The Shadow 14

I strode into the cafeteria and, after picking up a Caesar salad, sat by Shawn and Breanne at our new usual table. It was even more crowded than the day before. Ever since Stephanie had been in the hospital, her loyal wannabes had scattered and circulated throughout the lunchroom, looking for someone new to follow. Now, close to half of them were positioned around us- I recognized model-thin Alayna Birchmeyer and freckled, baby-faced Trista Campbell. As far as I could remember, they were the two most aggressive.

Shawn kissed me on the cheek while Breanne greeted with a casual “Hey, Car.” While that nickname bothered me, this time, for some reason, it didn’t. I gave her a quick three-finger wave, placing my other hand on Shawn’s shoulder. When I glanced toward the door, I snickered upon noticing Stephanie hadn’t made it to the cafeteria yet. Loser.

I must have looked as smug as I felt, because Breanne gave me a curious look when I turned back around. I held up my hand and shook my head as I mouthed, “I’ll tell you later.”

After a pause, Trista and Alayna burst into giggles, leaning toward me. “What was that, Car? What did you see?” Alayna whispered. I had to give her major props; she was brave. In the hierarchy that was our school, her action could have resulted in harsh rejection and ridicule. She’s pretty enough, so I guess I can spare her. If Breanne was in her shoes right now, she might not be so fortunate.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” I waved her off politely. Wouldn’t you like to know?

During a moment of awkward silence, I stabbed at my dry salad and took a bite. I hadn’t even bothered to get a packet of dressing. Steph had always advised me to never eat Caesar dressing. It contained anchovy paste- ew.

“So,” Breanne said to me, setting a small notepad and Central High School pen on the table in front of us. “I’m totally stumped on a filler for page three of the school paper. Since we lost the last issue after getting the main computer fixed, we’ve been totally scrambling to get a new issue ready. I’m the stand in editor-in-chief until Miss Stephanie, um, remembers who she is.” I felt a hot twinge in the pit of my stomach as Breanne flipped her hair proudly, Trista, Alayna, and a few other girls giggling wildly around us.

“Hah, like that’s ever gonna happen,” I replied, cueing more laughs to erupt around the table. Even Shawn seemed to be chuckling slightly. Breanne picked up her pen, tapping the end on her chin in thought.

“Well, now that I’m in charge, I’m thinking we should put in something people would actually care ti read about, say, an inside scoop on the best shops to hit?” I considered for a moment what she was implying, popping a crouton into my mouth.

“As long as we’re your undercover reporters, I’m in,” I answered coolly. Then, running a hand down Shawn’s shoulder, added “And, of course we’ll need a little help on the best places for guys, right?”

Shawn looked up quickly, the look on his face practically oblivious. “Yeah, sure, I’ll come to the mall,” he stuttered. I noticed how, after hearing this, Trista and Alayna sat up straighter. A small squeak came from the back of a redheaded girl’s throat, but she said nothing more.

“We’re in, too,” Alayna pressed. Pathetic. Are they trying to make themselves look stupid? I looked at the silent Trista, whose glance was affixed on Shawn. My eyes narrowed unconsciously.

“Sure.” I shrugged. You bitches might want to think twice about being anywhere near me if you’re planning on stealing my man.

“Awesome,” Breanne chimed in, scribbling something onto her notepad. I looked over at the redhead girl, half-expecting her to say something. She stayed quiet, though, her sea-green eyes watching everything that was happening. I was struck with jealousy at her simplistic, yet obvious, beauty. At the same time, déjà vu- where have I seen her before? My head began to ache with frustration as I failed to remember her name. Something about her seemed so familiar… but what was it?

I took another bite of my salad and adjusted my attention back to my friends, who were watching me expectantly. “So, Sherwood Mall, after school?” I confirmed.

“Actually, I have swim practice right at three,” Breanne interjected, “But I’ll be all set to go at five.”

