Hush (3 page)

Dana smoothed her short, dark hair away from her eyes with her free hand, stared into the candle‘s flame for a long moment, then looked around at their faces, one by one, as if memorizing them. ―Well, I‘m . . . I‘ve had an eating disorder as long as I can remember.‖

McKenna pulled off her baseball cap, waved it at Dana, then stuck it back on her head and declared in a bored tone, ―You‘re supposed to tell a
secret
.‖

―That‘s a secret! A big secret! I‘ve never told anyone before!‖ she sputtered. ―Well, except Genevieve . . .‖ She glanced at their leader with a dark scowl.

―It‘s no secret.
Everyone
knows.‖ This was from Rhiannon, who swiped the candle from Dana with such speed that its flame flickered out.

―Damn it,‖ Genevieve muttered, grabbing the candle from Rhiannon and holding it toward the fire. Flames reached for her, swallowing up the wick and half the candle. ―Jesus, that‘s hot!‖

Genevieve jerked her hand back, then, more carefully, managed to relight the wick before handing the candle back to Rhiannon, whose doelike eyes refracted the firelight.

―I wasn‘t done,‖ Dana declared huffily. ―I‘ve been fighting bulimia for years. And anorexia.

It‘s nothing to laugh at. You have no idea!‖

Yvette sighed loudly. ―We‘re not laughing. It‘s just that you wear it like a badge of honor.‖

―I do not.‖

―Yeah,‖ Yvette argued back. ―You kinda do.‖

Dana‘s mouth dropped open but before she could take it further, Genevieve broke in, ―It‘s just that you haven‘t exactly kept your eating disorder a secret. We‘ve all caught you puking at least once.‖

―Well, excuse me for having a real problem!‖ Dana plopped down on her butt and stared fixedly at the burning sticks of wood, fighting tears.

―They‘re all real problems,‖ Coby said, trying to placate, still feeling guilty about her lie and feeling the weight of Ellen‘s revelation as if it had blanketed their whole group. And though she felt sorry for Dana, being put on the spot and all, Yvette and Genevieve weren‘t wrong: Dana liked having something that made her special, in this case her anorexia and bulimia.

―Go ahead,‖ Genevieve urged Rhiannon, who was still standing with the candle, tendrils of her dark hair being teased by the growing wind. Rhiannon‘s large eyes seemed to swallow up her face.

―My mom‘s an alcoholic,‖ she said. ―I mean hard-core. If there‘s nothing else, she goes for the vanilla extract. Anything. One time I called nine-one-one when she wouldn‘t wake up. Scared me to death. I even kinda wonder what she‘s doing right now, but my brothers are with her, so maybe she‘s okay. My dad doesn‘t talk to her anymore at all. He‘s seeing somebody else. I‘ve met her. She‘s nice.‖

―Aren‘t your parents still married?‖ Ellen ventured cautiously.

―Some marriage.‖ Rhiannon shrugged. ―They don‘t even like each other anymore.‖ She gazed toward the ocean, and to Coby the crashing waves suddenly sounded loud and angry. ―Hard to believe they were ever in love.‖ Rhiannon looked wistful for a moment, then a small smile played on her lips.

―Like you and Lucas?‖ Wynona guessed, sounding faintly jealous.

―Well, yeah,‖ she said, glancing around as if daring anyone else to argue the point.

Lucas doesn’t love her
, Coby thought, a bit envious herself that the blondish surfer-dude was currently spending more time with Rhiannon than any of the rest of them.

Rhiannon gestured for Wynona to stand up, and she did so reluctantly. Rhiannon handed her the candle, then retook her seat while Wynona stared at the jumping flame for a moment, lost in thought. Then she lifted her chin. ―I‘ve never told anybody this. No one. My parents, I think have guessed, but I‘ve never said a word.‖ She plucked at her pageboy with her free hand. ―You know I was on the swim team? Last year? But I‘m not this year. I used to belong to this private swim club and we used the pool over by Tualatin. The swim coach there was known for coaching winners. He and I had private sessions.‖ She started breathing faster and Coby felt the hairs on her arms lift.

―And when we were in the pool he helped me out a time or two, and there were a few times his hands kinda grazed me. Down there. And at first I thought it was just random-like, but then one time I was heading for the locker room and we were alone and he was following after me and I turned around . . .‖ Her voice trailed off for a moment. ―And then he was right there and I didn‘t know what to do. He pressed me against the lockers and kissed me, and then his hand was inside my swimsuit and—‖

―
Holy shit,
Greer!‖ a male voice yelled from deep in the darkness outside their circle.

