Where the Truth Lies (15 page)

We’re sitting in Bruce’s apartment, all three of us drinking vodka and soda like it’s no big deal. Bruce and Renee are both smoking cigarettes. More than anything, even though he’s been generous and accommodating and all that good stuff, Bruce seems grateful to have his apartment back, instead of constantly having to remember that he’s around a pregnant woman who can’t be exposed to smoke. He’s been so nice to me, I don’t want to tell him how much it bothers me.

“Let me tell you something, Emily,” he says, giving me a wink as he talks, exhaling gracefully into the air. “I know this has been a difficult summer, but you did the right thing. You did the best thing possible under the circumstances.”

“Lying to almost everyone I know was the best thing possible?”

He doesn’t blink. “Yes. Sometimes it’s necessary to lie. Imagine the mess you would have been in if you’d told everyone the truth. Trust me. This is right for all parties involved.”

“Bruce,” Renee says, “I should tell her now.”

I give her a hesitant look. I’m not sure how much more drama I can handle. “Tell me what?”

Renee and Bruce exchange one of their private glances that I’ve become so used to over the summer.

“Okay,” Bruce says. “So tell her.”

“Emily, I’m not coming back to Stonybrook.”

I don’t want to believe what she’s saying. I can’t imagine life without Renee now. I’ve barely even talked to my other friends all summer, except for some awkward conversations and vague e-mails with Stephanie, and I know that she’s beyond irritated that I decided to spend my vacation with Renee instead of coming to visit her in Colorado.

“Why not?” I demand.

“It’s, um, I got in trouble. I got kicked out. Your dad waited until a few weeks ago to tell me.”

My father
. This is no accident. It took everything I had, plus a huge donation and personal phone call from Bruce, to convince my parents to let me stay the summer with Renee. They don’t like her. And lately, ironically enough, her mother has been in the news again for another trip to rehab and another broken marriage. At least Stephanie will believe me about
that.

“What for? How can they kick you out when you haven’t been on campus in three months?”

Renee glances at Bruce again. He nods, urging her to continue. It’s not even six p.m. and he’s already in a tux.

She puts her head down. She won’t look at me. “I’m so sorry, Emily. Hillary found Madeline’s file. I hid it under our dresser, and one day she went to move it, and … there it was. She took it to your dad right away.”

“They’re kicking you out for
that
? After all the money Bruce donated? There wasn’t even anything interesting in it! And you didn’t steal it. I gave it to you!”

“Emily, that’s not exactly true.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think it’s because he thought I took Madeline’s folder. I think it has more to do with you. See, a couple of days after you and Del stole those folders, Del kind of approached me privately.”

I raise my eyebrows. “He did, did he?”

“Did you know he stole your file that night, too?”

I shake my head. “I knew he stole some other files to make it look less obvious that we were after Madeline’s. But I didn’t know he took mine.” I pause. “Why would he do that?”

“He did more than that,” Renee says. “He gave it to me. He showed me something in particular. It was something he said you had a right to know. See, Emily, there was a note in your folder that didn’t make a lot of sense.”

“In my folder?” It would never even occur to me to look at my folder. How could there be anything in it that I don’t already know? And why would Del take it? Wouldn’t it make it all the more obvious that I was involved with the theft somehow?

“Something that didn’t make sense,” I repeat. “Okay. What was it? Do you still have it?”

“Yes. I saved the paper.” Renee reaches into the back pocket of her jeans. She pulls out a paper that’s been folded half a dozen times and is worn at the creases. She’s obviously been carrying it around all summer.

I stare at it. It’s just a basic demographic sheet with your usual info: name, address, age, all that good stuff. “There’s nothing weird here,” I say, confused.

“Look at the bottom.” Renee swallows. “Look at the emergency contacts.”

