First Frost

14

 

Before homeroom that Friday morning, Bay went to the main office in the rotunda to drop off a note from her mom, confirming that she knew Bay had missed school yesterday, that way Bay wouldn’t have an unconfirmed absence in her file. No one liked going to the main office. It smelled like feet, and the secretary, Ms. Scatt, was unfriendly and put too much white concealer under her eyes and everyone was afraid to tell her how unnatural it looked.

 

Bay had just walked out of the office when she heard Phin call to her, “Hey, Bay!”

 

She looked down the hallway to see Phin at an open locker, his backpack at his feet. She walked over to him. She hadn’t known his locker was on this floor. Then again, almost no one in school knew where their lockers were, which was why everyone had such heavy backpacks. In every building, the lockers on the left side were painted red, and the lockers on the right side were painted black—the school colors. But, over the years, the red lockers had faded to an unmanly pink, so none of the boys liked to have those lockers, and they traded with girls who didn’t like the black lockers, and everyone eventually forgot where they were supposed to be.

 

“Hi, Phin,” she said, enjoying the oddity of seeing him out of context. She almost never saw him in school. They didn’t have any of the same classes or even share the same lunch period.

 

“You haven’t been at the bus stop all week,” he said, closing his locker, which was pink because he obviously couldn’t get anyone to trade. “What’s going on? There’s some ridiculous rumor about you and Josh being caught on the green on Wednesday.”

 

She leaned against the lockers beside him. “My mom grounded me because I caught a ride home with Josh the night of the dance. Then I went out with him without her permission on Wednesday.”

 

Phin eyed her flatly. “With Josh Matteson.”

 

“It’s not what you think.”

 

He shouldered his backpack, which was heavy enough to make him lose his balance a little. It probably weighed more than he did. “If he’s leading you on, he’ll have me to deal with.”

 

That made Bay laugh. “Phin? Seriously?”

 

“Yes, seriously.”

 

She sobered as she pushed herself away from the lockers. “I don’t think that will be necessary. Apparently, he owes you a debt of gratitude. Something about a video of the fight at the Halloween dance.”

 

“Have you seen it?” he asked.

 

“No. My mom has my phone, and now my laptop. Because of Wednesday. What’s on this mysterious video?”

 

“Nothing.” Phin looked over her shoulder. Pink blotches appeared on his cheeks and neck.

 

Bay turned around to see Riva Alexander walking down the hall. She was one of those girls who looked good with weight on them, although she wouldn’t know it until she was older. The scarf around her waist today had tiny bells on it that made a ting, ting, ting sound as she walked. Seniors generally kept to the senior building, where most of their classes were, so it was unusual to see her here.

 

Instead of walking by them, on her way to somewhere else, she stopped in front of Bay and Phin. “Hi, Phin. Am I interrupting something?”

 

“No,” he said immediately, which made Bay smile.

 

“I saw the video. I just wanted to give you this,” she said, handing him a folded piece of paper. “I wrote you a note.”

 

“Uh, thanks,” he said, taking it from her.

 

Riva walked away, head high.

 

“What was that all about?” Bay asked.

 

“I have no idea,” Phin said. “Is it just me, or is everything getting weird around here?”

 

The warning bell rang for homeroom, and everyone scattered.

 

“It’s not just you,” Bay said with a smile as she backed away, then ran to homeroom before the final bell.

 

*

 

The first buses had just left and Bay was sitting on her familiar step in front of the school that afternoon, when she heard a car horn. She looked down to see her mother’s Mini Cooper pull in front of the school.

 

So much for waiting to see if Josh would appear. She hadn’t seen him since Wednesday, when her family had shown up en masse on the downtown green, which was enough to scare anyone, let alone a poor eighteen-year-old who had done nothing wrong. She had no way of contacting him and, short of going to hang out in the senior building, she didn’t know how to talk to him at school, either. She’d only been in the senior building twice. Once on her first day of school, when she’d gotten lost and had seen Josh for the first time, then when she’d gone back to give him her note.

 

Bay trudged down the steps and got in her mother’s car without a word. Her mother was wearing her hip apron, which meant they were going back to her salon.

 

“Claire said she wasn’t working on candy today, so I thought I’d pick you up,” Sydney said, pulling away from the curb, making someone honk at her for darting in front of them.

 

“Oh,” Bay said, feeling a little guilty for acting so surly. “I thought this had something to do with Josh.”

 

“We’ll figure out Josh some other time,” Sydney said.

 

“How is Aunt Claire?” Bay asked, thinking about yesterday and how seriously Claire had taken the question of her heritage. If someone had ever said to Bay that she wasn’t a Waverley, she would have laughed. She never would have taken it seriously. But that was because she’d never been left to figure things out on her own, with only a few clues to lead the way.

 

“She said she took care of it,” Sydney said.

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“I’m not sure. But I trust her.”

 

They passed the businesses and offices that shared the same thoroughfare as the high school, then Sydney took the highway loop that led downtown, which was quicker than cutting through the neighborhoods. Bay could close her eyes and still know where they were. She knew this place by heart.

 

“Did you mean what you said yesterday, that you wanted to meet that man just because he might be able to tell you more things about your mother?” Bay asked. “Even if they were bad things?”

 

“Yes,” Sydney said. “She will always be a big mystery to me. But I think she’s an even bigger mystery to Claire. I’d want to know, if just for Claire.”

 

As Bay looked out the passenger side window, she said, “I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting. I have you and Dad, and that’s more than you and Claire ever had. I know you came back so I could grow up here, even though you didn’t want to. You never left me, or let me believe I was anything but myself. I’ll never have the doubts or questions you and Claire have. You’ve done a good job, you know that? You and Claire both. You’ve done a good job.” Bay felt herself getting choked up, which embarrassed her.

 

“Wow,” Sydney said, turning her head briefly to look at Bay. “Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

“But you’re still grounded.”

 

Bay leaned her head back against the seat and smiled.

 

*

 

Once they got to the beauty salon, Bay manned the phones, figuring, since she’d lost her candy job with Claire, this was going to be her after-school employment until her mother found another receptionist.

 

She sat behind the desk and tried to read Romeo and Juliet, but the book was falling apart. She hated when this started to happen. She hated letting go. But it was time to put the cover of the book on her ceiling, and start something new.

 

She reached down and stuffed the book into her backpack. That’s when she noticed the photo that the old man had tried to blackmail Aunt Claire with. Bay had kept it with her.

 

She took it out and studied it in detail, then she looked up and stared out the salon’s window, mulling things over. The day was growing darker, sending shadows across the green. Horace J. Orion’s head looked like he was about to take a long winter’s nap.

 

It had been at this time of day when she’d first seen the old man standing on the green, a suitcase by his side, no form of transportation nearby.

 

A suitcase.

 

The next time she’d seen him, he’d been taking a stroll down Pendland Street.

 

There was an inn within walking distance of the Waverley house on Pendland Street.

 

He’d been staying at the Pendland Street Inn.

 

Bay immediately stood up and hurried to the door. “I’m going to stretch my legs,” she called to her mother. “I’ll be right back!”

 

Sarah Addison Allen's books