Never Let You Go (4 page)

Anna grabbed Megan’s hand. “This is our place!” She ran Megan up to the porch, swinging her hand.

“You settle in, Megan,” Thomas called. “I’ll drop off your bags in a few minutes. We didn’t get to the chickens or the garden, but Anna can show you those later. Our welcome dinner will be at six at the farmhouse.”

“Thanks, Uncle Thomas!” Anna called over her shoulder.

“Yeah, thanks,” Megan echoed.

Thomas waved and continued down on the footpath. Anna opened the screen door, and Megan followed her inside. There
was only one room, just big enough for two metal cots and a trunk at the base of each bed. A rough table between the beds held a battery-powered lamp and a large can of bug spray. Red flowered curtains hung over the two tiny screened windows.

“Isn’t this great?” Anna shoved an assortment of clothes off her bed and flopped onto the mattress. “Our very own place!” She smiled at Megan.

Megan grinned back, feeling the first rush of happy excitement since getting out of the truck. She suddenly remembered third grade, when she and Anna finally managed to convince their mothers to let them walk the twenty minutes to school instead of taking the bus. That first morning, Anna had pulled a white bag out of her backpack, her face wearing the same secret smile she had now. Inside the bag were Sour Patch Kids.
Candy! In the morning!
Megan remembered thinking. No one but Anna could have dared such a thing.

“—we’re all by ourselves out here,” Anna was saying.

“Oooh,” Megan said in mock fear. “Where’s everyone else sleep?” Metal springs squeaked as she perched on the other bed, which was covered with a rough wool blanket slightly damp to the touch.

“Uncle Thomas, Aunt Linda, Dave, and Sarah are all in the farmhouse, and the boys are in a bunkhouse by the horse barn. The bunkhouse was an old goat pen, but Uncle Thomas converted it for the summers. There’s two other hands starting today besides you. One’s Robert, and I can’t remember the other’s name.” Anna stuffed a blue-striped pillow beneath her neck.

Megan looked around. “Uh, is there a bathroom?” She hoped this wasn’t a peeing-outside kind of place. That had never been one of her talents, though Anna had always been pretty good at it whenever they went camping as kids.

“In the farmhouse. Farmhands’ bathroom is off the kitchen. But look!” She rose to her knees and pointed out one of the tiny windows. Megan knelt beside her and craned her neck to look down. A troughlike metal sink was attached to the outside of the cabin. She could make out a bar of soap on a string, and a towel and mirror hanging from nails. “Isn’t that cute?”

“Yeah,” Megan said hesitantly as Anna lay back on the pillow again. Her friend picked up a magazine from the nightstand and flipped through it idly. Silence descended on the cabin. Outside there was a muffled
thump
as Thomas or someone dropped her bags onto the porch, then the crunch of receding footsteps. Megan could hear cicadas buzzing in the trees far away. Okay, they were finally alone. She felt like she
had
to say something about the anniversary. What if Anna was thinking about it too and waiting for her to acknowledge it somehow?

Do it.
“Listen, there’s something I want to tell you.” A little flutter of fear brushed Megan’s throat as she spoke. She remembered Anna’s face crumpling with rage when she admitted that the rumors were true. The avid faces at school afterward—like hyenas circling a wounded deer, delighted at a fresh scandal. She would catch little snippets of whispered conversation when she passed in the halls. “
. . . all over
him . . . totally grinding . . . he said she’s . . .” No one would talk to her—until Anna came over
one day at lunch and sat down beside her. Megan knew the whole cafeteria was watching them. Anna just unzipped her lunch tote and pulled out a yogurt. Between bites, she asked Megan about the trig quiz. Megan remembered wanting to weep with shaky, grateful thankfulness.

You owe her, Megan. You still owe her.

“I had the freakiest dream on the bus,” she began haltingly. “It reminded me that today is . . . one year since the Mike thing.” She choked on the last sentence.

Anna’s face was impassive. She didn’t move or speak, just stared up at the ceiling, her hands at her sides. Megan went on, faster now, the words tumbling over each other in her hurry to get them out. “We haven’t really talked about it—which is fine, totally fine—but I, um, I really want you to know that I’m so, so sorry. Again. I mean, still. I’m still sorry.” She made herself stop and waited for a response.

Anna lay still for what seemed like a long time. Megan had just opened her mouth to ask if she was okay, when Anna sat upright.