First there’s my mom and dad, obviously. It seems absurd that they would even have a page like this for me. After my mom and dad, there’s Dr. Miller’s personal cell and office numbers. My grandparents on both sides are dead. I don’t have any aunts or uncles or cousins that I know of. For my entire life, it’s just been me and my parents.

But right there, in my father’s handwriting at the very bottom of the page, there’s an asterisk. Beside it, he’s written:

ICE: SANDY GRAY. MARYLAND?

I close my eyes and see fire. It’s suddenly hard to breathe. I’ve never seen the name before in my life until this moment. So why the fire? Why now? And why do I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut?

Bruce and Renee look at me, waiting for me to respond.

“Who the hell is Sandy Gray? And what does ICE mean?”

“ICE means ‘in case of emergency,’ ” Renee says. “And I don’t know who Sandy Gray is, Emily … but I think you need to find out.”

chapter fourteen

At the beginning of my senior year, I find myself back in the quad with Stephanie, Franny, and Grace. Things are so different now: Del is gone, Renee is gone, and I’ve just had a baby that almost nobody knows about. But when I’m alone with my roommates, I can almost convince myself that everything is the same as it’s always been.

Over the summer, I’ve only kept in touch with Steph, and even that’s been on and off. It’s normal for kids at Stonybrook to take a kind of hiatus from each other over summer breaks; everyone goes home, back to their other friends and their family and alternate lives, and we come back in the fall and pick up where we left off.

My tummy is flat again, thanks to a trainer who came highly recommended from Bruce Graham. “I don’t use him,” Bruce had said, “because I enjoy my bearlike physique.” He was holding a tumbler of scotch and wearing a red silk bathrobe and slippers when he told me this. It was something like two in the afternoon. “But I’ve heard he can really whip a person into shape.”

My trainer’s name was Colby. I never learned his last name. We worked out five days a week for an hour and a half, all on Bruce’s dime. Most of the workouts left me in tears. Sometimes I was so sore that Renee had to help me sit on the toilet and do other, basic things, like pulling a shirt over my head. But by the end of the summer, I’m in the best shape of my life. I almost have a six-pack.

Everything’s the same; everything is different. I am still having nightmares. I feel an emptiness in my body, the absence of all the experiences with my child that I will never know—even though I don’t exactly want to know them—and the absence of Del making me feel hollowed somehow, so much so that I ache inside. I don’t know why I think about him so much. I’m so angry with him for everything he did to me, and all the lies he told me, that I’ve convinced myself I don’t want to see him again. Maybe it’s because we left things so unfinished. Maybe it’s because, deep down, there is a part of me that still cares for him, and worries that he’s okay, wherever he is. How can I not? He used to mean everything to me, and then, all of a sudden, he was gone.

But it’s Renee I miss more than anyone. She is the only person now who truly knows me, who shares all of my secrets. I realize it’s possible that, for the rest of my life, she will be the only one. It’s a lot to deal with alone, without her: there’s the secret that seems to still be breathing inside me, the nightmares that come fast and frequent, and this new mystery that only Renee and I (and Bruce, and Del) know about: who is Sandy Gray, and why was her name in my file?

I know I should just ask my parents, but I have my doubts about whether or not they’ll tell me the truth. So I go to the second-best source: Dr. Miller.

“Have you been taking your medication all summer?” she asks during our first session together.

“Yes,” I lie.

“And are you still having the nightmares?”

“Yep.” I’m sitting on the sofa in her office, staring at her across the desk. The mood in the room is palpably tense as I wait for the right moment to ask her. I realize I’m almost glaring. All these secrets and lies, they start to get to you after a while. My whole body is a lie now, my whole life lived with a secret embedded somewhere within my past, where there was a Sandy Gray who meant something. Maybe she still does.

Since I’m a senior, I’ll only be spending one more year under Dr. Miller’s psychiatric care, and then it’s off to college, where I suppose there will be a mental health center on campus, or something like that. Are all psychiatrists like her, I wonder? Surely some of them are actually
helpful
.

