Rivals

Rivals Page 17

The music was the only thing that could save Maggie. It was like a prism, taking all of her anger and her doubts, her fears and frustrations -

your friends aren't answering your texts

they won't let you play the game you love

you hurt grandma

you killed dad

- gathering them up and bringing them together, like different colors combining to form a single ray of pure white, narrowing down all the chaos and bewilderment into one stream of energy she could release by screaming along with the lyrics. It didn't matter much what kind of music it might be, punk, metal, industrial, techno, as long as it was fast and loud and dark, storm winds driving through her, sweeping away everything that didn't make sense.

The car radio was loud enough. The local college station played enough metal to keep her sane. She drove through town, barely paying attention to the road, singing at the top of her voice and pounding on the steering wheel to the beat.

When she arrived at her destination she stopped the car but she just sat there for a long time, howling out her aggro, until another set of speed metal was done. When the station broke for commercials she threw her head back against the headrest and pushed her fingers through her hair.

When she reached for the ignition key she saw she'd battered the steering wheel all out of shape. She was surprised she hadn't accidentally released the airbag. Whatever. She could just bend it back to normal again later. She grabbed the keys and pushed herself out of the car, up the walk to Mandy's door. She rang the bell and stood there drumming one foot on the porch, craning her head around to watch everything that moved on the street.

Eventually, finally, Mandy opened the door and looked out. Mandy Hunt was the closest thing Maggie had to a BFF. Both of them would have gagged to hear that term applied to them but they had a real connection. A bond. They'd been together since way back, back when they still thought it was cute their names were so similar.

"You'd better come in," Mandy said, and pulled Maggie inside. The house was big and airy and sterile, full of tasteful ornamentation and white paint and austere leather furniture. The house was spotlessly clean and it looked like no one had ever lived there. Mandy's parents had some money, enough that even Jill Hennessey treated Mandy with a certain level of respect.

Without a word Mandy lead her upstairs, into the bedroom Maggie had slept in many times back when they were both young enough for sleepovers. The wallpaper still had a pattern of Palominos galloping past desert mesas but in recent years Mandy and her friends had taken turns cutting out pictures of celebrities from magazines and pasting them on the horses as if they were riding them while showing off their engagement rings, their trophy spouses, their fashion accessory babies.

"Why are you wearing that?" Mandy asked, after she'd closed and locked the door. "Did you just come from practice?"

Maggie looked down at herself. She was still wearing her field hockey uniform. She'd been so upset about being kicked off the team that she hadn't thought to change. "They won't let me play," she said. "God! What a stupid thing to get upset about, right? But it just totally triggered me."

"You're one of their best players," Mandy said. "How is that fair? Remember last year, you were like, what, runner up for MVP? And the coach said - "

"We were supposed to have lunch," Maggie said. "We made a plan."

"Yeah," Mandy said, reaching for the pearl necklace she wore. She held it out away from her throat and twisted it nervously. "I guess we did. Well, there's a funny story about that - "

"Tell me your story later. After you have time to make one up," Maggie said, diving onto Mandy's bed. "I didn't come here to make you feel bad. I came here because there's nobody else in the world who can help me right now. I'm in trouble, M. I've got the police after me. Maybe the FBI."

"I see," Mandy said.

"I'm not crazy. You know what's been going on with me. What happened to me out in the desert. You think the government doesn't want to know more? You think they're not looking right now to find out how Brent and I survived when my dad died? They would put me in a lab if they could. And I may just have given them the excuse they needed. I can't go home again. Do you - do you have a top I could borrow, or something? I can't even go back to get my clothes."

"Of course," Mandy said, because that was something she could handle. She went to her dresser and started pulling out tank tops and sweaters. Maggie stared at the clothes as they piled up on the bed, wondering how she could possibly say what she was going to say next.

"A while back," she began, "you said you wanted to kill yourself. You even showed me all the pills you had saved up."

Mandy stopped with her back to Maggie. Stopped as if she'd forgotten how to move. "They were just - aspirin. They wouldn't have even given me a headache. And you know I got into therapy after that. You're the only one who knows that, except for my family."

"Yes. And I don't want to open up old wounds. Really."

Mandy's shoulders lifted and then fell again. Was she crying? "I assume you have some reason to bring it up, though."

"Yeah. This one's nice," she said, holding up a black halter top with a wide teal stripe running down the middle. "It matches my skirt, too." It was an attempt to get Mandy to turn around, to look at her, but it didn't work. "Back then. When you told me. Do you remember what I said?"

"Yes. 'Don't do it yet. If you absolutely have to, come find me. We'll run away to Europe together instead.' Just like that."

"I would have done it, too. I would have taken you anywhere, rather than see you destroy yourself. Now I'm asking - "

Mandy turned around then and Maggie saw there were definitely tears in her eyes. She didn't look angry, though, or sorry. She looked terrified. "When was the last time we hung out?" she asked.

"What?"

Mandy ran the back of her hand across her nose. "When was the last time we went to a party together? When was the last time we sat down and watched a DVD? Or talked about boys? Or went shopping at the mall? When was the last time you asked me how I was doing? When, Maggie?"

Maggie's brain spun around in her head. "I know I've been kind of distant, lately, but - "

"It was more than a year ago! You turned into something weird after your Mom died. You deserted me, even though I could have been such a good friend to you, even though I wanted to help you through your grief, you just deserted me. And now you come here, today, less than a month before Homecoming and you want me to run away with you? Just like that?"

"It'll be just like old times. M and M against the world."

"I won't do it. I just won't. I know I owe you. I know you need me right now. But I won't do it. Give me that!" Mandy grabbed the halter top out of Maggie's hands and threw it behind her. "I can't do it. I'm not strong enough. I've already been accepted at Northwestern for next year! I can't be homeless. I can't be broke all the time. I don't have superpowers like you."

Maggie stood up and took a step toward her friend. She just wanted to hug her, to tell her she understood, that it was really okay - anything to get her to stop crying, even lies. Like, I'll be fine on my own, or, I'm sorry, it wasn't fair even to ask.

But when she got close enough to touch Mandy shrank away from her. Mandy's eyes went very wide as she backed right into her bureau and knocked a set of silver hairbrushes to the floor.

"Please don't hurt me," she said, in a very small voice.