Jamie remembered that about Bette’s husband, too. “People change.”
“Not that much.”
Later, as Jamie was driving home, she got a call from the house phone. Harley.
“Hey, finally. I was getting worried,” she answered before Harley could say anything. “I didn’t call because I didn’t want to wake Emma. How was the mixer?”
A pause. “You didn’t wake me,” her sister said. “Harley did. She’s in bed crying.”
* * *
Jamie broke the speed limit driving home and screeched into the driveway. She ran to the back door to find it locked. Of course. She banged on it with the flat of her hand, then whirled around and went for the gnome that held the key. Not. There.
She just managed to keep from screaming before Emma appeared at the door. “Be quiet. You’ll wake the dead,” she said in her flat voice.
“Where’s the key?” Jamie demanded as she brushed past her and racewalked for the stairs.
“Harley forgot to put it back. Tsk-tsk.”
Jamie ran up the stairs and took a moment at the top landing to pull herself together. Her heart was pounding. It would do no good to scare her daughter. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe everything was okay. It was just that Harley never cried.
She walked down the hall with measured steps, forcing herself not to race. She hesitated outside Harley’s door. There was no sound.
She heard Emma come up the stairs and stop at the top, like Jamie had. Jamie looked back at her sister. Emma wore sweatpants and a loose, white T-shirt with “River Glen General” stitched across the breast pocket.
“Are you going in?” asked Emma.
Jamie nodded, then tapped softly on the door. “Harley?” When there was no answer, she twisted the knob and cracked the door about two inches. “Harley?”
Harley was lying on her stomach, deathly still. Jamie knew her daughter well enough to suspect she was feigning sleep. “Can I come in?”
Still no response.
Jamie’s pulse sped up in spite of herself. She swiftly moved inside and laid a hand on her daughter’s arm.
Harley snatched her arm beneath her and lifted her head enough to growl, “What are you doing?”
“Just checking on you.”
“Well, I’m fine. Just fine. Trying to sleep, if anybody’d let me.” She flopped back down.
Except she wasn’t just fine. Her voice was strained and she was hiding her face.
“How was the mixer?”
No response.
“Emma heard you crying.”
“I wasn’t crying!” Muffled. Into her pillow.
“What happened?”
“Nothing!”
“Did something happen to you? Or your friend . . . Marissa?”
A long, long pause. Knowing she was probably pushing it, Jamie placed her hand on Harley’s head and stroked her hair. They were both quiet for long minutes.
Jamie had closed the door when she’d ducked inside, but now it cracked open and Emma looked in.
“We’re okay here,” Jamie told her.
“I put the key back. Harley left it on the counter. I’m going to bed.” Emma closed the door and Jamie heard her shuffling down the hall, then the muffled sound of a closing door.
Harley slowly edged herself in a sitting position, her back to the headboard. Her bed was a twin and she’d clearly been crying. “I’m not crying. I’m angry!” she declared.
Jamie nodded, though she didn’t believe it for a second.
And then it all came pouring out. A boy. An older boy, Greer, had shown Harley some attention. He’d seemed kind of nice at first, but Marissa had warned her to be careful. And then . . . and then . . . it turned out Marissa liked him! That she had for a long time. Either him or Tyler Stapleton . . . or maybe Troy something or other. The coolest guys in the senior class, even though Marissa said the senior boys were off-limits because of the senior girls. But this guy liked Harley. He’d called her up on stage, and Marissa, too, but then all the boys ran back to where they’d hidden stuff earlier and came out in these masks and costumes. Greer put on a Halloween mask and then pretended to come at Harley like a zombie. She knew it was Greer by his shoes. And then he put his hands around her neck and pushed her over the edge of the stage.
“What?” Jamie asked on a swift intake of breath.
“No, no . . . it was fine. He whispered in my ear before it happened. It was a mosh pit. The other kids all knew to catch me. Everyone was pissed about the school canceling the Halloween mixer, so they decided to make this one like it.”
Harley’s animated face collapsed, and it looked like she was about to cry again.
“Well, then, what was it?”
“It was kinda scary . . . and . . .”
Jamie kept very still and waited. Harley confided in her so rarely that she didn’t want to blow this moment by being too eager.
“They found out that I was Emma’s niece and one of ’em talked about her like she was . . .” Harley’s voice had gotten softer and softer and Jamie could scarcely hear her.
“What did he say?” Jamie asked again, her voice like steel.
Harley shook her head. “You know.”
“Which boy?”
“Just one of ’em.”
She clearly didn’t want to reveal his name. Jamie understood the teenage code, but she could well imagine the kind of thoughtless, cruel slurs that could come out of a teenager’s mouth. Her blood boiled, but she clamped her jaw shut even though she wanted to rage against the injustice of it all.
“But . . .” Harley pressed her fingers to her eyes in a fruitless attempt to stop more tears. “I did kind of like him. But I really like Marissa. She’s the only one I know.”
Jamie knew very little about what had transpired between Harley and her boyfriend from her last school and was tempted to brush off the importance of liking some new guy she’d just met, but this connection with Harley was too fragile to trample over.
“Maybe it’ll work itself out. Maybe Marissa’ll get with Tyler,” she said lightly.
Harley suddenly glared at
