Part 15 (2/2)

”Everybody's got a secret or two,” Jack said.

”Or three, or four.” Becka opened her eyes wide. ”I bet I can list everything I know about the two of you in under a minute.”

”What are we betting?” Jack asked.

”Whatever you want,” she answered.

He looked at his watch. ”All right.”

”Your father's smart, like you. But mean. I think maybe your mother is dead, but I can't tell because your story keeps changing. You have bad dreams and you don't like deep water or tight s.p.a.ces. You won't come watch me dance but you don't ever ask me about it, or get jealous like some guys do. You drink too much and you drive too fast, and you're vain as h.e.l.l.” She looked at me. ”And about two weeks ago, I found out you had a little sister. And the way you spend money, you must have come from it. And that's it. I don't even know how old you are, exactly.”

”Thirty seconds,” Jack said.

”Not bad,” I said, although I hadn't known about the deep water or the tight s.p.a.ces.

”Now, you I don't know anything about.” She was still looking at me. ”Except that you look just like Jacky here, so I imagine he's telling the truth when he says you're brother and sister.”

”What the h.e.l.l,” Jack said. ”Why would I lie about that?”

”I don't know.” She picked up her fork, stabbed the waffle through the middle, and began sawing at it with her knife. She didn't look at either of us. ”Forget it.”

”He's nineteen,” I offered.

She shrugged.

”Okay,” Jack said. ”What do you want to know?”

”Nothing.” She paused with her waffle-laden fork halfway to her mouth. A strawberry fell off and hit the table with an audible plop. ”But if you're not going to tell me about things, then don't sit here talking about them like I'm not even here. It's not polite.” She shook her head and shoveled the food into her mouth. ”I get so tired of all your G.o.dd.a.m.ned special little secrets.”

She dropped her fork and pushed back her plate. She stood up, took a twenty out of her pocket, and dropped it on the table.

”I'm not hungry anymore,” she said and left.

Jack and I followed her.

When we got back to Becka's house, she went straight into her bedroom and closed the door behind her. It had started to rain and the inside of the house was damp. My eyes were gritty with exhaustion.

Jack drew me a bath and sat on the toilet while I soaked. I had a feeling this was something Becka would not have approved of, had she known; but she was asleep in the next room, oblivious, and it was good to soak in the warm water and pa.s.s quiet words with Jack. Afterward he brushed his teeth in the bathroom; I crept into Becka's room and stood over her, wrapped in a pink towel. She hadn't taken off her makeup before going to bed and it had smeared. I stared down at her blurred features and had trouble remembering what she really looked like.

Becka's friend Michael knocked on the door at about two in the afternoon. Becka was still in bed and Jack was making coffee in the kitchen, so I answered the door.

He was older than I had expected; he had crow's-feet around his hazel eyes, and I wondered again how old Becka was. He was also easily the tallest person I'd ever met. He was wearing a pair of camouflage pants cut off at the knees and a sleeveless unders.h.i.+rt, and the parts of his arms and legs that I could see were long and spidery and covered with tattoos. His black hair was jagged and rough, as though he'd cut it himself.

He looked at me and smiled a small, private smile.

”Jack's sister.” His voice was smooth and sharp, like a knife blade.

”Michael,” I said and let him in.

”Where's Becka?”

”Still in bed,” Jack called from the kitchen. ”You want coffee?”

Michael shook his head. ”Go tell her to move her West Virginia b.u.t.t. The day's wasting.”

”Hang on,” Jack said. A moment later he emerged from the kitchen and gave me a cup of coffee. ”Be your charming self while I go see what's up with Beck, will you?”

When he was gone, Michael smiled the private smile again. ”Are you charming?”

”Not yet.” I was too sleepy to be self-conscious. ”Try me again in a few hours. I haven't even brushed my teeth yet.”

”Don't let me stop you,” he said.

Standing at the sink, I could hear Jack and Becka talking in low voices in the bedroom. I wondered what was going on.

When I came out of the bathroom, combing my hair with my fingers, Michael was sitting on the couch where I'd slept the night before. He hadn't even bothered to push aside the sheet I'd used to protect myself from the rough upholstery. He was reading a paperback. He'd wrapped the front cover around the back of the book and I couldn't see the t.i.tle.

There was nowhere else to sit so I sat down next to him. He didn't acknowledge me. He read his book. I examined my fingernails. We sat in silence.

After a few minutes, Jack came out of the bedroom, looking exasperated. ”Bad news,” he said.

Michael closed the paperback and stuck it in his pocket. ”Becka's bailing out on us.”

Jack nodded.

”Oh, no,” I said, without much conviction.

”She's tired. I think the two of us are going to hang out here. But”-and Jack looked at me, his eyes grimly apologetic-”she says you two should go without us.”

”Whatever.” Michael didn't sound as if he cared much either way.

I went cold. ”Jack-”

”Go, Josie,” he said, and it was a command. ”There's no reason for you to sit around here all day.”

The closed bedroom door was mocking us. I could imagine Becka lying smugly in bed behind it, proud at having engineered an entire day without me around. At that moment, I hated her.

”Fine,” I said.

Michael drove an old Jeep with a deep dent on the front fender. The Jeep was open to the air, and the drive down Twenty-sixth Street to Presque Isle was too loud for conversation. Which was just as well, because I was furious. This girl, this ordinary girl, had dismissed me as easily as if I were some extraneous little tagalong sister. Worse, Jack had let her do it. I brooded so deeply over the slight that when the trip was over and Michael turned off the engine, I was surprised.

He had pulled off of a narrow paved road, behind three or four other cars. The Jeep was parked on a stretch of dirt between the road and a dense forest; across the road there were trees, too, but they were spa.r.s.er. In the s.p.a.ces between them, I could see a thin blue line that was the water. As we sat in the car, a couple rode by on bicycles.

”Very pretty,” I said.

”If you think she planned this, you're right,” Michael said. ”She told me about it yesterday.”

<script>