None of the Regular Rules (17 page)

“Oh, Sophie, it wasn’t your job to fix her.” By saying that, it confirmed what I’d just been thinking. It
could
have been my job to fix her. My mom played with her oatmeal, which had developed a thick shell over the gooey middle. “Her note was short, but it was also very clear. She asked that we not tell you what had happened to her.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “She specifically asked you to keep the truth from me? Tell me exactly what it said.” I already knew the note was gone—there was no sense in asking to see it. I was certain it had been purged with everything else, especially since they’d lied to the police about what had happened. God forbid Suzy shame the family in life and in death. Now, finally, I knew why my family had been so hasty to get rid of everything of Suzy’s so fast after she’d died. They
did
want to forget about her. They wanted to make themselves feel less guilty about what had happened and they hoped to erase the shame of a suicide.

“She apologized for disappointing all of us—and for never being the person we wanted her to be.” My mom chewed at her lip again, and I could tell it was hard for her to tell me this. I knew this was something she’d tucked away for a long time, and that it was probably difficult for her to pull it all up now, after she’d let it slip away for all these years. But I didn’t care—I was furious that they’d kept it from me all this time, and I wanted her to remember. She wiped at her eyes and said, “The last two lines were, ‘Please don’t tell Sophie what I did. I don’t want her to know that I failed.’
 
”

I didn’t say anything.

Suzy thought she’d failed. Yet I was sure I’d failed her. We were at an impasse, and one of us was dead. Did that make her the automatic winner in this little battle of who’s-to-blame?

“Thank you for finally telling me,” I said to my mom, probably sounding more gracious and pulled together than I felt. I slipped away from the table and returned to my room, leaving my mom staring after me. I left my bowl on the table—a tiny act of rebellion that made me feel somehow in charge of something. I’d felt in control for the past few months, using my aunt’s list as a sort of steering wheel for my last year of high school. But now the promise and hope I’d let myself imagine was in her list of dares felt a lot more like failure.

The rest of the day slipped by in a snowy haze. I wondered, and worried, and wished the end of this story were different. How had I never known? It seemed that everything I’d believed about my aunt had been a lie, and I felt cheated out of the right kind of memories. I fell asleep sometime in the afternoon, and when I woke up,
I
found that the list had slipped out my pocket and lay next to me on my couch. It was taunting me, making me wonder and worry again.

What was I supposed to do with this crap piece of paper now? Was fulfilling her final dreams even something Suzy would have wanted me to do, or was the list just something she’d been forced to write…a desperate attempt to try to make herself happy? A list of unfinished things that had made her feel inadequate somehow? If these things hadn’t worked for her, hadn’t turned her life around, why was I so sure they were going to work for me?

I threw the list on the floor and stared out the window at the fat flakes that were still falling. My mom came to my door several times during the afternoon, but I didn’t answer and wouldn’t let her in. “Sophie,” she called quietly. “Talk to me. At least we can use this as an opportunity to connect with each other. Let me in.” Forget connecting and other HR crap. I wanted her to worry.

A few times I picked up my phone to call Grace or Ella, and briefly thought about trying Johnny. But no one was calling me and I wasn’t really sure what I was going to say…that the dead girl’s dreams I’d been chasing had been nothing more than a therapy tool? That everything I thought I knew and loved about my aunt was a total farce? That I couldn’t help but wonder if I was wrong about everything I’d always believed to be true, since there were obviously lies sprinkled all over everything?

I was pissed at Suzy, pissed at my parents, and pissed at myself.

I shoved the list under my bed and wondered what was supposed to happen next.

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

The snow didn’t stop for a full twenty-four hours. By the time the
storm
ceased, there was more than a foot and a half of snow on the ground—the thick kind that lay in damp mounds and piles over everything. It had been the first real snowfall of the season, so plows were slow to get out and the roads didn’t have a good layer of salt and sand yet. It was slippery and hazardous and I was essentially snowbound.

School was cance
l
ed both Monday and Tuesday, which meant
w
inter
b
reak was officially on. We were dismissed for more than two weeks. Ella and Grace were both going away for Christmas with relatives. I knew they would both be leaving that weekend, and I still hadn’t seen either one of them since Saturday night. The reality
was
, I didn’t want to see them yet. I didn’t really want to see or talk to anyone.

I hadn’t reached out to anyone since I found out the truth about Suzy. I just wanted to tuck myself up into a solitary cave in my room and wait for the holidays to be over. Shane wasn’t coming home this year—he’d decided to sample boobs in Barbados with his friends instead—so it was just going to be me and my parents and the unpleasant truth that was rattling around in my head.

