The Last Girl
Laura A. Ellison
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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*****
Part One–FriendsRing
Chapter One
“Go ahead,” the boy’s father said. “Touch her...”
The boy, no older than five, was standing knee-deep in the icy cold, brackish river water, which was soaking through his jeans, making him shiver. His father stood behind him, leather jacket zipped up, long hair whipping in the breeze.
The April afternoon was gray, the clouds fat with rain. The boy’s mother had returned to work after staying home for weeks, her grief over the baby subsiding. The boy had grown used to her being around, he felt safe in her presence. With his father, he was always afraid, because the man was unpredictable and selfish. Sometimes, he would be gone for days, and the boy would go with his mother to his grandmother’s house. The boy would play with her poodles in the yard and color in her old coloring books as she crocheted. She would pick him up from school, her warm presence as steady as a rock. Then his father would return, and the boy and his mother would go back to the other house, of coldness and silence.
The boy looked down at the face in the water, his father’s hand at his shoulder. The boy bent over and looked closer at the dark hair, crusted with mud and brown leaves, the lips bloated, the eyes swollen shut. She was naked, turned on her side, one arm covering her breast, the curve of her hip obscured by branches.
He took a step back, but his father‘s grip tightened.
“Touch her. Don’t be afraid.”
The boy knew that if he touched the dead white skin, his father would let him leave. They could go home or to the club-house, where Rhonda, Dirk’s old lady, would make him a hot chocolate.
The tips of his fingers dipped into the water, the cold going up his arm, through his coat. He quickly brushed his fingers against the doughy flesh, then he pulled his fingers away as if burned.
His father laughed; the same husky, almost choking, sound he made when he was smoking and drinking at the club-house. Sometimes, his dark eyes would get wet with laughing tears, the once-handsome face aging hard, but all of the brothers were wild, and the boy knew to be careful around them.
He felt nothing but relief when his father let go of his shoulder. “Come on; let’s go to the club-house. But don’t tell any of them what I showed you out here. Got it?”
The boy did not miss the tone in his father’s voice. “I won’t tell anyone, Dad.”
*****
The blaring of the alarm clock yanked Sonya Neslund out of a deep sleep. In minutes, she would forget her dream of walking through the hallways of Marine General Hospital’s Cancer Center, the white walls and gray floors turning into a maze as she called for her mother, Carolyn.
She opened her eyes, realizing that she was sleeping in the attic at her Uncle Bill’s house.
Her new bedroom.
Sonya slammed the button on the clock. She was slow in the mornings, and her father, Aron, made her set the alarm an hour before she was to go to her bus stop.
He’s going to make sure I never miss a day, she thought.
She put her terry-cloth robe on over her summer nightgown, an extra-large T-shirt. She took the short ladder downstairs to the bathroom.
After her shower, she blow-dried her thick, orange-red hair, keeping it loose as she dressed in new jeans and a gray T-shirt with navy-blue jersey sleeves. She wore no makeup on her fair, freckled skin or around her green eyes, the lashes almost pale.
She entered the kitchen, but Aron and Bill were nowhere in sight. Bill’s dog Helga was also gone. Sonya approached the counter and found the yellow Post-It note:
‘Went out to find B. Go out to bus stop at seven-thirty.”
Aron did not sign the note, but Sonya was no stranger to these messages; Bill had wandered off in the night before, Helga following him. Sonya had even joined in the search, the neighbors well aware that someone with Alzheimer’s disease lived on their block.
Sonya still had fifteen minutes, so she ate a piece of toast, unenthusiastic about her first day of school.
She knew no kids at East Marine High School; a different district, her friends from Stark Junior High would be going on to Oakwood High School. When Sonya moved in with her father and Bill, she knew she would be going to East Marine. She would be a new kid in her freshman class.
Sonya grabbed her backpack, deciding to go out early.
*****
She could see the yellow school bus in the distance as she stood at the end of the driveway.
The morning was humid but cool. A few leaves were changing color already, birds chirping inside the maple tree.
Sonya slid the backpack off her shoulder, a few notebooks, pens and pencils, laptop, and cell phone inside.
She looked down the street, certain this was her bus. She checked her watch. Seven forty-five. Classes would start right at eight.
She was going to be late.
Her suspicions were confirmed when the bus turned the corner, completely ignoring her.
The school was miles away; even if she caught a ride, she would be late. She could imagine the look on Aron’s face. He was already disgusted with her about last year, when she almost flunked, her grades dropping as her mother fought the lung cancer that would take her life by April.
Aron had been a teacher for over ten years by the time Sonya was born, and education was how he had earned a living in the U.S. after moving from the Netherlands by way of Canada, where he attended college in Ontario.
“The only reason you passed,” he said, “was because your teachers felt sorry for you, and so did Cal. But you won’t get away with that living with me.”
Sonya went back into the house. She pulled out her cell phone, knowing she should call her father. Instead, she decided to wait awhile.
*****
“What are you doing here?” Aron asked.
“The bus never came.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
Bill and his Helga, the white and brown Boxer, had followed Aron into the house, Bill wearing the same tired, annoyed expression he always showed after wandering off. He was still in his pajamas, the brown fabric bringing out the pale blue of his eyes, his thick head of white hair sticking up, a layer of growth on his face.
Sonya did not answer her father, and Bill raised his eyebrows. Aron shook his head, the auburn hair also messy. His green gaze, so much like Sonya’s, along with his wide forehead, hooked nose, and strong jaw, made more than one woman think the Neslund brothers were the most handsome men in the area.
“Sonya,” Aron began, “why couldn’t—”
She jumped from the chair, yanking her backpack from the table. “Cal used to drive me to my first day every year! Not that you’d know—”
“Get in the truck.”
“I’d rather walk!”
“I’ll go with you,” Bill said.
“I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” Aron replied.
“Okay. I’ll be all right.”
Aron reached over, opening the tiny window in the medication organizer on the counter. “Take your meds.”
*****
The ride was silent and cold, Sonya’s face turned towards the window as she tried to gulp down the lump in her throat. Aron drove as fast as he could, slowing down when he reached the parking lot of East Marine High School, a sprawling one-story building constructed in the 1960s. The buses were gone, everyone inside.
