Silence

SATURDAY MORNING I WOKE EARLY, TUGGED ON cotton shorts and a tank, and went running. It felt strangely empowering to pound my feet against the pavement and sweat out all my immediate troubles. I was doing my best not to think about last night. So much for testing my courage by wandering around alone at night — as far as I was concerned, from now on, I’d be perfectly happy to stay locked up in my house the moment the moon showed its face. And if I never had to visit that particular 7-Eleven again, so much the better.

Strangely enough, it wasn’t Gabe who was haunting my thoughts, though. That job belonged to a pair of sinfully black eyes that had lost their edge when they studied me, turning as soft and sultry as silk. Jev had told me not to go looking for him, but I couldn’t stop fantasizing about all the different ways we might bump into each other again. In fact, the last dream I recalled before waking up this morning was of going to Ogunquit Beach with Vee, only to discover that Jev was the on-duty lifeguard. I’d pulled out of the dream with my heart thumping, and the strangest ache shredding me up inside. I could interpret the dream well enough myself: Despite the infuriated, tangled way he’d left me feeling, I wanted to see Jev again.

The sky was overcast, keeping the air cool, and after my stopwatch beeped to signal three miles, I gave it a smug smile and challenged myself to one more, not quite ready to give up my private thoughts about Jev. That, and I was enjoying myself immeasurably. I’d gone to spinning classes and Zumba at the gym with Vee, but out in the clean air, saturated with the smells of pine and dewy tree bark, I decided that hands down, I preferred sweating outdoors. After a while, I even tugged out my earbuds, allowing me to concentrate on the peaceful sounds of nature rising out of dawn.

At home I took a long, luxurious bath, then stood in front of my closet, biting the tip of my fingernail as I studied my wardrobe. In the end, I zipped myself into skinny jeans and tugged on kneehigh boots and a turquoise silk camisole. Vee would remember the outfit, since she was the one who’d persuaded me to buy it during last summer’s sidewalk sales. Scrutinizing myself in the mirror, I decided I passed as the same old Nora Grey. One step in the right direction, only a thousand or so more to go. I was a little worried what Vee and I would talk about, especially given the glaring issue of my kidnapping, but I reassured myself that that was what made Vee and me so compatible. I could strategically steer our conversation by raising certain subjects, and Vee could blather on forever about them. I just had to make sure I got her talking about what I wanted.

There was only one thing missing, I concluded, as I checked over my reflection. My outfit needed an accessory. Jewelry. No, a scarf.

I pulled out my dresser drawer, a sick feeling sweeping through me when I saw the long black feather. I’d forgotten about it. It was probably dirty. I made a mental note to throw it away as soon as I got back from lunch, but there wasn’t much conviction behind the thought. I was wary of the feather — but not enough to give it up just yet. First I wanted to know what kind of animal had shed it, and I wanted an explanation for why I felt like it was my responsibility to keep it safe. It was a ridiculous thought and didn’t make sense, but nothing had since I’d woken in the cemetery. Pushing the feather deeper to the back of the drawer, I grabbed the first scarf I saw.

Then I jogged downstairs, pocketed a ten-dollar bill from the freshly stocked petty cash drawer, and folded myself behind the wheel of the Volkswagen. I had to bang my fist on the dash four times before the engine caught, but I told myself it wasn’t necessarily a sign of a lemon. It meant this car was aged like, well, fine cheese. This car had seen the world. Chances are, it had hauled around at least a few interesting people. It was seasoned and experienced and held all the charm of 1984. Best of all, I hadn’t paid a cent for it.

After pumping a few dollars’ worth of gas into the tank, I motored over to Enzo’s. Tidying my hair in the storefront window, I let myself inside.

I took off my sunglasses, soaking in the impressive setting. Enzo’s had undergone a major makeover since I last remembered. A wide set of stairs led down to the front counter and a circular dining pit. Two catwalks spread out from either side of the hostess station, scattered with industrial aluminum tables that were part vintage, part chic. Big-band-style music played through the stereo system, and for a moment, I felt like I’d stumbled through time and landed in a speakeasy.