To make things even merrier, I still hadn’t heard a peep from Johnny. No calls, no texts, no e
-
mails. Not that I was expecting much. We hadn’t exactly had a text- and phone-heavy relationship before Saturday, so I’m not sure what I thought might have changed after our last maybe-meaningful night together.

I’d been watching plenty, but hadn’t seen Johnny coming or going from his house since Saturday night. I had seen Mackenzie’s car in his driveway during the snowstorm. My mind easily conjured up images of the happy couple’s reunion. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d been totally wrong about him, too. Maybe I’d read too much into our pancake date. Was it even a date? No.

Still, when Christmas Eve rolled around, I decided to take a chance and trek over to Johnny’s house. I hadn’t decided yet if I was going to tell him anything about Suzy, but I knew I had to see someone outside my family or I was going to go batty. I pulled my boots on and trudged across the lawn between our houses, carrying a plate of Christmas cookies that my mother would be relieved to get rid of. I knocked, wondering what I might say, worrying that I wouldn’t have any words in me.

Johnny answered the door in boxers and a sweatshirt—the Madison sweatshirt that Mackenzie had been wearing the last time I’d seen her, that night on Johnny’s beach before she’d left for school. As soon as he opened the door, I could smell him and felt that rush of whatever it was about him that made me want to wrap up inside his arms and float away. “Hey there,” he said, smiling. “You dug out?”

“Of what?” I asked, hearing my voice catch as it got used to speaking aloud again. I’d been mostly silent for several days, and my voice sounded deep and husky. I shook my head. “Oh. You meant the snow, right?”

Johnny laughed. “I did.” He held the door open, but didn’t invite me in.

I decided to step inside anyway, carefully keeping my boots on the entryway rug so I wouldn’t leave puddles of melting snow inside his pristine house. I’d never stepped lightly around Johnny before, but somehow I felt uncomfortable now, like I shouldn’t have come. “Happy Christmas,” I said meekly. “Cookies?”

“Yum.” Johnny took the plate and set it on the console table that ran along one wall. He plucked a cookie out from under the plastic wrap and stuffed the whole thing in his mouth. “How are you?”

“I’m okay.” I wanted him to realize that was a lie. I wanted him to know me well enough to know how much I was hurting. But I knew that was asking too much.

He nodded. “Did you want to come in? My parents are gone. Want to take your coat off and stay a while?”

“No,” I said. “It’s okay.”

“It’s really good to see you,” he said, looking at me strangely. “Are you sure you’re okay, Sophie?” He looked worried. “You don’t look like you.”

“I’m fine,” I said, staring down so he wouldn’t be able to see that I was lying, even though just seconds before that’s exactly what I’d wanted to happen. I was torn. A piece of me wanted to lay my head on his chest and confess everything, to tell him just how much I hurt and hope that he could fix it. That same piece of me was glad he could tell that something in me was broken. But an even bigger piece of me knew that I was probably wrong about him, too, and that letting myself get any closer to him was just going to lead to more hurt and betrayal and disappointment. “Just bored.”

“Ah. So I’m the closest boredom buster?” He tipped my chin up and grinned at me.

“Something like that.” I turned my head so his hand fell away. I realized I wasn’t really ready to talk to anyone yet, and I suddenly had a pressing urge to get out of there as fast as I could. I d
id
n’t know what I’d been thinking, just showing up at his door like this. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“I’m glad you did,” he said. “I missed you.” He paused, obviously waiting for me to shout
hallelu
jah
!
But I didn’t do that. “I had fun on Saturday.”

“I should go.” I shook my head.

“I really am
glad you came,” Johnny said, reaching over to touch me again. “I wish you’d stay.”

“
Can
I stay?” I blurted out, suddenly annoyed and angry and ready to pick a fight. “Or are things still complicated?” I’d made it pretty clear that I wasn’t interested in anything more happening between us if he was still seeing Mackenzie. I needed to know he’d made a choice before I’d let him flirt and fool me again.

Johnny sighed. “Things are still complicated. But not like you might think.”

“Ah,” I said. “I guess that answers that.”

“You don’t understand,” he said, frustrated. “Come in. Sit down. You’re making me uncomfortable, just hovering and melting on the rug.”

“I’ve gotta go,” I said. “Don’t bother calling me until things uncomplicate themselves. You’re not worth it.” I felt tears prick at my eyes as I slipped back out into the snow. The last bit hadn’t been necessary, but it was probably the only way I could make myself clear. I had to push him away, and the words had just come out.