“Well,” she muses, leaning back in her chair, “let’s talk about your summer. What did you do?”

Oh, the usual teenage high jinks. Hid out in a celebrity’s penthouse while I carried a baby to term. Gave it up for adoption in the middle of the summer. Managed to hide the pregnancy from everyone, even my parents. Nothing new.

Now seems as good a time as any to change the subject.

“Dr. Miller,” I say, “you know how Renee got kicked out for stealing those files?”

She nods. “She’s lucky your parents didn’t press charges. That’s breaking and entering, you know. It’s larceny. She was fortunate that all she got was expelled.”

“She didn’t really steal them,” I say.

Dr. Miller blinks coolly at me. “Then who did?”

“Del.”

“Ah, but Madeline’s file was in Renee’s room, wasn’t it? She was involved somehow.” Dr. Miller pauses. “You know, there were no signs of a break-in at your parents’ house. They wouldn’t even have known the file was missing if Hillary hadn’t found it.” She narrows her eyes. “Emily? Do you know more about this than you’re telling me?”

I ignore her. “Anyway,” I continue, “Del took my file, too. Did you know that?”

Dr. Miller tries to act nonchalant, but I can tell she’s thrilled to be getting the information. “I had an idea of something like that, yes.” She sure pays close attention to all of the teenage happenings around here, doesn’t she?

“He gave my file to Renee. He said there was something I had a right to know about. And a few weeks ago, she showed me what it was.”

Dr. Miller seems genuinely clueless. “Well? What was it?”

“It was a name. Under ‘In Case of Emergency.’ ”

“And what name was that?”

I swallow. “Sandy Gray. Dr. Miller, do you know who she is? Or why her name would be in my file? I’ve never even heard the name before.”

“What did you say the name was?”

“Sandy Gray.”

She shakes her head slowly back and forth. “You don’t have any aunts? Any close family friends with that name?”

“No. I don’t have any close relatives besides my parents. I don’t know anyone with that name. So why would it be there? And why would Del think I had a right to know?” For the first time since I’ve been seeing her, I’m actually interested in her input. “Do you think my parents could be hiding something from me?”

“I can’t imagine,” she says. “Your parents adore you. If there was something significant about this woman, I don’t think they’d be hiding it from you. But still”—she smiles—“it can’t hurt to ask them, can it? After all, our sessions are to help you understand yourself better. Obviously, if this woman is an emergency contact, you should probably know why.”

“So we can ask them?”

“Certainly.”

“Even though the file was stolen?”

“Yes. You still have a right to know. Ask your mother. I’m sure she’ll shed some light on it.”

“But you don’t know anything?”

Dr. Miller gives me a steady, sincere look. “Emily. If I knew anything at all, I would tell you. I will never lie to you. Okay?”

I bite my lip.
Thanks for nothing
. “Okay. But in the meantime, can you tell me what to do?”

“I can tell you to keep writing down your nightmares. Keep taking your medication. And—and that’s all.”

Over the summer, Ethan has blossomed in a big way. He was always great looking, but Stephanie tells me that, since he made head prefect, he’s been lifting weights and studying vocab words like there’s no tomorrow, determined to uphold Stonybrook’s reputation for excellence, and to get into Stanford.

I giggle. “Does he also want to fly backward around the earth?”

The
Superman
references—everybody makes them—have always annoyed Steph for some reason. I’m starting to realize it’s precisely
because
everyone makes them that she doesn’t like them, because it’s something about him that she has to share with everyone else. If she’s changed at all over the summer, she’s become even more touchy and bitter.

“Shut up,” she says. “You know I hate that.”

We’re in the library during English class, where we’re supposed to be researching an author of our choice for a term paper. In order to avoid doing much work, I’ve chosen Victor Hugo. I did a junior year English paper on him, and I’ve seen
Les Misérables,
like, five times.

