Mirror in the Sky (22 page)

THIRTY-FIVE

V
ERONICA
had rage in her eyes when she arrived to meet us at the diner off Post Road. “Why didn't you tell us . . . about you and Nick? That you broke up?” she asked Halle. I looked at Alexa, who averted her eyes.

“Who told you?” Halle asked.

“Nick told Hunter. Hunter told a bunch of people, including Melanie. We're supposed to be friends, Halle. How come we're finding stuff out about you from Melanie Carter, of all people, who isn't even in our group, who isn't even our friend? How come she knows what's going on with you, and you don't even bother to tell us?”

“God, you always have to be first to know all the gossip, Veronica. It was private. And besides, we're back together now. This is stupid. I don't get why you're mad.”

“It's not gossip. And of course I'm mad! You're always keeping things from us. I thought we were friends.”

“We
are
friends. And I tell you everything.”

Is that what the definition of friendship was, I wondered. What kind of friend did that make me, then? But I already knew. I could rationalize it in a multitude of ways—that I hadn't known Veronica and Halle and Alexa that long, that I still felt like I couldn't trust Halle . . . but that didn't change the fact that I slept with her boyfriend. And Halle—she had confided in me. I was the only one she had told about her breakup with Nick. She had acted like a friend. I knew that I hadn't.

“You didn't tell us you signed up to be on that stupid ‘Safety First committee,'” Alexa said.

Halle looked at Alexa and burst out laughing. “Treem asked me. I couldn't say no. And whatever, am I supposed to let you know, like, my entire schedule of extracurriculars?”

“You could have said no.” Alexa moved a piece of tandoori chicken around her plate.

“I thought it would look good on my college applications. Besides, she asked Tara first.”

“She told you?” I asked.

“She said she asked you and that you declined.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, I did.” I hadn't spoken to Treem since the incident. In fact, a week later, I found a note in my locker instructing me to go see Mr. Tuttle, my new guidance counselor.

“This is totally not what we're here to discuss,” Veronica cut in.

“What are we here to discuss?” Halle asked.

“You being a crap friend.”

“I have been an awesome friend . . . to all of you,” Halle insisted. “I don't know what's going on with you, Veronica. Why don't you tell us why this bothers you so much? Are you jealous of me and Nick?” Her fork was suspended in midair over a plate of chole. She was looking at Veronica with concern in her eyes, like Veronica was sick or misguided or something. Her tone—patronizing and a little haughty, like she felt sorry for Veronica—put me on edge.

“Why would I be jealous?” Veronica's voice was shrill. “I don't want to be with Nick.”

“But you're jealous that I spend so much time with him.”

“Please. Don't flatter yourself, Halle. I don't think it's right that I'm finding out about my best friend's life through strangers.”

“All right. In the future, I will keep you abreast of any developments in my life, large and small. Are we all good then, guys?” she asked us. Alexa and I glanced at each other.

“Yeah, we're good,” Alexa quickly said. There wasn't going to be any sort of resolution to this conversation, at least not the kind Veronica was looking for. It was easier, somehow, to hold a grudge than to confront Halle head-on.

“Okay, awesome. Because I want to talk about something way more important than this stupid shit.” She turned to me, burying Veronica's confrontation as though it was irrelevant and old news. “I just rented a house in Cape Cod for spring
break. You guys, you have to see it!” she exclaimed as she pulled up her phone. There was such audacity in the announcement that it caught us all off guard.

Veronica glanced at me. “I don't know that I can get away for spring break,” she said coolly.

“You can figure it out,” Halle said. “You have . . . what? Exactly two months till mid-March.”

“Yeah, my birthday falls on that week . . .” I said.

Halle put down her phone. “You guys, seriously? When in life are we ever going to have a chance to be young and in high school and drink on the beach in Cape Cod? Come on, Tara, we'll celebrate your birthday there, just the four of us. I promise it'll be the best birthday you've ever had. Please, please, please think about it, you guys!”

“I don't know,” Veronica said, looking away.

“You promised, Veronica. You said if Tara agrees, you'll come.”

“When did I even say that?”

“In the car, a couple of months ago. Remember? We were on our way here.”

“That's the thing . . . I don't know if I can . . .” I said. I thought about my mother, about the Day of Prayer. Even though I was still mad at her, we hadn't heard anything from her since she sent that last e-mail. I was worried about her. I wondered whether it was a good idea for my father and me to visit her.

