CHAPTER TWO
Fifteen Years Ago
The night my sister died, our mother gave us the Game of Life.
Mom bought us guilt presents because, as Rachel said, she knew what she was doing was wrong. She thought if we just played quietly in the attic, we’d ignore what went on downstairs. But sound travels in old houses, and even if Mom said it was “just a party,” we knew better.
Dad had sort of finished off the attic two years ago, putting in insulation and a space heater and hooking up cable and Nintendo. It became my sanctuary, for me more than for my sister: I guess I just liked having my own private hideout. Mom bought a couple of beanbag chairs and two long, narrow throw rugs that fit the space when laid out side by side.
We were up there with our new game the night of the last party.
It took me nearly an hour to set everything up because all of the plastic pieces came attached to one frame and I had to break each one off. I didn’t ask Rachel to help because she was in a bad mood, pretending to read. I knew she wasn’t reading because she never turned a page in her book. The sound of the rain pounding on the pitched roof would have been scary if I was alone, but I wasn’t scared with my sister here.
“Ready,” I said. “There’s no purple car; do you want blue?” Purple was Rachel’s favorite color. Blue was mine.
“You can have blue.” Rachel sighed and put the unread book down. She picked up the red car.
I began to explain the rules, but Rachel cut me off. “I’ve played it before, at Jessie’s house.”
“Is that why you’re mad? Because Jessie said you couldn’t come over tonight?”
Rachel shrugged. “It’s not her fault.”
That was it. I had only just turned nine, but I knew my sister better than anyone, even our parents. “I wish Grams was here.”
“Yeah.”
Grams lived in Florida most of the year. Her arthritis was so bad, she could hardly walk when it was cold. Rachel and I always spent spring break with her, and we never wanted to come home. Grams came back to Newark in May and stayed for the summer. After Grandpa died two years ago, she stayed in the guest room and Mom and Dad didn’t have parties. They became almost normal parents.
We played quietly, but as the party got louder Rachel started getting mean. When she had to pay income tax, she leaned back and said, “I can’t concentrate.”
“It’s just the luck of the spinner,” I said. “But we can play something else. Mario Kart?”
She closed her eyes. “I hate them.”
My stomach hurt. She was talking about Mom and Dad. I didn’t like this Rachel. I just wanted everyone to be happy and like each other.
“Remember last time when we snuck out and got ice cream?” I said. “Want to do that again?”
“It’s raining too hard. I’m not mad at you, Petey, I just don’t want to be here, okay?”
“I know.” I bit my lip. “What about poker?”
“You’ll beat me at that, too.”
“I’ll let you win.”
She laughed, and my stomach hurt less because Rachel’s laugh makes me smile. She jumped up and tickled me. “You’re lying, munchkin.”
I giggled. “Blackjack? Yahtzee? I’ll give you a head start on Mario Kart, a whole lap if you want.”
Rachel sighed and rolled over to her back. The rain fell so fast I couldn’t separate individual raindrops. “Petey? Would you really want to live with Grams?”
“Live? Like forever?”
“When we visit next month, I’m going to tell Grams everything. She’ll let us stay. Maybe she’ll never come back to Newark, either. She only visits because of us.”
The pain in my stomach hurt more than ever. “Don’t do that. It’ll make Grams sad.”
She put her chin on her hand and looked at me. “I’m much older than you. I’ll be twelve next week; I know what’s best. Look at it this way: Either Grams tells Mom and Dad to stop with the stupid parties and we stay here without all this weird stuff, or we get to live in Florida. Right? And Grams’ friend Larry will take you fishing. Remember last year? We had a lot of fun on his boat.”
True. But Dad took me fishing, too. Sometimes. I bit my lip when I remembered I hadn’t gone fishing with Dad since before Grandpa died, because Grandpa always went with us.
“Mom and Dad would be sad.” I sounded like I was going to cry, and I didn’t want to be a baby, but I didn’t want anything to change that much. I just wanted a normal family.
“If they’re sad, they can cut out this shit.”
My eyes widened. “You said shit.”
“So did you.”
“Only because you said it first.”
Rachel smiled at me, but it was a sad face. I wished she didn’t think I was a little kid. I was nine, in third grade, and I was smart, too. All my teachers said so. They had wanted me to skip third grade, but my parents said no because I’m shorter than all the other third graders.
“Think about it, Pete, okay? I won’t say anything if you’re not okay with it.”
I didn’t believe her. Rachel was lying to me. I knew it deep down and didn’t know how I knew. Maybe because she wasn’t looking at me? Like when she said she wasn’t sneaking out to visit Jessie last month, but she did, anyway.
Maybe she was right and we should talk to Grams.
I didn’t want to leave.
“I’m going to my room to call Jessie. Set up Mario Kart, we’ll play when I get back, I promise.”
I did what she said and played a couple games alone while I waited for her. But she didn’t come back. I don’t know when I fell to sleep, but I woke up to thunder.
The clock on the VCR flashed 12:00. The power must have gone off and on. But it felt later than midnight. I went downstairs, feeling my way down the narrow staircase to the second-floor landing. The house was very quiet. It smelled like it always did after a party, of stale smoke over stinky food and drink. Rachel’s light was off. I opened her door. Her night-light shined on her bed. It was empty. She must have snuck out without me. Went to Jessie’s without telling me. I started crying. I didn’t want to be alone.
I crawled into my sister’s messy bed, missing her and mad at her for leaving me.
It wasn’t until six days later that the police found Rachel. She was dead. But in my heart, I think I’d known from the beginning.