Desert Crossing (11 page)

Kit saw it, too. When I went into the kitchen to get a drink, he followed me, looking morose. “God, she really is hot,” he said. “Who cares how old she is?”

I shuddered. “You have to talk to him.”

“And say what? Congratulations? You scored?”

“No! You have to stop it.”

He snorted. “Uh-uh. That's your department. You're the prude.”

“Stop saying that.” He was looking at me, smiling a little, and I could feel my cheeks getting hot. “I'm not a prude,” I said, frustrated.

“Okay, maybe not,” he said. “But about this, you are.”

“Come on, he's my brother! I don't want him to get in trouble.”

Kit smirked. “It doesn't look like trouble to me. But if you're so worried about it, you talk to him.”

I sighed, steeling myself. “Tell him to come in here. We need to call our dad.” That was true. He was expecting us in Phoenix tomorrow. But I knew Jamie wouldn't want to talk to him any more than I did. Neither of us could tell him the real reason we were staying.

Jamie came through the doorway looking flushed and impatient. “What's up?”

I tried to see him, just for a minute, the way Beth must see him, with his dark hair falling over his forehead and the bright warmth in his eyes. Jamie's eyes were always full of whatever he was feeling, in a way other people's weren't.

But it was too hard to see him as a stranger. Everything about him was familiar. It was hard to even see him as cute. I knew the girls at school thought so, but it wasn't something I ever considered. It was impossible to imagine him as a person you'd fall in love with.

“We have to call Dad,” I said. “He still thinks we're on our way to Phoenix, remember? He's going to be mad.”

Jamie rubbed his face, frowning a little. “I talked to him last time.”

“Yeah, but I was the one who made the phone call.”

“You just left a message.”

“Still. It's your turn.”

Jamie sighed. “He always asks me a ton of questions. If you call, he won't bug you as much about why we're not leaving.”

That was probably true, but I didn't want to do it.

“You call him. You're the oldest.”

Jamie bit his lip, looking out the window. “I'll try the office,” he decided. “He's probably not even there.”

So finally he called, pacing back and forth across the kitchen while our dad's office phone rang loudly enough for me to hear it on the other side of the room. I could tell from the quickness in Jamie's voice that he had gotten the answering machine. “Hey, Dad. We're still here in New Mexico, and … and it looks like we're going to be here awhile longer. There's no problem with the police or anything, and the car's fine. But it's just … it's taking longer than we thought. So we'll call you again when we know more. Sorry. Hope this doesn't, um, mess up your plans. Bye.” Jamie banged the phone down.

“Did you give him the phone number here?”

“No.” Jamie looked at me. “Do you really want him to call back?”

“No, I guess not.”

He started to go back to the living room, but I caught his arm. “Jamie.”

“What?”

“This thing with Beth—”

“What about it?”

“You have to stop.”

His face closed down, immediately.

“She's too old for you.”

He looked at me impassively.

“It was just, like, a mistake.” I tried again. “I know you didn't mean for it to happen. But you can't keep it up.”

“I did mean for it to happen,” Jamie said. “And it's none of your business.”

“But, Jamie,” I protested. “Jeez. Think about it. I mean, Mom and Dad would go ballistic over this.”

“It's none of their business either,” he said. “It's nobody's business.”

“But it's—”

“Luce,” he said, his voice quiet, but as final as a door slamming shut. “I'm not going to talk about it. Okay?” He left the kitchen, and I stood next to the table, digging my fingernails into the white wood.

21

“It didn't work,” I said to Kit later that evening, as we were cleaning up the dishes. We'd volunteered because Beth had cooked for us—barbecued chicken, corn on the cob—and she and Jamie had husked the corn and mixed the sauce and done the grilling, while Kit and I hung back, not sure how to fit into their easy collaboration. It was like they'd been together for years. I kept expecting to see something in Jamie, some sign that he felt embarrassed or awkward or ashamed. But he didn't even seem to notice we were there.