As I shuffled through the deep white drifts back to my house, I told myself I’d made the right choice. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to hear his explanation now, and I didn’t have room inside to deal with someone else’s drama. There would be a time, another day, when I’d be better equipped to hear all about his adventures with Mackenzie and see if maybe there was a possibility for us. But right now I didn’t have any space inside my body for any more disappointment, so that conversation would have to wait.

I could wait. Even though I now knew it was more likely I’d lose him before anything had even begun.

The next day, I opened gifts and ate ham and puttered my way through Christmas in the same pair of
fleece
pants I’d had on since the snow had started, then lazed around through the day after that. After the way I’d acted at Johnny’s, I knew I still wasn’t ready to see anyone, or talk to anyone, and I could tell my mom was starting to worry.

“Do you want to have someone over? I can drive to pick someone up.” She asked me this as I opened a pair of ski gloves on Christmas morning. It was as though we’d all been transported back ten years, to the horrible Christmas after Suzy had died. It was almost like my mom really did still think I was eight. “What are you doing for New Year’s Eve? Think you’ll make it to midnight?” She winked.

I stared back, saying nothing. I felt completely empty, abandoned. I hadn’t figured out if I felt more betrayed by my parents or by Suzy. And I felt like I was totally alone in dealing with this, since everyone else had dealt with the reality of the situation years ago. “Did Shane know the truth about Suzy?” I asked in response.

My mom looked at my dad. Dad shrugged and coughed loudly. “Yes,” Mom said, frowning. “He was older.”

I got up and left the room. I walked through the cold hallways to my room and looked out at the blank whiteness below my window. Every piece of me wished Johnny would appear on the lawn below, as if by magic. But I wasn’t going to reach out to him again. Not yet. Not when I was still so broken.

Later that week, between naps, I got a text from him. “Gotta take off for a while. Duty calls.”

What the hell? “What duty?” I wrote back, refusing to wonder. To fail to ask.

“Got a job at a ski resort in MI. Come visit?”

I didn’t write back.

CHAPTER
NINETEEN

When school started back up again after Christmas, I felt like everything had changed. Something in me had broken over break.

Nothing around me had changed—same old jeans, same old beige hallways, same fat, ugly old mole on Brennan Donnelly’s head—but I had. The truth about Suzy had shocked and hurt and crushed me, and it was hard for me to think about life the way I had before. If my friends noticed, they didn’t say anything. Something was broken between us, too. It was unspoken, but the distance between us was thick and impenetrable.

Grace and Ella and I hadn’t talked—
really
talked—since the night
of
the planetarium, but I could tell they were angry and annoyed about how that night went down. But the weirdness between us wasn’t just about me pushing them to do things on the list that made them uncomfortable and them getting caught. It was also about our fight the week before that and the things that were said and not said.

In many ways, it was easy to hold my friends at a distance. I had begun to question everything I knew about the life I’d been living, and the people I’d trusted, and the choices I’d made. With that came the requisite questions about my friendships. And I didn’t have the energy to look for answers.

Fortunately, the ski season started at the end of winter break, giving me an excuse to withdraw even further. I don’t know why I let it happen, why I just let my life move on without me, but it felt good to take a break from the world for a while. The more I kept to myself, the easier it was for me to forget that the year was passing.

“What’s with you lately?” Ella asked one day after school in January. The fact that it had taken her more than a month to say anything irritated me, and made me fold into myself even more. It was easy to do. I knew that forcing more distance between my old life and me would make it easier to leave when the time came to put high school behind me. Learning the truth about Suzy had made me question a lot about good
-
byes and moving on.

If I hadn’t found Suzy’s list, I never would have felt myself growing close to her again. Without the list, I could have continued to forget about her, year after year, until eventually she would have been just a speck in the past that could be easily erased. I might have never found out the truth about her—the truth that had forced me to grieve and regret and wish all over again.

Thinking about this made me wonder if it was just easier for me to drift away from my friends before it was time to officially say good
-
bye. If we all continued to go our separate ways before we graduated, maybe it would be easier to leave it all behind when the time came to go. Was this just another something I was wasting my time trying to succeed at, when I ought to have just given up before I had a chance to see our friendships fail?

It seemed like we were all thinking the same thing, since I wasn’t the only one who’d become distant. All of the promises I’d made to myself about making something of myself in this last year before we went out into the real world felt so hollow now.

“I’m fine,” I said to Ella that day, with a vague smile. “Just busy. Skiing, you know?”