Sonya exited the truck, slamming the door shut without looking at her father.
He saw her walk away, her head down. He noticed the sun shining on her red hair, reminding him of Carolyn for a moment. In spite of himself, he smiled. “Have a good day!”
Sonya ignored him, opening the front door.
*****
She found her home room, trying not to hear the giggles or see the finger pointing, as Mrs. Morrison handed her some paperwork. Sonya sat at a long table, not making eye contact, the hard look on her face was enough to keep anyone from speaking to her.
The wait was long before Sonya and the other students were handed their schedules. She could feel her mood lift, her gaze moving from the refrigerator and ovens, drifting to the magazine picture cut-outs of food stapled to the walls against construction paper. However, no smiling faces greeted her within the shaggy or choppy haircuts. There were also girls who wore tight buns, as if they were gymnasts or ballerinas, along with a few black-haired Goths, wearing nose-rings and pale makeup against red lipstick. A junior ballerina was chewing gum, popping pink bubbles against her pink lip gloss. She even wore a pink sweater. One boy, whose bloodshot eyes made him look stoned, brushed the dust off his new sneakers. Another boy kept staring past Sonya, then would look to the girl in the pink sweater, as if he wanted her opinion.
“When I get home, I’m going to hang myself.”
Sonya thought the words were coming from a girl next to her. She turned and took in the blond-haired boy, his hair cut short above the ears and parted to the side, the bangs covering the forehead. His features were small, blue eyes impish. He wore a loose red neckerchief with a white T-shirt, sporting Boy George and Culture Club in black, red, blue. His jeans and sneakers looked new.
He was wearing red nail polish.
“Cheer up,” he said. “Half of them won’t be around for graduation day.”
“Did you go to the middle school?” Sonya asked.
“Yes, I’m sorry to say.”
“I went to Stark Junior High.”
“I went there for part of sixth grade. My name is Bobby Chambers.”
“I’m Sonya Neslund.”
Bobby frowned as he took in each of his classes on the sheet of paper. “Are you taking algebra in the morning, Sonya?”
“Yes. First period.”
He rose from his chair. “Then let’s go meet Mr. Yates.”
*****
“Bobby! Wait a minute!”
In the crush of students in the hallway, gray locker doors slamming shut, Sonya could barely hear one single voice, but Bobby turned around. “Hey, Princess.”
Sonya could feel the girl come up behind her, long blonde locks brushing against her arm.
“Sonya Neslund,” Bobby said, “this is Piper Jones.”
The first thing Sonya noticed was how closely Piper and Bobby resembled each other; they could be brother and sister, except for Piper’s impressive height.
Piper Jones was almost five feet, eight inches tall. A healthy tan and blue eyes complemented her hair and blue sleeveless T-shirt and jeans, red pumps on her feet. She wore a silver heart-shaped locket and diamond studs in her earlobes. Her big smile and high cheekbones were highlighted by only a little makeup. She was carrying a red Chanel bag with her backpack in a matching shade.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Bobby asked.
Piper playfully smacked him on the arm with the red bag. “Don’t let him fool you, Sonya. He loses his charm by lunch.”
Bobby straightened his kerchief. “I never lose my charm. Where are the other future Desperate Housewives?”
Piper waved her hand. “All around. I spoke to Kelly and Anna and Courtney—”
“Piper!”
A girl with brown hair in a ponytail, wearing a red and gray argyle sweater twisted through the crowd. “Are you going to History?”
“No. Biology.”
“So is Anna. Have you seen Jessica? They all Tweeted me but her.”
“Haven’t seen her.”
“Hi, Bobby.”
“Hi. This is Sonya. Sonya, Kelly Watkins.”
“Hi, Kelly.”
Kelly nodded a hello, but kept her eyes on Piper. “No one I know is in my classes.”
“Are you in Honors English?”
“No. General.”
“I think Courtney is in General.” Piper turned to Bobby. “I gotta find the lab. See ya, Kell. Nice meeting you, Sonya.”
Piper turned left down the hallway, and Sonya continued to follow Bobby.
“Kelly is one of those types who would die if she had to eat her lunch alone,” Bobby said.
“Does Piper have a lot of friends?”
“Yes, she does, although she was the new kid at the middle school last year. She used to go to the Crandall Academy in North Marine.” Sonya was not going to ask, but Bobby answered the question. “She got expelled.”
“Why?”
“I guess they don’t like girl-on-girl at Crandall.”
Sonya stopped just steps from Mr. Yates’s classroom door. “Piper is gay?”
“Proud, but not out.”
“Oh.”
“Who wants to be gay in high school, right?”
Sonya shrugged. “I can understand—”
“Oh, well, it’s not like I could hide it. By the seventh grade, everyone knew I was the gay kid.”
“I don’t care what everyone thinks.”
“Can’t make friends that way.”
“Then why are you talking to me?”
“I like the non-conformist types.”
She opened the door, excited voices blaring from the classroom. “Then you’re going to love me.”
*****
Jessica Holden had also been running late that morning, but she knew where to wait for the bus, along with a few other students meeting at the end of her block.
She was in the kitchen, fully dressed, drinking orange juice when the glass slipped from her fingers, juice splashing on her white, short-sleeved blouse. With only a few minutes to change, she grabbed a T-shirt off her bed. Jess was still tucking it into the waistband of her jeans as she ran out the front door.
The driveway was short, but trees surrounded the ranch-style house, leading to the road. Jess would have walked faster, but she was wearing the wrong shoes. She heard Piper was going to wear red pumps, so she wore the same.
The driveway was not paved, and the pumps’ heels dug into the ground with each step, Jess regretting her choice as the back of the shoes rubbed against her bare heels.
I should have worn socks, she thought. Now I’ll have blisters.
Jess was half-way down the drive when she heard footsteps in the trees behind her, to her right. She continued to walk, putting more urgency in her steps. She was almost past the trees when she was tackled to the side and knocked to the ground.
She landed on her back, his knee pinning her down at the chest. Jess took in the black sweatshirt and old jeans and boots, a black ski mask covering the face and head.
His build was slight, but Jess felt like a turtle on its shell as she tried to wiggle away. He pressed his other knee into her right elbow, one hand digging into her thick brown hair, keeping her head in place.