“I won't hear it!” Halle was smiling, and she reached for my hand. “You guys are my best friends,” she said. “Please. I'll take
care of everything. It'll be the most memorable week you've ever had. Let me at least make it up to you for this entire . . . you know, this whole misunderstanding,” she said to Veronica.

It sounded like a terrible idea given that just two minutes ago, Veronica and Halle were fighting.
Everyone secretly has issues with Halle. I'm not the only one.
I looked at her now. I wondered what she really thought about us, about me. That was the worst part of it. She really did seem to think that we were her friends, that we had her back.

“You guys, I'm going to go to the bathroom. When I get back, I want you all to say yes, okay?” She gave us all a look before she got up and ventured to the back of the restaurant.

Alexa sighed, resting her chin on her palm as she sipped on her lassi. “She's not going to let up till she gets her way.”

“I really don't think I can get away . . . it's my birthday,” I said, fully aware of the fact that this wasn't a real excuse.

“Have you ever tried saying no to Halle?” Veronica snorted.

“It's totally weird. Not to mention . . . you know.” Alexa gave me a look.

I glared at Alexa, annoyed that she would hint at my thing with Nick in front of Veronica. But Alexa merely looked back at me, a helpless expression on her face. “You might as well tell Veronica . . .”

“I already know,” Veronica told me. “Don't be mad at Alexa. I forced it out of her. I knew you weren't really out sick. Halle doesn't know, I promise.”

“Guys! Alexa, you weren't supposed to tell!”

“Were you actually going to keep it from me? Seriously, you
think I didn't see it coming with you and Osterman? Besides, it's just a kiss. God, I won't tell her, okay?”

My stomach churned when Veronica said that.
It's just a kiss
. What would happen if they knew it wasn't just a kiss? I swallowed this thought before I spoke. “So we're all going to go up to Cape Cod hiding things from one another, feeling resentments that we've been carrying around . . .” I looked at them.

“It could be healing?” Alexa shrugged, but even she looked skeptical.

“Friendship shouldn't be this hard,” I said, thinking of Meg. Everything was always so simple with her. Till now.

Just then Halle's phone rang. She had left it on the table. I glanced at the screen. It was Nick.

I took a deep breath. “I need to use the restroom too. I'll be right back.”

I turned into the corridor, wondering how I could get out of this stupid trip, and just then I saw them.

I met someone
, she had said.

There's no reason for Nick to know. He'd be devastated.

And he would have been if he had seen what I saw that afternoon. Halle and Amit, giggling in a corner, her hand on his arm in a way that was so intimate that they looked like a couple. It reminded me of how she used to be with Nick when they first got together.

I briskly walked past them to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I stood in front of the mirror for a moment, looking at my reflection. My hands were shaking. I had no idea
what I would say to her when I walked out. I slowly opened the door, hoping to slip back to the table without having to speak to her, and was relieved to see she wasn't lingering in the hallway.

Until I saw them, out of the corner of my eye. They were standing together in the storage room: Halle and Amit, pressed against the wall of the pantry, kissing passionately.

“That was quick.” Veronica looked at me when I returned to the table. She was ladling lamb vindaloo onto her plate. I felt nauseated just looking at it.

“Where's Halle?” Alexa asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

I shrugged, my face flushing. I was filled with dread, as though I was the one who had done something wrong. And then I remembered that I had. I had slept with Nick, after all. Weeks ago, and it didn't even really matter. He was still in love with Halle, who was kissing Amit in the pantry of my father's restaurant. And yet, I didn't want to tell Veronica and Alexa what I had just seen.

“Are you okay, Tara?” Alexa looked at me.

I didn't get a chance to answer.

“All right then, have we decided?” Halle was back, a smile on her face, her hair pulled into a ponytail. “It's a yes, right? We're all going to Cape Cod? If I have to personally pack your bags for you and drag you out of your homes, I'll do it.” She grinned that quintessentially Halle grin. She was immune to everything.

Alexa shrugged. “I guess I'll come.”

Veronica sighed in resignation. “Okay. I'm in.”

