Ashley sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Straight ahead, taped to the wall, was Sally’s poster of Brandi Chastain ripping off her shirt after scoring the winning goal against China in the World Cup. Sally had left that poster and another of Mia Hamm, Ashley’s favorite soccer player. Sally wanted to stay with Ashley in the dorm, but her parents had taken her away. Sally called every day, but it wasn’t the same as having her friend with her.
Ashley studied the poster of Brandi Chastain. Chastain looked so powerful, so invincible. Ashley had felt like that on occasion. She remembered last year’s game against Wilson for the Portland Inter-scholastic League championship. It had been tied up with a minute to go when she had raced downfield with the ball, ready to set up the winning goal. Everything had been perfect until she slipped. When she saw her go down, the Wilson goalie stopped dead and straightened up, thinking that the threat was over.
When Ashley felt her legs go out from under her she’d kicked the ball into the air. Her back had slammed into the ground but she’d tucked her chin. Her eyes had stared forward and she watched the ball fall. To this day Ashley had no idea how she’d had the presence of mind to turn on her hip and kick the awkward shot that had skipped past Wilson ’s stunned goalie. In her room in the Academy dormitory, she re-experienced that feeling of pure joy and she smiled-her first smile since her mother’s death. A second later, she sobered, but something had changed inside her. She was still sad but she knew she didn’t want to die. She was tired of feeling sorry for herself, and there were things she had to do, like taking care of her mother’s funeral. The thought made her tear up. She knew she could break down if she didn’t fight, so she took a deep breath and inhaled the rancid odor of days-old sweat.
Ashley’s nose wrinkled. Her body odor hadn’t bothered her before. She had not had the energy or will to bathe anyway. But this morning the smell repelled her. Ashley stared at herself in the mirror over her dresser. She looked awful. Her hair was tangled and unkempt, she’d lost weight, there were dark shadows under her eyes.
The shower was in a communal women’s bathroom near the stairs. Ashley remembered the police guard. She put on her sweats, grabbed her toiletries, said hello to the guard, and shuffled down the hall.
The hot shower helped. It was short because she did not feel right luxuriating in it with her mother and father dead. Guilt would keep her from enjoying a lot of things for a while. But she could not avoid the pleasant feeling of being clean and having smooth, untangled hair.
Ashley returned to her room. She had just dressed in a fresh Eisenhower High T-shirt and shorts when the police guard knocked on her door. The knock was tentative. Everyone was still walking on eggs around her.
“Miss Spencer?”
“Yes?”
The door opened a crack and the policeman stuck his head in. “There’s a Mr. Philips here to see you. He says he’s your lawyer.”
Ashley didn’t know anyone named Philips and she was certain that she did not have a lawyer, but she welcomed the novelty of a visitor. The policeman stepped back and a young man slipped past him. He was about Ashley’s height and slender, with pale blue eyes and shaggy light brown hair. The lawyer was wearing a business suit, white shirt, and tie, but Ashley thought he could still pass for someone in high school.
“Miss Spencer, I’m Jerry Philips. I’m an attorney.”
Philips held out a business card. Ashley hesitated before crossing the room to take it. The lawyer gestured toward a chair. “May I?”
“Sure, okay.”
Ashley sat on the bed and examined the business card. Jerry Philips sat down and balanced his briefcase on his knees.
“I want you to know how sorry I am about your folks.” The young lawyer looked down and Ashley saw him swallow. “My mother died a few years ago and my father died shortly before your father…passed away. So I have an idea of what you’re going through.”
Now it was Ashley’s turn to feel uncomfortable. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
Philips smiled sadly. “That seems to be the opening line for a lot of people I’ve met since Dad passed away. I’m sure you’ve heard it a lot, too.” He laughed self-consciously. “I just said ‘I’m sorry,’ didn’t I?”
Ashley was growing impatient. The lawyer seemed like a nice person but she didn’t want to discuss the death of her parents or hear about his tragedy.
“Mr. Philips, why are you here?”
“Right. I should come to the point. Did your mother or father ever mention my father, Ken Philips?”
“I don’t think so.”
“He was a lawyer, too. He was partially retired and living in Boulder Creek in central Oregon. Your mother and father were two of the clients he was still handling. Dad wrote their wills.”
“Oh.”
“I thought you’d like to know how you stand financially.”
Ashley suddenly realized that she had no idea how she would feed herself or whether she could afford a place to stay once she left the Academy. While her parents were alive, Ashley had the luxury of going to school, playing soccer, and having a good time without worrying how to pay for anything. All that had changed.
“Another thing.” Philips looked uncomfortable again. “I talked to Detective Birch. He said you could bury your mother now.” Philips didn’t tell Ashley that there had been an autopsy. He didn’t want her thinking about her mother lying on cold steel as a stranger made incisions in her flesh and unemotionally dictated findings about cause of death. “I can arrange the funeral, if you want me to.”
“Yes, if you could,” Ashley answered, relieved that someone would take the burden of organizing the funeral from her shoulders.
“Okay.” Philips took out a yellow pad and made a note. Then he took out some papers.
“We don’t have to get into details today. We can do that at your convenience. I can tell you that you’re going to be okay financially if you watch yourself. You’ll inherit some money and both of your parents had good life insurance policies. The money will probably last a while if you’re careful. I can suggest a financial adviser when we get together.”
Ashley wanted to know how much money she would inherit but she could not bring herself to ask. She didn’t want Philips to think that she was greedy, and it felt wrong to think that she had profited from her parents’ deaths.
“You should also think about selling your house,” Philips continued.
Ashley took an involuntary breath.
“It’s hard, I know. I sold my dad’s place and it broke my heart. It’s where I grew up.”
“I know I’ll have to let it go.”
“The market is good now. With the life insurance, what you’ll get for the house, and the other money, you should be fine.”
Ashley wiped a tear from her eye. Philips stood up and handed her a handkerchief. He spotted a glass on her night table.
“Do you want some water?”
“I’ll be okay. It’s just so hard to…”
Ashley bit her lip. Philips looked down. “Anyway,” he continued self-consciously, “I’ll take care of the funeral arrangements. Do you want to set a time to meet so we can go over all of the financial stuff?”
“Anytime is okay,” Ashley said sadly. “I don’t have anything else except the funeral.”
“Do you have any questions?” Philips asked.
“Not now. I’ll call you about the meeting. And thank you for coming to see me.”
“It’s my job,” Philips answered with a kind smile. He stood. “See ya.”
“See ya,” she answered.
As soon as Jerry Philips left, Ashley realized that she was famished. She had barely eaten anything in the past few days. Someone had brought meals to her room while the school cafeteria was open for the soccer clinic but she only picked at them, leaving most of the food. Laura Rice’s duties as dorm proctor had ended with the soccer clinic. After she packed, Laura visited Ashley to say good-bye and to deliver a message from Henry Van Meter, who had invited Ashley to take her meals in the Van Meter mansion.