Open House(68)

It’s Josie.

I feel her hands on my shoulders. “Oh, no, no, oh no,” she says, and then she takes her hands off me, and I feel colder without her pressing against me. I hear the dull beeping sounds her phone makes as she tries to call someone. “Hello? Chris? Are you there?” But I know her phone won’t work, not all the way down here. She puts her hands on my shoulders again and squeezes. “Wait here, Emma,” she says, and then she swears beneath her breath. I hear her hands rifling through the dirt beside me. I open my eyes to see her pick something up, and I’m pretty sure it’s the pregnancy test that must have fallen from my jacket. She pockets it, and I open my mouth to tell her that she should tell them, whomever she calls for help, that I’m pregnant, but I can’t seem to speak. “Just wait for me, Emma,” she says. “Just hang on, okay? I’m going to find my brother. Someone will have service up there; we’re going to get you help.”

I wait, I do. At least I try to. Minutes seem to pass, and sometimes I swear I’m with Haley in one of our bedrooms, curled up against the pillows and talking, but other times I know exactly where I am: at the bottom of the gorge with every bone in my body broken. Finally I hear Josie’s voice, and I’m pretty sure it’s real, because I hear her telling someone the truth: “I pushed her! She’s down there! Help her!”

I hear a male voice calling my name, but I can’t make it out well enough to know who. I try so hard to wait, but it’s so cold, and I’m so tired. I hear the voice call out again, and I realize it’s Noah.

Noah, Josie. My friends. Thank God. Noah’s getting closer, I can hear him calling, “Emma!” and then he’s finally beside me, his hands at my neck, trying to find a pulse. I use every ounce of strength to open my eyes, and when I do, I see his face hovering over mine, his features blurring. I can hear Josie crying, but she sounds so far away, and I can’t see her.

“I’m alive,” I manage to tell him, so grateful to be able to say the words, and for the truth of them.

“You’re alive,” he whispers to me, and I can’t make out the expression on his face, but I think he’s smiling. I can’t keep my eyes open anymore—I’m too tired. I shut them, feeling a little warmer with him there beside me. Josie’s crying gets louder; she must be coming closer. Noah uses his hands to roll me over, and I don’t know why he would do that when it’s too painful and there’s no way he should be moving me right now. I try to let out a cry of protest but nothing comes.

“Is she okay?” Josie shrieks, sobbing.

Noah doesn’t say anything at first, and Josie cries even harder. An animal calls out in the distance. I’m pretty sure I can hear strains of music from the party, and I just pray someone there has service and can call an ambulance. All I want is to go home.

“She’s dead,” Noah says.

His voice is as cold as ice, and it takes me a beat to process what he’s just said. My head is throbbing against the ground, and I try to open my mouth to speak, but I can’t. Tears start, burning my eyes. I make a small sound, but Josie’s wailing so loud there’s no way she can hear me.

“Josie,” I whisper, but the word doesn’t make it past the cold dirt near my lips.

“Go back to the party, Josie,” Noah says. “Wait for me there. Tell no one; do you understand me?”

“What?” Josie says, still hysterically crying. “Shouldn’t we . . .”

“Shouldn’t we what? Call the cops? Do you want to spend the rest of your life in jail? You killed her.”

There’s only silence now. I try to lift my hand, but Noah’s knee is pressing against it. And then Noah shouts, “Go!” and I hear Josie’s footsteps pound the ground, her sobs shrinking.

Noah turns me back around, his hands going beneath my arms. Now that my mouth isn’t pressed against the ground, I try to speak. “I’m alive, Noah, I’m alive,” I whisper.

“I know, Emma,” he says, dragging me over the ground, toward the sounds of the rushing river. “But wouldn’t it be so much easier if you weren’t?”





FIFTY-SIX

Haley

Snow fell again that afternoon, and Haley waited for the feeling of fury as she followed her father through the woods toward the cliff where Emma had fallen. Her hands were clenched and ready to tap her thighs, but the snow was pristine, the sky was white, and the world seemed so peaceful and washed clean that she didn’t feel the need to tap, not even when her father’s shoulders started shaking. Her mother was crying, too, but Haley didn’t turn around to look. She didn’t want to intrude. It was enough to be here together.

Dean brought up the rear of their procession. All four of them walked single file along the trail, no one speaking. Her dad pushed away the spindly branches and held them aside so his family could pass. As their boots crunched the snow, Haley thought about the Yarrow student who’d found Emma’s bracelet and set into motion the revelation of the truth about her death. Rappaport had told Haley his name, Oscar Mendez, and she’d looked him up, memorizing his face so if she saw him on campus, she could stop him and talk to him. But what could she even say? Thank you seemed too paltry for everything his discovery had done for her and her family.

Birds called overhead, and Haley looked up to see sparrows flitting from branch to branch. The trail grew even more winding and then opened up to a small clearing. It was one of the highest points above the gorge, and based on where the bracelet was found, it was the cops’ best guess as to the place from where Emma had fallen. When Haley took in the small clearing and the ledge above the water, she felt sure they were right. Her dad stopped, but Haley took a few steps closer to the edge, and her mom followed. Dean hung back. Haley exhaled, peering down into the steep gorge and out to the dark river. Her mother let out a small cry.