Grace is sitting with us. She and I exchange a look. “Steph?” Grace asks, her tone casual. “Can I just ask you a question about Ethan?”

“What?”

“Did he spend a lot of time in his Fortress of Solitude this summer?”

I snort. Grace giggles, beaming at me. “That was funny, wasn’t it?” She’s proud of herself.

“I swear to God, Grace,” Stephanie says, “I’ll stab you with my pen if you don’t shut up.”

Grace is wholly unafraid. “My goodness,” she says, “you’ll get blood all over the library.”

Stephanie kicks her under the table.

“Ow! You’re assaulting me! I was kidding!”

“It wasn’t funny.”

“Yes, it was.” Grace reaches down to rub her calf. “Emily was laughing. It was funny.”

Steph glares at me. “Could we stop talking about my brother?”

“Okay,” I say, “I’ll change the subject. So, Steph. Where do you want to go to college?”

Stephanie is researching Franz Kafka for her paper. She pretends to be deeply engrossed in the book she’s reading. “I don’t know. I’m going to try to get into Stanford, too, with Ethan.”

“Steph …” I let my voice trail off.

“What?” she snaps. “Don’t tell me I don’t have the grades for it.”

“You don’t have the grades for it,” Grace says. “Does she, Emily?”

I hesitate. I don’t say anything else.

Stephanie glares at both of us again. Then she slams her book shut, gathers up her things, and moves two tables over. She’s still well within earshot.

“Did somebody say my name?” Ethan is suddenly behind me, his hands resting lightly on my shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I feel a jolt through my whole body. I remember the Christmas party, the awkward phone call that followed. But that was all before Del left. It feels like a lifetime ago. I haven’t talked to Ethan all summer.

“We sure did,” Grace says, opening her big mouth. “We’re talking about where everyone’s going to school next fall, and Steph said she wanted to go to Stanford with you.”

“Oh.” I can’t see Ethan’s face, but I sense the hesitation in his tone. “Well, she can apply anywhere she wants. I guess it’s, you know, up to the admissions board.”

I glance at Stephanie to gauge her expression. She’s pretending to stare at her book again, but I can tell she’s trying not to cry.

For no reason that I can tell, I find myself thinking of Del. I wonder what he’s doing this very moment. I wonder if he’s happy, or if he’s managed to track down his sister yet. And if he makes it to college—even though he said more than once that he wasn’t going—maybe it’s possible we’ll end up seeing each other again. Maybe things will be different. I don’t even know what school he’s at.

“ … She’s not paying any attention to you,” Grace is saying.

“I know. I could probably lean down and say something like, ‘Emily Meckler. Can I have your attention, please?’ ” Ethan’s mouth is directly next to my ear, so close that I can feel his warm breath on my skin.

My stomach flutters. “What?”

“I said, do you want to do something tonight after chorus practice?”

I look from Grace to Stephanie. Is Ethan asking me out?

Stephanie scowls, still pretending to read her book. Grace wriggles in her seat, unable to physically contain her excitement.

I should have expected this. I remember everything he said at the Christmas party last year, and on the phone over Christmas break. In hindsight, it was so obvious. But now that it’s actually happening, it’s hard for me to believe. It occurs to me that Ethan doesn’t know who I really am, that he’ll probably never know. And if he did, would he still want to have anything to do with me? Is it fair for me to mislead him, to let him think I’m just little Emily Meckler with a pretty voice?

I don’t care. I just want life to be normal again—whatever that means.

“Um. Sure. Okay.” I can feel myself blushing.

“Okay. Super. Fantastic.” His voice is nothing but confident. “We’ll get ice cream or something. Sound good?”

Grace looks ready to fall out of her seat. Her grin is so huge that I can see the tops of her gums.

“Okay.”

“Okay, then. I’ll see you tonight.” He takes a deep breath and murmurs, “
Finally
.” Then, as quickly as he appeared—he’s not even in our English class—he’s gone.