Authors: Nova Ren Suma
Fade Out (16 page)
Let me set the scene:
Back behind the Little Art movie theater, I’m tucked beneath the exterior stairwell leading up to the second-floor apartment where Ms. Greenway, Austin, and Jackson live. Rain’s coming down, but the sun’s still out somewhere, if you bother searching around in the sky for it. The mountains are dead gray. The puddles are getting wider, threatening to reach my toes. Jackson’s red bike is locked up to the railing, so I know he’s not out riding it. I’m hiding here, waiting for him to come down.
I think Jackson is the first person in the history of Shanosha to use a padlock to secure his bike in his own backyard. It’s like the city people who drive through here on the way to their resort cabins, the ones who think the Catskills are pretty, not agonizingly dull. They stop for ten minutes to get a cone at Taco Juan’s and actually
lock their car doors
while they do it, like they think we mountain people are all robbers and carjackers. Jackson’s just like them.
That’s the interesting thing about liars: Not only can they not be trusted, they don’t trust anyone else.
So I’m waiting here under the stairs. Jackson doesn’t start work until four in the afternoon, so I guess he’s not up yet. I stand here, dripping. I stand here for a long time.
Meanwhile, Austin’s upstairs in the apartment, poised to give me a signal any minute now. The mission I talked him into was simple: Keep an eye on Jackson’s whereabouts and report back when he gets his lazy butt out of bed.
No sign of movement and it’s, like, two in the afternoon. My cell phone’s blinking in and out, so I keep losing track of time, but if I need to be contacted I have the walkie-talkie as a backup—Austin’s idea, obviously.
The minutes tick past. The rain falls on the stairwell, pattering
over my head. The sky has gone dim, tricking me into thinking it’s later than it is. Jackson sure sleeps late….
Suddenly the walkie chirps. “Home base to Eagle Three,” the thing squawks. “Do you copy? Over.”
I push the button to talk: “What did you just call me?”
“You didn’t tell me a code name so I made one up. Over.”
“Stop saying over.”
“You’re
supposed
to say over. Over.”
“Austin, do you have something to tell me or what?”
No response.
“Austin!”
A shower of static almost as loud as the rain.
Fine. I say it: “Over.”
Having now heard what he wanted, he says, “Jackson’s not here. I don’t know what happened, but he left. Sorry, Dani.”
I give up on the walkie-talkie nonsense and stomp up the stairs. I pound on the door until Austin answers.
“What do you mean he’s not here!” I shout to be heard over the rain. Next I expect thunder to crash, lightning to strobe out the sky. How did he lose Jackson while they live in the same place? I don’t know how that’s even possible.
I should’ve been paying more attention, because my question
is answered by what Austin’s wearing. A bathrobe. Plus a towel wrapped like a turban over his thick head.
“Please tell me you weren’t just in the shower,” I say.
“Not the shower,” he says, “the bath.” He shrugs. “Look—you’re getting rained on. Do you want to come in?”
“You were supposed to be watching out for Jackson and you
took a bath
?”
“You really should come in.”
But I can’t get over it. This is what I’m working with, someone who thinks it’s perfectly okay to bathe during a stakeout. A bath, while on duty. A bath, in the middle of the day.
A bath!
My disgust must be visible on my face because Austin starts going off on me. “What do you want me to do, Dani? I said I’d help because you wouldn’t take no for an answer. You never do. You always want everyone to be there when you want them there, and you’re never there for anyone else. Ask Taylor. You’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met in my whole life.”
I stand there, the rain—heavier now than before—running down my face.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” he says. “Like make fun of me because I have a towel on my head? Get it over with already.”
I sigh. “I am not,” I insist.
He doesn’t argue, but he doesn’t take back what he said either. “I’m going to lend you an umbrella, and you’re going to take it, okay?”
Now I’m the one not to argue. I take the umbrella that’s offered and spread it open over my dripping head.
“I don’t know where he went,” Austin says. “He was sleeping in his room when I got in the bath and when I got out he was gone.”
“But I was down here the whole time. There’s no way he came out this door.”
“He could’ve gone downstairs the other way—straight into the theater.”
