I can talk about this. I should talk about this. I push myself to get real, off the page and unscripted. “Have you heard of Jordan King?”
Nikki’s eyebrows shoot up. “The singer?”
I nod.
“She has that hit song. The one that’s dominated all the radio stations. What’s it called?”
“‘Sirens,’” I say. “That’s my sister.”
“She’s dating someone famous too, isn’t she? That music producer . . . um . . .”
“Jerome LaDuke. Duke for short.” Worst man alive. “Yeah, that’s him.”
Nikki must sense my feelings of worthlessness and pain at the mention of their names because, for whatever reason, she squeezes my arm. “I’m glad you came today, Brooke.”
“Thanks. Me too.”
“Come on.” She winks. “I know the best place on campus to get ice cream. You haven’t had ice cream until you’ve had CREAM ice cream.”
I have no idea what that means and I don’t care. Because for the rest of the afternoon I have a new friend, and it doesn’t feel forced and I’m not constantly worrying she doesn’t like me or questioning if she’s annoyed or doesn’t want to be here. Instead, I enjoy my plain vanilla in a cup while she eats her birthday cake ice cream smashed between CREAMfetti cookies, which I would absolutely order if they didn’t have gluten. I almost want to cheat, but I’d regret it later.
There will be a next time. I let the idea turn to choice. I’m already making plans for when I’ll visit again.
We talk and laugh and exchange numbers. When I meet Jake at the car, Nikki’s already texted. I have a text from Hope too. I skip it, wanting to tell her in person about how amazing Berkeley is.
I climb into the car and click my seat belt in place. “Hey, can we take a detour to Hope’s house? It’s only thirty minutes out of the way and I haven’t seen her in a week.”
Jake doesn’t answer right away. The radio plays low over the car’s speakers. I open Nikki’s text. I love that she uses proper grammar and punctuation. I can tell we’ll get along well.
Hey, that guy behind the ice cream counter was super cute, right? I think he was interested in you. Should I give him your number?
Nikki already has a boyfriend so I know this is her way of being nice. But I can’t help that all-too-familiar feeling that surfaces when I think of boys and summer and first dates.
Thanks, but I think I need to keep my options open. Let me check Cold Stone and Baskin-Robbins and get back to you?
I add a winking face and hit Send.
She responds with four crying-laughing faces and I know I’ve made a friend.
It didn’t even hurt.
I pull up directions to Hope’s house, then turn to Jake to tell her about my campus tour.
Her deadpan expression shatters every perfect detail, shading it in gray.
This is Jake’s version of crying. This is the face she makes when she doesn’t want to make a face at all. It’s the same face she made before I was life-flighted to the hospital in January.
“Jake?”
“The hardest part about this job,” she says, “is getting attached.”
I unbuckle and twist to face her fully. A new song fades in over the radio, a haunting, siren-like voice I recognize too well. I hit the power button and the music dies. “Jake. What. Happened?”
“It’s Hope.”
And that’s all. I don’t need more because that’s it.
It’s Hope.
And so a new normal begins.
I didn’t brace for the impact this time. I fly headfirst through the shards of my flawless day. They cut me as I sail straight into the concrete finality of Jake’s words. I’m lying in a pool of the blood that drains from my head. Because . . . because . . .
I close my eyes, squeeze my phone hard, wishing I could turn back time and open the text I didn’t read when it would have meant something. I make myself say the words for her.
“Hope is gone.”
Thirty-Three
Merrick
Merrick had braved the Fourth of July crowds before, but this was insane. Sweat bordered his hairline, the deodorant he’d put on this morning expired. He removed his tank and shoved the bottom end in the back of his board shorts, giving himself a nice tail.
Humans occupied every inch of the beach. Mothers slathered sunscreen on their children from head to toe. Dads threw Nerf balls. A few teen girls sunbathed on their stomachs, bikini strings untied.
A year ago, he might have whistled. Maybe even joined them in hopes of some action. Today he searched for a girl who was fully clothed and never failed to make him believe in a better version of himself.
When the pier was fifty yards off, he sensed her before he saw her. Coral’s presence was a song he’d gladly play on his harmonica any day. He’d brought it tonight. He was determined to show her how he felt with more than words.
Be cool. Be cool. You’ve played the harmonica a thousand times before.
When had he gone from caring about nothing to caring about everything?
No, not everything. Just her. And Amaya, of course. And their mom. But that wasn’t the point.
Merrick made a beeline for the men’s bathroom and ducked inside. Splashed some cold water onto his face. “Get it together, Merrick.”
“Talking to yourself again?”
He whipped around to find his sister standing in the doorframe.
“You left the house. Alone? Maya, not cool. Someone might see you.”
“What? In the million people here?” She jerked her chin over one shoulder. “I’m nothing, a nobody, a Waldo in this sea of busybodies.” She’d propped the door open with her arms and feet spread apart like a starfish. Her wrinkled nose was warranted thanks to the reeking scent wafting from every corner of the space. What was not warranted was how comfortable she felt to intrude here, of all places. “Relax, Brother. Grim and Nikki are with me. They went to get shaved ice.”
He’d have a word with Grim again about his sister’s safety. It had been over six months, but that didn’t mean they were in the clear.
“Amaya.” Merrick left the cracked and graffitied mirror and filthy sink behind, bolted toward her, and scooted her out before someone saw. Or came in. “This is the men’s bathroom.”
She rolled her eyes, dug her thumbs under her backpack straps, hitching it higher on her thin shoulders. She drew her sunglasses down over her nose, removed one of Grim’s ball caps from her back pocket, nestled it low over her forehead. “I’m inconspicuous. See?”
Merrick eyed her. Had she lost more weight? Hard to decide when all her clothes were too baggy to begin with. Amaya’s knee-length shorts hung low on her hips, and the neck of her T-shirt sagged beneath her collarbone. Maybe he’d ask Nikki to bring her some new things.
He suppressed his worry over Maya’s weight and searched the perimeter for Nikki and Grim. They waved at him from the shaved-ice shack and Merrick’s worries eased. He wanted to introduce them to Coral, but he was also selfish. This night had to be perfect. If he overwhelmed her with introductions, it might trigger her anxiety.
So Merrick swung his arm around his sister’s neck and forced her into a hug. She had thinned, and the circles under her eyes said she lacked sleep. He glanced at her arms, hoping she wouldn’t notice. He didn’t see any new cuts. Still, his gut said his sister wasn’t as okay as she seemed.
They were running out of time.
He needed to find their mom. Yesterday.