Page 59 of Fragments of the Lost
If my coach has missed me, it’s only in that I’m a body that picks up the number five spot. But my replacement isn’t much slower. My presence isn’t critical to anyone but myself. If I were to quit (as I sort of did), not much would change.
The soda feels too carbonated, and the pizza too hot, and I’m all jittery energy until Hailey places a hand gently on my arm. “You okay?” she asks, when no one else is paying attention.
Everything in the now feels so far away, as if filtered through a thick layer of plastic. Hailey dulls. Her voice fades. The scenes from earlier today sharpen into focus instead, and I keep replaying moments: Mia in Caleb’s room, Mia’s words, her memories. She’s nine. Still, that doesn’t mean she’s wrong.
“Caleb’s mom has me cleaning out his room,” I say, as a way to explain my current demeanor.
But she frowns, and cuts her eyes to the rest of the table. “Stop doing that,” she says, nearly whispering. “It’s not healthy, Jessa.”
I think back to what Hailey said, about his mother cleaning out his locker at school. “When did his mom clean his locker?”
“What? I told you. That first week.”
“No, when? Which day?”
She shakes her head quickly, like this is both pointless and also an impossible memory to recover. “I don’t know…it was the same day as the school-wide meeting. Someone came to get Max after that. So, the Friday, I guess? Does it really matter?”
The meet was Tuesday, the day Caleb drove over the bridge. Two days later was Thursday, when Mia said she heard Caleb upstairs, and told their mom. Eve was at the school the very next day. Could it be coincidence? Did his mother wonder what Caleb was up to, as well?
Hailey sees me thinking, and places a hand gently on my wrist.
“Listen, a bunch of the girls are coming over to my place after this. Why don’t you come? It will be good for you. Get you out of that place.”
I feel sick. Like I either ate too much or not enough, and I’m not sure if there’s room inside me for anything other than my own thoughts. “Next time?” I ask. I give her a smile so she knows I’m grateful. Because I am. But I also need to get answers, and I can’t do that with five other girls in Hailey’s basement, streaming HBO Go.
“Do you need a ride tomorrow?” I ask, because Hailey doesn’t turn seventeen until later in the year, though she already has a car waiting for her, for when she does.
She wrinkles her nose. “Craig Keegan is picking me up.”
“Craig?” I ask, as she tips her head back and laughs.
“I know, I know. Attempt number two went much better than the first date.” That first date, Craig had gotten lost in a side conversation with Stan from the city, asking what other tickets he could hook us up with, effectively ignoring Hailey. She was not one to be ignored.
Hailey slides out of her seat, and the stream of girls trails after her, calling their goodbyes back to me. Vivian pauses beside my seat, says, “We’ve missed you, Jessa,” before heading out.
Hailey silently mouthsByewhile waving her fingers, and I feel like I’m making my way back to my old life, just slightly out of sync. But I can almost touch it as I watch it go—my shadow beside Hailey as she piles into a car at the curb with our friends.
—
When everyone’s leaving, I catch Max in the hall leading to the bathrooms, or Max catches me. Either way, we’re standing in the hall, inches apart, the rest of the sound dulled and far away.
“I need to talk to you,” I say.
Max leans against the opposite wall. The light’s too bright, and it makes us look sick, blue-tinted.
“I talked to Mia, and…” I let the thought trail. Then I close my eyes, forcing the words out. “She heard something. Two nights after.” I don’t need to specify afterwhat.We’ve set our calendars to the same weighted moments.
Max is holding his breath. “Heard something where?”
“There’s this hidden attic space, the door was behind a bookcase in his closet. I was up there, and I found something. His house key was there.”
He narrows his eyes, just slightly.
“He took your money,” I add, begging him to line up the pieces in the same way. To hear the same ghost story, imagine the same moments, see the same outcome.
And so I say the thing I’ve not given voice to, but the thing that’s been whispering in my head. That terrible hope. “Max, what if he’s not dead?” I whisper through my fingers.
But he shakes his head, eyes closed. “Don’t do this, Jessa.”
