The Quarry Girls(36)

I hadn’t known I’d like it so much, playing in front of people.

The fair wouldn’t really start humming for another hour, but there were already lots of people, many of whom seemed to have skipped a home-cooked meal in favor of fries and pizza. I supposed it wasn’t any worse than the TV dinners Junie and I had eaten. I waited in line for an icy Coke and then walked over to the midway, trying hard to look casual. There were a handful of people playing the games but no line in front of the ring toss. No one working it, either.

I slurped my drink and wandered one row over, pretending to be curious about the rubber-duck game that won you a live goldfish floating in a bag of water if you chose the correct duck. I kept glancing back at the ring toss, trying not to be obvious. When I got nudged by some kids pushing for a better look at the droopy-looking bagged fish, I moved on, making like I was interested in Skee-Ball and then the milk-bottle knockdown and then Bust a Balloon. I reached the end of the row and started walking up the other, still spotting no movement at the ring toss game.

“You looking for me, little girl?”

My skin lifted off my body as I turned toward the Hoop Shoot booth. It was the same man I’d nearly biked over earlier, the ring toss man, the scruffy Abe Lincoln who Junie had seen with Brenda and then Maureen. He was lurking in the shadow of the Hoop Shoot machine, smoking. His eyes were so cold, so hard, that they stopped me in my tracks.

Are you Theodore Godo? I wanted to ask. Did you take Maureen?

The man patted his front pocket, like he had something in there for me, and then slipped through a curtain in the back.

“Heather! Are you out here alone?”

I jumped away from the booth, guilty as a bandit.

Jerome Nillson was striding across the field toward me, his face unreadable, his body wide with power. I could hear his steps talking: This fair is mine, this town is mine, this fair is mine, this town is mine. I pictured him in that basement with Maureen and my breath locked up.

I ran away from him, out of the fair, tossed the rest of my Coke in the nearest trash, unlocked my bike with trembling hands, and raced home.





CHAPTER 20


“It’s too hot for a dress,” Junie complained, tugging at her lace collar.

She wasn’t wrong. Not yet 9:30 a.m. and the sun was already melting our Sunday best right into our flesh. Mom made it to church with us about every fourth Sunday. Today wasn’t one of those times. Dad was talking to Father Adolph on the church steps while Junie and I fought over the little shade the open door offered. It’d be rude to enter the building without Dad.

A whistle drew my attention. Brenda and Claude were standing beneath the cool umbrella of the churchyard oak tree. Half of it shaded the cemetery, the other half the living.

“Be right back,” I told Junie. “If Dad gets done early, tell him I’ll meet you inside.”

“No fair!” she said, but I was already halfway down the stairs.

“Hey,” I said. The leaves dappled their faces but could not hide the worry.

“Brenda told me about Maureen,” Claude said. He looked so grown-up in his black slacks, button-down shirt ironed crisp, and blue tie. “Said she didn’t make it to the quarry party after your show.”

My scalp grew tight at the mention of the party. I’d probably see Anton today for the first time since. I was scrubbed head to toe, hair brushed clean and thick over my ears, wearing my best eyelet sundress, but I suddenly felt dirty. What would Claude think of me if he found out what I’d done? I couldn’t believe I’d thought he’d laugh about it.

“Junie said she spotted Maureen at the ring toss booth after we left,” I said, looking to Brenda for confirmation. “I saw the same guy, the ring toss guy, in the haunted part of the neighborhood yesterday.”

Brenda’s eyes slid away. “The one with the Abraham Lincoln beard? I bought pot from him.”

“Think he was selling to Maureen, too?” Claude asked.

Brenda shrugged and began rubbing one thumb with another. “Maybe.”

Claude furrowed his brow. “Do the cops still think Maureen ran away?”

He didn’t know what we’d seen her doing in that basement, didn’t know that Sheriff Nillson had been there. Brenda and I exchanged a look.

“That’s what he said yesterday,” Brenda said, tipping her head toward the church.

I turned to see Jerome Nillson entering. He wore a tan suit with a gray tie. It appeared tight at the shoulders. I realized how little I knew about him. He lived in Pantown, and he was the law. That had been enough. I hadn’t ever noticed a wedding ring on his hand, and I’d never had a reason to think about his personal life.

It wouldn’t have occurred to me in a million years that it would involve one of my closest friends. Had she thought she was dating Sheriff Nillson?

That’s when I got the idea to sneak into Maureen’s room.

I would read her diary.



My mind wandered as I went through the motions of Catholic mass, kneeling, praying, and also with you–ing. Mrs. Hansen sat three rows in front of us, in the same pew as Jerome Nillson but on the other end. I hadn’t yet spotted Ant or his family, which proved (to me, anyhow) that God could work miracles.

I decided I’d tell Mrs. Hansen that I’d forgotten something in Maureen’s room. It wasn’t a lie, exactly—I had once forgotten a shirt there—but it was enough of a fudge that I’d wait until we were outside of church to tell her. I wasn’t sure where Maureen kept her diary, didn’t even know for a fact that she had one, but if she did, it might tell us why she’d been in that basement and where she was now.