Lessons from a Dead Girl(34)

I’m sure it’s some concoction with more alcohol than anything else, but when I take a sip, it’s just hot chocolate. Rich, perfect hot chocolate. When I swallow, the warmth travels down to my chest and stays there.

Twenty minutes later, we’re at a state park we used to go to on field trips in elementary school.

Jess and I follow Web along a well-worn path to a large pond surrounded by trees and picnic tables and a few grassy spots, though the grass now is brown and the ground is frozen. Web spreads out the blanket on the hard ground. We watch some joggers and dog walkers make their way around the pond. The wind is cold on our faces, but it feels good. After a while we lie back and try to soak up the warmth of the sun.

“I see a turtle,” Web says, squinting behind his dark sunglasses.

“That’s not a turtle; it’s a whale,” says Jess.

The sun warms my face. The clouds are like paintings slowly sweeping across the blue sky. I don’t see a turtle or a whale.

“I see a small horse chasing a bigger one,” I say.

“Where? I can’t see that!” Jess shades her eyes with her hand.

The horse clouds glide in front of the sun and cast a shadow over us and the blanket.

“Your horses just turned gray,” Web says. He stretches his arms out and pulls us closer to him. His down parka smells like outside and feels soft against my cheek.

In the distance a child screams excitedly. I sit up just as a little girl runs past our feet, followed by another girl who looks about the same age. The first one has two long braids that stick out from under a bright red hat. She reaches a tree and yells, “Safety!”

But the other one ignores her and grabs her arm. “Got you,” she says.

“No fair!” the long-haired one whines.

“Baby,” the other one says. She has short hair that’s almost bleached white. Instead of a hat, she has a fuzzy pink scarf wrapped around her neck. The ends trail behind her regally. She turns to walk away, but the long-haired one shouts, “Wait!” and runs to her. She slips her mittened hand into the other girl’s, and they walk away, swinging their joined hands up and down.

“They’re cute,” Jess says. She’s propped on her elbows, watching the girls skip away.

From behind, they look familiar. I can almost feel Leah’s hand in mine. I look down at the scar on my palm and imagine the shadow of the letters she wrote all those years ago in permanent marker. When I glance up again, the girls dash behind another set of trees.

“You two are way cuter,” Web says.

Jess nestles her head back onto his chest.

“Lie down with us, Lainey,” Web says.

They smile at me, and Web holds out his free arm. Somehow when I lean back down, my head winds up resting in his armpit. His black coat is warm from the sun and cozy against my face. But instead of feeling comforting, it’s smothering. I roll away from him and watch the trees where the girls disappeared.

“What’s wrong?” Web asks.

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? I wish I knew. Leah’s voice burns in my ears. You call this happy, Lainey? You look pretty lonely to me.

I shake my head. “Nothing,” I say. I know it’s not true. But it should be. I picture the three of us — me, Web, and Jess — going to all those parties, IMing one another, passing out together in Web’s bed, and getting up early to have breakfast and coffee and gossip about the night before. It all feels like a movie I watch but I’m not really a part of.

If Web and Jess are such good friends, why do I feel so lonely? If Web and Jess are such good friends, why can’t I tell them the truth? The questions pool in the back of my throat. I know the answers all come down to Leah. And me. And what we did. And that I just can’t bear the thought of Web and Jess knowing.

A flow of hair swings out from behind a tree and disappears. A girl giggles in the distance.

I sit up again and pull my knees to my chest. I wrap my arms around my legs.

“You sure you’re OK?” Jess asks, sitting up, too.

Web joins her, so we’re all sitting on the edge of the blanket, watching the woods beyond the pond.

Web’s shoulder touches mine.

“It’s just that …” I try. “Those girls … they remind me …” The words choke me. I swallow them and let them slide down into my chest. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

Web reaches for my hand and makes me let go of myself. His hand is warm and firm in mine. I will him not to let go. Ever.

The long-haired girl comes tearing out from behind the trees with a huge grin on her face. Her braids bounce against her puffy red coat.

The short-haired girl isn’t anywhere to be seen.

I know the trick. If the long-haired girl is winning, the other one will simply say she isn’t playing anymore. I want to tell her. I want to tell her to go find a real friend.

But who am I to give advice on friendship? If I was a real friend, I would tell the truth. I would give Web and Jess the ultimate friendship test.

I study my hand in Web’s, how his fingers curl around mine like a promise.

I open my mouth to try again, but I still can’t figure out how to start.

Web eases his hand out of my grasp as he lifts it to shade his face from the sun. His eyes meet mine. They tell me he knows I’m hiding something.