Heart Like Mine (38 page)

There was a painful, sudden buzzing in her head, and the room began to spin around her. She threw an arm out to grasp the edge of the bookcase so she wouldn’t fall over. Staggering back to her bed, she opened the bottle that she kept in the nightstand drawer and popped the remaining three pills in her mouth. The doctor had told her they would reduce her anxiety and insomnia, and Kelli figured that since she had an abundance of both of those things, taking more than the prescribed dose was okay, just as long as the kids weren’t around when she did it. She’d sleep the day away, waking in time to pick them up from school. She set her alarm, just to be sure. Max didn’t have basketball that night and Ava usually wanted to stay home on the Fridays before she went to her dad’s house. They’d put on some music, make homemade pizza together, and later, watch a movie. Kelli would tuck her children in, telling them just how much she loved them, how everything would be just fine.

Kelli pulled the blue comforter up to her neck, snuggling into its warmth, letting the drugs course through her system and gradually calm her mind. Her parents had told her she simply needed to begin again. And so, with that thought, with the hope that she could find the strength to shape her life into whatever she wanted it to be, Kelli closed her eyes and waited for sleep to finally come.

I was nervous the whole next morning, especially as I sat in social studies, totally unable to focus on the quiz Mrs. Philips had passed out at the beginning of class. I hadn’t studied at all; in fact, I’d failed to turn in three of the last four assignments, so I knew even trying to answer the questions was pointless. School didn’t seem important right now, especially knowing that Grace and I were going to sit down with Dad tonight and tell him everything we’d done. Me more than Grace, I supposed. She’d kept the secret from him about taking me to Mama’s house, but it was me who’d snuck back there two other times and me who called my grandparents without saying a word about it. He had already forgiven me for taking the money from Grace’s purse, but I was pretty sure that I wouldn’t get off as easily for lying to him and sneaking around behind his back.

I was
especially
worried that once he found out the reason I’d done it all in the first place—to find out more about Mama’s past—that would be the end of it. I’d never discover what
actually
happened to her. I pictured how Dad would look when I confessed—the deep cut of his frown, his dark eyebrows cinched together over his nose, the disapproving shadow hanging in his eyes—and was certain he’d instantly forbid me from doing anything else that might explain why her parents sent her away.

It made my stomach clench to think that I’d never find out why Mama’s parents disowned her, who it was she’d written about missing in that note, or why she contacted Dr. Stiles. How could I live my entire life
not
knowing? I felt a deep-seated pang for Mama then, sharp enough to steal my breath. Tears welled up in my eyes, and even as I tried to fight them, images of her floated in front of me. She was supposed to
be
here for me in moments like this. Moments when I felt lost and scared, unsure of what steps to take.
Tell me what to do
, I thought.
Please. Help me.

I waited. I wasn’t sure what, exactly, I was expecting to happen, but there were no voices in my head, no eerie response from wherever she might have gone. But then suddenly, a seed of an idea took root in my mind, and during the last few minutes of class, as I marked down a random assortment of answers on the quiz, I started to piece together a plan, knowing exactly what had to happen next.

*  *  *

In the lunchroom, Bree was sitting alone at our usual table, picking through a pile of French fries to find her favorite extra-crispy ones. I hurried over and straddled the bench.

“Hey,” she said, taking a sip of her chocolate milk. “What’s up?” She knew Grace was making me talk with my dad tonight and was a little worried that meant she would get in trouble, too.

“I want to go to California and see my grandparents,” I said, then quickly explained why. “After my dad finds out what I’ve been up to, there’s no
way
he’ll let me keep trying to find out more about my mom . . . right?” She nodded, and I continued. “If I don’t go now, I’ll never be able to. It’s the only way.”

Bree didn’t look convinced. “Can’t you just
call
them again? Why do you have to go all the way
down
there?”

“
Because
, Bree. My grandma barely spoke to me when I called before. If I just show up, there’s no way she can ignore me. What’s she going to do, shut the door in my face?” I swallowed the fear that that might be
exactly
what she would do. I paused, waiting for my friend to say something, but she didn’t, so I forged ahead with what I needed to ask her. “So, I was wondering if I could borrow some money for a bus ticket. I’ll pay you back, I promise.”

