The After Girls (32 page)

Ella stared at the desk. It had been important to Astrid. It had to be important to Grace, too. Cherished by her dead daughter, left behind by a man who’d hurt her so badly that she’d told the world he was dead. This was the place where Grace would hide something. She knew it, deep in her heart. This was it.

She just had to get inside.

“Do you have a bobby pin?” she turned back to Jake.

But she didn’t wait for him to answer. She rushed down the hall and into the bathroom. She opened the drawers quickly, rifling through. She grabbed the first brassy one she saw and then ran back to the desk.

Jake moved out of the way as she knelt down, pulling the prongs of the pin apart and carefully inserting one into the lock. She twisted and turned, listening, waiting.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Jake asked.

“Shhh,” she said. “I’ve almost got it.”

She felt the pin connect with something — a ridge. She turned it, just a little bit, almost there.

And Ella let out a sigh of relief as the desk opened with a satisfying click.

Sydney had a bad feeling.

She felt like it should be raining. But it wasn’t. Like the day was murkier than it actually was. Like the weather simply hadn’t gotten the memo. She told herself that it was just Astrid. Just the fact that it had been a whole month. As if that weren’t enough anyway.

She carried her fiddle in her hand. She felt silly, almost, walking off to the cabin to what, serenade her dead friend?

It was like something Ella would do.

She laughed to herself at how silly she was, but it didn’t really work, so she walked faster down the sidewalk, trying to shake the feeling. But the bad feeling wouldn’t go away.

Audie said that the women in their family had that power. A certain sixth sense, if you will. Of course, Audie, as awesome as she was, was a little kooky.
A lot kooky.

Sydney had tried her best to ignore her aunt. People weren’t psychic. The crazies who cancel their flights because they had a bad dream just ended up with some huge layover in Texas, feeling stupid when the plane that they should have been on doesn’t crash.

But she couldn’t ignore the fact that she got these feelings. That a tiny part of her believed them.

Sydney veered off the sidewalk, towards the empty lot that led to the woods. She didn’t know why Ella still used the shortcut by Astrid’s house. Sure it was faster, but it was creepy to walk right by Grace and company.

As she got closer to the woods, the feeling intensified. She could call Audie crazy, but there was no denying that this happened to her sometimes. Not often, just sometimes. It was this notion, this premonition — who knows — this sense in every bone of her body, from head to toe, that something was off.

And the sense only got stronger as she stepped inside, leaving suburbia behind, letting the woods envelop her.

Something was definitely wrong.

The first thing Ella noticed was the smell. Carnations.

Then she saw the petals, strewn across the desk. But she didn’t have time to process it. Her eyes widened as she saw it all — pieces of blue chiffon, jaggedly cut on the edges. Just like Astrid’s dress. Photos of Astrid, ones that they’d taken down, ones that had never been put back up. There’d been so many, Ella hadn’t even realized that some of them were missing. But here they were, scattered about. Ella’s heart raced brutally fast.

What is going on?

But she didn’t have time to think. Because then she saw the pages. A small stack of lightly lined pages.

“Holy shit,” Jake said, but she ignored him.

Slowly, she picked them up.

The first one only had a couple of sentences. May 31. A little over a week before she died:

Ella held her breath as she turned to the next page. June 1st.

Ella felt sick, because it was so wrong — wasn’t it? They would have helped her. They would have understood. They would have loved her no matter what. But Astrid didn’t know it.

She died not knowing it.

Ella turned the page again. June 4. Just two days before Astrid had left.

Ella flipped to the next one. June 5. The night before she died.

“Are you okay?” Jake asked, but she didn’t want to talk to him, she didn’t want to see him. She only wanted to cry.
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry
. She was the one who should be sorry. She was the one who’d failed her.

But it was no use. It was too late.

Ella threw the pages down and shook her head. But then she heard something. A voice.

She heard the word, almost as if it were whispered in her ear, and it sounded, it sounded like Astrid. But Ella spun around and it was only Jake.

“Did you hear that?” she asked.

“Hear what?”

Ella flipped back and there it was, all of it. The photos. The carnations. The blue fabric from Astrid’s dress.

How many times had Grace gone there? How many times had she hung around, looking for something that wasn’t coming? Just like Ella?

Who had Ella been seeing all this time?

Ella’s eyes flitted across the pages, and the words rang in her head.

Ella turned around and grabbed Jake by the shoulders, squeezing him so hard she could feel her fingers dig into his bare skin. “That night in the cabin,” she said. “You started to tell me something. You started to tell me something about Grace.” Her heart was racing now. Running fast.

“About Robert?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “I mean, yes, but no. Something else. You said that she shouldn’t have been surprised. Why did you say that?”

“I don’t know,” Jake said, stepping back. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No,” she said, grabbing him again, squeezing tighter. “You have to tell me,” she screamed, shaking him. “You have to tell me the truth. Why did you say she wasn’t surprised? Why did you think she should have seen it coming? Why did you say all that? Why?”

And in moments, the words were out of his mouth. Real. Impossible to ignore.

“Because she tried the same thing herself.”

