“Where is everyone?” she demanded.
Moody shrugged off his flannel shirt and tossed it onto the couch. He had sat at the lake for hours, throwing rocks into the water, thinking about Pearl and his brother. Look what you did to her, he thought furiously. How could you put her through that? He had thrown every rock he could find and it was still not enough. “How would I know,” he said to Izzy. “Lexie’s probably over at Serena’s. Who knows where the fuck Trip is.” He stopped. “What do you care? I thought you liked being alone.”
“I was looking for Pearl. Have you seen her?”
“Saw her in English.” Moody went into the kitchen to get a soda, with Izzy trailing after him. “Not since then. She left class early.” He took a swig.
“Maybe she’s with Trip?” Izzy suggested. Moody swallowed and paused. Izzy, noticing that he did not contradict her, pressed her advantage. “Is that true, what you said last night about Pearl and Trip?”
“Apparently.”
“Why did you tell Mom?”
“I didn’t think it was a secret.” Moody set the can down on the counter. “It’s not like they were subtle about it. And it’s not my job to lie for them.”
“Mom said—” Izzy hesitated. “Mom said Pearl had an abortion?”
“That’s what she said.”
“Pearl didn’t have an abortion.”
“How would you know?”
“Because.” Izzy couldn’t explain, but she was sure she was right about this. Trip and Pearl—that she could believe. She had seen Pearl watching Trip for months, like a mouse watching a cat, longing to be eaten. But Pearl, pregnant? She thought back. Had Pearl seemed unusual at all?
Izzy froze. She remembered the day she’d gone to Mia’s and Lexie had been there. What had Lexie said? That she’d come over to see Pearl, that Pearl was helping her with an essay. Lexie, usually so coiffed, was disheveled and wan, hair in a limp ponytail, and Mia had been so quick to shoo Izzy away. She thought back further. Lexie, coming home the next afternoon in Pearl’s favorite green T-shirt, the one with John Lennon on the front. In one hand she’d clutched a plastic bag with something inside it. She’d stayed in her room all evening, skipping dinner—again, unlike Lexie, who had an appetite—and had been in a sour mood for weeks afterward. Even now, Izzy thought, her sister seemed less effervescent, less gregarious, as if a damper had been closed. And she and Brian had broken up.
“Where’s Lexie?” she said again.
“I told you. I think she’s at Serena’s.” Moody grabbed Izzy’s arm. “Keep your mouth shut about Trip and Pearl, okay? I don’t think she knows.”
“You are such a fucking idiot.” Izzy shook herself free. “Pearl wasn’t pregnant. You realize Mom and her mom are probably going to kill her, and you threw her under the bus for no reason?”
Moody blanched, but only for a moment. Then he shook his head. “I don’t care. She deserved it.”
“She deserved it?” Izzy stared.
“She was sneaking around with Trip. Trip, of all people, Izzy. She didn’t even care that—” He stopped, as if he had pressed too hard on a fresh bruise. “Look, she decided to sleep around. She deserves whatever she gets.”
“I cannot believe you.” Izzy had never seen her brother act this way. Moody, who had always been the most thoughtful person in her family; Moody, who had always taken her side even if she chose not to take his advice. Moody, the person in her family she’d always trusted to see things more clearly than she could.
“You realize,” she said, “that Mom is probably going to blame Mia for all of this.”
Moody shifted. “Well,” he said, “maybe she should have kept a closer eye on her daughter. Maybe she should have raised her to be more responsible.”
He reached for his can of soda, but Izzy got it first. The cold metal smashed into his cheekbone, and a spray of fizz and froth hit him squarely in the face. By the time he could see again, Izzy was gone, and he was alone, except for the can rolling slowly away across the wet kitchen tile.
Serena’s house was on Shaker Boulevard, by the middle school, nearly two miles away. Forty minutes later, Serena answered the doorbell to find Izzy, breathless, on the front steps.
“What are you doing here, freak?” Lexie said, coming down the stairs behind Serena.
“I need to ask you something,” Izzy said.
“Ever heard of the telephone?”
“Shut up. It’s important.” Izzy pulled her sister by the arm into the living room and Serena, familiar with Richardson family dynamics, retreated to the kitchen to give them some privacy.
“What,” Lexie said when they were alone.
“Did you have an abortion?” Izzy said.
“What?” Lexie’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“When Mom was out of town. Did you?”
“It’s none of your fucking business.” Lexie turned to go, but Izzy barreled ahead.
“You did, didn’t you. That time you said you slept over at Pearl’s.”
“It’s not a crime, Izzy. Tons of people do it.”
“Did Pearl go with you?”
Lexie sighed. “She drove me. And before you start getting all moralistic and self-righteous—”
“I don’t care about your morals, Lex.” Izzy flicked her hair out of her face impatiently. “Mom thinks Pearl’s the one who had it.”
“Pearl?” Lexie laughed. “Sorry, that’s just funny. Virginal, innocent little Pearl.”
“She must think that for a reason.”
“I made the appointment under Pearl’s name,” Lexie said. “Whatever. She didn’t mind.” She turned to go, then wheeled around again. “Don’t you dare tell anyone about this. Not Moody, not Mom, not anyone. Got it?”
“You are so fucking selfish,” Izzy said. Without saying good-bye, she pushed past Lexie into the front hallway, where she nearly knocked Serena over on her way out the door.
It took her another forty minutes on foot to reach the little house on Winslow, and by the time she got there she knew something was wrong. All the lights upstairs were off and there was no sign of the Rabbit in the driveway. She hesitated for a moment on the front walk, poking at the peach tree, where the blossoms were shriveling and turning brown. Then she went around to the side of the house and rang the doorbell until Mr. Yang answered.
“Is Mia here?” she said. “Or Pearl?”
Mr. Yang shook his head. “They leave maybe five, ten minutes ago.”
Izzy’s heart went leaden and cold. “Did they happen to say where they were going?” she asked, though she already knew the truth: she had missed them, and they were gone.
Mr. Yang shook his head again. “They don’t tell me.” He had peeked out from behind the curtains just in time to see Mia and Pearl backing carefully out of the driveway, the Rabbit piled high with bags and boxes, and driving off into the growing darkness. They had been good people, he thought sadly, and he wished them a safe journey, wherever they were headed.