Jess had a few seconds to realize she was not breathing, and she needed to calm down to think. Her left hand was free, and she grabbed at him, but she felt the cold, sharp blade slice into the flesh of her inner arm below the wrist.
Her screams began as squeals, his hand sliding from her hair, over her nose, covering her mouth.
The blade found her right cheek, then the left. Deep, quick slashes, then over the bridge of the nose and up to the forehead, a clumsy horizontal line going into her scalp.
Jess continued to squeal and wiggle, blood soaking from between his fingers to her lips and mouth. The metallic taste spread over her tongue, and she stopped moving.
The blade left her face, his right hand pulling back. He looked down at her for a moment, her brown eyes wide with fear, focused only on him. She tried to suck air between his fingers and the blood.
He was slow getting off of her; one knee, then the next. She stayed still, hoping he would go away.
He ran back into the trees seconds later, Jess only aware of her breathing and the pale blue sky. She was in shock, the cuts on her face and arm numb until later, although some blood remained in her mouth.
The red shoes were still on her feet, the backpack underneath her. Like most students at East Marine, she would not be allowed to use her cell phone on campus, but could carry it with her.
She heard the ringtone, Culture Club’s ‘Karma Chameleon,‘ although she made no move to get the phone out of her backpack.
The song was half-way through (every day is like survival...) until Jess thought about getting off the ground. She had no choice; one of her friends could be calling, someone would want to know why she did not make it to school.
“...red, gold, and green. Red, gold, and green...”
She only chose that song because Bobby already had “I’ll Tumble 4 Ya” on his phone. She would have preferred something by Rihanna or Lady Gaga.
I’m going to change it, she thought.
The phone stopped. She turned her head to the side to spit out some blood, and she felt the first stinging sensation of pain in her cheek. Later, she would not be able to open her mouth to talk or eat without the cuts sending pain all over her face, the nerve endings needing weeks to heal.
The scars would take years.
No one came looking for Jess right away. The school did not reach her mother at work until hours later. By then, Jess had called 9-1-1 on her own. When the police found her, she was sobbing, sitting up in the driveway, rocking herself back and forth. The blood had dripped from the slashes, soaking into her clothes and hair. She had taken off her red shoes, placed next to her backpack.
Chapter Two
Sonya managed to get on the right bus home, which was driven by a Mr. Wells, who was close to retirement. During the route, Sonya received a tour of the several blocks around her neighborhood, situated near busy Farm Road, also known as M-32.
Marine, a city of almost one hundred and seventy thousand, sprawled across the westernmost edge of the Lake Michigan shoreline. The low standard of life made natives move away; a job at McDonald’s or Wal-Mart could not support a family, so only some sense of guilt or obligation could make the young stay. Bill, who was forced into retirement because of the Alzheimer’s, had worked in Maintenance at Michigan Paper Products for almost thirty years, but good wages were a thing of the past for most Mariners, the remaining manufacturing jobs paying less than nine dollars an hour.
Aron, following his divorce from Carolyn, had left teaching and took a job as a loan offficer at a bank in Falls River, a city twice the size of Marine, almost forty miles away. Sonya would see her father every other weekend, and he would take her to Bill’s house instead of his apartment, although there were few children her age, so Aron or Bill would take her shopping or to a movie, returning Sonya to her mother’s house by Sunday afternoon so Aron could drive back to Falls River. If he worked overtime or the weather was icy in winter, Sonya would not see him that weekend.
He always paid his child support on time.
Sonya’s stepfather Cal managed to fill in the blanks, and Sonya missed him more than she thought she would.
My whole life is different now, she thought. All I can do is go along.
She regretted becoming angry that morning, but Aron never had much patience with her. She sometimes felt as if she was an unwelcome reminder of his failed marriage to her mother. If she was not around, he could get on with his life, and so could she.
But where is my life? she thought. If I couldn’t live with Cal, I have to live with Dad.
Aron lost his job last February. By this time, Bill was retiring and needed someone to help him. Divorced for years, Bill had lived alone. Aron was collecting unemployment checks. He let the lease go on his apartment and moved in with his brother. A few months later, Carolyn passed away, and Cal sent Sonya to live with Aron and Bill.
The bus passed the used car dealerships, the lots empty, along with the gas station/convenience stores dotted along Farm Road. Marine Hardware was across the street from the Devotion Church of God; a large, modern structure, the steeple ended at a white crucifix pointing to the sky. Most people in East Marine attended Devotion, a Christian congregation. However, Sonya was not raised in any church; the adults in her life seemed to have no use for religion.
The bus reached the intersection of Farm Road and turned at Sonya’s block, Garland Street. Mr. Wells dropped her off at the end of her driveway, and promised to pick her up there tomorrow around seven-thirty.
Sonya was walking towards her house when she heard voices behind her. She turned to see the pale blond heads of the Four Js on their bicycles, returning from their half-day at East Marine Middle School.
The Four Js were almost-identical quadruplets; Joseph, Joshua, Jason, and Jack(short for Jonathon) Stone. They lived down the street with their widowed mother Barb and big brother Kyle.
Sonya had been spending her summer getting used to living with her father and uncle when she discovered Kyle Stone, who managed to take her mind off her misery.
Sonya’s hobby was photography, Carolyn giving her a digital Kodak camera for Christmas. One hot afternoon, Sonya wandered down the street with the camera, intent on getting Kyle to talk to her.
The first time she saw him, he was riding his old ten-speed towards her house with his brothers on their bikes. His hair was brown, curls growing long at the neck, hazel eyes surrounded by dark lashes, lips and face still soft. His smile was teasing but warm, he was making the boys laugh.
Sonya was in the front yard, walking Helga on a leash. The boys waved at her, Kyle following.
Sonya was fascinated in minutes. However, she did not learn Kyle’s name until weeks later, when Bill noticed Barb driving by in her old Dodge.
Bill had been on the couch, looking out through the front window, as had become his habit. Sonya sometimes wondered if he was being more watchful because he was starting to forget so much.
“I should go over and see Barb,” he said. “Losing a child is hard.”
“What child?” Sonya asked.
