Searching for Yesterday (7 page)

“That's gotta be really rough.” Kayla shook her head and took another mint out of her package. “I quit
smoking last month,” she said, “and now I'm addicted to these. Gotta give them up pretty soon, too, before my blood sugar goes through the roof. I hope neither of you girls smoke.”

She looked at us inquisitively and seemed satisfied when we indicated that we didn't. “Good,” she said. “It's a disgusting habit. Your breath stinks, your clothes stink ... and I'm sure you know the health issues. Plus, it's torture quitting.”

We nodded to show her we were taking her advice seriously. Then, Annie took a deep breath. She looked kind of nervous and I realized at once what she was going to ask Kayla next.

“Do you know who my father is?”

Kayla stared at her for a moment, like she hadn't quite understood the question. Then she shook her head and said, “That's the only thing she ever kept from me. I wish I could help you, Annie, I swear I do. But I just don't know.”

“But don't you have any idea?” I asked, speaking for the first time since we'd entered the coffee shop.

“Oh, believe me, I drove myself half crazy trying to figure it out back when Gina got pregnant,” Kayla said. “There were a couple of guys she'd been kind of interested in, but she never went out with either of them that I know of. Whoever it was, there had to be some reason she kept it a secret from me. I thought for a while maybe it was a married guy and that's why she wouldn't
say, but she swore that wasn't it. And that's all she'd ever say on the subject.”

“Does Annie resemble anyone you knew back then?” I asked.

“Honestly, just her mom,” Kayla said.

Annie looked crestfallen, and I couldn't blame her. It had to be a huge disappointment to find out that even her mother's best friend couldn't tell her who her father was. Kayla and I were silent, waiting for her to be ready to go on.

“Did my mother ever talk about any places she'd like to go someday?” Annie asked when she next spoke.

“We used to talk about that, yeah,” Kayla said. She looked relieved that the topic had moved on past Annie's father. “We talked about going a lot of places, in fact. Like Hollywood and New York, plus a few other spots in America. Then there was Paris and China and Greece. Oh, and Australia. She thought it would be awesome to see real live koala bears and kangaroos.”

“Did any one of those places stand out over the others?” I asked.

“For Gina? Nah. Not that I ever noticed, anyway. It was just one of those things everyone did when growing up in a small town: talk about all the places they'd like to go and things they'd like to do someday. I don't even know if she
really
wanted to go
anywhere
. It could just as easily have been idle chatter to pass a few boring hours. I know that's all it was for me.”

“I just wish I knew
something
,” Annie said. Her voice was full of despair.

That made me think about other situations I'd found myself in over the past couple of years. I'd often felt exactly the same way — discouraged and feeling as though I didn't have any information that was important. And every time, I'd been proven wrong. So, I'd come to realize that there's often something in the information you have that means more than you realize.

Whether or not that would turn out to be true this time remained to be seen. After all, we were following a trail that was eight years old. Cold clues and fading memories made it seem less and less likely that we were ever going to find out where Gina Berkley went. And even if we did learn where she'd gone, the chance that she would still be there after all this time was highly doubtful.

I woke up the next morning with a vague feeling that something wasn't right, only I had no idea what. I did know that it had to do with Annie's mother, and our search for her. So I did what I usually do when I get that kind of feeling: I got out my notes and read through them, looking for something that might jump out at me. I even read them out of order, which sometimes helps.

Nothing.

I set them aside, showered, dressed, and went to the kitchen. Annie and I had planned to meet at my place at noon and figure out what we were going to do then.

The phone rang as I was finishing my breakfast. Betts. I kind of expected her to pester me some more about what was going on with Annie, but she never mentioned it. I thought that after I'd stood my ground when she
asked the other day, she'd either given up or had some alternate plan to find out what was up. Turned out it was neither. She had something else on her mind.

“You're not going to
believe
who I ran into today!” she said breathlessly.

“Matt Damon again?” I said. Betts had sworn that she'd spotted the star when she and her ex-boyfriend were checking out some yard sales one Saturday. Not impossible — celebrities go places just like anyone else — except the “Matt Damon” Betts had encountered was playing drums in a garage band.

“No, not Matt Damon. And anyway, I still say that
could
have been him.”

“Didn't you get the guy's autograph and it was Cody somebody?”

“
Colby
, but it could have been Matt Damon tricking me. Anyway, this was someone else.”

“Okay, so who was it?”

“Edgar Manchester!” she screeched. “And he asked me out!”

“
Who
?” I'd drawn a total blank, though it was clear she'd expected me to recognize the name.

“Edgar Manchester,” she repeated. She sounded exasperated. “Remember? His family used to live next door to me until I was about nine. He's older than us — like, a couple of years or something. But, his folks split up and his father just moved back here. Edgar and his brother came with their dad.”

“You're not talking about that guy who had his hair dyed neon green, are you?”

She was.

“Betts!” I protested, “he isn't a
couple
of years older than us. He had to have been at least sixteen when they moved. That would make him twenty-four, or older, now.”

“Oh, well, I don't know ...,” she said. It was a bit too vague, coming from the gossip queen. I didn't buy it.

“You
do
know!” I accused. “You know perfectly well. And you can't go out with a guy that age.”

“I can if my parents don't find out how old he really is,” she said. Then she giggled, which made me even angrier.

“Well, you must think they're pretty stunned if they can't to figure it out when the guy used to live right next door to you.”

“Yeah, but he looks totally different now, and he has a stage name, so there's no way they'll know it's the same guy.”

“A stage name?”

“Uh huh. With his band, Mudslide.”