Once, when I was setting the table in the kitchen, I glanced out the window and saw him grab Beth's waist and kiss the back of her neck—so comfortably that it stopped me short. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, sliding her palm over his face.

After dinner, as we were stacking the dirty plates next to the sink, Jamie said, “Let's take a walk.” At first I'd thought he meant all of us, but when I turned and started to answer, he was looking only at Beth.

So now it was seven o'clock and Kit and I were standing in the kitchen with a sink full of gray, sudsy water, watching Jamie and Beth cross the yard in the blue dusk, their blurred shapes moving closer together as they got farther from the house.

“What didn't work?” Kit asked.

“Talking to Jamie. He won't listen to me.”

“You must be used to that.”

“Yeah.” I wiped my hands on the dish towel. “But this is important. He knows I'm right.”

“How do
you
know you're right?”

I glared at him. “About this? I just am.”

“Because you're always right.”

“I didn't say that.”

“That's what you're thinking.”

“No, I wasn't. I wasn't thinking that at all.” I dumped the corncobs in the wastebasket and banged the lid closed. “Quit picking on me.” I handed him the scraped plates.

The line of his jaw tightened. He didn't seem like he was joking. “Just like you were right in the car that night, when we hit something. You said we had to turn around and find out what it was. Look how well that worked out.”

I swallowed. “What do you mean?” He loaded the last two plates into the dishwasher, his forearms wet and gleaming.

He looked at me. “That girl had nothing to do with us. And if we'd kept driving, if we'd driven to Albuquerque, we wouldn't have gotten in trouble with the police. We'd never have met Beth. Jamie wouldn't have slept with her. We'd have been in Phoenix the next day and right now, instead of being stuck here, we'd be spending spring break with your dad.” He slammed the dishwasher shut and took the towel from me, roughly wiping his hands. “Which would be a hell of a lot more fun than this.”

I stared at him. “So now you're blaming everything on me?”

“Well?”

“It's not my fault the girl was dead.”

“No. But it's your fault we found her.”

I turned before he could see my face and ran back to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind me.

*   *   *

I lay on my stomach with my face against the pillow, breathing the clean smell of the sheets, trying not to cry. I didn't know why I was surprised. Of course that was what Kit thought. I'd ruined his spring break. I'd ruined everyone's spring break, and more than that. Jamie was in this mess because of me.

Kit and I had kissed and kissed—it made me tremble just to think about it—but it didn't change who he was. He was still Kit. And I was still me.

I wanted to talk to my mom. Not to tell her anything, I couldn't do that. But just to hear her voice. She was working tonight, the evening shift at the clinic. I took the phone and punched her number.

“Women's Healthcare Associates.”

I sighed, leaning into the calm of her voice. “Mom, it's me.”

“Oh! Honey, how are you?
Where
are you? Are you headed for your father's?”

“No, not yet.”

“But why not? Aren't things cleared up there? Your father talked to the sheriff this afternoon. He said you were free to go.”

“Yeah, we are…” I hesitated.

“What's wrong? What's happened?”

“Nothing, Mom. Nothing happened. It's just—”

The other line beeped. “Oh, hold on a second, Lucy.” I waited.

“What were you saying, honey? Why haven't you left for Arizona?”

“It's just that the police don't know anything about the girl yet. They didn't find an ID or anything. And it looks like she died of a heart attack.”

“Yes, I know. Your father told me. It's so strange. Terrible. Poor thing, and her family—they must not even know she's dead yet. I can't imagine it.” I could feel her shuddering. “Oh, hold for a second.”

I waited, listening to the steady beeps.

“Lucy?”

“You're busy. I can call you later.”

“I won't be home till midnight, honey. It'll be too late. But I still don't understand why you haven't left. Is everything okay?” The phone beeped again, but this time she ignored it, waiting for me to answer.

I hesitated. Nothing was okay. “Yeah, Mom. By the time we heard from the police, it was so late, you know?” I took a deep breath. “We didn't want to drive at night.”

