Savannah and Emily walked past Link and me, ignoring us. Their short skirts were even shorter than usual, and we could see bikini strings hanging out from under their tank tops. Tie-dye and pink gingham.
“Check it out. Bikini season.” Link grinned.
I had almost forgotten. We were only an exam away from an afternoon at the lake. Everyone who was anyone was wearing bathing suits under their clothes today, since summer didn’t officially start until you had taken your first swim off the shores of Lake Moultrie. Kids from Jackson had a place we hung out, up past Moncks Corner, where the lake opened deep and wide into what felt like an ocean when you were swimming in it. Except for all the catfish and the swamp weeds, you could be out to sea. This time last year, I rode to the lake in the back of Emory’s brother’s truck with Emily, Savannah, Link, and half the basketball team. But that was last year.
“You goin’?”
“Nah.”
“I’ve got an extra suit in the Beater, but it’s not as cool as these puppies.” Link pulled up his shirt so I could see his bathing suit, which was bright orange and yellow plaid. About as low-key as Link was.
“I’ll pass.” He knew why I wasn’t going, but I wouldn’t say it. I had to act like things were okay.
Like Lena and I were okay.
Link wasn’t giving up today. “I’m sure Emily’s savin’ you half her towel.” It was a joke, because we both knew she wasn’t. Even the pity parade had moved on, along with the hate campaign. I guess we were such easy targets these days, the sport was gone, like shooting fish in a barrel.
“Give it a rest.”
Link stopped walking and put his hand up to stop me. I shoved his hand away before he could start talking. I knew what he was going to say, and as far as I was concerned, the conversation was over before it started.
“Come on. I know her uncle died. Quit actin’ like you’re both still at the funeral. I know you love her, but…” He didn’t want to say it, even though we were both thinking it. He never brought it up anymore, because he was Link, and he sat at the lunch table with me when nobody else would.
“Everything’s fine.” It was going to work out. It had to. I didn’t know how to be without her.
“It’s hard to watch, dude. She’s treatin’ you like—”
“Like what?” It was a challenge. I could feel my fingers curling into a fist. I was waiting for a reason, any reason. I felt like I was going to explode, that’s how badly I wanted to hit something.
“The way girls usually treat me.” I think he was waiting for me to hit him. Maybe he even wanted me to, if it would’ve helped. He shrugged.
I uncurled my fingers. Link was Link, whether or not I felt like kicking his butt sometimes. “Sorry, man.”
Link laughed a little, taking off down the hall a little faster than usual. “No problem, Psycho.”
As I walked up the steps toward inevitable doom, I felt a familiar pang of loneliness. Maybe Link was right. I didn’t know how much longer things could go on like this with Lena. Nothing was the same. If Link could see it, maybe it was time to face facts.
My stomach started to ache, and I grabbed my side, as if I could squeeze out the pain with my hands.
Where are you, L?
I slid into my desk just as the bell rang. Lena was sitting in the seat next to mine, on the Good-Eye Side, like she always had. But she didn’t look like herself.
She was wearing one of those white V-neck undershirts that was too big, and a black skirt, a few inches shorter than she would’ve ever worn three months ago. You could barely see it under the shirt, which was Macon’s. I almost didn’t notice anymore. She also wore his ring, the one he used to twist on his finger when he was thinking, on a chain around her neck. It hung on a new chain, right next to my mother’s ring. The old chain had broken the night of her birthday, lost somewhere in the ash. I had given her my mom’s ring out of love, though I wasn’t sure it felt like that to her now. Whatever the reason, Lena loyally carried our ghosts with her, hers and mine, refusing to take off either one. My lost mother and her lost uncle, caught in circles of gold and platinum and other precious metals, hanging above her charm necklace and hidden in layers of cotton that didn’t belong to her.
Mrs. English was already passing out the tests, and she didn’t look amused that half the class was wearing a bathing suit or carrying a beach towel. Emily was doing both.
“Five short answers, ten points each, multiple-choice, twenty-five points, and the essay, twenty-five. Sorry, no Boo Radley this time. We’re covering Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. It’s not summer yet, people.” We had been reading To Kill a Mockingbird in the fall. I remembered the first time Lena had shown up for class, carrying her own broken-in copy.
“Boo Radley’s dead, Mrs. English. Stake through the heart.” I don’t know who said it, one of the girls sitting in the back with Emily, but we all knew she was talking about Macon. The comment was meant for Lena, just like old times. I tensed up as the ripple of laughter died down. I was waiting for the windows to shatter or something, but there wasn’t even a crack. Lena didn’t react. Maybe she wasn’t listening, or she didn’t care what they said anymore.
“I bet Old Man Ravenwood isn’t even in the town graveyard. That coffin’s probably empty. If there is one.” The voice was loud enough for Mrs. English to direct her eye toward the back of the room.
“Shut up, Emily,” I hissed.
This time, Lena turned around and looked right at Emily. That’s all it took—one look. Emily opened her test, like she had any idea what Jekyll and Hyde was about. No one wanted to take on Lena. They just wanted to talk about her. Lena was the new Boo Radley. I wondered what Macon would have had to say about that.
I was still wondering, when I heard a scream from the back of the room.