Forgotten

Forgotten Page 37

After school, I ask Luke to drive me to an address from this morning’s note.

“Again?” he asks.

“Guess so.” I shrug.

Luke drives but doesn’t seem happy about it. When we arrive, he pulls into a space down the block and points to the house in question. In minutes, a white car zips into the driveway. Carley Lynch gets out.

“What are you looking for this time?” Luke asks.

I squint to be sure, and then I answer.

“That,” I say, pointing.

“What? Carley?”

“Not Carley. Her expression. Her posture. She looks worried.”

“So?” Luke asks. “You think that means she knows?”

I take a deep breath and let it out, relieved. It’s a small victory.

“Yes,” I tell my boyfriend. “She knows.”

“Now what?” he asks.

I look him in the eyes, so glad to have him in my life.

“Let’s go,” I say.

“That’s it? That’s all we came for? To see Carley’s expression?”

“Yep,” I say.

“You aren’t going to do anything else?”

“Nope. Don’t have to.”

Luke shakes his head at me as he starts the ignition and pulls out of the parking space.

“Seems like a waste of time,” he mutters.

“I hope it wasn’t,” I say quietly.

“For Jamie’s sake, me, too,” Luke replies. “I just can’t believe that’s all you’re going to do.”

“Well, there is one other thing,” I say.

“What’s that?” Luke asks.

“I’m going to forget this ever happened.”

40

There is a cop car in the Meridan High School roundabout this morning. It’s not something you see every day. Students are whispering; Carley Lynch’s friends are consoling her at the top of the main hall.

It’s all a bit unnerving.

When I arrive at Spanish, I find that Jamie is already there, leaning on top of her desk with her chin on her arms. She looks like she’s been crying.

“What’s the matter, J?” I ask softly as I sit down next to her.

“What do you think?” she asks, without looking at me.

I think forward to whispers about Jamie in the hallway. To a hostile courtroom. A testimony. A conviction.

I lie.

“I don’t know, Jamie, but seriously, fight or not, you can talk to me. I’m always here for you.”

Jamie looks at me with red eyes and a puffy face. The bell rings, and Ms. Garcia starts a Spanish-language movie. A few minutes in, Jamie turns to face me again.

“We got caught,” she whispers. Fresh tears well up in her eyes. “The police took him away this morning. That bitch Carley Lynch told the principal. I’m sure it’s the best news you’ve heard all day.”

I hold her gaze for a while and then whisper back.

“It’s not,” I say honestly. “I’m so sorry, Jamie.”

She looks away and doesn’t speak for a moment. Then, finally, she does.

“I don’t believe you,” Jamie whispers, so softly I barely hear. Her chin sinks back to her arms.

I remember notes telling me Jamie’s rule about sharing her future. If there will ever be a time to break the rules, it’s now.

“Jamie,” I whisper, “it’s all going to work out okay. I promise.”

Luke and I hold hands as we cut across the parking lot at lunch. There’s a strange absence of wind, and it makes me feel even more unsettled than I already do. It’s too calm for the turbulent day.

“I can’t believe they got caught,” I say to Luke as we climb into his van.

“Uh-huh,” he says with a funny look on his face.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he says.

“I feel really bad for her. I mean, I read my notes; I was pretty upset about their thing. But I can’t believe he’s going to jail. And poor Jamie. She has to go to court. And everyone is going to make fun of her. I remember it.”

“There are worse things you could remember,” Luke says.

“There are worse things I do remember,” I say back, recalling the note about my brother this morning. Right now Jamie’s mistake doesn’t seem so big.

“Good thing it’s the end of the year,” I say.

“Why?” Luke asks as we pull out of the lot.

“It’ll die down by next year,” I report. “Jamie’s going to be back to normal by then. Mostly.”

I sigh the heavy sigh of knowing what’s to come.

“It’s nice out,” Luke says, changing the subject. “Would a picnic make you feel better?”

“Yes,” I say, imagining lying in the grass, staring at him all lunch period. “Yes, I think it would.”

“Want to ask Jamie to come with us?” Luke offers.

“You’re so sweet,” I say. “That’s a great idea.” I pull out my phone and text the invitation; Jamie immediately writes back. Progress.

Home for lunch; forgot a book. Thanks though. Really. It means a lot.

I smile and text back. Anytime, J.

“Is she coming?” Luke asks.

“Nope, it’s just us.”

Ten minutes later, I’m waiting for Luke in his minivan in the grocery store parking lot while he buys food.

I wish he’d hurry up.

The springtime sun beats down on me through the windshield, and the heat and the stillness slow my breathing, relax my muscles, and muddy my focus. I’m in a daze as I watch a young mother carry her baby inside the store and come out a few minutes later with a box of diapers. A tall man and a short woman rush through the automatic doors, the man checking his watch as he walks. Two children, seemingly without supervision, run through the parking lot and into the store. I wonder where their mother is as I roll my heavy head to the left.

A face in the van window yanks me back to reality.

In a minute, I will realize that the woman is probably the mother of the two rambunctious boys I’ve just seen. In a minute, I’ll note that her van in the next space over nearly matches Luke’s, and that she was “just checking out the newer model,” as she’ll shout to me as a means of explanation. In a minute, my pulse will edge back down to resting.

But right now, I am rigid. I am terrified of the woman’s big face, flanked by hands cupped so she can see inside the tinted windows. Right now, I am irrationally locking the doors and scooting my body away so that the stranger won’t get me.

Stranger?

Get me?

Even as I think it, I know it’s crazy.

But then something falls into place.

I see myself as a little girl. My dad is across the lot, pulling a cart from the return. I’m in the backseat. A toddler is strapped in across from me. It’s my brother, Jonas. I’m playing peekaboo with him. He’s giggling.

A woman knocks on the window on my side. She seems friendly. She has a nice smile. “I’m a friend of your mommy’s,” I hear her say through the glass. “Open the door so I can say hi,” she says sweetly. “You can see my puppy,” she says, holding open a big bag with a tiny dog inside.

I love dogs, especially tiny ones.