“There’s another way down?”
“Yeah,” he says. Then, almost sheepishly, “Didn’t you know that?”
“No!” I shriek.
So you know, I’m blocking out what he said before. I pretended I didn’t hear what he said while he said it, and I’ll continue to pretend until I can figure out why he’d think such a thing. Me… selfish?
Jackson is selfish. My dad is selfish. Cheryl is selfish. Nichole
is selfish. Casey is selfish. Maya is selfish. Even Taylor is selfish because she wants me up there in the boring newspaper office when I have better things to do. And Austin is the most selfish of all, for thinking this was the time to take a bath.
Selfish? Me? Not on your life.
I could say all this to Austin now. I could defend myself. But that’s when I see it: a flash of something dark pink down in the street. Dark pink—with polka dots.
I fly off the stairs, not even bothering to say bye to Austin, though I should thank him later for the umbrella because it helps me sail to the ground without breaking a foot.
I might have been looking for Jackson, and he may have slipped out of sight before I could find out where he was headed, but I now have what’s called a lead. I’ve got to follow it.
The last time I saw polka dots, they happened to be attached to the legs of that girl, Bella. She must be here in town to meet Jackson.
But when I reach the sidewalk, the polka dots are gone, lost in the rain. She must have went that way… or this way… or this other. She must’ve gone south, or west, or east. She could be anywhere, in any part of town.
Then I see the spots again. They’re definitely dark pink
polka dots. Magenta, you’d call them. And they’re attached to what appears to be an umbrella.
It almost does look like a movie—for real, this time.
In the distance, through the falling rain, it’s hard to see the girl who’s holding the umbrella, but I do see where she’s taking it. I spy the flight of the umbrella veer off the sidewalk and down along the bike path to the river. So I follow.
As I hustle quietly through the rain I see flashes of what could happen once I catch her—and I don’t think that’s lightning. Flash: I race up to her and reach out an arm under the umbrella, grabbing her by the shoulder.
Flash: She stops, knowing she’s caught.
Flash: Slowly she turns and I see her face up close for the first time. She’s not as pretty as Elissa, and even if she is I would never say so. She says,
What do you want from me?
I say,
For you to leave Jackson alone.
She says,
Okay.
And then,
Aren’t you Dani? He talks about you all the time, you know.
I didn’t know, but now I do. Then she says,
I’m so sorry I tried to take him from you.
Wait. No.
Elissa.
She says Elissa. And then she vanishes forever, leaving town in a flurry of polka dots that get washed away in the rain.
Flash.
Actually, maybe that is lightning.
I’m down on the path, trying to be as stealthy as possible,
which is difficult when your sneakers have no treads and are slippery to walk in when it rains and send you sliding almost three whole feet down the muddy slope and as you go you make a tiny sound like, “Eeeeeeee!” And when you look up, you see two people staring.
Jackson and the girl with the umbrella. Only, the girl with the umbrella is a girl you already know, a girl you’ve seen hundreds of times before, a girl who’s known you for so long she may or may not have witnessed you wet the bed.
“Oh, hi, Elissa,” I say. “Hi, Jackson.”
“Dani,
what
are you doing down here?” Elissa says.
“I…” Nothing comes.
“Are you following us?” Jackson says.
“Where are you going?” It’s not an admission of guilt, just a simple question.
“The gazebo,” Elissa says, pointing at the wooden gazebo on the shore. It’s a little covered shelter out of the rain. But she doesn’t ask me to go with them even though if I stand out here for much longer I could get struck by lightning and electrocuted.
The Elissa I know is missing from under that umbrella. She’s not smiling her usual smile. She’s not happy to see me. I hate to say it, but she mostly looks annoyed.
“We’re gonna go,” she says, taking Jackson’s hand. “See you later?”
“Later,” Jackson says. His umbrella is plain black, forming a dark shadow over his eyes, which is very convenient for him, don’t you think?
“Wait!” I shout, once Elissa and Jackson are halfway to the gazebo. “I
was
following you,” I admit. “Elissa, I really need to talk to you.”
“What about?” she says. She is still holding his hand.
