Losing Faith (25 page)

Clancy stares at my purse and then up at me. I have no idea what to do. Cell phones are so not allowed in classrooms. I cringe as the music starts up again.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Clancy. It was turned off during class, I swear.” He doesn’t respond, just crosses his arms and taps his foot. Taking this as a sign that he wants me to get it over with, I turn my back and flip my phone open to my ear. “Hello,” I say in little more than a whisper.

“We have to talk,” Alis says. Yes, the words are serious.

“I, um, can’t. Not right now—”

“Oh, no, go ahead, Miss Jenkins. Please,” Mr. Clancy says sarcastically.

“Can you call back in a while?” I inch away from Clancy’s desk and talk even quieter. If Alis is calling so quickly after the school bell, something must be up.

Alis doesn’t say anything, and after a few seconds I realize he hung up.

When I turn back to Clancy, he’s writing in a notebook. He doesn’t look up after I slip my phone into my purse. Or after I approach his desk and clear my throat.

“Um, Mr. Clancy?”

He looks up like he doesn’t know where the sound could be coming from, then glances around until his eyes rest on me. “Oh, right. You have some time for me now, Miss Jenkins?”

I can’t stand his patronizing tone, but I swallow my pride. “I’m sorry, sir, but it’s not what you think. Someone’s helping me—”

“If they’re not helping you get caught up on your history assignments, I don’t want to hear about it.”

I bite my lip to hold in any further explanation.

“Now, listen, Brie. I’ve tried to be patient. We all have.” He motions around him, as though the rest of the teachers from the school are sitting right there in his classroom nodding their heads in agreement. “A tragedy in the household is a big deal, for certain, but none of us can help you if you’re not at least making an effort to get back on track. Colleges, I’m afraid, won’t be as sympathetic.”

I duck my head to my chest, nodding. I know he’s right.

“I’m not asking you to give your essays publicly with the rest of the class. But you have to at least write them, Brie. You have to do something, show some effort in order for me to give you a passing grade. I’ve made a list, but we need to start working through this after school. It doesn’t seem to be happening at home, and I’m sure you have a lot of good reasons why. …”

He has no idea.

“But I’m determined to make sure you get through this. Now, why don’t you turn off your cellular phone and have a seat in the front row.”

I slide into my seat and open my books. He takes a seat beside me.

After an hour, he lets me go and I’m surprised how much actually went into my brain with him hovering over me. Maybe this won’t be such a bad idea.

Tessa’s nowhere to be found in the school afterward. She’s probably at home having cookies and milk. Alis hasn’t called back, so I know Reena must be home with him.

If it was important enough, wouldn’t he find a way to call though? Or maybe he called Tessa.

I shake my head at the thought, remembering the way they looked at each other in Wendy’s. Of course he wouldn’t have told her anything.

I have no choice but to wait it out until either Alis or his sister finally calls.

chapter
TWENTY-EIGHT

f
riday, Alis doesn’t show up to walk with me, but when I arrive home from school, his bike is gone. By Saturday morning, I still haven’t heard from him.

By nine a.m., my parents haven’t woken up. For Mom this has become normal, but I wonder if her depression is rubbing off on Dad, since he’s almost always up by seven.

I flip on the TV and don’t bother to turn the channel from cartoons. My cell sits beside me on one side, with our cordless on the other. My stomach lurches every time I think about breakfast. I’m so queasy that if I’d actually slept with Dustin, I might suspect pregnancy. That thought makes me even sicker.

The first time I hear a honk, I ignore it. The second time,
I grumble about the time and turn up the TV. The third, I go and look out the window. Mr. Lockbaum’s Volkswagen idles in our driveway.

When I swing open the front door, Tessa gives me a head motion to get in the car.

Since I’m still wearing my pajamas, I hold up a
one-second
signal and then race up the stairs. After throwing on the first pair of sweats I can find, I shut my bedroom door quietly, hoping my parents will think I’m still in bed. Two minutes later, I slide into Tessa’s passenger seat.

“Where to?” My voice is gravelly, even though I’ve been up for almost an hour.

“The cop shop.” Tessa looks over her shoulder to back up, but avoids eye contact.

