it’s kind of like a family pastime. Or it used to be, back when Matt was alive. We weren’t those people who’d get up at
the crack of dawn to buy the newspaper on Saturday so we’d be the first at the advertised sales (Dad still got us up at the crack of dawn, but that was to clean). But when we happened to pass a rummage sale and we didn’t have someplace to be, we stopped. We even stopped when we were in other states. That’s where Matt got a lot of the license plates for his room.

My phone vibrates right as we finish our free writing. I suck my breath in and start choking on the Ritz Bits I have stuffed in my mouth.
Please let it be Mom.

It’s a text message from Alex: ZACH SAYS YOU LIKE BIKING. SKIP MATH AND HIT THE TRAIL?

Unbelievable. I delete the message and put my phone in my backpack.

I get to history early. So does Alex. He sits next to me in the back row. “Did you get my message?”

“Uh-huh.” Forget butterflies. I think a hawk is trying to take off inside my stomach. Alex’s lips scream “soft and kissable.”

“So, what do you say?”

Does it count as a date if it’s during school hours?
“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

I raise my eyebrows at him. “Altman, for one reason.”
More important, I can’t just run off and play with you when my mom is
missing.
I open my history book and prop it up on my desk. Then I pull out
Misery
and put it on my lap so I can read when class gets too dull.

Alex puts a hand on one of mine. “Tell you what. We won’t leave until
after
lunch. I can pick you up from say, the Dairy Dream? I’m guessing that’s where you’ll be?”

“Yeah.”

“Great!”

“I mean, yeah, that’s where I’ll be.”

“It’s a beautiful day. A little exercise after lunch would be much nicer than being cooped up in here.”

“You forget that I actually like algebra. It’s you who’s into puzzles.”

He doesn’t look convinced.

“Okay. So ‘like’ is a little strong,” I backtrack. “But I definitely tolerate it.”

“Wouldn’t you rather have the wind in your hair than have Aaron drooling on it from the seat behind you?”

“You noticed that?” I laugh.

“That guy’s got a serious saliva problem.”

“True enough, but the answer’s still no.”

“How are you at acting?”

For the past couple of days, that’s all I’ve been doing. So I’d say pretty damn good.
“Okay, I guess.”

“I have this idea. You pretend to faint and I’ll carry you down to the nurse’s office. Don’t worry, I’ll catch you so you won’t hit your head on the floor. Only instead of the nurse’s office, we’ll go—”

Robertson comes over and stands between us. I pull out my notebook and pen. So does Alex. I’m surprised he actually has one.

Alex clears his throat. “Just so you know, Mr. Robertson, sir, if you’re planning on asking that question about the causes of World War I again today, I’m your man.”

“Glad to hear it. And just so you know, Mr. Maloy, I have a blank e-mail open on my computer already addressed to your coach.”

Robertson starts his lecture. Alex inches closer to me until our desks are nearly touching. He appears to be paying attention and taking good notes. What he’s actually doing is writing me notes. He writes a sentence or two, then rests his pencil on his chin and slides the notebook toward me. He also volunteers to answer approximately every fifth question and gets most of them right, so I think that’s why Robertson doesn’t say anything about our desks. I don’t learn a thing about World War I that period, but I do learn a lot about Alex, such as the name of his pet iguana (Fred), his favorite foods (chicken pot pie, Cool Ranch Doritos, and Mr. Goodbar), and his greatest fear (quicksand).

That last one I don’t quite believe.

“Quicksand?” I say once Robertson stops talking and tells us to start on our homework.

“Okay, so I made that one up. But wouldn’t it be cool to actually see quicksand?”

“Try floating.”

“Huh?”

“If you’re ever trapped in quicksand, try floating on your back. That’s what it says in my
Worst-Case Scenario
guidebook.”

Alex laughs. “And why, exactly, do you have a copy of that?”

“Remember when that woman drove her car into the Detroit River? On the news afterward, they showed how to get out of a sinking car, only I couldn’t remember everything they said, so I got the book.”

“We’re kind of far from the Detroit River, if you haven’t noticed.”

“But not that far from the Au Sable.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that one. Still—”

“Be sure to roll your windows down as soon as you hit the water.”

He snorts. “Thanks for the advice. I think you’ve been reading a little too much Stephen King.”

If only he knew.
There’s nothing in my guidebook that can help me find my mother.

When the bell rings, Alex reaches over and picks up my backpack. “Allow me,” he says.

I’m about to object, but I then I see that all he brought to class was his notebook and pen. “Thanks.”

Alex walks me to the front door of the school, then hands me my backpack and says, “Pick you up at the Dairy Dream.” He tears off down the hall before I can answer.

I don’t really think my mom will be at the Dairy Dream today, but I decide to be there anyhow, just in case. Zach offered to bring me lunch again.

I push open the outside door of the school and follow the procession to the Dairy Dream.

“Hey, Sara.”

I turn around. It’s Lauren. I wait for her to catch up. “Everything go okay with that phone call?”

“Yeah, thanks a lot.”

“No problem.” She smiles. “By the way, there’s a Keith Urban concert next month by Detroit. Jay said he’d take us if you want to go.”

“I didn’t know your brother likes country music,” I say, shaking my head in surprise.

“Oh, he doesn’t. But he owes me one.”

“That poor boy is always owing you one.”

“And that’s exactly the way I like it.” We both laugh.

“Well in that case, sure. It sounds great. Look, I know I’ve been kind of in my own little world lately—”

Lauren puts her arm around me. “No explanation necessary.” Her voice wavers. “I thought maybe you blamed me. You know. For Matt.”