―Coach Renfro
felt you up
?‖

Half the girls gave an aborted scream as guys from their class suddenly burst into the light of their campfire. Wynona‘s knees gave out and she sank down. The candle slipped from her grasp, rolling into the campfire. Genevieve scrambled for the candle as Coby shot Wynona a worried look and the boys swarmed into view.

Lucas Moore stepped forward first, his sexy, shoulder-length hair tousled and moving in the wind, his gaze searching for someone.

But it wasn‘t his voice they‘d heard. That loud question came from Kirk Grassi, who showed himself next, his hair pulled into a long, black ponytail, his guitar over his shoulder, his smile flashing, his eyes zeroing in on Wynona as he repeated, ―Holy shit, Greer!‖

―You morons!‖ Genevieve blasted, infuriated at the interruption. She‘d caught the candle before it was engulfed in the fire and was now dusting off her hands.

Lucas frowned. ―Sorry we barged in.‖

Rhiannon ran straight at him and he seemed surprised by the show of affection, as it took him a moment to wrap his arms around her.
Good
, Coby thought, as unrepentant as the rest of them in hoping the Lucas/Rhiannon thing would burn out.

Other guys from their class emerged from the darkness and collectively blew a raspberry in Genevieve‘s direction. They‘d clearly planned on busting their party, and Coby was pretty sure she could put the blame at Rhiannon‘s feet, as she was totally wrapped up in Lucas.

―Oh, for God‘s sake, relax,‖ Vic Franzen told Genevieve, spreading his hands. He was the heaviest of the group, with a shape just short of portly and a mean way of directing negative attention toward anyone else, maybe because he was the butt of so many jokes himself. He was hefting two six-packs of beer and he lifted them up so all the girls could see. ―We brought alkee-hol.‖

Coby inwardly sighed, knowing she wouldn‘t be able to escape without serious ridicule now. Genevieve pressed her lips together and looked ready to explode. The rest of the guys found places around the campfire: Jarrod Lockwood, Galen Torres, Theo Rivers, and Paul Lessington.

Jarrod had long hair like Kirk‘s, or more accurately, Kirk had followed Jarrod‘s lead as they both played guitar and jammed together; the two friends dreamed of being in a band one day. Galen was Hispanic with a look faintly like Ricky Martin; Theo had short hair, almost a buzz cut, and a hard body from regular workouts; and Paul was a tall stringbean with a pronounced Adam‘s apple.

Coby saw Jarrod Lockwood coming her way. He held a large brown paper bag, and he sat down next to Coby and dug the bag into the sand between them, forcing Ellen to move over to make room. Inside the bag was a bottle of vodka and one of bourbon. ―Paul‘s got the mixer,‖ Jarrod said.

Paul Lessington pulled a large plastic bottle of Sprite and a stack of plastic glasses from inside another bag. He was on the school‘s basketball team, if he didn‘t get caught for this indiscretion and find himself ineligible.

Coby didn‘t know how she felt about the booze, but she was in no mood to be called names for refusing to join in. She glanced at Rhiannon, who hesitated but then accepted a beer, and given what she‘d just shared about her family history, Coby thought she understood why. If Rhiannon was joining in, so would Coby, and in truth, all she wanted to do herself was escape, and so she ended up with a full eight-ounce tumbler of mostly vodka with a splash of Sprite and settled herself into the party.

Jarrod whispered into Coby‘s ear, ―Telling secrets?‖ Like his older brother, he was tall, dark, and handsome. But Danner Lockwood, three years older, was the man of her dreams—quietly observant and a bit of a loner—while Jarrod was more of an exhibitionist whose scripted appearance and guitar playing seemed designed to win him female attention.

She looked over at Lucas, who was now half lying on the ground beside Rhiannon, stroking her hair and smiling into her eyes. ―Not really,‖ she said to Jarrod, sort of depressed that Rhiannon and Lucas‘s relationship was now looking like the real deal.

―Oh, come on. What was your secret?‖ Jarrod teased Coby.

―I didn‘t have one,‖ she said truthfully, earning her the evil eye from Wynona, who was still recovering from being overheard.

―Yes, you did. We all did,‖ Wynona snapped.