They all turned and looked at me. I was exhausted, but I also didn't trust what might happen if they all went without me, for my own secrets were scattered so precariously among them now. Days on the Cape, gossiping and talking. All it would take was for one of them to wonder, to lazily pick at that tight knot, to find the lurid and messy truth about me and Nick lurking just beneath the surface. I thought about what they had done to Sarah. I needed to be on guard.

“Okay. I'll come,” I said, exhaling a shaky breath.

THIRTY-SIX

I couldn't have known the extent of it then, but my life had already been recalibrated by everything and everyone around me. Just like Virginia Wool on Terra Nova. It made you wonder: How much of our lives was just luck or good timing, and how much was actually choice? How could it be that tiny serendipitous events could change everything? And if lucky events could change everything, could minor mishaps have the same power? These were the questions we were all asking ourselves in those days, and it was only when I looked back that I would be able to see what an enormous difference minor shifts and small decisions can make. Time does that. It can make a pile of ice and rocks hurtling through the air look like a colorful tilt, the brim of a planet. It can even make the past look beautiful.

A week before my trip to Cape Cod, we learned about
Florida. My skin went cold as I heard the news. Hundreds of people—men, women, children, the elderly—all living in a cramped compound, all members of the Church of the New Earth, had, on cue, taken a mix of pills and fallen asleep, believing that they would be transported to the mirror planet in their slumber. A few children had escaped, running to the nearest neighbors, six miles away, to ask for help.

“Dad,” I said. But it was all I could get out. My hands were shaking violently. I wanted to throw up.

“I need to go out to California and get her,” he said. We spent the afternoon trying to call her, but she wouldn't pick up her phone. It kept going to voice mail, her cheery voice greeting us like a dead end.

“Hi, you've reached Jennifer Krishnan. Leave your message after the tone.”

That evening, my father contacted the police. “I'm flying out tomorrow. She'll be fine. I promise you, she'll be fine . . .” he said. His eyes were glued to the TV.

“I'll come with you,” I told him, but he shook his head.

“I don't know if it's the safest thing for you to come. Meg's back, right? Can you stay with her? Or at your friend Veronica's?” There was an urgency in his voice I hadn't heard in a long time.

“Yeah, of course . . .” I lied. I had no intention of staying at either Veronica's or Meg's. “I'll talk to them. But I'd rather come with you, Dad.”

“It's not safe. And if anything happened to either of you . . .” His eyes began to tear. I started to say something, but he cut me
off. “Tara, please don't argue with me on this one. But this ‘Day of Prayer' thing that they're organizing . . . who even knows what it could be? I need to go there before it happens.”

Of course I didn't talk to Meg. Or to Veronica. What was I supposed to tell them? I needed to stay over so my father could rescue my mother from the Santa Monica branch of the suicide cult that was all over the news? My father was too stressed out to even check in with Meg's or Veronica's parents.

On the news, they were reporting that some of the other chapters of the Church of the New Earth were disbanding, that supposedly there were factions forming within the organization and a lot of infighting.

The next morning, before my father was supposed to leave for the airport, there was a press conference airing from Santa Monica.

“My name is Robert Bennington, and I'm the leader of the Church of the New Earth. It's a difficult time for many of us, and I offer my condolences to the families of those we lost in Florida. It's a grave tragedy. But I formed the Church of the New Earth to help others find peace on our Earth, not sow the seeds of destruction. Our membership is stronger than ever, and I want to address these accusations that we are holding people within our organization's centers against their will. This is a blatant lie, and we still stand for the same values . . .”

I walked out of the room then. I went to my bedroom, buried my face in my pillow, and screamed.

My father put his hand on my back. He had followed me down the corridor. “It's going to be fine, Tara, okay? We'll get her back home.”

I wished I could believe him. For the first time in my life, I wondered what my life would be like if I never saw my mother again.

“We'll celebrate your birthday together when I get back.”

I didn't say anything.

“We'll be back by then, Tara. And we'll celebrate together, like we always do.” I didn't like the tension in his voice, the way he kept repeating himself. “In case we're not, though . . . you should go up to the Cape like you planned. Go and try to enjoy yourself.”

I remember thinking how ridiculous this directive was, given the circumstances. “Dad . . . what I really want is to come with you.”

“I know. But it's best for you to be here. And if I'm not back by your birthday . . . have fun in Cape Cod. There's no reason why you shouldn't get to have a normal teenage life just because of everything that's going on.”