“Like, the police station?”

She nods. “Yeah, I’m turning myself in for stealing my dad’s car, and I’m bringing you down with me.”

I stare at her, but her mouth remains in a straight line. Tessa can be so off-the-wall sometimes. What if that
is
the reason? But then I catch the hint of a smirk.

Is it a power thing or what? Why do I always need to beg just to get the tiniest bit of information out of her? I sit back in my seat and cross my arms over my chest.
Fine. Don’t tell me where we’re going.

Three traffic lights, and she doesn’t say a word. Finally, she turns onto Dorchester and pulls over by the library, which is located right behind the police station. I stare at her.

“Come on.” She reaches for her door handle.

I don’t move.

“Come on,” she repeats. “You want my help with this or not?”

I flop back in my seat.

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll do it myself, but I doubt I’ll get anywhere, since I’m, like, no relation at all.”

No relation?
I look at her.

“They’d probably say something if they knew it was the sister asking, but whatever.” She gets out of the car, starts walking for the path that cuts behind the library, and doesn’t turn back.

“Hey!” I slam the door behind me. Questioning the cops hadn’t crossed my mind. I didn’t think they’d tell a teenager anything. Of course I’m not Tessa, the teenage terror. “Wait up.”

Along the path, she fills me in. “I called in early this morning, said I was a relative wanting to talk to the person who investigated Faith Jenkins’s death. It took them a long time to find any info. Said they’ve got way too much paperwork.

“Anyway, they finally came up with this Malovich dude. He’s
supposed to be at headquarters all morning. I said I—or actually I gave them your name—would be stopping by.”

A shiver runs up my spine. “Do you think they’ll tell
me
anything?”

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll do all the talking.”

This relieves me and scares me at the same time. When we get through the front doors, Tessa stares the receptionist in the eye and says we’re here to see Mr. Malovich. The woman behind the counter chuckles, but only for a portion of a second. Nobody makes fun of Tessa and the lady seems to pick up on this quickly.

“That would be
Detective
Malovich,” the receptionist says. “Is he expecting you?”

“He’s expecting my friend here, Brie Jenkins.” She gives me a little shove forward.

The receptionist tells us to take a seat and picks up the phone. We can’t hear a word of her murmuring and she doesn’t look in our direction for nearly fifteen minutes.

“This is a waste of time,” Tessa says, standing.

Just then, the receptionist calls my name. She doesn’t appear to be expecting Tessa to follow, but being a pro at thwarting people’s expectations, Tessa barrels her way in front of me anyway.

Detective Malovich is the pock-faced cop who I met in
our living room. His stubble makes him look like he’s been working through the night, but when he smiles now, everything changes. He has a nice smile.

He holds a hand out to Tessa, because she’s the first to enter the room. She shakes his hand, hard, and then motions to me. “This is Brie Jenkins. She’s still pretty broken-up about her sister’s … demise.”

I cringe, not because of Faith, but because of the melodramatic tone Tessa uses.

“Yes, I remember you, Brie,” the detective says. “Have a seat.”

He faces Tessa. “So what can I do for you, Miss …”

Tessa ignores his leading, not about to give her name. “Brie wants to know exactly what happened to her sister.”

Now he looks at me. “Have you talked to your parents about this?”

“Her parents are a mess,” Tessa interrupts. “How long would it take for you to talk about your daughter if she died?” She clucks her tongue once. “Or maybe you don’t have kids.”

When I catch Tessa’s attention, I shoot her a warning look. She doesn’t have to be so rude.

“Actually, I do,” the detective says, and turns a photo frame on his desk to face us. A boy and a girl, elementary school ages. I see a resemblance in the eyes, but not in their
silky smooth skin. “And I don’t think I can imagine how I’d feel if something happened to one of them.”

I’m impressed with his calm demeanor. He’s not about to let Tessa have the upper hand.

He goes on. “The reason I ask is because I’ve gone over this information with your dad, Brie. The final report was sent to him a couple of weeks ago.”

So Dad got a report and didn’t bother to show it to me. I wonder if he showed it to Mom, or if he’s just pretending it doesn’t exist. Or maybe he got the report that day he was freaking out on her.