“What? No, of course not.”

“I mean, if you had gone home instead of—”

“That’s my fault, Lauren, not yours.” I shake my head to chase away the memories. “So, where are you off to?”

“The minimart.” She lowers her voice. “Womanly needs. I forgot to put something in my purse this morning. I can be kind of absentminded sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

She gives me a little shove. “And where are you off to?”

“The Dairy Dream.”

“Alone?” She gets little worry wrinkles on her forehead.

“No, I’m meeting Zach.”

“Oh. Are you guys dating?” she asks.

“No, we’ve just been hanging out a lot since—”

“Oh, good.” She seems flustered. “What I meant was, I know someone who’s kind of interested in Zach, so I was just wondering.”

“Really? Who is it?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything. I mean, I don’t know if she wants anyone to know.”

“Yeah, sure,” I say. “No problem.”

“Well, see you around. Give me a call.”

“Will do.” I wave as she veers off toward the minimart.

Although Mom’s car isn’t in the parking lot at the Dairy Dream, I’m feeling slightly less depressed thanks to Lauren and Alex and the sunny weather, so I get in the line for a cone. It seems as though half the high school is there, so it takes a while to get to the front of the line. Just as I’m about to place my order, I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Having dessert first? I’ve got a tasty chicken sandwich here for you.”

I spin around. It’s Alex. I crinkle my eyebrows in confusion.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” he says to the Dairy Dream girl, handing her a five.

“Two chocolate cones, then, please.”

“Ooh, I see we’re living wildly. Are you sure you can trust me not to crash into you with it?”

“I have more important things to worry about,” I say, doing a bad job of sounding light-hearted.

“Hmm. Is that why Zach said, ‘She told you about it?’ when I said I’d bring you lunch?”

The Dairy Dream girl hands us our cones, which we take over to “our” picnic bench. I sit first, facing the street. Alex sits on the same side, close enough so that his elbow sometimes brushes my arm as he eats. It doesn’t bother me. In fact, I kind of like it.

“You’ve been doing that a lot, you know.”

“What’s that?”

“Twirling your ponytail. Don’t worry. It’s part of what makes you attractive.”

Great.
My nervous habit is part of my charm. What will happen when my life is back in control?

“That splash of freckles on your nose is cute too.”

There’s a light breeze. A strand of hair that had come loose from my ponytail falls across my cheek.

“Do you ever wear your hair down?”

I think about it. My ponytail has become a bit of a security blanket. “No, I guess not.” I crunch my last bit of cone. “But I can.” I reach up and pull out the hair band.

“Nice,” says Alex.

I try to focus on the street.
Where is she?

“Now that we’ve finished dessert, would you like to try the main
course?” He pulls chicken sandwiches and chocolate milk from his backpack.

“Chocolate milk?” I laugh. “I haven’t had that in ages.”

Alex looks sheepish. “I have it at least once a week. If you don’t like it, though, I can get you something from here.”

“No, no. It’s great. When we were kids, every time we used to visit our grandparents in Delaware, they would buy chocolate milk for us. The first thing Matt would do when he got out of the car was give Grandma a hug and ask if she had bought chocolate milk.”

“You must miss him a lot.” Alex traces a finger through my hair.

“Yeah, I do.” I take a swig of the milk. “You’re right. This stuff is pretty good.”

After we finish our sandwiches and milk, Alex and I take our wrappers over to the trash can. “So, ready for math?”

“What about that bike ride?”

Alex takes an exaggerated step backward. “What? You’re going to skip algebra for something as frivolous as biking with a guy who thinks you’re more fascinating than a geometry proof?”

“I’m thinking I might have liked the jock version of that compliment better than the nerd version. Let’s go.”

Alex takes my hand and we walk to the sidewalk.

“That wouldn’t happen to be your car parked there on the street, would it?”

“Why, yes it is. Don’t worry. I cleaned it this time.”

Alex holds the door open for me.

“Ooh. Air freshener. Nice touch.”

“Watch my next trick as I adhere to the speed limit in downtown Scottsfield.”

Shit.
I’d forgotten to look around to see if wolf-eyed Jack Reynolds was lurking about. All I need is for him to see me in a car with Alex during school hours. I quickly lean over and pretend to tie my shoe.

At Alex’s house, he produces two mountain bikes in excellent condition. “This one’s my mom’s,” he says, handing me a purple bike and a helmet. Alex’s house is even more remote than mine. At least there won’t be anyone to notice a couple of teenagers who should be in school. We pedal down the driveway and onto a dirt road. Since there’s no traffic, we ride next to each other.

“Your mom won’t mind that I’m borrowing her bike?”

“Oh no, my mom won’t mind at all about the bike. It’s the skipping classes that she has a problem with.”

“So why do you do it? You never used to cut classes. Not that I noticed.” I switch gears as we come to a hill.

Alex stares straight ahead. “What did Zach mean when he asked if you’d told me what’s going on?”

“Do you always answer a question with a question?” I’m really starting to fall hard for Alex but I don’t want to drag him into the mess I’m in. I also can’t say much without bursting into tears. “It’s no big deal. Just something I have to take care of.”

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with that little bruise on the side of your face, would it?”

I thought that I had covered that with makeup.

“No, of course not,” I say too quickly.
That’s just from when Dad pushed me into a wall because I’d taken his cigarettes.
I try to laugh. It sounds more like a hyena. Alex looks at me and frowns but doesn’t say anything more.