“Her baby girl. Lily. Barb and Wayne already had Kyle. Wayne was a Blue Diamond. They had all those boys later. Four babies at once. Amazing.”
Sonya had found Kyle working underneath his old blue Camaro. He squirmed out from under the car, a look of alarm passing his face when he saw her, camera in hand.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi. I’m Sonya. I live up the street.”
“Right. Bill’s niece...”
He was not wearing a shirt, only cut-off denim jeans. She noticed the lack of body hair, except around his navel. She caught herself looking down, and her face grew hot. “Can I take a picture of your car?”
Kyle ran his greasy hands through his hair, bangs wet with sweat. “Why do you want to take a picture?”
“I like old cars.”
He shrugged. “Go ahead, then.”
She lined up the shot and pressed the button. When she turned the lens towards Kyle, she realized he was looking at her.
Sonya was dressed in a loose terry-cloth tank top and knee length shorts with flip-flops. Her hair was in a ponytail. She already had a fading sunburn on her arms, the red skin making way for more freckles. Her looks made her feel different and a little self-conscious. However, she never seemed to care if boys noticed.
Until now.
She decided to smile at him. “So...what do you do?”
“You mean, a job?”
“Right.”
“I’m working at Metal Concepts. Third shift.”
“You like it there?”
“It’s okay.”
Sonya could feel him losing interest, so she lowered her camera, taking a step back. “Well, it was nice meeting you.”
“Same here.”
Sonya felt like a fool later. She wished she could have said more, but what could she say to a boy five years older, who worked full-time, school a part of his past?
Sonya watched the Four Js ride away before walking up to Bill’s house, entering through the side door. Helga stopped barking and greeted Sonya, the Boxer’s stubby tail wagging.
Helga’s sturdy body was white, a brown spot over one eye, the cropped ears also brown. The neck and shoulders were wide, jowls and underbite giving her a falsely vicious look. Helga’s nature had calmed with age, but she was still playful and comical, having spent her whole life with Bill, although Sonya was no stranger to the dog, who had finally grown used to new people living in her house.
Sonya pulled her backpack off before petting Helga, who followed Sonya to the kitchen table.
Bill’s house was small, resembling a log cabin, a stone chimney to one side, an unattached garage at the other. Sliding glass doors at the dining area led to a wooden deck and a fenced in back yard.
The kitchen was modest, full of Bill’s personal charm, with small photographs and mementos on the stainless steel refrigerator. Most of the people in the photos Sonya did not recognize, but there was a studio portrait of Sonya as an infant, wearing a red velvet dress with a lace band around her bald head. She was looking off to the side, her innocent baby-smile frozen in time.
Sonya had noticed that the truck was gone from the driveway, so she was surprised, when she turned the corner, to see Bill standing at his easy chair in front of the TV, the volume low.
The living room, like the rest of the house, was cozy and somewhat cluttered, with yellow sticky notes stuck on the wall by the phone and Helga’s toys scattered on the dark green carpet. At first, Sonya thought Bill was putting out a cigarette in an old coffee can, but she soon realized, from the pungent smell, that she was wrong.
Bill grinned, waving the smoke away with his hand. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Where’s Dad?”
“Had a job interview.” Bill pushed the plastic lid over the coffee can. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll make you a grilled cheese.” Sonya followed Bill to the kitchen counter. Bill pulled out bread, butter, and cheese slices from the refrigerator. Aron had told Sonya to watch Bill when he cooked, but he had yet to set a fire or burn himself.
“You want juice or a soda?” he asked.
“I’ll get a Dr. Pepper.”
Sonya was reaching for a can of Dr. Pepper out of the refrigerator when she heard her cell phone ring in her backpack.
Sonya’s ringtone was nothing but the boring ’ring-ring’ that was loud enough for her and Bill to hear. She unzipped the backpack as fast as she could and checked who was calling:
CHAMBERS, BOBBY
She had given Bobby her number, but she was surprised he called so soon. “Hello, Bobby...”
“Hi. I just got the news. Crazy.”
“What?”
“You don’t know about Jessica Holden?”
“Who?”
“Kelly was looking for Jess at school. Some psycho attacked her, cut up her face.”
Sonya was watching Bill, with a pancake turner, flip the grilled cheese over on the skillet. “Oh, my God. That’s terrible...”
“She was walking out to her bus stop alone and he jumped her. She’ll have stitches on her face, and end up with scars. Poor Jess.”
“Who would do something like that?”
“I don’t know. You live on Garland, right?”
“Yes.”
“Jess lives on Warner.”
“That’s three blocks from here.”
“I’m sure they’ll catch him, but be careful.”
Bill laid the finished grilled cheese on a paper plate, placing it in front of Sonya on the counter before starting a sandwich for himself. He threw Helga a cheese slice, the dog gobbling it in one bite.
“Okay, Bobby. Thanks for calling me.”
“You know, Princess likes you. She asked about you.”
Sonya was taken aback, thinking Piper seemed more into being seen with Bobby and her little worshippers like Kelly. “That’s cool.”
“Are you doing anything later?”
“No. Just a little homework.”
“Princess invited me over, and she thought you might like to come, too.”
“I don’t have a way there.”
“She lives off of One Hundred and Fiftieth Avenue, near the lake.”
“Maybe my dad could give me a ride. I could call you back.”
She said good-bye and took a bite of her sandwich, the melted cheese still warm. “Where did Dad go for his interview?”
Bill had his back to her at the stove. He became still, and Sonya realized he was trying to remember. “Um...some agency.”
“I hope he gets a job,” Sonya said.
“Me, too.”
“Maybe he could go back to teaching.”
“That’s about as likely as a Watchtower reunion tour.”
Sonya, the realization dawning on her, broke into a smile. “That’ll never happen.”
Bill turned around, placing his sandwich on another plate. “One hit wonder. In Germany and the Netherlands. Big in Japan.”
“That’s what Watchtower should call their reunion CD,” Sonya said. “Big in Japan.”
Bill tried not to laugh while chewing. “He’ll find something, even if he has to commute to Falls River. So...how was school?”
“Okay. My new friend Bobby just called me. A girl from our class was attacked this morning...”
