angry, she wouldn’t have been driving so fast. She wouldn’t have died. It’s my fault.” She sits as still as a porcelain figurine, her eyes glassy with tears.
I come to my senses. I have to
do
something. I have to get her out of here before she says any more. If I were a better friend I would have stopped this earlier. I stand. “Ivy, let’s go.”
The three guys stare at me. I say, “Kurt, which room can we sleep in?”
To my relief, Ivy gets up and follows, quiet and distracted, moving like she’s walking through deep water.
Kurt leads us up to one of his brothers’ rooms on the second floor. He mumbles a good night and I shut the door. There’s a small lamp on in the room and it’s cozy, so different from the cavernous living room with its dark shadows of Ivy’s story.
Ivy collapses onto the bed, grabs my hand and tugs me down. I fall next to her. “Callie,” she says, and giggles. The mood shifts. She runs a finger from the corner of my eye to the edge of my mouth. “Let me kiss you.”
“I’m …” My tongue touches my top lip.
She smiles. “You know you want to.”
Her mouth is very close. She smells of alcohol. Of pot. Those things she said, those awful things. “You’re high, and upset,” I say pulling away. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Her eyes glitter. She says, “Did you miss me?”
“You know I did.”
She closes her eyes. She’s asleep within seconds. I switch out the light, my mind a tornado. Ivy. Isabel. I’m left in a too-warm bedroom with nothing but the image of two girls flipping through the air, one of them to her death.
SEVEN
JULY 31ST
Kurt
X ander gets up from the waiting room sofa and walks off down the corridor without looking back at me. There’ll be a story about this car accident for
Flat Earth Theory,
but it’s one I could never write. I’m too close to this. I think about Callie and Ivy again, the party at my house, the things Ivy said when she was high.
There’s something about getting high that I love. I should say
loved.
I don’t do it anymore. I was aboutfourteen when I first got into all that, started being the guy at every party. I was younger than most of them, but I’ve always looked older than I am. One party sticks in my head. A bunch of seniors, drinking, some college guys. I got myself a beer and worked on getting fucked up. Two beers, three, four. A few shots. I was staggering drunk. Then I took a pill, began rushing. I was feeling great until I saw my birth-mom. At the party. Holding hands with an older guy, deep in conversation. She saw me as I saw her. The moment that changes your life. Changed mine. It was the look in her eyes—sure there was shame, guilt, anger, remorse—but the biggest emotion I read on her face was resignation. Resignation because her kid was
just like her.
Xander returns. Sits on one of the couches, tips his head back, falls asleep. Wish I could sleep.
EIGHT DAYS EARLIER
Ivy
I hear dogs barking but ignore them. Christ,there’s a banging in my head like a fist against a door as the dogs break into another frenzied round of barking. I swear, if I had a gun, I’d shoot the hairy dumbasses. Shut up, shut up, shut up. I doze off. I’m a little girl again, watching my mom. She’s covering a bruise on her cheek with concealer. Putting on red lipstick. “Men. Can’t live with ’em. Can’t live without ’em. You’ll learn.”
She holds me. Whispers to my hair, “Don’t ever leave me.”
I wake as if I’m coming up for air. Where the hell am I? Callie isn’t in the bed. The clock on the wall reads eleven. There’s Callie, shaking me, saying, “Oh my God, my parents. They’ll expect me back, like, earlier. Get up, Ivy.”
She’s hopping about, throwing on clothes. It would be funny if everything didn’t hurt. “Screw it, calm down, it’s not even noon,” I say.
She won’t even look in my direction. “Just hurry up, Ivy. Please.”
“What’s really wrong?”
“I told you, I’m late.”
I come to my senses. I have to
do
something. I have to get her out of here before she says any more. If I were a better friend I would have stopped this earlier. I stand. “Ivy, let’s go.”
The three guys stare at me. I say, “Kurt, which room can we sleep in?”
To my relief, Ivy gets up and follows, quiet and distracted, moving like she’s walking through deep water.
Kurt leads us up to one of his brothers’ rooms on the second floor. He mumbles a good night and I shut the door. There’s a small lamp on in the room and it’s cozy, so different from the cavernous living room with its dark shadows of Ivy’s story.
Ivy collapses onto the bed, grabs my hand and tugs me down. I fall next to her. “Callie,” she says, and giggles. The mood shifts. She runs a finger from the corner of my eye to the edge of my mouth. “Let me kiss you.”
“I’m …” My tongue touches my top lip.
She smiles. “You know you want to.”
Her mouth is very close. She smells of alcohol. Of pot. Those things she said, those awful things. “You’re high, and upset,” I say pulling away. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Her eyes glitter. She says, “Did you miss me?”
“You know I did.”
She closes her eyes. She’s asleep within seconds. I switch out the light, my mind a tornado. Ivy. Isabel. I’m left in a too-warm bedroom with nothing but the image of two girls flipping through the air, one of them to her death.
SEVEN
JULY 31ST
Kurt
X ander gets up from the waiting room sofa and walks off down the corridor without looking back at me. There’ll be a story about this car accident for
Flat Earth Theory,
but it’s one I could never write. I’m too close to this. I think about Callie and Ivy again, the party at my house, the things Ivy said when she was high.
There’s something about getting high that I love. I should say
loved.
I don’t do it anymore. I was aboutfourteen when I first got into all that, started being the guy at every party. I was younger than most of them, but I’ve always looked older than I am. One party sticks in my head. A bunch of seniors, drinking, some college guys. I got myself a beer and worked on getting fucked up. Two beers, three, four. A few shots. I was staggering drunk. Then I took a pill, began rushing. I was feeling great until I saw my birth-mom. At the party. Holding hands with an older guy, deep in conversation. She saw me as I saw her. The moment that changes your life. Changed mine. It was the look in her eyes—sure there was shame, guilt, anger, remorse—but the biggest emotion I read on her face was resignation. Resignation because her kid was
just like her.
Xander returns. Sits on one of the couches, tips his head back, falls asleep. Wish I could sleep.
EIGHT DAYS EARLIER
Ivy
I hear dogs barking but ignore them. Christ,there’s a banging in my head like a fist against a door as the dogs break into another frenzied round of barking. I swear, if I had a gun, I’d shoot the hairy dumbasses. Shut up, shut up, shut up. I doze off. I’m a little girl again, watching my mom. She’s covering a bruise on her cheek with concealer. Putting on red lipstick. “Men. Can’t live with ’em. Can’t live without ’em. You’ll learn.”
She holds me. Whispers to my hair, “Don’t ever leave me.”
I wake as if I’m coming up for air. Where the hell am I? Callie isn’t in the bed. The clock on the wall reads eleven. There’s Callie, shaking me, saying, “Oh my God, my parents. They’ll expect me back, like, earlier. Get up, Ivy.”
She’s hopping about, throwing on clothes. It would be funny if everything didn’t hurt. “Screw it, calm down, it’s not even noon,” I say.
She won’t even look in my direction. “Just hurry up, Ivy. Please.”
“What’s really wrong?”
“I told you, I’m late.”
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