I have to apologize, she told herself, just as she’d told herself over and over yesterday. But no matter how often she said it, she still couldn’t seem to do anything.
“I’m such a jerk,” she suddenly said out loud, and snatched up the phone.
The number jabbed automatically from her fingers, then she waited, almost holding her breath. The third ring was cut off short.
“Hello?”
“Diane.” A reprieve, she thought. Time to ease into it. “Is Lorraine there?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Zoë. She’s spending the night at her mother’s.” She didn’t sound sorry at all. “She won’t be back till tomorrow morning.”
“Well, thanks, Diane, maybe I can call her there.”
“I’m not sure that’s a great idea, Zoë. It’s their last night together for a while, you know. Monica probably wants Lorraine to herself tonight, not chattering forever on the phone. Be considerate, babe.”
Like you care, Zoë thought. “Well, okay. Thanks.”
“No problem. Bye.” Diane hung up.
“Yeah, no problem,” Zoë mumbled. Now, where was her phone book? She found it in the drawer and flicked through to find the number, but when she found it she started having second thoughts. Maybe Diane was right for once. Maybe she shouldn’t call. I might not see her again, she thought. I can’t let her leave on these terms. But Lorraine wouldn’t be spending Halloween with her mother if I hadn’t been such a turd, Zoë decided. She probably doesn’t want to talk to me. She snapped the phone book shut.
She already missed Lorraine dreadfully. I don’t want to be alone, she thought. She reopened the phone book tentatively and leafed through, looking for someone else to call. She realized that most of the girls she had listed were Lorraine’s friends really, there was nobody she kept up with herself, and anyway, anyone in touch with reality would already have plans. As she leafed through the giltedged pages, she ran across Carol’s number. Maybe she’d call her mother’s friend. Carol is always kind, she thought, and I was pretty intense the last time I saw her. But the line was busy. She shut the book again and tossed it back into the drawer.
Zoë was looking through her parents’ records for some spooky organ music, when the next group came. Among them was a nasty little girl in a nurse’s uniform, who poked her tongue out when she saw the pennies being tipped into her bag. She’s lucky to get anything, Zoë thought. It’s that or popcorn, and I know which one I would prefer. She found the record she was looking for after they left.
The doorbell rang again, and Zoë dispensed more pennies. The organ music seemed to be quite effective—eyes blinked, and bags were held out hesitantly. She hammed it up a bit with the witches’ lines from Macbeth, as she dropped the pennies into the bags. Eye of newt was much more interesting than copper coins.
The second jar of pennies was now half empty, and the groups arrived farther and farther apart. Zoë was getting sick of the organ music, so she turned the stereo off.
The bell rang again, and she opened the door.
Simon.
She slammed the door shut. Her heart pounded in her chest.
He knocked this time.
“Go away.”
“Please.” She heard him faintly, muffled by the door. “Please let me in.”
“Go away, or I’ll call the police.” She shot the dead bolt home, trembling.
“Why?” The voice was louder.
“You know why.” She leaned against the door, as if helping the locks to hold. Oh, God, I wish Lorraine was here, she thought.
“You would have told the police about me already, if you were going to.”
“How do you know I didn’t?” She hadn’t, though. What could she tell them—she felt herself blush—that she had stupidly walked down a dark alley, at night, where there had been a murder, and seen a boy eating a bird? If she was crazy enough to go there, would they believe what she saw? “How do you know they’re not waiting for me to let them know if you turn up?”
“Zoë, I’ve lived the darkest lie of all.” His voice was sad. “I can recognize a lie.”
Why did she believe him? “I can call them right now.” She groped for a reason. “I’ll say you’re trying to break in.”
“But I can’t come in unless you invite me.”
She heard a catch in his words, something like anguish. It didn’t stop her from stepping toward the phone. His statement was absurd.