I shrugged. “That’s fine, I’ve got some other things to do today anyway.” This is the last time you’re gonna think you can adjust my designated time, Bree-Bree. I stood up sharply to throw away my half-eaten salad container, Breanne, Shawn, Alayna, and Trista following close behind.

Looking back at my table once more, I saw that redhead girl still watching us. Her childlike eyes were round and wide. Mary-Elizabeth Scott. That was her name, yes. I could remember always thinking it was old-fashioned and plain. No wonder she’d stuck out in my mind, with a name like that. Mary-Elizabeth just stared longingly as I walked away, yearning to be one of the lucky few walking around me. Just like she should.

As we approached the front cafeteria door, I saw Stephanie finally wandering in, just five minutes before the end-of-lunch bell. Her low ponytail had loosened, and locks of bleach-blonde hair fell randomly around her face. No one around me even seemed to recognize her, but I knew I’d always be able to, anytime, anywhere. Maybe it was a curse- punishment for the time I’d spinelessly followed along with anything she did, hurting others as well as myself. But that was officially over, starting right then. Carmen Reed was her own person, and she did whatever the hell she wanted, no matter what bitchy snobs like Stephanie Gilding thought about it. Stephanie searched the crowd helplessly before catching my gaze, when she stood on her toes and waved at me frantically. I didn’t wave back, instead pushing my purse higher on my shoulder, snapping my head forward, and strutting out of the lunchroom, feeling like the most fabulous girl on the planed in my bright red, patent leather pumps from Forever 21.

* * *

It was by far the biggest house in Sherwood. Even though I’d driven up the long, winding driveway a countless number of times, I still couldn’t help but marvel at the brightest green lawn you’ve ever seen that sat out front, warped with calmly rolling hills and a rock-lined pool at the base of a glistening, trickling waterfall. The drive led up to a wide stone walkway, adorned on either side with a flourish of wildflowers that had to be professionally tended to each day.

After climbing out of my car without even bothering to lock it, I started to follow the stone path that led me to the most beautiful home within at least an eighty-mile radius. My heels clicked as I stepped up on the porch, a crystal glass door in front of me and a floor-to-ceiling window to my right. There were no cars parked in the driveway, but I knew someone had to be home- they were probably just parked in the four-car garage I’d parked in front of. I pressed my index finger to the doorbell, hearing a gleeful chime echo through the home. Without even closing my eyes I could imagine the sound bouncing off the clean, white walls, as if I were standing in the family room, feeling the power-steamed plush carped beneath my feet and seeing framed art hanging around me, like I had so many times.

Within seconds, I could hear muffled footsteps coming down the spiral staircase, growing louder as they approached the front door. It opened, and before me stood a forty-something woman with shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair styled with a BumpIt, wearing a pinstripe pencil skirt and a matching jacket, white pointy-toed shoes on her feet. She smiled at me, throwing her arms around my shoulders without restraint. “Oh, Carmen, honey, it’s so good to see you,” she exclaimed, her voice almost a whisper. I could smell her neck, which was heavily perfumed with Chanel No. 7.

“It’s good to see you too, Mrs. Gilding,” I said as she pulled away.

“Sandy,” she reminded me, squeezing my hand. I nodded, then followed her into the house. Everything looked exactly the same as the last time I’d been there, which I realized had only been a few weeks ago. The same collage of identically framed photos of different shapes and sizes hung on the wall just opposite the door, the same matching chrome dog statues on either side of it, the closest thing the Gildings would ever get to an animal in their home. I peered closely at one of the photos in the collage, which stuck out, strangely familiar.

The photo was of two young girls, standing in front of a horse stable with their arms around each other. The one on the left was petite with thin blonde hair, wearing a baby blue t-shirt that allowed her belly button to peek out a bit at the bottom. On the right stood a girl with chopped brown hair, round cheeks, thick arms, and a belly that hung far beyond the waistband of her jeans, stretching the front of her pale yellow shirt. I stared at the girls and, after a short beat, recognized in horror that the brunette was me. The picture of Stephanie and I had been taken at overnight Girl Scout Camp when we were eight, outside the riding stables. We were in troop 335 from second grade on, but dropped out before fourth when Steph confirmed Girl Scouts weren’t cool. I’d quickly followed suit.