Ella shook her head, stepping backwards.

“It was right after Robert left. It was awful.”

“No,” she said. “No.”

“Where is Grace?” Ella asked.

Jake shrugged. “She said she was going out.”

“She didn’t say where?”

“No,” he said. “She never says where — ”

And without thinking she ran down the hallway, ignoring Jake’s cries and his confusion. She knew. Some part of her knew. She ran out the back door that led to the shortcut through the woods, not even bothering to close it behind her.

The woods were in front of her. Majestic. Eerie. Breathing with the wind.

Calling her.

She had to get to the cabin. Before it was too late.

The branches cracked beneath her feet as Sydney walked. This way had more woods, thicker woods, less trail. The feeling was deep now. Sitting in her stomach. Heavy like a rock.

And she felt a dizzying sense of déjà vu because she realized that she’d had this feeling in this same place. Not too long ago. Not too long ago at all.

One month ago, to be exact.

It was as they left her. It was the last time they ever spoke to her.

They were leaving the cabin. It was the last time they’d be in the cabin ever, all three of them. They were walking out. They were going to their party.

And the feeling had hit her then, as she and Ella walked one way and Astrid walked another. That familiar ache. But it had gone away. A few drinks inside her and it was gone, and she’d forgotten about it in the morning. And she hadn’t remembered it until now. When she felt it so strongly. Again.

Now the wind swept around her, fluttering through the leaves of the trees as she stepped into the clearing.

She stared at the cabin. So much pain in there. And so much happiness, too. She had to go in. She knew that she did. She knew that she could. She could shake the feeling and just step inside. But before she had a chance, she heard a rustling in the trees. Cracking branches and swooshing leaves.

Someone was out there.

And that someone was coming here, too.

Ella didn’t think. She ran.

Ran fast. Ran over the branches. Around the trees. Ran like she should have done that night a month ago. She should have run back. She should of run back to her friend.

By the time she reached the clearing, she was out of breath, the cabin was in sight, and —

“Sydney,” she said. Syd was staring right at her, as if awaiting her arrival.

“Ella,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“What are
you
doing here?”

“I wanted to play,” she started, holding up her violin. But Ella shook her head.

“Ella, is everything okay?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Ella said. She had to get inside. She ran past Sydney, across the porch, and through the door — just like that day, so much like that day — and —

She screamed.

Astrid. After all this time. Astrid was here. Lying here. In that cornflower blue dress. Her red hair splashed around her. The key around her neck. Just like she’d found her that day. Ella had led Grace here, and she’d been stupid, she’d walked in first, and she’d seen her friend, dead, gone, and she’d run forward and touched her and begged her to wake. But it was too late. It was too late. It was way too late.

And she screamed and she screamed and she screamed and she screamed and then Sydney was running past her, kneeling down, saying, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” and Sydney was leaning, listening for a heartbeat, feeling for breathing and yelling. Sydney was yelling something as she shook her.

And then Sydney was looking to her. “Ella,” she yelled. “El.”

Ella closed her eyes. Shook her head.

And in a second she felt Sydney’s arms around her, and she didn’t hear herself screaming anymore. And the screams were replaced with sobs, sobs that shook her body. Shook her to the core. But Sydney held her still. Sydney didn’t let go.

But Sydney yelled above her cries. “She’s still breathing,” she said. “We have to call 911.”

And Ella let herself open her eyes and see that despite the blue dress and despite the red hair and despite the key that it wasn’t Astrid. It wasn’t Astrid at all.

It never was.

The news spread like wildfire in the town over the next few days. Sydney wasn’t even that surprised. It was the story of the year. A girl had killed herself, and now her mother had tried — there was no hiding it. Everybody knew.

All over Falling Rock stories started to pop up about Grace, how she’d flipped on them once at the café, how she always looked in a daze while at the supermarket. Everyone wanted a piece of the action. Some heard about Robert, going on about how they could swear they’d seen him here and there throughout the years. Some didn’t even seem to remember that Grace had ever had a husband. That’s how it was in Falling Rock — once you left, you pretty much fell off of everyone’s radar.

Sydney tried to avoid it all, spending her mornings with Darcy watching cartoons and her evenings at the dinner table, talking to her mom and George about the best place to find organic grapes. All the time in-between was spent with Ella, reading bad magazines and watching movies that were so stupid they were funny. The type of movies that college boys like. The ones that don’t require you to think. She felt sick about every fight, every doubt she’d had about Ella. She wanted to make it up to her. In any way she could.

They didn’t even talk much when they were together. They were just there for each other. Sometimes they cried and sometimes they laughed. They were what they should have been from the beginning. They were friends. Friends who could finally grieve together.

Carter called her a couple of times each day, but she didn’t answer. It wasn’t anything against him. She just wasn’t answering for anyone but Ella.

Still, he left her messages every time.

I hope you’re doing okay. I want to hear your voice. I’m here for you when you need me.

On the third day, she answered. They made plans to watch a movie. Sydney was getting awfully good at that now.

Carter gave her a big hug when she got to his house, holding her as long as he could. It felt good.

“I missed you,” he said.