Sonya looked into Bill’s eyes, so large and clear, as she explained what happened to Jessica. She did not wonder if Bill would remember any of it hours later, but he was with her then, listening to every word.
*****
While waiting for Aron to return, Sonya opened her lap-top. She clicked on ‘My Photos.’
Sonya would usually store the photographs she took. Over the summer, she captured images from visits to the lake and the surrounding woods, along with pictures of Aron, Bill, and Helga. She came to the photos of Carolyn, towards the end of her life; a scarf wrapped around her bald head, once full of thick red hair. She had lost almost thirty pounds, her face gaunt. Carolyn never liked having her picture taken, Sonya would have to sneak up on her. Once, she photographed Carolyn on the couch; bald, wearing a nightgown, the oxygen mask over her face. When Carolyn saw the flash of the Kodak, she said,”I don’t want you to remember me like this, Sonya. No more pictures.”
She died a week later, her ravaged lungs full of fluid.
Sonya did not look at those photos for long, she was trying hard to push her grief aside, but there was no way she could stop missing her mother. The house where Sonya lived with Carolyn and Cal was on One Hundred and Forty-Seventh Avenue, just a few blocks from Piper and the lake. Sonya had lived in a four-bedroom, two bathroom house. Two of the rooms were hers; one to sleep in, another for her toys and computer. She had been the only child, never knowing any different, spoiled by adults but also a loner. She was Carolyn’s miracle baby and Cal’s substitute son, going to work with him on Saturdays, Cal the Marine Press’s only crime reporter. Carolyn would sometimes object to Cal showing Sonya photos of bloody crime scenes, but Sonya was never disturbed by the images. Cal introduced her to the other writers and police investigators, indirectly learning how crimes were solved.
She was sure Cal had heard about the attack on Jessica by now, and even Bill thought the attacker was a jealous boyfriend.
“Maybe he didn’t want anyone else taking her away from him,” Bill said. “People do crazy things when they’re desperate.”
Sonya found the photo of Kyle’s Camaro, a few rust stains on the front grille, some scratches on the hood. He did not own any other vehcle, and Kyle would have to work long hours at Metal Concepts to restore that car. Sonya only took one photo of the Camaro, but had managed to capture Kyle’s right arm and the side of his head. She sighed and closed the image. She had looked at it several times since, trying to get up the nerve to speak to him again, then telling herself that he was too old for her. He probably already had a girlfriend, buddies his own age, who would kid him about the little girl who was always coming around.
Sonya did not want to be that little girl.
*****
“Where did you find Bill this morning?” Sonya asked.
She was in the truck with Aron, who was taking her to Piper’s house. He still wore his work blazer, tie loosened. “He was about a mile from Farm Road, Helga following him.”
“Where was he going?”
“Who knows? He was confused, almost started crying when I found him.”
“How was your interview?”
“They said they’d call.” At fifty-four years old, Aron Neslund never thought he would find himself being interviewed by someone half his age, but that was exactly what happened at Work Staffing. He was given a series of tests on a computer, his resume sent out for temporary clerical jobs.
“Do you ever get money from your songs?” Sonya asked.
Aron’s lips twisted in a smile. “Not in a long, long time, Honey.”
“Did the record company screw you over?”
“They screwed all of us over. We sued, along with several other acts. I got one big check, used it for school.”
Sonya had always been fascinated with her father‘s past as a musician, although he had not picked up a guitar in years. “How come you didn’t join another band?”
“I was tired of it by then. Besides, I was just a bass player.”
“George Harrison was a bass player. So is Sting.”
“They are talented bass players.”
“You wrote songs.”
“Where does this girl live?”
Sonya knew he was just changing the subject. “One Hundred and Fiftieth Avenue. By my old house.”
Aron turned off Farm Road and on to White Lake Road. “I’m sorry about what happened this morning. Carolyn and Cal used to do a lot for you, they were good parents, but you’re going to need to be more responsible from now on. I might get a job, and I don’t know about Bill—”
“I take driver’s ed next year.”
“So?”
“I could help look for Bill.”
Aron tried not to laugh, but Sonya could see his smile. “Thanks. But you have school and friends. You’ll need to get a job if you want a car. My credit is shot.”
“I could get a job now.”
“Doing what?” Aron asked.
“Babysitting, cleaning, raking leaves...”
“You didn’t mow the lawn all summer.”
“The mower was broken.”
He shrugged. “That mower is a piece of crap.” He cruised up to the intersection between White Lake and One Hundred and Fiftieth. “Do I turn left or right?”
“I don’t know.”
“What’s the address again?”
“13350.”
“I think that’s going right. What do you know about this girl?”
“She’s friends with Bobby. She has a lot of friends.”
“And they all know the girl who was attacked?” Aron asked.
Sonya had explained about what happened to Jessica when Aron returned home. “They all know each other from the middle school.”
“It’s good you’re making friends.”
“Jessica lives on Warner.”
“I’ll get up with you in the morning, make sure you get on the bus safe.”
“Do you think another girl could get attacked?”
“Maybe.” Aron slowed down to check the numbers on the mailboxes, then sped up until he reached the corner of One Hundred and Fiftieth and Brooks. “There it is.”
A large, two-story white house with blue trim loomed on a hill. The red roof was peaked and a wrap-around porch ended at an attached, two-car garage.
Aron cruised up the long, paved driveway. “Nice place. I wonder what Piper’s parents do for a living.”
Chapter Three
Piper greeted Sonya at the door, a white toy poodle in her arms. She was still in her blue T-shirt and jeans, but now barefoot, toenails painted pink.
Sonya entered the foyer. The walls were a light blue with a grandfather clock in the corner and a chandelier above them, the spiral staircase in a dark wood leading upstairs.
“Bobby and I are hanging out in the living room,” Piper said. “This is Jo-Jo.”
Piper laid the poodle on the floor, and the dog did a little dance on its hind legs, showing off for guests. Helga could knock over a lamp attempting the same thing, and Sonya was taken with Jo-Jo’s daintiness and grace.
She followed Piper into a spacious living room with a fireplace and suede furniture the color of chocolate. Another small room contained a picture window, a white piano close by. A painted portrait of a blonde little girl in a pink tutu, her hair pinned up, hands clasped in front of her, took up space above the fireplace, a large screen TV on the next wall. Bobby was sitting at a sofa, a MacBook open in front of him on the coffee table.