“I don’t know,” Bree said slowly. “Your dad is already going to be mad at you. I don’t think taking off to California is going to help.”

“Then
you
shouldn’t go to California,” I snapped, then immediately felt bad for it. “I’m sorry. God. I’m so sorry.” I waited, but she was still quiet, stung, I was sure, by my sharp words. “Bree,” I started again, my voice cracking on her name. “You’re my best friend. Please. I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

“Okay,” Bree said, releasing a heavy sigh. “When do you want to go?”

“Now. I don’t have dance squad today and Max is going to Logan’s house this afternoon so Grace will be looking for me outside the school right at three thirty. I need to be out of the house by then.”

She hesitated a moment, shredding the napkin she held, then spoke again. “
We
need to be out of the house, you mean.”

I smiled, trying to keep my bottom lip from trembling, then threw my arms around her. “You’re coming with me?”

“Umph!” she said, surprised by my embrace. “Yeah. You think I’d let you do something as crazy as this on your own?”

I shook my head, digging my face into her neck, unable to hold back my tears. After a moment, I managed to calm down, then pulled back. “Sorry,” I said.

“What for? Having feelings? Please. At least I know you haven’t turned into one of those dance-team fembots.”

I laughed, and we made our way to our lockers, deciding that it was probably easier to sneak off campus when everyone was still at lunch and most of our teachers were in their lounge eating, too. Slinging our backpacks over our shoulders, we tried to look casual as we strolled through the only exit that led to the street and was completely out of the office’s view. A couple of other kids stood outside, laughing and talking, and suddenly, Bree froze in place, grabbing my arm. “Skyler at ten o’clock,” she said, and I looked up to see him break off from his group of friends and start walking toward us just as we were about to dash across the last part of the playground.

“Hey,” he said as he approached. He leaned in and gave me an arm-around-the-shoulder hug—the only kind of hugging allowed at our school between boys and girls. Nothing below the waist could touch—it made me blush a little when I thought about why.

“Hey,” I said, a little dizzied by how good he smelled. I tried to sound relaxed, like it was totally normal for Bree and me to be hanging out on the edge of the school grounds. The last thing I needed was for him to ask us where we were going. “How are you?”

“Good.” He gave me a crooked grin, flipping his bangs out of his eyes with a jerk of his head. “But I totally bit it on that social studies quiz.”

“Yeah, me too.” I stole a glance at Bree, who attempted to appear extremely interested in her fingernails.

Skyler shoved his hands into the front pockets of his low-slung jeans. “I was thinking, maybe you might want to study together sometime? In the library or something?”

I smiled, relieved to see him blush, that he was nervous to talk with me, too. “Sure,” I said, nodding.

He grinned again. “Okay. Cool. So, I’ll text you?” He pulled his cell phone out from one of his pockets, I gave him my number, and he walked away.

“Oh. My.
God
,” Bree said, giving me a playful smack on the arm as we checked for any teachers in the immediate vicinity. None were around.

“I know, right?” I said, unable to keep a huge smile off of my face, momentarily distracted from what we were about to do. “That’s kind of like a date?”

“Totally!” Bree squealed. We shot down the street as fast as we could, our backpacks bouncing. My heart raced, not just because we were running, but because of the anxiety pounding through my blood. If we got caught, I was going to get in serious trouble.

But as we turned the corner that led to Bree’s house, I realized that going to California wasn’t
about
me. It wasn’t even about Dad. It was about Mama. About finishing what she had started. It was about facing her parents and finally hearing the truth.

“Ava, where are you?” I said, leaving a message on her cell phone. At three thirty, I’d pulled into my usual parking spot by the flagpole, but after ten minutes of waiting to see her familiar dark head and purple-checkered backpack come out of the school, she was nowhere to be found. “Call me right back, okay?” I shot her a quick text, too, suspecting she was more likely to check that than her voice mail.

I strode into the front office. “Excuse me,” I said to the same gray-haired secretary whom I spoke with the day Kelli died. “Did you happen to see Ava pass by on her way out?”

