The After Girls (28 page)

But Max took it as an invitation. He leaned forward again, put his hand on her cheek, guiding her back. “Come on, Syddie,” he said.

And he didn’t ask, not really. And she tried to focus, to squint away all the blurriness, as he brushed his thumb along her mouth, parting her lips, and pressed his to hers.

Her head was saying,
no no no
, but her mouth wasn’t. It was opening, letting him in, because it made her feel so comforted, so wanted — and most of all, it let her forget — but then she opened her eyes for a split second, and in the midst of the spins, she saw Carter’s face, looking back at her, more awake than he’d been before.

And she remembered why she’d wanted to say no, and she pulled back, pushing Max away with both hands. She glanced at Carter again. He was flipped over, feigning sleep. Or maybe he was asleep. Maybe he didn’t care as much as she thought he did. Maybe he didn’t want what she wanted.

It didn’t matter. “I can’t do this,” Sydney stammered. “I can’t.”

“What?” Max asked, the comforting tone instantly gone from his voice. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said, shaking her head. And she crawled over to the couch and pulled herself onto it and wished that none of it had ever happened. She wished she could change so much.

And she heard Max get up and she heard him call her a cock-tease, but she didn’t care. She just kept her eyes shut tight and kept on wishing that this night had never happened until her tiredness took over and the spinning finally stopped.

• • •

She woke up to a pounding headache and a ceiling she didn’t recognize.

“Ughhh,” she heard below her, and she turned to see Carter, and for a second, she wondered if something had happened between them … but then she saw the tipped-over cans of beer and the cards scattered on the floor, and it hit her, worse than a headache. The séance, the thumping, the fight, the truth about Astrid’s dad, the punch, the beer, the kiss … but it was more than that, it was Carter. Carter had seen them kiss … Carter must think …

“Ughhhhh,” he said again.

“Are you okay?” Sydney asked.

He nodded, slowly pulling himself up to a sitting position so his face was right near hers. She sat up, too, and her new angle gave her a view of the room. They were in some type of home office. Cans were everywhere, and an empty bottle of Jack was turned on its side, as if even it were hungover.

Why oh why had she said yes to that punch?

Why had she let Max kiss her in front of Carter?

Hell, why had she let him kiss her at all?

The thought made her hurt now, deep in her chest. She took a deep breath. Through the doorway, she could see more people, still passed out. She wished that she were still asleep.

“Last night was …”

“Stupid,” Carter said. It wasn’t like him to interrupt her. It wasn’t like him to interrupt anyone.

“Yes,” she said. “Stupid.”

Carter’s hair was rumpled, and his face was pale, and he looked like he just needed a hug and a shower and a good painkiller.

She could at least give him that.

“I have Advil in my purse if you want it,” she said.

But Carter shook his head. She’d forgotten. Guys were always too tough for painkillers. Just complain and bear it. Even nice guys like Carter.

“I’m sorry about — ”

But Carter held up his hand. So close that it almost touched her lips. He moved it back a couple of inches, and her heart beat fast again.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said.

And he looked so sweet and understanding and so … so Carter, that she couldn’t help it. She leaned closer.

“Don’t be mad at me,” she said. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

She put her hand on his cheek — she could give him what he’d always wanted — right here, right now. She closed her eyes and met his lips, and it surprised her, took her breath away, because it was everything she wanted, too, all that she needed wrapped into one touch, one moment, one other world far away from this one. Where you closed your eyes and found happiness. Where you found escape.

But it was just a moment.

Carter pushed her away with both hands.

Her mouth hung partway open, and she stared at him, but his eyes weren’t Carter-tender now. His eyes were hot with fire and anger. She didn’t know if she’d ever really even seen it in him before.

“You made out with Max just last night,” he said.

Sydney shook her head. She tried to lean closer, but he pulled back and jumped up. “I guess I’m just next in line?” In the hall, she could hear people starting to move around.

“No,” Sydney said, standing up now, too. She shook her head. “No. Not at all. I thought you wanted me to.”

Carter shook his head. He was so much taller, so much bigger than her. He looked down at her like she didn’t deserve to breathe the air so high up where he was.