He looked up. “Hi, Sonya.” He was dressed in the same T-shirt and jeans, but without the red neckerchief. “Did you check on the Blue and White today?”
“Never heard of it.”
“The Blue and White blog is the unofficial blog of East Marine High School. Good or bad, it’s on here.”
Sonya looked at the page Bobby was reading. The header was in blue and white, the school colors, and the most recent thread was entitled, “Sexy Rexy Spreads The Love.”
A photo showed a handsome, baby-faced boy in a tuxedo, a happy grin on his face, surrounded by his friends.
Sonya read the entry:
“Rex Gerber has done it again. By the time he graduates, he will be a father for the second time. The other baby isn’t two years old yet, you’d think Rex had figured out how to put on a condom, but sophomore Amanda Cooper will be showing by Christmastime. Rex doesn’t have enough room in his locker for another baby, maybe his parents’ medical insurance could cover a vasectomy...”
Bobby chuckled. “Scandal sheet, but it’s nothing the other kids aren’t already talking about.”
“It’s only funny until you end up on it,” Piper said. “Anyone is fair game.”
Bobby nodded. “Some of them will do something stupid just hoping SkolClik will write about them.”
“Who’s SkolClik?” Sonya asked.
“Nobody knows,” Bobby said. “I think he’s a junior or a senior. The blog has only been up for the last year.”
“I’m surprised nothing has been mentioned about Jessica,” Piper said.
“Give it time.”
“She’s still in the hospital.”
“Did Jessica have a boyfriend?” Sonya asked.
“She never mentioned it.”
“It could be any guy,” Bobby said.
“He seemed to know when she was leaving her house,” Sonya said. “I think he planned it.”
“I’m sure the police will question every guy in the neighborhood.” Bobby looked back at the screen. “Here it is...”
They all read the new entry:
“Freshman Slashing
Jessica Holden was leaving her home in East Marine this morning when she was attacked, her face cut up. Police are investigating. More info later.”
“The police will be watching her,” Sonya said. “And I’m sure the paper already knows about it.”
“Would they want to print some big article?” Bobby asked.
Sonya shrugged. “Maybe. My step-dad, Cal Whistler, is a crime reporter for the Marine Press. He used to take me to work with him sometimes, before my mom died. He knew some of the local police.”
“What did your mom do?” Piper asked.
“She was a teacher for awhile. That’s how she met my dad.”
“Your dad is a teacher?”
“Used to be. He worked for a bank in Falls River until last year. Now he goes on job interviews and looks after my Uncle Bill. He has Alzheimer’s disease.”
“Is he really old?”
“He’s sixty-four, and Alzheimer’s before seventy is considered early-onset. It runs in families. My Grandfather Aron also had it, and so could my dad someday.”
Bobby looked to Piper. “We’re no strangers to mental illness...”
“Bobby’s brother Rick is bi-polar,” Piper said.
“He’s a jerk, medicated or not.” Bobby shut the lap-top. “He’s moved back in.”
Piper looked surprised. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“So am I. And he’s off his meds. Mom’s working overtime, so I get the pleasure of his company.”
“Is he working?”
“Not anymore. I wish he could get a check every month, we could keep him in some apartment on the other side of town.” Bobby sighed, putting the lap-top aside. “Let’s show Sonya some of your toys, Princess.”
“I’ll get my X-Box. I can hook it up down here.”
Bobby grinned. “Rock Band-The Beatles. I get to be Paul.”
Piper had walked away, heading for upstairs. “You’re always Paul.”
“You’re always John. That leaves Sonya with George or Ringo.”
Sonya was reminded of what Aron said about George Harrison being a talented bass player. She wondered what Piper and Bobby would think of her dad being in a band that had a hit in Germany and the Netherlands over thirty years ago. “I don’t mind. George or Ringo.”
*****
Sonya stayed at Piper’s house longer than expected, the time almost seven when Aron picked her up.
She took her cell phone to her room, wanting to call Cal, although she had not spoken to him since she moved in with Aron and Bill.
Sonya’s last days in the home she had shared with Cal and her mother consisted of hurtful silences and arguments. With her mother’s death, Sonya had been hanging on to the pieces of her life that still remained, and Cal thought she did not understand when he explained that the medical insurance refused to cover all of the expense for Carolyn’s cancer treatments and that selling the house was the only way out. With his credit damaged, Cal had to sublet his apartment from a friend, because no one would let him rent in his own name.
“Why can’t I live with you at your apartment?” Sonya had asked.
“It’s a one-bedroom, and Aron wants you to live with him. I think it’s the right time,” Cal said.
“What if I refuse?”
“Where are you going to go? Sonya, this hurts me, too, but you need someone to take care of you.”
“You’ve always taken care of me.”
“I can’t now, and Aron deserves the chance.”
She found Cal’s number in her phone and dialed.
“Hello?”
Sonya could imagine Cal, with his open, cheerful face, sitting in his small office at the Marine Press building. He had lost more weight and hair, only a fringe of dark brown around his head, wearing a dark green Michigan State University sweatshirt. “Hi, Cal. It’s Sonya.”
“Hey! How’s it going?”
“I’m good. I went back to school today.”
“Make new friends?”
“A few. How are you?”
“Just working. Started playing golf again. How’s that Bill and Aron?”
“Dad’s still looking for work and Uncle Bill is...okay.”
“He’s not getting worse, is he?”
“No. The meds help. Cal, have you heard anything about a girl named Jessica Holden?”
“The girl who was attacked?”
“Yes. She’s a classmate of mine.”
“I don’t think she’s been released from the hospital. The mother did not want to comment. My source at the police department told me that the neighborhood is being canvassed, every male accounted for with alibis.”
“A boyfriend?”
“Who knows? Boys get jealous, girls get jealous of other girls...”
“Are the police convinced that the attacker is a guy?” Sonya asked.
“Almost convinced, after a description of the attack by the girl.” She heard Cal sigh. “Is Aron there?”
“Why?”
“I’d like to speak to him.”
“He’s busy.”