She raised her thin, penciled-on eyebrows. “I was just about to leave a message for Mr. Hansen,” she said, looking down at me over the top of her red-framed glasses. “Neither Ava nor Bree were in their classes after lunch.” She paused. “Again.”

Part of me wanted to wipe that judgmental scowl right off of her face, but I was too irritated with Ava to bother. I knew she was nervous about talking to her dad, but it hadn’t crossed my mind that she’d actually run away from doing it. I tried to drill into all of my clients the knowledge that most of the things we worry about never happen, that the stories we tell ourselves about how awful a particular moment in time might be are often much worse than what actually ends up happening. I should have said as much to Ava.

I waved at the secretary, then called Victor as I hurried back out of the building to my car. “Have you heard from Ava?” I asked him.

“No,” he said over the loud clang of pots and pans in the background. “Should I have? I thought you were picking her up.”

I sighed. “I thought so, too, but she and Bree skipped their afternoon classes. She’s not here and she’s not answering her phone.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I wish I were,” I said.

“What about Max?”

I reminded him about the playdate at Logan’s, then told him I’d meet him at the house. Maybe Ava had simply gone home early. But when I arrived and ran inside to check her bedroom, it was empty. Her closet was open, and her black suitcase—the one I’d filled with her things from her mother’s house—was missing. “Damn it, Ava,” I muttered, then turned around and headed back down the hall. I checked the bathroom, the den, the living room, the kitchen, the garage . . . she wasn’t there. She wasn’t anywhere. My heart began to pound.

Victor showed up just as I was in the middle of sending Ava another text message. “Is she here?” he asked. He was still wearing his black chef’s jacket and had a smudge of some kind of red sauce on his face.

I shook my head. “I checked the whole house. Her suitcase is gone, honey.”

He dropped his arms to his sides. “
What?
Where do you think she went? Bree’s?”

I nodded, quickly calling her friend’s number. No answer there, either. I left another message and then hung up, frustrated, but also starting to feel scared. A thought struck me. “Maybe she went to Kelli’s?”

Victor nodded, his lips pressed together. His gray eyes were frantic. “Good idea. Let’s go.” He scratched out a quick note and left it on the entryway table, telling her to stay put and call us immediately if she came home.

In the car, I sent Ava yet another text message: “Honey, we’re so worried about you. Please, tell us where you are.” I was a little surprised by the intensity of my own feelings in that moment—the sharp sense of icy dread thudding through my body not knowing where she was, wondering if she was in danger.
Is
this
how it feels to be a mother? Every cell of my body overwhelmed with fear that something terrible might have happened to her?
I was terrified she wasn’t answering not because she wouldn’t, but because she
couldn’t
. That someone had grabbed her and thrown away her phone. My mind spun with a thousand atrocities that could happen to a pretty runaway girl.
To Ava
. Ava, who was vulnerable and hurting, who might be feeling desperate enough to get into a car with a stranger. I flashed on ugly visions of her lying on the side of the road, her body broken and bruised.
Raped.
The thought made me feel like I might vomit.

“Why the hell would she
do
this?” Victor asked. “What is going on with her?”

“I’m sure she was nervous about talking with you tonight,” I said. I’d told Victor that after her apology to me, Ava and I needed to talk with him about a few things. “She probably just wanted to go somewhere to think.”

“Think about what?” he asked. Taking a deep breath, I explained how I had taken Ava over to Kelli’s house for the recipe before Thanksgiving, and how we’d found the letter from the doctor Kelli had contacted.

“ ‘That’s it?” he asked when I’d finished talking. “Why didn’t you just
tell
me?”

“I should have. But then you came home and told me about Spencer breaking his arm, and things just got so busy and we were both distracted. There was never a right time.” I paused and looked over to him. “I’m sorry. I should have said something right away.”

He bobbed his head and changed lanes, trying to edge his way around a blue Honda. While the distance between our house and Kelli’s wasn’t far, with all the traffic on California Avenue, it could take up to twenty minutes to get there. “Okay,” he said as he slowed to a stop at an intersection, “but there’s no way she took off because she was afraid of telling me that.” He honked at the cars in front of us, who were taking their time going through the light after it changed. “C’mon!” he yelled. “It’s not gonna get any greener!”