“You know what? It’s okay. It’s all in the past.” Anna’s voice was bright. A spot of color burned high on each cheekbone. “What’s now is now and what’s past is past, right?”

“Right!” Megan tried to match Anna’s chipper tone. She knew she should feel relieved, but something about her friend’s voice didn’t sound right. It was very happy, hyper, and each word was clipped at the end. “I just felt like I should say something—”

Anna swung her legs off the bed and stood up. “Besides”—she
threw back the lid of her trunk—“I think something might happen with Jordan tonight. He’s only seen me all dirty from working. The welcome dinner is the perfect time to show him who I
really
am.” She held up a strappy white sundress, then glanced over at Megan. “What are you going to wear?”

“Oh! Um, I’m not sure. I should probably unpack.” She moved toward the door.
All right, that’s done. And Anna said it was okay. So be happy!
But she still felt unsettled, as if the air in the cabin was vaguely toxic.
Stop! What more do you want? You said you’re sorry, she said it was okay.
Megan pushed open the screechy screen door and dragged her bags inside. Then she realized why Anna’s voice had bothered her. It was the same tone Anna used when they had talked about their crush on Mr. O’Gorman.

Megan dumped the contents of her tote onto the bed and started stacking clothes in the trunk, which smelled like old newspapers. She knew she should feel relieved. She
did
feel relieved. She’d apologized and it was summer and she was going to spend the whole time outside with her best friend. With a sudden lightening of the heart, Megan turned to Anna, then stopped. Her friend was kneeling on the floor, slicing away the lining of her white sundress with what looked like a straight razor, the kind that folded into a handle.

“What are you doing? Why are you cutting up your dress?”

Anna held up the shorn dress triumphantly. The shredded lining lay in a puddle on the floor. “There. It’ll look way better without it.” She stood up, yanked off her T-shirt, and pulled on the dress, pushing her cutoffs down around her ankles. She
stepped out of them, asking, “Doesn’t it? What do you think?” Anna twirled around once, letting the skirt float up around her.

The dress hung airily to midthigh, but even in the dimness of the cabin, Megan could see her lacy blue bra and bikini underwear as clearly as if Anna had been wearing plastic wrap. “Well . . . it’s a bit see-through.”

“Are you being uptight again?” Anna asked silkily.

Megan bit her lip.

Anna smoothed the dress against her body. “You know, Megan, I could have invited anyone up here. Maya, Logan—any of those girls. But I invited you.” She looked at Megan to make sure her words had sunk in.

“I know,” Megan whispered. She looked down at the blanket.

Anna smiled with satisfaction and spun around again. Something on the floor clanked by her foot. It was the razor. Megan picked it up gingerly. The blade was very shiny. “Why do you have this?”

“I read something that said you get a way closer shave with an old-fashioned razor than with those safety ones.” Anna smiled beatifically. “So are you going to wear an old lady skirt, like always?”

“No,” Megan said defensively. “I brought a dress too.”

Anna came over and rested her head briefly on Megan’s shoulder. “Sorry.” She patted Megan’s hair. “I’ll bet whatever you brought is awesome.”

Megan pulled away and laid her pink flowered dress out on the bed. It did look like an old lady dress. Why hadn’t she noticed
that before? She pulled it on and gazed down at the folds of soft fabric that hung to her knees. Thomas and Linda would think it was appropriate at least.

Anna leaned over a tiny mirror propped up on the bedside table, applying eyeliner in a thick black stripe, humming to herself.

Megan watched her. Maybe she should let her go out in that dress, to get back at her for the old lady crack. But no. She couldn’t. Wasn’t this what she and Anna always did? Protected each other. Megan protected Anna from Anna’s own crazy behavior, as much as she could, and Anna protected Megan from . . . social isolation? Megan shuddered inside when she thought about where she would be without Anna. She would be like . . . well, Megan remembered an unfortunate girl in middle school who would do things like wear a ponytail smack on the top of her head. Francie would fly into rages in the hallway when she couldn’t open her locker, always had body odor, and always had food on the front of her shirt. That would have been her, Megan was fairly sure.

Megan cleared her throat. “You know, that dress really
is
see-through,” she tried again. “Maybe you can’t tell in here, but it’s like a nightgown.” She tried to sound firm but gentle. “Seriously, you should wear something else.” She went over to Anna’s side and riffled through the jumble of clothes on the floor. “Here, how about this?” She picked up a black cotton shift. “It’s totally cute.”