Vee was kneeling on her chair for height advantage, whipping her arm over her head like a propeller. “Babe! Over here!”

She met me halfway down the catwalk to my right and squeezed me into a hug. “I ordered iced mochas and a plate of sprinkled doughnuts for us. Man, we have so much to talk about. I wasn’t going to tell you, but the heck with surprises. I lost three pounds. Can you tell?” She twirled in front of me.

“You look amazing,” I told her, and I meant it. After all this time, we were finally together. She could have gained ten pounds, and I’d have thought she was absolutely beautiful.

“Self magazine said curves are a fall trend, so I’m feeling really confident,” she said, plopping down into her chair. We were at a table set for four, but instead of taking the chair across from Vee, I slipped into one directly beside her. “So,” she said, leaning forward conspiratorially, “tell me about last night. Holy freak show. I can’t believe your mom and Hanky Panky.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Hanky Panky?”

“We are so calling him Hanky Panky. It’s so accurate it hurts.”

“I think we should call him Frat Boy.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Vee said, slapping her palm down on the table. “How old do you think he is? Twenty-five? Maybe he’s really Marcie’s older brother. Maybe he has an Oedipus complex, and Marcie’s mom is his mom and his wife!”

I was laughing so hard I accidentally snorted. Which only sent us into deeper hysterics.

“Okay, stop,” I said, flattening my hands to my thighs and trying to muster a serious face. “This is mean. What if Marcie walked in and heard us?”

“What’s she going to do? Poison me with her secret stash of Ex-Lax?”

Before I could respond, the two available chairs at our table scraped back, and Owen Seymour and Joseph Mancusi sat down. I knew both boys from school. Owen had been in Vee’s and my biology class last year. He was tall and wiry, and wore studious-looking black glasses and Ralph Lauren polos. In sixth grade he’d beaten me out as our grade’s representative in the citywide spelling bee. Not that I had hard feelings. I hadn’t had a class with Joseph, or Joey, in years, but we’d known each other since elementary school, and his dad was Coldwater’s only chiropractor. Joey bleached his hair, wore flips-flops even in the winter, and played drums in the marching band. I knew for a fact that in junior high, Vee had a crush on him.

Owen pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled benignly. I braced myself for a barrage of questions concerning my kidnapping, but he simply said in a slightly nervous voice, “We saw you guys sitting over here and thought we’d, uh, amble over.”

“Gee, what a coincidence.” Vee’s curt tone startled me. Not typical for Vee, who was a self-proclaimed flirt, but maybe she was going for deadpan? “And what do you mean ‘amble over’? Who talks like that anymore?”

“Er, have any plans for the rest of the weekend?” Joey asked, folding his hands on the table, where they rested a few inches from Vee’s.

She drew back, stiffening her spine. “Plans that don’t include you.”

Okay, not deadpan. I peeked sideways at her, trying to catch her eye long enough to nonverbally articulate, What’s wrong? but she was too busy evil-eyeing Owen.

“If you don’t mind,” she said, clearly implying that it was time for them to leave.

Owen and Joey exchanged brief, perplexed looks.

“Remember when we had PE together in seventh grade?” Joey asked Vee. “You were my badminton partner. You totally rocked at badminton. If memory serves, we won the class tournament.” He raised his hand to give her a high five.

“Not in the mood to stroll down memory lane.”

Joey slowly dropped his hand beneath the table. “Er, right. Uh, you sure you don’t want us to buy you guys a lemonade or something?”

“So you can spike it with GHB? Pass. Besides, we’ve already got drinks, something you might have noticed if you were actually looking higher than our chests.” She rattled her iced mocha in his face.

“Vee,” I said under my breath. First of all, neither Owen nor Joey had been looking anywhere remotely close to where Vee insinuated, and second of all, what was the matter with her?

“Um … okay … sorry to bother,” Owen said, rising awkwardly to his feet. “We just thought—”