Nothing much happened to make me stop checking the missing person websites. A year passed. If anyone was looking for her, wouldn’t they have posted a picture by then? I gave up.
But there, more than five years later, in my bedroom, I started sorting through gone girls again. I reverted to my old habit as Graham, Viv, and Harry typed their personal statements. Presumably. It’s easier to imagine them having their own secret crusades more and more.
All that clicking filled me with the conviction that I needed to do something for Goldilocks. The Order of IV needed to. But what? It was too late to save her life.
? ? ?
In third period on the Wednesday after Slumber Fest, Mr. Novak was writing out the discussion topics on the whiteboard, disregarding the laptop and projection screen to eat up class time. I was restless and craned around to see what Viv was up to. She was midwave and gave an exasperated eye roll. She pointed at a note being passed from Jess to Campbell, who sat directly behind me.
Campbell continued chatting and facing Jess as he tossed the note in my direction. I caught it before it hit the floor. A text would have been too ordinary for Viv.
I started to open the note. I stopped, flipped it around, and saw the black, bold IV drawn on the outer flap. My hand clapped over it. Pointless. Anyone who passed it along might have noticed the symbol. Behind Jess was Conner, then Gabby in front of Viv. Any one of them might have noticed the IV.
I slowly peeled back the folds, checking that there were no more insignias. Paranoia or eyes on me needled my scalp. The note was a single line in Viv’s cursive, a heart dotting the I.
We should perform Saturday’s ritual naked.
My cheeks were hot as I crumpled the paper into a ball. Four kids between Viv and me. Four who might have seen the IV or lifted a flap and spied “ritual” or “naked.” The Order of IV was a secret society; its members staying secret was the whole damn point.
It grew soggy in my hand as I waited for class to end.
Viv spun the dial of her locker; if she noticed that I wasn’t opening mine or that I was frowning at her profile, she didn’t let on. She peered into the pink-framed mirror on the interior door and dashed away the mascara in the corners of her eyes. Auditions for the fall performance were scheduled for lunch. Viv wore a white dress that looked like it had been magically enlarged from a doll’s wardrobe, violet Mary Janes, and white thigh-high stockings. Dressed to be memorable. Silly, she thought she needed the clothes. Amanda had given up on jeering over Viv’s clothing once it became apparent that there were more cutting insults; in her wardrobe choices, Viv couldn’t be made to feel self-conscious.
She was trading the books from her bag for those in her locker by the time I whispered, “Why did you put a IV on the outside of your note?”
Her gold eyeshadow caught the light as she shot me a conspirator’s smile. “Official Order business.”
Conner was ten or so lockers down. He was standing with Rachel Fogarty, one of Amanda’s best friends. Her lips were moving in a constant stream, but he was swiping at his cell, not even pretending to listen.
I controlled my volume. “People could have seen the IV on the note. Someone could put it together.”
“Calm down already,” Viv said loudly. “No one pays attention to us, remember?” Her arms flung open. “No one knows what we’ve done.”
A girl walked smack into Viv’s arm and muttered “Excuse you” as she continued by.
Viv smiled bitterly. “We are invisible.”
“We won’t be if you clue people in to you-know-what.”
“Why do all of you think it would suck so bad actually getting credit?”
I winced and her eyes went round. “I’m not serious, okay? C’mon, Izzie.” She stomped her foot playfully. “Resist making a little thing into a major thing.” She went back to switching out her textbooks.
I was tongue-tied for a time. “I read your note” is what I finally coughed up.
No response as she grabbed a tissue and soundlessly blew her nose.
“I don’t think doing our ritual naked is a good idea.”
She gave me a brief sideways look away from her reflection applying lip gloss. “Why? Are you worried the boys won’t be able to control themselves once they see your C-cups?”
I took an instinctive step back. “I just don’t want to be naked in front of them. I don’t want to see Graham or Harry naked either.”
Moodiness flashed across her face. “You’re sure about that? Not even Harry?”
Over Viv’s shoulder Conner glanced in our direction. Rachel was still prattling on. “What? No,” I said, motioning for her to keep it down.
Her hands went up in surrender; I saw the IV black and bold on the inside of her wrist. It had been faded and light the day before, hadn’t it? She touched my arm and said, “I’m not saying you’re lying. Just . . . remember when you swore you thought Luke McHale was a D-bag, but you stared at him more than I did?”
“Harry and Luke McHale aren’t anything alike,” I said.
“Sometimes you’re in denial about who you think is hot. Seeing Harry naked wouldn’t make you puke. You can admit it to me.” Her nails rapped against the metal face of her locker. “I’m only trying to make our ritual memory-worthy.”
“It will be, because we’re doing it together.”
She tossed her hair off her shoulder and winked at me. “Then we’ll do it in our underwear.”
“Do what in our underwear?” I asked, but Viv was already weaving through our classmates as the warning bell sounded. Conner was gone from Rachel’s locker. I couldn’t say how much he overheard or when he’d left or even if either point mattered.
Viv auditioned for Antigone at lunch. Harry, Graham, and I were on our patch of lawn. I was reclined, arms crossed over my face. I’d been cold since Viv and my fight—was it a fight? The sun was warming away its effects. I had overreacted to the note. Viv was nervous for her audition and snappy because she was disappointed she hadn’t left Slumber Fest with a boyfriend. I should have wished her luck for the audition.
“Why are you giving us the silent treatment?” Graham asked, knocking my foot with his. I propped up on my elbows and blinked into a blizzard of afternoon light. Gradually the sky became a blue bowl and Harry’s and Graham’s features materialized. My eyes lingered on Harry for longer. I mean, objectively speaking, he was attractive.
Graham gave an exasperated flourish of his hands for my attention. “The ritual, the rebellions, the secrets—it isn’t enough. There needs to be a history.”
“We have history,” Harry said, hardly looking up from his laptop—probably busy drafting an article for the news blog. “On the night Slumber Fest was canceled, Izzie leaped up and said ‘Let’s start a secret society.’?”
“That’s weak and unimaginative,” Graham complained. “You’re supposed to be the best writer among us.”
“That’s how it happened,” I responded.