“You know you can’t just toy around with people,” he said. “Just because you’re upset. Just because you’re drunk. I’m sick of it,” he said.

“No,” she said, her voice cracking now. “No.”

“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Carter said. And he walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. She didn’t have the heart to follow him. She knew that he wouldn’t listen to her anyway. She’d screwed this one up. She’d royally screwed it up.

Instead, she waited until she was sure he had gone, and she grabbed her purse and opened the door and walked slowly out into the main room. Some people were still on couches, others just starting to get up. One girl stared at her like she’d heard the whole thing.

But Sydney just kept her head down and walked out of the wretched place.

She’d lost way too much by now to care.

• • •

When she got home she didn’t go inside. She just got in her car and drove.

It wasn’t long before she reached Audie’s. She parked, walked through the shop without saying a word to her uncle, and pushed through the beads before anyone could object. “Audie,” she called. “Audie, are you there?”

Her aunt appeared in seconds. “Sydney,” she said. “My goodness in heaven, are you okay?”

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror — her hair was all over the place, her mouth sported a ring of red from that God-awful punch. The area around her eyes was black-tinged, raccoon-like. She didn’t care.

“I need to talk,” she said. “Can we sit down?”

“Did something happen? Are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” she said. “I mean, I’m not. But I’m not hurt or anything. Don’t worry.”

Audie nodded and quickly led her into the living room. It was covered in floral chintz, knit afghans, and vibrant hues. She sat down, and Audie perched next to her so that their knees were barely touching. She looked worried, and as Sydney realized what she was about to tell her, she almost felt bad for dragging her into this mess.

“What is it?” Audie asked quietly. “You can tell me.”

Sydney took a deep breath. She had to say it. It would make it real.

“Astrid’s dad isn’t dead.”

The gasp was audible. Audie just stared. She didn’t protest. She didn’t object.

“Wait, you believe me?”

Audie shook her head, closing her eyes. Then she opened them up quickly, pulling herself together. She placed one hand carefully on each knee. She seemed to remember all of a sudden that she was the adult in this situation.

“I’m so sorry that you — that she — I mean,” Audie paused for breath. “I don’t know what to say.”

“But you believe me. I expected you to say that it wasn’t possible. Just the other week you said that — ”

“I know,” Audie said with force, before collecting herself. “I’m sorry. I know what I said, and believe me, it’s what I thought. I mean, it’s what I had to think.”

“Don’t you even want to know how I found out?” She’d expected Audie to tell her she was crazy, not to just accept this impossible news at face value. She’d expected Audie to undo it, to prove her wrong.

“Yes,” she said. “I do.”

The words seemed to pour out of her. “It was Astrid’s cousin, Jake. He told Ella, and she is, like, one hundred percent convinced, but she’s also convinced that Astrid’s living with us in ghost form, and she’s also practically in love with this guy, so I don’t know what to think. And I don’t know why you’re not telling me I’m wrong,” she said, her voice shaking now, getting louder.
Tell me I’m wrong,
she thought.
Please. Tell me I’m wrong.

Audie didn’t answer right away. When she did, her face was scrunched up. Tight. “It’s not easy. Trust me, I didn’t think it was possible either. I really didn’t. All these years I never really thought.”

“But you’re saying you considered? Why would you even think anything like that?”

Audie sighed. “I feel awful burdening you with this,” she said. “When you’ve already gone through so much.”

“Just tell me,” Sydney said. “I need to know.”

“Alright, alright,” she said. “You’re practically an adult yourself now.” She took a deep breath. “There was talk,” she said. “Ever since it happened. Falling Rock isn’t that big, and you know how things get around.”

Sydney nodded. “Okay.”

“Some people thought it was weird, the whole string of events. He just disappeared, really — they had the funeral out of town, all that — and then I guess, I don’t know, someone said something at one of the pubs off the trail that he used to go to. That he heard from him or something. He was a bad drunk, though — I didn’t believe him. It was all hearsay. I mean, it was always easier to believe that than the fact that Grace would actually concoct a story so …”

“Awful.”