“You’re a bad liar, Sonya. Have you and Aron talked about the attack?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Then he will want you to be careful until this psycho is caught. Don’t hang around the neighborhood alone.”
“Why would I do that?”
“You’re too independent, always have been. Don’t just take off on your bicycle. Get a ride.”
“Okay. Cal?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry I was so difficult.”
“It was a difficult time.”
“I still miss her. Dad doesn’t care.”
“He does, but they were divorced a long time ago.”
“Why did they try for ten years to have a baby, only to get divorced by the time I was two years old? I can’t ask him about stuff like that, he gets quiet.”
“You have to be patient. Some people don’t like to talk about the past, it’s too painful.”
“I feel like he doesn’t trust me.”
“You did very poor in school last year, you’re lucky you were placed in the ninth grade. You missed half the school year, doing your homework whenever you wanted.”
“At the hospital. Why did I have to care about school if Mom was so sick?”
“I can’t answer that, Sonya. But just go to school everyday and get good grades this year. I know you can do it.”
“I feel older compared to the other kids. Tonight, I was hanging out with my new friends. They were having fun. I was, too, but then I started feeling like a stranger, like I didn’t belong.”
“Give it time. You’re still sad, but it gets easier. Are you eating? Sleeping?”
“Yes, but—”
“Keep doing it. I get up everyday and come to work, because I would feel worse if I didn’t.”
“Are you all through with your bankruptcy?”
“Yes. I am now free to rebuild my credit, which means taking a second job.”
“Doing what?”
“I’m not sure. Something part-time.”
“Dad went to Work Staffing.”
“Everyone’s favorite temp agency. I wish him luck.”
“I’m glad you’re not mad at me.”
“Never. I want you to call me more often. Maybe we can go to lunch or a movie sometime, okay?”
“I’d like that.”
“So would I. I have to get back to work, but we’ll talk soon.”
*****
Sonya was in bed asleep by ten. Aron and Bill were watching TV in the living room when the phone rang.
Aron answered. “Hello?”
“Aron, this is Cal. I spoke to Sonya tonight. She called me.”
Aron was silent for a moment, and Cal could imagine the cold disapproval on his handsome face. “I don’t have a problem with her calling you...”
Cal was unconvinced, but he continued. “Neither do I, just with some of the things she told me. I think you need to talk to her more.”
“About what?”
“About living there with you and Bill. I don’t think she knows, but if she asks, do you want me to tell her?”
“I think it’s more my responsibility...”
Aron was keeping his voice even, that trace of his remaining accent making Cal feel as if he were in a movie, negotiating with the European terrorist who had his finger on the button. “I agree. But she still seems depressed.”
“She’s doing better now. She smiles more, she eats. We do talk, but only about certain things.”
“She asked me about Jessica Holden, if I knew anything.”
“It’s too early, I would think.”
“Right.”
“So...how are you doing?” Aron asked.
“Oh, fine. The bankruptcy went through, and the paper is going to hang on for another year.”
“Who ever thought the Marine Press would go out of business?”
“Around for over a hundred years, but nothing lasts forever.”
“That’s for sure.”
“Sonya told me you went to Work Staffing.”
“I walked in there, and it was like a tomb, so silent. When someone finally noticed I was there, they parked me in front of a computer and gave me all of these tests. Then they asked if I wanted to take a special course in their office software, charging me over two hundred dollars. I told them to call me later.”
“It’s tough out there.”
Aron glanced over at Bill, who was asleep in his chair. “Bill is taking care of us both.”
“Funny how things work out.”
“Bill never would have refused.”
“I wonder if he remembers.”
“Oh, he does.”
“Would he—”
“He could one of these days. He’s always been a little unpredictable.”
“Carolyn said that he never made any demands...”
“More out of guilt than compassion. But he wanted to be unselfish.”
“I understand.”
“You did an unselfish thing, too, Cal.”
“I just want Sonya to be happy.”
“She will be. After awhile
*****
Jessica was not a high-spirited girl, and her passive personality was never more obvious than after she was admitted to Marine General Hospital.
Her mother, Ann-Marie, who had taken some medication to stay calm, sat in a chair in Jess’s room. As soon as she received the call, her boss at the realty office let her leave. Her worst fears, of rape and assault, went through her head as she drove the almost-twenty miles from her job back to Marine and the hospital.
Jess had been sitting on a bed in the Emergency Room, the cuts not yet stitched. Ann-Marie hugged her, relieved she was conscious, but Jess was strangely calm and silent, having been given a pain killer.
Ann-Marie called Jess’s father, but not before the police appeared, wanting to ask Jess questions and take photos of her cuts. She tried to communicate clearly, but the shock and medication was blocking her memory. The men left, and Jess endured the stitches and dressings before being transferred to a room.
A tray was brought to her, but she did not eat. Ann-Marie opened the window blind, and they both watched the sun set.
“You’re mad at me,” Jess said.
Ann-Marie shook her head. “No, of course not.”
“You’re going to hate the scars.”
“I’m just glad you’re alive. He didn’t rape you...”
“What difference would that make?” Jess asked.
“More scars.”
“I can’t go to school looking like this.”
“You can stay home tomorrow, but you’ll have to go back.”
“Nobody I know did this.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Who would hate me this much?”
“I don’t know, Sweetie. But the police will find him.”
Jess started to make a keening noise inside her bandages, a low sob that turned to loud crying. Ann-Marie gave her a tissue, patting her on the back. Jess had never cried so hard, not even during her parents’ divorce last year. This pain was intimate, more personal, than whatever dumb decisions the adults around her made. She was never as pretty as Piper Jones or even made the Honor Roll, but now she felt as if she could not even try to be a part of things without them all looking at her face. She would be on the outside, alone, like the kids in Special Ed or Todd Kemp, the school drug dealer, who weighed almost three hundred pounds and had to use a Hoveround to get from class to class.
Ann-Marie took Jess’s hand. When she did this, she noticed that the birthstone ring Jess’s late great-grandmother had given Jess was missing. She and her Granny Rae shared the same birthstone, the May emerald, and Jess would never lose that ring, but maybe it fell off during the attack.
