to ask. Please keep my brother’s drum kit and Lizzie safe. I obviously can’t take either with me. And Dad sure as hell can’t take care of Lizzie. I know she’d be happy with you. If you can’t take her, then please find her a good home. I trust you.Thank you for everything, Drea. You rock.Until we meet again. (And we will!)Naomi,a.k.a. your pain-in-the-ass friend forever
I read her letter three times, hoping it wasn’t real. Her dad wasn’t supposed to be home last night. Saturday, she’d said. They were going to pick out a car Saturday. Acid crept into my throat. My friend was gone, and it was my fault. Mom didn’t follow through on a lot of things—why this? Why now? I should’ve kept my mouth shut.
My cell phone rang, making me jump. Justin’s name appeared in the tiny screen.
“Hello?”
“I got an e-mail from Naomi,” he said, his voice somber.
I slumped in my chair, my eyes stinging. “It’s my fault. I should’ve stayed home last night.”
“You aren’t why she’s unhappy. Don’t think that way.” His windshield wipers squeaked in the background.
“I thought you had to work.”
“I do, but I’m on lunch. I’m heading to Scott’s.”
“What are you going to do?”
He exhaled into the phone. “I’m going to try and talk to her.”
“But Roger said Scott wants to pound you.”
“If he wants to come at me in broad daylight, he can go for it. I’m not going inside.”
“Take me with you.”
“No, I don’t want you around Scott.”
“I don’t care. She’s my friend too.”
“I’m going to try and get her home, okay?”
I nodded and realized he couldn’t hear me. “Call me as soon as you leave.” My throat was so tight it hurt to breathe.
“I will.” His voice softened. “I promise.”
I tried calling Naomi three times after Justin hung up. Her voice mail greeted me every time. Then I reread her letter.
I should’ve complimented her singing more. Told her how beautiful she was. She had more physical grace than anyone I’d ever known, especially when we jammed. A natural performer. Every movement seemed epic. I should’ve told her the truth about me.
Justin called ten minutes later. He said nobody answered, but the blinds were pulled up. The apartment looked vacant inside.
I ran upstairs, ready to confront Mom. A man’s voice echoed from the kitchen when I opened the basement door. Mom answered him softly. I crept toward the entrance, but stayed behind the wall and listened.
“I used to build houses,” the man said. “It was decent money. But then I fell and messed up my back. And the doc said no more construction or manual labor for me. Well, I don’t have a degree, and the job market in this town is nonexistent. What was I supposed to do?”
“I know,” Mom said. “I’m always struggling to keep my head above water. It’s not easy.”
“I’m not a bad father.” His voice shook. “I tried, you know? She’s always been so self-sufficient. Her brother was always getting in trouble. Teachers called me about him all the time. But not Naomi. She had good grades. No problems.”
I bit my lip to keep from shouting at him. He didn’t try. He made her feel invisible.
Mom gave him one of her vague sympathetic answers. Her voice trembled a little, like it always did when she felt bad. “I got lucky with Drea,” she continued. “I’ve made so many mistakes, dragging her across the country, living out of our pickup, one failed relationship after another. But she’s so practical and levelheaded. It’s not always about what you did or didn’t do. I think Naomi just got involved with the wrong crowd.”
“Do you know anything else about this Scott guy? I’d like to”—something banged against the table—“put his face through a goddamn wall,” her dad said.
“What are you doing, Drea?” Grandma peeked out from her bedroom down the hall. “Don’t eavesdrop on conversations.”
“Drea?” Mom called. “You can come in here, sweetie. It’s okay.”
I rolled my eyes and walked into the kitchen. Naomi’s dad sat at the head of the table, hunched over. His cheeks were sunken and his eyes red rimmed. He glanced up at me for a moment and nodded before staring at his hands.
I pressed my back against the wall, folding and unfolding my arms. Nothing felt comfortable. Nothing felt right.
Mom gave me a weak smile. “There was a bag for you on the porch this morning. It’s on the counter.” She studied my face. “Do you know what happened?”
“She’s with Scott,” I said. “I told you it wasn’t a good idea.”
Mom squinted at me. “Is she at his apartment?”
“No, Justin went over there. They’re gone. She said they were heading south in a couple days.”
Naomi’s dad covered his face. “I don’t know what the hell to do. I reported her as a runaway, but she’s just one