―Who invited you?‖ Genevieve suddenly demanded of all of the guys. ―Huh? Who invited you?‖

―Jesus, Knapp. PMS, why don‘t you.‖ Kirk Grassi yawned and added, ―Your ass is tight enough to hold water.‖

There were sniggers from the rest of the guys and Genevieve scoured them all with a baleful look. ―We were having a
private
meeting,‖ she said with a bit of acid.

―I‘ll say,‖ Vic Franzen said. He burped heartily and lifted his beer can in a salute to himself.

―Greer there was telling how she and Coach Renfro did the dirty.‖ He gave Wynona some hip action to emphasize his point.

Wynona‘s face was pale, deep circles beneath her eyes. ―It wasn‘t Coach Renfro.‖

―Sure it was,‖ Vic said.

―It wasn‘t!‖ she declared.

―There‘s nobody else,‖ he responded.

―Shut the fuck up,‖ McKenna told him coolly.

―Sure thing, lesbo.‖ Vic smirked and looked around for support from the rest of his buds, but they had collectively cast their eyes aside, not willing to get into that do gfight.

Ellen said in a near whisper to Coby, ―Maybe we should go back.‖

―Maybe we should all have another drink,‖ Kirk suggested, looking straight at Ellen.

Coby glanced over at Wynona, who seemed shrunken in on herself. She thought how she would feel if the guys had appeared when she was telling her supposedly most private, deepest, darkest secret. Or Ellen. What would have happened if they‘d heard about her abortion? Or of Yvette having sex at thirteen?

Some secrets just shouldn‘t be shared with a group, she concluded, and it was her last serious thought of the evening before the effects of alcohol took over and they all let go of their annoyance over the boys‘ intrusion and settled in to party.

Coby paid for her coffee, jammed her rain hat on her head, and stepped back through Halfway There‘s vestibule into the miserable weather outside. If this current November storm was any indication, the winter ahead was going to be a doozy.

Hurrying through the rain, she paused to look at her axle, couldn‘t tell anything more, jumped in her car, and switched on the ignition. Tossing her hat into the passenger seat, she snapped the seat belt, then slowly backed out onto the highway again. She eased the accelerator down and was gratified when the car seemed to be holding its own, not straying to the right as it had been. She held her breath, expelled it, then held it again, for several miles, and when nothing worse happened decided that maybe the car had been pulling to the right because of the wind and rain, that the pothole she‘d banged through hadn‘t damaged the axle. Anyway, she would go on that assumption until she found out differently. She just would drive more slowly than she wanted, which was practically a prerequisite anyway given the shitty weather.

Her mind tumbled back to that long-ago beach party as if it were stuck in a groove. Every time she drove to the coast her brain traveled this same path, some times worse than others, like tonight.

The day following that fateful night of the campfire, Lucas Moore‘s body was found floating in the surf. He‘d fallen from a cliff above onto rocks below, and the waves had dragged him into the ocean and then back to the tide pools where he‘d gotten hung up, his arms and legs and hair pulled and pushed by the ebb and flow of the water. All the girls were devastated. Not just because one of their group had died, because it was Lucas.
Lucas!
Who seemed touched by the gods. That morning they were wailing and screaming and pulling at their hair, even fainting, in grief and denial, and when Detective Clausen showed up it was a melee.

Tell me what happened, in your own words.

She‘d told Clausen about the beach party, how they‘d been sitting around a campfire, just talking, bonding as good friends do. The words were ashes in her mouth but she would rather cut her tongue out than tell their secrets. If someone else did, so be it, but it wouldn‘t be Coby.

But no one did.

And then she told the detective about the guys showing up with alcohol and how they‘d all imbibed. That she would confess because it could have been the reason Lucas died, and she knew Wynona would not be able to keep that secret. She‘d had a few drinks herself, but her father was still the vice principal. The shit was going to hit the fan in more ways than one, so Coby spilled about their drinking with no serious regrets.

She and Clausen were together in the den, the room he chose to conduct interviews so they could have a modicum of privacy. Not everyone wanted to talk to the detective; well, no one did, actually. But they were called in one by one, so Coby related what she knew, keeping the secrets they‘d told around the campfire to herself. She realized even through her grief and fear that Clausen was just doing his duty, gathering the facts. She sensed he didn‘t think there had been foul play, but he needed to talk to them all to fill out an accident report.

Of course, the fact that they were all drinking became a significant factor later on, and there was serious talk from the authorities about going after whoever had supplied the alcohol. Then it was learned the guys had stolen the beer and vodka from their own parents‘ houses, and the horrified dads of the girls heard this and looked shattered. No one knew exactly what to do.