Ann-Marie did not want to upset Jess more, so she said nothing as the girl laid down, going to sleep. Over the next few weeks, she would take the pain medication until it was gone, wanting more. Ann-Marie would refuse to renew the prescription, and Jess would buy Methadone from Todd at school with her allowance. Getting through the days not feeling anything would help her forget her loss; of her looks, innocence, interest in school and her friends. If she did not have money, she would trade her CDs, cell phone, and lap-top, with the excuse that these things had been stolen.
Ann-Marie knew Jess did not have the strength to get through this, she was still like a little girl in the world her parents and school had created for her. Ann-Marie realized she had let Jess down, because she had never prepared her, believing that Jess’s upbringing would be different from her own; less fearful, less abusive. Jess never gave her any problems, so raising her had been easy. Now, Ann-Marie could feel a chill come over her as she thought about Jess’s future, and if she had the will to survive.
Chapter Four
“Thanks for coming with me,” Piper said.
Sonya looked around Jess’s front yard while standing at the porch of the white ranch house with black trim. She was gazing down the gravel driveway where Jess was attacked. “No problem...”
When Piper had asked Sonya to accompany her on a visit to Jess’s house after school, Sonya could not quite figure out why Piper asked her in the first place, aside from the fact that Bobby had a dentist’s appointment. Piper could have asked Kelly or Courtney, but Sonya had a feeling they also begged off.
Piper knocked at the door and Ann-Marie was still in her work suit, dark hair pulled into a bun. Her gaze was not warm.
“Mrs. Holden?” Piper asked. “Jess invited us over.”
Ann-Marie looked over Piper in her long, gray pullover sweater with a heart-shaped neckline and black leggings, a leather belt at her waist. She noticed the tall blonde was much more made up than the red-head next to her, wearing a blue sweatshirt and jeans.
Ann-Marie sighed. “Well, come on in.”
Piper and Sonya entered the small foyer that led to the living room. Piper and Sonya were taken aback by the thick, flesh-colored bandages wrapped around Jess’s face, her upper and lower lips full with dark stitches. She was laying on the couch. A white-haired woman in an easy chair sat next to her.
“Hi, Jess,” Piper said.
Jess opened her eyes, and both girls realized she had been asleep. “Oh, hi...”
“This is Sonya. She’s new at school. I asked her to come with me.”
“Hi, Sonya. I look hideous, don’t I?”
The old lady in the chair chuckled. “The bandages cover it, dear.”
“This is my Gramma Joan,” Jess said.
The girls said hello to Joan and Ann-Marie, who was already reaching for her briefcase and keys.
“I have an open house,” she said. “I’ll be back later, Jess.”
“How are houses selling around here?” Sonya asked.
“It’s getting better. This one is at Whispering Pines, and there’s been people in and out all day.”
“Mom almost had to go back to being a manager at Chuck E. Cheese,” Jess said.
Ann-Marie shook her keys at Jess. “Good to see you’re getting your sense of humor back.”
“I’d smile, but it might open the stitches.”
“Have you heard from the police?” Piper asked.
“They were here this morning.”
Ann-Marie walked out, and Jess stayed silent until the door was shut. “I got an e-mail, and Mom freaked out and called them.”
“What did it say?” Piper asked.
“I’ll show you.” Jess slowly rose from the couch, and Sonya noticed how the gauze was wrapped around her head to keep the bandages in place over the stitches. Sonya recognized the slur in her speech; Carolyn sounded the same way when she was taking pain killers.
Sonya and Piper followed Jess to the kitchen, where a lap-top rested on the counter near the stove. Jess opened the computer and accessed her e-mail.
“The detective had me forward him a copy,” she said. “But he didn’t want me to delete the original yet.”
“What was the detective’s name?” Sonya asked.
“Um...Garcia. Some old guy.”
Sonya remembered Detective Ben Garcia, but she stayed silent as she started to read the e-mail:
“Jessica–
I got so hot while cutting into your face; the soft, sweet skin yielding to my cold, hard blade. I had to keep my self-control for the sake of my quest, although I could have licked every drop of blood from your face.
I put your ring in my mouth when I touch myself.
Your Ravisher.”
“Oh, Jess. This is sick,” Piper said.
“I know it’s him. Who else would know about my ring?” Jess asked.
“Can’t the police trace the e-mail?” Piper asked.
“Only from the address,” Sonya said. “But if he’s using someone else’s, he could be hard to find that way.”
“He could be miles away,” Jess said.
Sonya shook her head. “I don’t think so. He planned this; he knew what time you left your house for the bus stop, and that you would be alone. I’m not sure why he chose you, but he could just be getting started.”
“Don’t say that,” Piper said.
“I’m sorry, but why plan unless he doesn’t want to get good at it? Why would he want to get caught after attacking only one girl?”
“Judging by the e-mail, he seemed to enjoy it.”
“Right. And he’ll want another chance.”
Piper turned to Jess. “When do you plan to go back to school?”
“Tomorrow. I already have work to make up.”
“My mom can give you a ride.”
“My gramma’s going to take me for awhile.” Jess shut the computer. “I have to look like this at school...”
“Don’t worry,” Piper said. “No one is going to bother you.”
“I don’t want them feeling sorry for me.”
“We only want you to be all right and for the police to catch this guy,” Piper said.
“I’m sure they’re doing everything they can,” Sonya said.
“You seem tired, Jess,” Piper said. “If you want to rest, we can go.”
Jess agreed and Piper called her mom. Jess was dozing off on the couch when Robin Jones arrived.
“Nice meeting you, Jess,” Sonya said.
She yawned. “Thanks. I really hope another girl isn’t attacked.”
“Me, too. I have a feeling a lot of girls won’t be waiting for the bus alone.”
****
“Has Jess seen the Blue and White today?” Bobby asked.
“She didn’t mention it,” Piper said.
Piper and Sonya were in the back seat of the SUV while Robin drove Sonya back to her house.
Piper still had her backpack from school and pulled out the MacBook with one hand while holding on to her cell phone. Sonya helped her, placing the computer in her lap.
“Go on the Blue and White,” Piper said.
Sonya went to the site and Piper sat closer. “What damage is SkolClik doing today?”
“Jess doesn’t need to see this,” Bobby said.
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