“Were you up there? Where she died?” I ask.

“I was there. After.” He nods. “I can’t go into the details without your parents here, but there was a call from a couple who live in the vicinity.” He glances down at his notes. “Soon after, we caught up with a boy who was up the mountain with your sister.”

A boy?
My mind immediately goes to Alis. But no, he must mean Nathan. I bite my lip.

“We were able to get a couple of statements, one at the site and one later at the station.” The detective shifts some papers aside to find another one underneath, “I’m afraid I can’t give you their names, but they both gave us the same basic rundown of events.”

“Which are?” Too anxious, I force myself to take a deep breath. I don’t need names. Besides, I’m pretty sure I know who they are. Nathan and Reena, since Celeste was at another church that night.

He lets out a slow breath, and I can tell he’s already said more than he should. But then he drops his eyes and starts to read again. “Faith Jenkins, your sister,” he says in a softer voice, “went for a walk alone. She seemed sad, but neither of the witnesses knew why. Ten minutes later, they heard a scream. When they made it to the other side of a big boulder, Faith’s purse was there, but Faith was gone.”

I sit there for a long time looking down at my hands. To Tessa’s credit, she’s quiet. A warmness fills my cheeks, and I reach up to brush away the tears.

A rap on the door makes me jump and I reach for a tissue while Detective Malovich stands to meet his receptionist. A minute later, when his door clicks shut again, I look up to see the Detective scooting back around his desk and Tessa readjusting herself in her chair.

A long silence follows, and I know it’s my job to break it, if I indeed have any more questions.

“Did she kill herself?” I ask in a whisper.

Detective Malovich clears his throat. His eyes rest on his notes like he’s studying for an exam, like he doesn’t quite
know the questions or the answers. “We did rule it as a suicide.”

I suck in a breath. Now that he’s said it, now that I know Faith had so many secrets, I feel like this has to be the answer. I wrap my arms tight around my stomach. “And is that what you think, Detective?”

Even though I don’t look at him, I sense him nodding. “Yes,” he says. “Yes, I do.”

Tessa and I don’t speak all the way across town. When we’re almost at my house, she asks, “Are you ready to talk about it?”

I’m not sure exactly what there is to say. But maybe it’ll help, and she would know this better than anyone. “Yeah,” I tell her.

“So I couldn’t read the whole thing, but I did get the gist,” she says. “Nathan’s report was just like Malovich said, walking away sad and all that. And he definitely thought it was suicide.”

I look up and clue in. She read the witness reports.

“But Celeste’s. First of all, it was dated September twenty-sixth, the next day—”

“Wait—Celeste? But she wasn’t there. She was at the church youth group.”

“Well, apparently that’s not what she told the cops.” Tessa
parks a few houses down from mine and stares at me. “Anyway, her report was really vague. Like, it didn’t say anything about Faith being sad, just that she went for a walk. Celeste’s report is pretty short, but Nathan’s describes every detail and goes on for pages.”

“What about Reena? What did hers say?”

Tessa shakes her head. “There were only two witnesses. That’s what Malovich said.”

“But she had to be there. Alis said she was. Celeste and Nathan must be covering for her for some reason. We need to talk to Celeste again,” I say.

“If Celeste will lie to the police, she’s not going to talk to us, Brie.” Tessa starts her engine, my cue that it’s time to get out of the car. “What we need to do,” she says, “is talk to Reena.”

chapter
TWENTY-NINE

Plan X: Okay (deep breath). Find a way to talk to Reena.

I don’t hear from Alis all weekend, and by Monday afternoon I’m sick with worry that something’s happened. But then I spot him out behind the school in our usual meeting place. Today, he doesn’t lean by the fence. He stands, feet apart, like he’s not planning on being there long.

“Oh, good,” I say, picking up my pace toward him. “When you didn’t call back, I was worried that—”

“I just came by to get my MP3 player back.” His tone is abrupt.

“Oh.” I look at my feet and study them, but I have no idea how to fix whatever’s wrong. Did something happen with Reena?
Something he doesn’t want to tell me about? I pull the player out of my pocket and pass it to him. He snaps it out of my hand.