“Oh. Well, that makes sense, especially after what happened. So you'll leave first thing tomorrow? How's Jamie? Does he seem better?”

I swallowed. “I think he's still kind of shook up.”

“Well, put him on for a minute. And then I should go. The phones are ringing off the hook here.”

“He—” I hesitated. “He's outside. He went for a walk.”

“He did?” I could hear the flicker of doubt in her voice. “Are you sure everything's okay, Lucy?”

“Yeah, we're fine. I just wanted to talk to you, that's all. I'm sorry I called you at work.”

“No, no, I'm glad you did. Call me tomorrow, okay? Love you, honey.”

I set the phone down and listened to the silence in the room. I wondered what my mom would say if I told her everything. What she'd
do.
That was the thing about telling your parents anything important. They never just listened, they always had to do something about it. Which sometimes only made things worse.

I reached down and tugged my backpack across the floor to the bed, unzipping the inside pocket. Carefully, I drew out the bracelet. The silver gleamed. The little charms danced and clinked against each other. With one finger, I tapped the horseshoe, watching it turn. I dropped the bracelet on the blanket beside me. I thought of the girl's slim wrist, and how easy it had been to unfasten the bracelet and slide it into my pocket.

Maybe everything was my fault. But how could you ever know the right thing to do? If you could somehow see what was going to happen, it would be different. Then you wouldn't make these mistakes. I'd never have told Beth that Jamie was gay, because I'd have known exactly where it might lead. But at the time, it had seemed such a small thing, so unconnected to anything else. Like taking the bracelet. Like looking through the rain-splashed window of the car that night and saying, “We have to go back.”

I touched the delicate surface of each charm. There weren't so many choices, were there? Once we found her, we had to do something. We couldn't leave her there, alone like that, on a highway in the rain. She was somebody's daughter. Maybe somebody's sister. Just because she was dead didn't mean she didn't matter.

I heard Kit's footsteps in the hallway and closed my fist over the bracelet, shoving it under my stomach on the bed.

“Luce?” He sounded impatient, not sorry.

I didn't say anything.

“What are you doing in there?”

I burrowed my face into the pillow and mumbled, “Nothing. Go away.”

The door swung open. “I can't hear you,” he said, walking over to the bed. When I opened one eye and squinted up at him, I thought he did look a little sorry. But I turned my face away, clutching the bracelet tight beneath me. He sat down on the bed, the springs creaking, and my heart began to beat a little faster.

“What are you mad about?” He put his hand on my back, fanning it over my ribs. I could feel my skin leaping up to meet his fingers, tingling under their warmth. I shivered.

“You're jumpy.” It was the voice he used with the waitress. “What, am I making you nervous?”

“No,” I said, still not looking at him. “You don't make me nervous.”

“You sure?” He swept my hair away from my face and leaned close to me, his breath on my cheek. His hand moved in slow circles over my back. I stiffened.

“I thought we weren't going to do this,” I said.

“Do what?” His voice was soft. He started kissing me, rolling me toward him, his mouth on my face and my lips, and suddenly I was pressed against him and reaching up with both hands to hold him, to hold myself and keep the room from spinning.

I remembered too late about the bracelet. It dropped from my hand and clattered on the floor.

I pulled back, catching my breath.

And that was my mistake. If I'd kept kissing him, Kit would never have noticed. But now he lifted his head and glanced over the edge of the bed. “What was that?” he said.

I bit my lip. He wouldn't recognize it.

He picked it up and brought it onto the bed, laying it between us on the cover. His brows came together. “Is it yours?” he asked uncertainly.

I could have lied, gathering the words to make him believe me. He would never have known.

But I wanted him to know. That was the thing about lying. In the end, it was so lonely.

I shook my head slowly.

He kept looking at the bracelet. With his index finger he shaped it into a circle. “Beth's?” he asked. Then, frowning, “No. Wait.” He raised his eyes, and they were full of wonder. “It's hers.”