“It’s personal,” I say, eyeing Jackson. I wait and she’s still standing there holding on to his hand. “Girl stuff,” I add.
Now, Elissa may have the day off and want to spend it hanging out in a mildewy gazebo with her boyfriend, but deep down she’s more than a girl with a day off and a boyfriend to spend it with. At heart, where she can’t ever deny it, she is still my babysitter. That is a bond you just cannot break.
“Wait for me inside,” she tells Jackson, pointing at the gazebo. “I’ll be right there.” When he’s out of earshot, she says, “What happened? Did you just get your, um…” She looks uncomfortable.
“No! That was like a whole year ago!” I can’t believe she thinks I’d chase her down to talk about something like
that
.
“Then what?”
“Where’d you get that umbrella? I’ve never seen you with it before.”
She shrugs. “I dunno… the mall?”
“Oh,” I say. I’m having a hard time finding the right way to say this.
She heaves a breath and lets it out, loud. “Dani, what are you doing here? I mean, for real. Is this how you’re spending the summer, stalking people? It’s creepy.”
I take a step back, careful not to slip in the mud. “I’m not trying to be creepy,” I say. “I’m trying to make sure you don’t get hurt. Besides, I didn’t think I was stalking
you
—I thought it was someone else. Like I said, I’ve never seen you with that umbrella.”
“If you like the umbrella so much, you can have it,” she says. She closes it up and I stand there shocked for a few long seconds until I realize it’s stopped raining.
“Summer storm,” she says, “comes and goes. Now, who did you think you were stalking and why did you think I’d get hurt?”
I lean closer. I can tell that Jackson is trying his best to eavesdrop from over in the gazebo. He’s not watching us, but his head is inclined our way, ears peeled, listening.
“Some girl,” I say as quietly as I can. “And because.”
She doesn’t get it. “I can barely hear you,” she says.
“A girl,” I say, eyes wide. “A
girl
.”
“What are you talking about?” she says far louder than she should.
“I saw Jackson with another girl,” I blurt out.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I swear. And I have proof.” She eyes me warily as I pull out my phone.
“What are you doing, who are you calling?” she says. She has the strangest look on her face, full of panic and on high alert, like not only does she know something’s about to happen, she knows exactly what.
I flip open my phone and start looking for the picture. Yes,
the
picture. The one I took in the playground, the one with Jackson and Bella on the seesaws, the one Elissa desperately needs to see.
“Elissa!” Jackson calls. “Are you coming or what?”
“Elissa, just wait a second, it’s here,” I say.
Her face has turned to cold, gray stone. “This isn’t funny, Dani,” she says. “I’ll see you later, okay?” And then she’s running over to the gazebo—she’s left me her polka-dot umbrella
even though it could start raining again any second, and she’s gone to him, to Jackson. She’s picked him over me.
I see him standing there, watching me. But when she reaches him, he looks away, like he couldn’t care less what I know.
Elissa grabs his hand and they sit down on the bench inside the gazebo, in the shade, where they know I can’t see.
T
aylor was supposed to keep my mom from
knowing where I was.
Tell her anything you want,
I instructed Taylor,
just cover for me, and I’ll be in later
.
Of course, waiting for Jackson to roll out of bed took way longer than expected, not to mention my detour to the gazebo. I was supposed to be in an hour late, but it’s been at least three hours.
I sneak up the stairs to the newspaper office, lugging two more umbrellas than I had this morning, and walk smack into Taylor, who’s pacing by the entrance.
“Where have you been!” she says.
“You know,
out
,” I tell her. “I got a lead. I had to follow it.”
“A lead on what?”
“On Jackson and that girl, Bella—only it turned out not to be Bella, it was Elissa.” I fill her in on the details. “But Elissa doesn’t believe me. And Jackson…”
“Wow,” Taylor says. “Jackson acts like he’ll never be caught.”
“I know.”
“Like he’s invincible.”
“I know.”
“And by the time he moves back home at the end of the summer it’ll be too late and no one will ever know what he did.”
“I
know
.”
She shrugs, this helpless gesture like,
Oh, well, that’s life.