“I can’t write what I feel. I feel sad and weirded out, that’s all. We all are, so sad. I don’t know how we’ll run without her. We’ll lose to Methacton for sure. Nobody wants to run. I think we should cancel the meet. We just cry, like, all the time. Her wake is tomorrow, and we’re going in uniform, like a tribute to her.”
Jake felt terrible and he knew Ryan did, too. “Then write about Kathleen. Write about what she was like, as a person.”
“That’s what I tried to do, but I can’t.” Sabrina sighed again. “That’s why I said she was friendly and nice and everything, but I didn’t know her that well, and we weren’t that friendly, then she got tight with Courtney and Sarah and Janine Mae. I’m not good at giving speeches, anyway. I can’t do this. I should’ve told Coach that I can’t do it and it’s really too important and I’m failing at it, epically.”
Ryan shook his head. “No, you’re not. You’re doing fine.”
“I’m not, I suck out loud! I’m going to let everyone down!”
Ryan shrugged. “Why don’t you tell a story about her? Sometimes if you tell a story about somebody, that tells the audience something about them. Like we studied about in The Great Gatsby. People tell stories about Gatsby before you even meet him.”
“Great idea,” Jake said, grateful. “It will cheer them up, too.”
“Och.” Sabrina dropped her chin into her palm. “There’s a lot of stories about her, but I don’t know if they’re good enough to tell.”
“Like what?” Ryan asked, swallowing visibly.
“Like she really liked to sing on the bus, and she had a good voice, but that’s not good enough.” Sabrina cocked her head. “Well, also, she was superhot and all the guys on the boys’ team really liked her, but that’s not a good story to tell at something like this, either. Right, Ryan?” Sabrina turned to him, knitting her forehead. “Like remember when Sam and Caleb, they both asked her to the Halloween dance? That’s not a good story, is it?”
“No.” Ryan flushed.
Jake stepped in to rescue him. “Sabrina, I think Ryan means you should tell a story about her, about something she did.”
“Oh, right. Totally.” Sabrina thought a moment. “She was really good with computer graphics, and she made an awesome website for the travel track team. It had animated gifs and everything.” Sabrina brightened, straightening in her chair. “In fact, oh, I have a good story, a better one. There was the time she raised the money to buy shirts for the travel team, that’s a good story. We all had the same singlets, but our gym bags and T-shirts didn’t match. We never looked as good as the other travel teams, like Great Valley always looked awesome. They even had matching scrunchies, blue-and-white.”
Ryan nodded, with a shaky smile. “Good. Then tell that.”
“But that’s not the story. Your dad said tell a story about her, like something she did. That doesn’t tell what she did. I didn’t get to that part yet.”
“Okay.” Ryan pursed his lips, and Jake could see that was the last thing he wanted to know. He prayed Ryan could get through tonight and the next few weeks. Jake would never forgive himself if Ryan tried to hurt himself. He’d quit Gardenia and go on twenty-four-hour suicide watch, if that’s what it took.
“Anyway, Kathleen got everybody together and she got this idea where we would stuff envelopes for free to get the money for the T-shirts, and we all worked together and we had the money in, like, four weekends, all because of her.” Sabrina brightened. “And the coolest thing was that we all had fun, like we weren’t doing another stupid bake sale or standing out in front of the Acme, begging for money in front of an oaktag sign, like we were Brownies or something. It was like we worked for our T-shirts, all of us together, the way a team should be. It was a really different idea and she thought it up herself.” Sabrina stopped abruptly, her smile fading. “Except she won’t even get to see the gym bags. They didn’t come in yet. We got the T-shirts and the scrunchies, but the gym bags take longer. She’ll never get to see them … now.”
Ryan paled. He didn’t say anything, and neither did Jake. The only sound in the kitchen was the huh-huh-huh of Moose’s panting.
Sabrina looked over at Ryan, her eyes shining. “Ryan, what do you think? Is that a good enough story?”
Ryan sighed heavily, but couldn’t even muster up a smile. “It’s great, Sabrina. Just great.”
Chapter Forty-one
Night fell hard and cold, and White Springs Road was congested with stop-and-go traffic, heading to the high school for the memorial service. Jake sat in the passenger seat, tense, while Pam drove them in silence. They’d exchanged pleasantries for show at home, putting up a false front for the kids, and she’d freshened up, drained a cup of coffee, and changed her shoes. She drove without looking at him, sitting ramrod-straight, her eyes fixed on the road.
We can’t go back, we just can’t. I can’t. I’m done. I can’t forgive you, ever.
It hurt Jake to be so close to her, in the familiar intimacy of her car, while she walled him off. He knew that she had to be dreading going to the service tonight, and she felt all the guilt and shame he did, but with an overlay of anger and resentment. He wished he could comfort her, but he was the cause of her pain. Their coats touched, but they couldn’t. He could smell her perfume, but he couldn’t kiss her. He was married to her, but she wanted a divorce. She had slept with someone else, maybe even last night. He felt heartbroken and furious, both at once.
The kids rode in the backseat, their heads bent over their iPhones and their ears plugged with earbuds. Ryan didn’t text at all, but listened to music, and Sabrina rehearsed her speech, whispering to herself like a nightmare voiceover, “… a tragic loss for the track team and the Concord Chase High School community as a whole…”
They stopped behind a long line of cars, plumes of exhaust floating into the air like ghosts. Jake tried to tune Sabrina out, but wasn’t succeeding. She was whispering, “… and she had so many talents and hobbies, for example, she was excellent with computer graphics and made a super-professional website for…”
They were almost at the high school, which was just around the corner. A dark van inched beside them in the right lane, and Jake looked over. Inside the van was a couple just like them, except the man was driving. A younger kid played a handheld video game in the backseat, his face wreathed in eerie green-blue light. Jake had checked every passing car to make sure it wasn’t the dark BMW, the detectives, or otherwise suspicious.
The traffic eased, and Pam steered right around the corner onto Racton Hill Road. Flashing police lights sliced through the black night, from cruisers out in force, parked on the curb. Cops grouped on the sidewalk, and Jake realized that they were just directing traffic to the high school. One motioned the cars to keep moving, waving a flashlight with an orange cone.
Jake thought of the detectives and worried if they would interview him again. Would they just drop in or call first? Did he need a lawyer? Did Ryan? Should he call Hubbard? Jake hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Pam alone yet. She would get a lawyer, probably a separate one from him and Ryan. And she’d get a divorce lawyer, too.
“We’re late,” Pam muttered under her breath.
They were only at the middle school, and Jake could see the high school ahead on the left, a long, two-story box of red brick, its continuous panels of windows ablaze with light. “Not very.”
“That’s not the point. Late is late.”
“So will everybody else be, in this traffic.”
“Again. Not the point.”
Jake let it go. He was trying to make it better, but that was impossible. They were going to the memorial service for a young girl they had killed, and they were ruined, guilty, and afraid. A corrupt family, bound by a secret crime. Bankrupt, despite the money they had. Nothing could be made better.
The traffic eased, and the car began to move forward. Pam exhaled. “Finally.”
Jake didn’t say anything. He could hear Sabrina whispering, like a prayer, “… Kathleen was an extreme loss for the Concord Chase High School community in its entirety…”