Audie nodded.

“Jake said he was at the funeral,” Sydney said. “And you didn’t see him?”

“It’s been almost a decade,” she said. “And why would I be looking?”

Why indeed. For all Audie knew he was dead and gone. Why would she be searching for a dead person? And for a millisecond, the thought crossed her mind — Grace had orchestrated it for her husband — what was to stop her from faking the death of her daughter as well? What if everything that Ella had seen, everything she thought …

But then she remembered the wake, Astrid’s cakey foundation and her lifeless face, and she knew it couldn’t be. Astrid was gone. Astrid wasn’t coming back.

Sydney looked at her aunt. “What should I do?”

Audie sighed. “What can you do?”

“Tell someone,” she stammered. “Tell everyone.”

“For what?”Audie asked. “To hurt Grace, to get back at her? She just lost her daughter. And no matter what she called it, she lost Robert, too. What good would it do?”

“The
truth
would be out there. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“The truth is different for different people,” Audie said, and it was so like Audie to say something understanding like that, she almost wanted to scream.

“But shouldn’t everyone know?”

“The people who need to know, know,” Audie said, discreetly brushing away a tear as she did. When she spoke again she sounded almost offended. “If Robert had wanted to stay, to be part of this world, he would have. Now he’ll just be remembered as the good guy who died and not the man who left his wife and daughter.”

But Sydney knew it wasn’t that simple. Maybe he didn’t care, maybe it made it easier for Grace. Maybe it eased the embarrassment, the shame. But she knew without a doubt that it wasn’t better for Astrid. How could anyone come through that unbroken?

Sydney took a deep breath. “I just don’t get it. I thought you said they were in love. And then he just left her. Like that.”

Audie shook her head. “Don’t let anyone tell you love is easy, Syddie. Don’t let anyone ever tell you that. Because it’s not.”

And she thought of Astrid, of Ella, of Carter — even Max. And she knew more than anything that her aunt was right — that it wasn’t.

But she couldn’t help it — she wanted it to be, so bad. She wanted love to mean something. She wanted it to make sense.

Because if it had to be like this — if everyone you ever loved would break you, undo you, leave you, whether to another state or to another world — she couldn’t take it.

She’d rather be alone forever than have to live with that.

Ella called in sick to work the next morning.

She’d tried to call her friend countless times, hands shaking, pulse racing, but nothing. The phone was dead. Dead as it ever had been.

She knew she wasn’t sick. She wasn’t even hung over — she hadn’t been at the party long enough for that. But she was exhausted. Emotionally. Physically. Mentally.

More than that, she was scared.

Everything about last night was too much. Ben had apologized profusely over text. Maybe he was too embarrassed to pick up the phone. Maybe he’d known deep down that it would all go over better without actual communication. She’d texted back, said it was okay, more to get him to stop than anything else, because it wasn’t, it totally wasn’t — he knew it as well as she did — and he’d said that he wanted to talk. She hadn’t yet responded to that. She knew that once they did she’d have a pretty sad case; she’d gone to the show without telling him, she’d invited Jake to the cabin instead of him, and even now, even though she hated how he’d said those things to Ben, even though she had a million other things on her mind, she couldn’t help biting her lip as she thought of Jake, to keep from smiling. She hadn’t had those bite-your-lip feelings since she first started dating Ben.

She shouldn’t have those bite-your-lip feelings about anyone else besides Ben.

She hadn’t talked to Jake, and she didn’t want to — she had more important things to worry about. Something was definitely going on, there was no denying it now, and she knew that A’s journal was in her bag, waiting for her. She knew that there was still so much more to find out. She couldn’t waste any time.

The sun shone through her window, and Ella knew that on another day in another summer, she and Sydney and Astrid would have all been outside. They’d have walked to town to buy magazines and gum or practiced climbing Sydney’s stupid tree.

Ella didn’t get dressed yet — she didn’t feel like it — the more she tried to understand Astrid, the less she did. The more she found out, the less she seemed to have known about her friend. But she had to keep trying. So she picked up the journal and turned to where she’d left off.