She narrowed her eyes at me, adjusting her camera on her hip. I caught her glancing at Andy Eisenberg, who was hastily stuffing books in his locker beside me. Ella and Andy had play practice together almost every day after school, and I’d watched their flirtation grow. She continued to come by my locker between classes or at lunch, but it was obvious she was there for Andy and his stupid imaginary hamster, and not at all to see me. Often, I made excuses about things I had to do during lunch so I could avoid our awkward and meaningless conversations.

Peter Martinson wandered up just as Andy opened his mouth to say something to Ella. “What’s up, Ambrose?” Peter said, oblivious to everyone around him. He put his hand on my locker in that cocky jock way, leaning toward Ella and trapping her into the space between his armpit and the wall. “You gonna come see the hockey game this weekend?”

“Of course,” Ella giggled, obviously still smitten. At least some things didn’t change.

“Excellent,” Peter said, and moved along again. “Remember to wear that pretty pink shirt.” Ella blushed, and I wanted to smack her.

By the time her focus was back on me, Ella had lost Andy’s attention entirely, and I knew she had forgotten she’d ever asked about me.

On Friday that week, Grace suggested we hang out after school, since none of us had practice or rehearsal or meetings of any kind. I shrugged at the same time
that
Ella snapped, “What, Ian’s busy?”

Grace gritted her teeth and attempted a smile. “I was just thinking that we haven’t seen much of each other since before Christmas.” She glanced at me as we walked out the front doors at school. “I thought maybe we should talk about stuff. And about the night at the
p
lanetarium.”

“What about it?” I asked, realizing she was probably expecting an apology that wouldn’t be forthcoming.

“Ian—and I—thought you should probably apologize,” Grace said, exactly as I’d expected. “For forcing me to do something that got me grounded.”

“Oh, I forced you?” I said with a bitter laugh. “I’m sorry you didn’t have the guts to stick up for yourself and say you didn’t want to go.”

“That’s not an apology,” Grace said boldly. “I’m waiting.”

“I don’t owe anyone an apology,” I said. “We were in it together. You could have easily bailed.”

Ella snorted. “Right, Sophie—that would have gone over well. You’ve been so freaking consumed with that damn list for the last few months that you’ve been
super
at paying attention to everything else going on around you and listening to other people.” Her attitude made me want to scream.

By the time we got to my car, the mood had gone from awkward to downright hostile, with all of us snapping at each other. “You have no idea what I’m going through,” I spat out. “If you weren’t so busy cooing at Peter Martinson and changing everything about yourself to make him like you—”

Ella cut me off. “Screw you.”

I stared at her, fuming mad. Just as I was searching for something even more hurtful to say, Grace spoke up. “Ian said,” she started, but Ella jumped on her before she could say anything else.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what Ian says,” she said with a laugh. “He has nothing to do with anything.”

Grace stared at her mutely. “I’m lucky to have him,” she said, adjusting her backpack on her shoulder in a way that made me know she was getting ready to walk away. “That’s more than I can say about the two of you.”

“You’re lucky to have him?” Ella scoffed. “He’s lucky to have you! When are you going to realize that, and start giving yourself some credit?”

I could see Grace closing up, shutting down, drifting further away from us every time Ella exploded. When Grace pulled out her phone and started to text him, I took her phone and wrapped my hand around her arm. Even though I was pissed at her, I loved her enough somewhere deep down that I had to say something. Their relationship just bugged me. “Grace, it’s not healthy, how much time you spend with Ian.”

“You’re just jealous,” Grace muttered, pulling away. She rubbed at her arm, as though I’d squeezed tighter than I’d meant to and somehow hurt her.

“At first, yeah,” I said, feeling my anger melt, just a little. “Maybe it was jealousy. But the last few months—have you done anything that
hasn’t
included Ian?”

Grace shook her head. “No. But that’s by choice. We like spending time together.” She looked at both Ella and
me
with her chin thrust forward. We were huddled near the back of my car, none of us ready to get in—together—just yet. “I know you guys don’t like him. That’s why Ian gets so pissed when I talk about you. He feels like he’s being attacked when we’re all together.”

“By us?” I said, immediately angry again. “Okay…” I thought back to the nights we’d spent together with Ian and Grace. Ella and I hadn’t exactly been warm and welcoming, but it was because he was always so arrogant and controlling. And now we’d hardly even seen Grace since Christmas. Maybe part of it was my fault, for withdrawing in the way I had, but she’d also gotten sucked into his activities. They spent all their time together. He’d obviously gotten the upper hand with Grace—how could he still be bitter? “I can see how that might have been true back at the beginning of the school year. But it’s just because we were worried about you!” I looked to Ella to make sure we were on the same page. She nodded weakly. “It sounds like your relationship has some issues.”

