Inside the apartment, Sandy moved fast. She grabbed a couple of the boxes they’d used to move in months earlier, then went around scooping up their personal crap that mattered: Jenna’s jewelry box, Sandy’s grandparents’ pictures, her school records. She opened and closed cabinets, eyes darting around for anything important. There wasn’t much. Their stuff that mattered barely filled a single box.
Sandy filled a second box with some basic kitchen crap: couple plates, some bowls, and a handful of silverware. She also grabbed the stuff Hannah had given her that night for safekeeping. She couldn’t imagine ever seeing Hannah again—she hoped to God not—but it felt wrong to leave it behind. Sandy couldn’t take much else. They’d just have to replace the rest of their cheap shit with new cheap shit. As it was, she didn’t know where the hell she was going to put these two boxes; it wasn’t like she could ride away with them on her bike.
They’d need some clothes, too, an outfit for each, and she’d have to go with spring because there wasn’t time to cover winter. It wasn’t until then that Sandy noticed Jenna’s coat hanging on the back of the door. It had been cold the night before last, frost on the grass in the morning. What if Jenna was outside somewhere? What if she’d frozen to death?
Sandy tried to shake off the thought as she went back to Jenna’s room for one last pass. Though she was trying not to hope that she’d find her money somewhere, she was still disappointed when she didn’t.
There was one last place Sandy could look, the place girls like Jenna always hid their secret stash. Sandy grabbed the mattress with two hands and pushed. She was almost glad when it pitched to the left and crashed against Jenna’s bureau, taking everything on top—cheap bottles of perfume and small glass tchotchkes—down with it.
When Sandy looked back, she couldn’t believe it, but there was something fucking there on the box spring. Not her money. She’d never be that lucky. It was a small black book. Sandy picked it up, bracing herself when she flipped it open. Sure enough, there were her mom’s bubbly girlie letters and a date on the first page: February 15, 1994. Shit.
Sandy tucked the two boxes under the building’s stairs in a dusty cobwebbed corner she was pretty sure no one would check. In her backpack, she’d shoved what was left of her cash—eighteen dollars now—Jenna’s journal, a couple clean pairs of underwear, two T-shirts, and her toothbrush. She didn’t know where the hell she was going to stay, but it wasn’t here, that was for sure.
The last thing Sandy was about to drop in the bag were the pills she’d stolen from Hannah’s house. She would take them only if she got desperate, and then she’d take one pill. Maybe two. Except at this point, with the way she was feeling, Sandy wasn’t sure she could trust herself. Just in case, she should keep only a few and get rid of the rest. She cracked open the bottles and dumped the contents of both together into her palm.
When Sandy looked, there were a few different-shaped pills and a silver chain—broken at the clasp—with a silver moon charm, an aquamarine stone set inside.
It was Jenna’s necklace. The one she always had on. The one that meant so much to her, though even Sandy didn’t know why. Because for all the many secrets that Jenna wouldn’t keep from her daughter—about the drugs she took and the men she slept with—who gave her that necklace was the one thing she refused to tell.
It was dark by the time Sandy got on her bike. Her hands were trembling against the handlebars and her heart was pounding. There was no good reason for Jenna’s necklace to be in one of those bottles. There was only one bad reason for Jenna and her necklace to be separated in the first place: Jenna was dead. How the necklace had ended up in Hannah’s house in a goddamn old pill bottle, Sandy didn’t have a clue. Had Steve taken the pills off Jenna? No, they had his (or his wife’s) name on them. None of it made any sense. Not good sense, anyway.
It wasn’t until Sandy was pulling out of the parking lot that she noticed the police car parked across the street from Ridgedale Commons. Don’t look guilty. Don’t give them a reason. All Sandy had to do was keep going, real easy, like she wasn’t worried about a damn thing. Like all teenagers in Ridgedale rode their bikes around in the dark.
As Sandy passed the patrol car, she lifted her eyes just a little above her arm. Could’ve been anyone in that police car, sitting there for lots of reasons. Except once she got a better look, she saw that it wasn’t just anyone. It was Hannah’s dad, Steve. The same guy who seemed to know all about Jenna the second Sandy mentioned her name. The guy who had Jenna’s most prized possession in his medicine cabinet. Hannah’s dad was that guy. And right now that guy was staring dead at Sandy. Like the person he was really looking for, was her.
MOLLY
JUNE 2, 2013
Justin made it to the final round for the job at Ridgedale University! He’s so excited and I really am happy for him. He gave up so much in the past year and a half to take care of us. In a weird way, the whole terrible thing brought us so much closer. And it’s definitely his turn. I want us to focus on him and what he needs for a while.
But it’s so hard to think of leaving. And I know she never even lived in our apartment. But she died here. Inside me. As I slept. As I walked. As I breathed.
What will become of her if we leave this place behind?
RIDGEDALE READER
ONLINE EDITION
March 18, 2015, 5:23 p.m.
NEWS ALERT
Police Schedule Community Meeting BY MOLLY SANDERSON
The Ridgedale Police Department will hold a community meeting this evening at 7 p.m. at the Ridgedale University Athletic Center. The meeting will provide an update on the investigation of the deceased infant found near the Essex Bridge. Topics to be discussed will include the department’s planned voluntary DNA testing.
The meeting is open to the public. A question-and-answer session will follow a brief presentation.
Molly