“So, what's his stage name — Muck 'n Mire?”

“Oh, that's real funny,” she said. “It's “cruel,' but with a “K' — Kruel Danger.”

“And you figure your parents will believe that's really his name, do you?” I asked, glad she couldn't see me rolling my eyes.

“Why do you have to be so negative?” Betts's voice was annoyed, but I wasn't about to worry about that.

“Negative? You're talking about dating someone in his mid twenties. You're seventeen, Betts! Think about it.”

“You're making it sound way worse than it is.”

“I don't think I am, Betts. I don't think I'm even scratching the surface of what's wrong with this. I mean, have you wondered at all about what kind of man that age wants to go out with a high school kid?”

“I told him I was nineteen.”

I took a deep breath. From the tone of her voice, I knew I wasn't making any gains with her whatsoever. Still, I had to try. “Betts, tell me what good can come out of this? Just tell me how going out with someone that you've lied to about your age, and someone you're planning to lie your head off to your parents about, tell me how this has even the remotest chance of turning out well.”

“He's really cute,” Betts said.

“Are you
kidding
me?” I practically yelled. “That's the big important thing to you? That the guy's
cute
?”

“Well, he is.” Her voice had turned petulant. “And you don't need to yell at me.”

“I'm sorry, but
someone
needs to yell at you, Betts,” I said, forcing myself to sound calmer. “You just can't go out with this, this Edgar or Kruel, or whatever you want to call him.”

“Kruel. And he's going to make sure I get a backstage pass for all of his band's gigs. Once they make it.”

“Make
what
?” I knew she was drawing me away from the main subject, but couldn't quite help myself from falling for the bait.

“You know, make it big.”

“Right. Because that almost always happens for anyone who has a band.” I realized suddenly that something wasn't quite right with the conversation we were having. I tried to sound light and casual, and asked, “So, where did you say you ran into, uh, Kruel?”

“Um, it was in town.”

“Whereabouts in town?”

“What difference does that make?”

My suspicion was growing. “Betts, what's the big deal? I just wondered where you happened to see the guy. Why are you being so evasive?”

“I'm not. It was outside the post office.”

“So you see this guy after about eight years ... just run into him outside the post office ...and right there on the street he tells you all about his band and his new name and all the things he's going to do for you — like these fabulous backstage passes — in what, a couple of minutes? Not to mention the time you needed to recreate yourself as a nineteen-year-old.”

Betts was silent. I could picture her face getting more and more sullen.

“You've already been out with him, haven't you?” I said.

“Maybe once.”

I knew it! I asked her when, even though I didn't really need to. After all, I'd talked to her yesterday and there was no way she could have kept something like that quiet.

“Last night. I ran into him in the afternoon, outside the post office like I said, and then we went out last night. Well, we didn't really go out, exactly. We just hung out at the pool and then went to his place with some of his friends.”

“Betts,” I said, trying hard not to sound angry, which I was, “you can't do this. You've got to stop and think about the problems you're going to get yourself into.”

“What? My parents? I can handle them.”

“You mean lie to them.”

“Well, not so much “lie' as just not tell them everything.”

“You don't think his age is going to come up — that neither of your folks will happen to ask how old
Kruel
is?”

More silence. I was starting to feel scared — a cold, tight fear that was forming in my stomach. Betts doesn't always think things through, but she usually listens to reason if you discuss something with her. It really worried me that she was being so stubborn after one date.

“Okay,” I said. “Suppose you fool your parents ... and I don't think you will, but, for the sake of argument, let's say they buy whatever story you plan to give them. What about Kruel?” I somehow managed to say his “stage name” normally, though I still thought it sounded ridiculous.

“What about him?”

“He thinks you're nineteen! Don't you think he's going to find it a bit strange, when school goes back in next week, that you're a grade eleven student at Little River High?”

“I'll just tell him I failed a couple of times.” There's no describing the horrible feeling I got when I heard my best friend say that she was willing to tell this guy that she'd failed school — twice — so that she could go out with him. The thought that she'd be willing to humiliate herself that way made me sick, but the worst part was the reason behind it.

By the time we'd finished talking, I was so upset that my hand was shaking when I hung up the phone. The worst thing — the absolute worst thing — was that there was nothing I could do.

I knew Betts was making a serious mistake and that it was going to lead to a lot of trouble, but I was powerless to do anything to stop her. If you've ever watched a friend walking right straight into disaster, and there wasn't a thing you could do to prevent it, then you know exactly how I felt.

My head was still on Betts and Edgar/Kruel when Annie arrived. She was carrying an old briefcase in one hand and a paper bag in the other. I let her in and she sat the briefcase on the floor and the bag on the table.

“I thought, since it was lunch time and all, that I'd bring dessert. Pearl made these this morning — molasses cookies from an old family recipe.”

I leaned over and sniffed them. “Mmm! They smell really good.”

“They are. Pearl said that, for a graduation present, she's going to give me all the secret family recipes as part of my present. Of course, that will only be if I'm still there.”

My stomach knotted at how casually she added the comment about still being there. The idea of not being sure where you'd be or who you'd be living with in six months or a year or two years was something I
just couldn't get my mind around. It was strange and horrible to think of being sent away from a place you'd called home.

Telling myself that Lucas and Pearl Norton were nice people who wouldn't do that didn't get rid of the feeling. From what Annie had told me of her past, it seemed that things could be going fine one day and change suddenly.

“Shelby?”

I realized that, while my thoughts had drifted off, Annie had been speaking to me.

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn't hear a word you said.”