“He’s never hurt me before yesterday,” Grace said, without explanation. When she reached her hand up to push her hair back from her face, the inky fingers of a fresh bruise trailing down her arm peeked out from under the cuff of her coat. “I know it was just because he was frustrated.”

“My God, Grace,” I said, reaching for her. “Did Ian do that to you?”

“It was my fault,” Grace said, staring at us with a scared expression on her face. It was as though we’d caught her stealing or cheating on a test. She looked guilty and ashamed. “I just told him I wanted some time for myself—and time to see you guys again. He grabbed me when I tried to walk away from him. It was my fault. Seriously. It was just a tiny grab and I pulled away too fast.”

“What kind of grab?” Ella demanded.

“It’s not a big deal,” Grace said, laughing. “I should call him. I know he’s upset, and he gets really bummed when I don’t call him for a while. I’m sure he’s worried about where I am.”

“Does he always know where you are?” I asked, seriously skeeved.

“I guess,” Grace said with a small laugh. “This is stupid. It sounds like I’m complaining. And I’m not! I love Ian. I just bruise easily—it’s not a big deal. It was my own fault for pulling away from someone who loves me.”

“It’s never your fault when someone hurts you,” Ella insisted. “He’s an emotionally—and physically—abusive twat if he’s got you thinking that way.”

“He’s not abusive,” Grace said shrilly. Her jaw hardened, and she stared at us with a steely expression. “He really cares about me. And now I’ve probably hurt him by ditching him today. For you two, which was obviously not worth it since you’re just attacking me.”

I looked at Ella desperately. I didn’t know how to deal with this sort of thing. Grace was obviously having some serious issues with Ian and I was out of my league. I also didn’t know if I could deal with anything more than I already was. And Grace didn’t seem like she was ready to hear anything negative about Ian. “You can’t be hurting him if you’re doing what you want to do,” I said finally. It was all I could come up with. I shrugged at Ella.

Finally, Ella held Grace’s shoulders tight and said, “I know you think Ian’s a great guy. But Grace, this sounds a lot like what was going on with my mom and dad, before they split up. My mom did everything for him, and it was never good enough. He never trusted her, and was always talking big about himself. He made her feel like she never measured up, and made her doubt herself with her friends and me and my sisters. It was bad. It still is bad, because she was stuck in it for so long. She lost all ability to believe in herself.”

“It’s not like that with me and Ian, and you’re a bitch for suggesting he’s anything less than perfect for me,” Grace said levelly. “And I don’t think either one of you is in a position to criticize me for anything.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and when I looked into her face, all I could see was the polished, porcelain Grace that everyone else at school always saw. It was like she’d closed herself to us completely—like we were strangers. It fit, since that’s what I’d felt like around everyone since Christmas anyway. “Ella, you’re totally unable to stick up for yourself with your mom about school, and you’re completely changing yourself for Peter Martinson. And Sophie, you’re so obsessed with your aunt’s list that you’re completely oblivious to what’s going on with your friends in the present.”

I nodded. “Is that what you think, too?” I asked Ella.

Ella shrugged, but I could see that the answer was yes.

“Well,” I said. “I guess there’s no sense in even trying anymore then, is there? What’s the point of pretending?”

Grace chewed at her thumb. Ella kicked at the brown, slushy snow hanging off the mud flaps on my car. “Okay,” I said. Then I got into my car, started it up, and pulled away. It squealed, as if in protest about what I was walking away from, as I turned out of the lot.

I drove, not knowing where I was going until I got there. It was the first of many afternoons
when
I drove to the edge of town and spent hours alone at the water tower. In a furious haze, I parked next to the looming metal structure and stared up into the blinding white sky. “Damn it!” I screamed, not knowing if I was cursing myself, or Suzy, or my parents, or my friends, or even Johnny. Maybe it was a little of each.

The tears streamed down my frozen cheeks, and I let them drip off my skin and drizzle onto the icy ground below me as I thought about Ella and Grace and
Johnny and
me, and what I’d lost. I let myself linger on how Suzy must have felt in her final days, and in those final moments. I wondered if, maybe, she and I were more alike than I’d ever thought we could be…more alike than I wanted to be, now that I knew the truth about her. Just as it began to get dark, I put my foot on the bottom rung of the lowest ladder, just to test it, and felt Suzy alongside me, even though I knew I was totally alone.