Lessons from a Dead Girl(21)

I walk out of the locker room, out of the school parking lot, and away. Nobody tries to stop me.

It’s cold and windy outside. The sidewalks seem empty, even though they aren’t. I walk looking down at the pavement in front of me.

The cold stings inside my ears and makes my head pound. I walk faster, finally ending up downtown, in front of the glass door of my parents’ antique store.

I stand outside looking in. My father is talking to a customer. They can’t see me out here in the dark.

I hold my hands in fists inside my jacket pockets. The air is cold and damp-feeling. But I can’t go inside. I’m supposed to be at practice. I’m supposed to be happy Leah is gone and out of my life. But I can’t stop thinking about the last time I saw her, pressing that knife to her wrist. Asking me if I would care. Telling me I passed a test I didn’t even know I was taking.

The woman shopper inside the store turns toward the door. I step aside quickly. The tiny customer-warning bell jingles as the door closes behind her. Her heels click steadily down the sidewalk as she walks away.

The store is quiet. I watch my father smooth his hand over a polished table. Then he walks to the back of the store, and I can’t see him anymore. When he turns out the store light, I see my reflection in the glass. It startles and sickens me at the same time.

I turn around and lean against the cold store window.

Leah tried to kill herself.

Leah tried to die.

I try to remind myself of all the mean things she’s done to me, but in the end it doesn’t matter. With Leah, it never did. Even from the very beginning. No matter how much she hurt me, I always came back. All she had to do was reach for my hand and pull.

I feel what I think is an emptiness in my stomach. I turn back toward the store window again, but as I see my pale reflection and the darkness behind me, I realize that what I’ve really been feeling is loneliness.

I’m crying when my father puts his hand on my shoulder.

“Laine, honey. What are you doing here?”

It’s the first time since I was really little that I’ve cried out loud. He puts his arms around me and squeezes me into his down parka. It smells like wood polish, and I cry on it. My hands are still shoved in my pockets, and with his arms around me, they’re stuck there. So I just stand and let him hug me. I’m glad he doesn’t ask what’s wrong. He seems to understand somehow that I don’t want him to. And, anyway, where on earth would I begin?

When I can’t cry any more, we drive home. I can’t eat, even though my mother tries to make me. My father gives her a look that tells her to leave me alone.

I go to bed and put the covers over my head. I think back to that night when Leah came over for the last time. How she looked at me and Christi as she held the knife to her wrist, like we were pathetic losers. How she laughed at us. For a second, I had wished she would just do it — plunge the knife in and get out of my life. But the feeling vanished when I heard the sound of the car horn and the stranger’s angry voice and I watched Leah disappear into the night.

Before I know it, it’s morning, and I have to go back to school and face all those girls who think they know Leah. Who hate her because they don’t understand.

I spend the following day at school walking from class to class feeling numb and alone. I rub the scar on the inside of my palm, trying to remember the details of that night. Was Leah really warning us? Was that supposed to be her cry for help?

When I get home from school, I decide to call her.

Mrs. Greene answers the phone.

“What a surprise, Lainey!” she says in her high-pitched voice. “So good to hear your voice. We’ve missed you!”

While I wait for her to get Leah, panic slowly creeps into my chest. What do I say? I heard you tried to kill yourself, and I’m calling to find out if it’s true?

“Hey, Laine,” Leah says.

I’m surprised to feel glad to hear her voice.

“Hi,” I say.

There’s a long pause. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“What’s up?” she finally asks. “Decide to miss me?”

“Um. Well. Of course I miss you,” I lie.

“Of course?”

I should hang up.

“I was just calling to see — to see if you’re OK.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

I should’ve known she wouldn’t make this easy.

“Um. Well. I heard this rumor.”

“A rumor?” she says in mock surprise. “About me? That’s shocking.”

“Yeah. Well. I guess it was only a rumor.”

Because you sound like your usual old self.

“What was it?”

“Oh. Nothing. It was dumb.”

“What was it?” she says, more demandingly. “Let me guess. I got pregnant?”

“No.”

“I got kicked out of school?”

“No.”

“I had an affair with one of the teachers? I got caught using drugs?”

“No. It wasn’t any of those things.”

Please stop.

“Then what? I’ve heard them all, Lainey. You can’t surprise me.”

Fine.

“They said you tried to kill yourself.”

I listen to her breathe. I wait. I count her breaths. Six, seven, eight — I can’t take it anymore.