Anna popped open a lipstick tube and painted her mouth in burgundy. She smacked her lips together, studying the effect in the mirror, then looked up at Megan. “Aww, you’re all worried. That’s so sweet.”

Megan held the dress out persistently, and with a sigh, Anna got up and accepted it. “All right, since you care so much. But white is Jordan’s favorite color.”

Megan rubbed on peach lip gloss and ran a brush through her hair while Anna put on the black dress and finished her outfit with huge hoop earrings. Together, they walked down the steps of the cabin and headed toward the farmhouse. The sun was lower now, more golden than white.

The path widened to a piece of scratched-up ground with a low gray building in front. Through an open door came the sound of cooing birds. “Here’re the chickens,” Anna said. “We have to gather eggs twice a day, but watch out for the rooster. He’ll attack your legs if he doesn’t like your shoes.”

Megan laughed. “No way.”

“Seriously! You know my black wellies? He can’t stand the sight of them. You have to make sure all the doors to the coop are shut and he’s outside before you collect the eggs.” They skirted the edge of the coop and neared the farmhouse. Megan could hear the babble of many voices as they approached. She swallowed. Anna must have noticed her sudden stiffness, because she took Megan’s hand.

“Don’t be nervous.” Her voice was like a cool tonic on Megan’s nerves. “Everyone will love you. And you know what? I’m going to pick out a guy for you tonight.”

Megan stopped in dismay. “Anna, no, seriously!
Please
don’t. I don’t want a guy.”

Anna waved her hand in dismissal. “Of course you do. That
way we can both have someone this summer.” She squeezed Megan’s hand. “You look gorgeous. Your hair is perfect like that. I mean it.”

Megan smiled reluctantly. “Stop.” But her voice lacked conviction, and Anna laughed as if she knew she’d won. She wrapped her arm around Megan’s waist, and matching their footsteps, they went down the path together.

CHAPTER 3

In the side yard, the long picnic table was spread with a blue-striped tablecloth, which was anchored at each end with a large stone. Plates and yellow cloth napkins were stacked at one end, silverware in mason jars at the other. In the middle was a giant pitcher of iced tea, sweating moisture, and a cluster of tall glasses. The leaves on the big oaks rustled coolly, throwing their flickering green light over everything. The scene looked like some illustration of Classic American Farm Life, Megan thought. Subdivisions, four-lane highways, SuperTarget, and Starbucks felt very far away. It was nice. She was ready to be out of her old life for a while. It wasn’t like there was anything particularly great back in suburban Cleveland.

As they walked up, Sarah came out of the kitchen with a big wooden bowl of salad. She had uncombed her braids, and her long, wavy hair hung down her back. Megan thought she looked
beautiful. Sarah handed the salad to Linda, who was arranging items on the table. Dave, now clad in a shockingly bright red T-shirt, sat by himself on one of the benches, drinking a glass of tea and looking like he’d rather be back on his tractor. Thomas stood talking to two guys who were about Anna and Megan’s age.

Megan stiffened at the sight of them and Anna nudged her in the ribs. “There! One of those is yours. Probably the bigger one.”

“Nooo!” Megan hissed. The situation felt familiar. Anna was always picking out guys for Megan, but after a few minutes, it was usually clear that they preferred Anna instead. Anna would gracefully let it drop that she had a boyfriend, and then Megan would steel herself for the look of reluctance on the guys’ faces as they turned to her, the second choice. Always the second choice.

“I don’t see Jordan,” Anna said anxiously just as Thomas waved them over.

“Girls!” he called. “Meet Robert and Isaac, the other summer hands. I’m sure you’ll all enjoy working together.”

“Hey.” The guys nodded. Robert was hulking, with hands like softball mitts and a sheaf of blond hair falling over his forehead, while Isaac was thinner, with heavy dark eyebrows and a brooding expression.

“Thomas!” Linda called. “Can you light the bug candles?”

Thomas walked away, and they all stood around in awkward silence for a minute. Megan crossed her arms in front of her chest, then uncrossed them, then clasped her hands behind her back. She wondered if her dress really did look like a granny dress.
Come on, Anna, say something.
It was like every party
they’d ever been to. She was hiding behind Anna, as usual.