Dumb bitch. Just like her to display the worst picture of me possible. I was surprised to have never noticed the pictures in the collage before now. I had walked by it several times, but had never really stopped to look closely at it. With that thought in mind, I scanned the rest of the photos, eventually landing on another one of us. This one was recent, taken just the previous summer. We were standing on the beach, feet at the edge of the shore, facing away from the camera. Our arms were crossed between us, and we had one of each of our hands in each others’ back pockets. Stephanie’s left hip was popped, her free hand resting on it with her elbow jutting out to the side, while I took on more of a stiff stance. The two pictures were so different, but they had one thing in common: Stephanie was on the left. It was probably just a coincidence, but I had to wonder if she’d maneuvered this consciously, knowing that while people scanned the pictures, their eyes would automatically move from left to right, like reading a sentence on a page. Sneakily making sure that, even when we were side-by-side, Stephanie was always a step ahead of me.

“Isn’t that picture just adorable?” Sandy gushed from beside me, turning my attention back to the horse stable picture. She then turned and began walking toward the family room, motioning for me to come. “Steph absolutely loves it. She insisted we put it up.” I scowled and followed, sitting in a plush white chair across from the one she was sitting in. “You and Steph have always been such good friends, that’s how I knew you would stop by, despite her… condition.” Mrs. Gilding choked on the last word.

“How bad is it?” I asked, looking up at Stephanie’s school picture, hung above the mantel.  Her cold blue eyes were shining warmly, her grin wide and bright, as if she deserved a halo perched atop her head. Slut. Her mother bit her lip.

“The doctors say she’s suffered a lot of head trauma,” she began slowly. “Some of the damage might be irreversible. She won’t have to start from scratch, but she might have permanently lost her memory of recent events before the, um… accident.” I nodded sympathetically, a guilty lump forming in my throat, but at the same time a twinge of relief in my chest. No recent memories. You’re in the clear, Car. Lately, I’d been finding the strange voice encouraging me rather than insulting me, which was… well, good, right?

I inhaled to speak, still not sure of what to say, but was interrupted by a voice behind me shouting “Carla!” I turned around in my seat to see Stephanie standing in the doorway, her hair now falling messily around her shoulders- the ponytail she had during school must have come out completely. She had a wide, goofy grin as she sprinted toward me, embracing me as I was still seated. “It’s my friend Carla!”

“Car-men,” I corrected a little too icily, pushing her away. She shook her head quickly, like a dog shaking itself dry.

“Carmen, Carmen, right. My friend Carmen,” she said, plopping beside her mother on the couch.

“Steph, remember what I told you about running in the house,” Sandy said gently. Stephanie nodded.

“No running, that’s right. Thanks, Sandy.” I was a pained frown form on her mother’s lips.

“Mom,” she whispered, more to herself than a reminder to her daughter.

“Mom!” Stephanie exclaimed anyway, tapper her forehead with her palm. “Mom, Mom, Mom…”

A moment of heavy silence followed, the only sound the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. I looked at its face- it was 4:42- and picked up my purse, standing.

“I should really get going,” I announced, already on my way to the door. Just as I opened it, Stephanie’s mother caught my elbow with her tan, bony hand. I turned to see her face, her pleading expression.

“A few girls have been by to see how she’s doing,” she whispered, not looking back at her daughter. “They stay for a few minutes and leave. None of them have come back. Please, Carmen. Please tell me you’ll come back. Stephanie really needs a friend right now.” I cocked my head to see behind her into the living room, where Stephanie was sitting on the couch, knees pulled into her chest. I hesitated. “Please.”

Slowly, I nodded at Mrs. Gilding. “I’ll be back,” I told her and turned out the door, not saying another word. For a second, I was even considering keeping my word, but then an image of Rian popped into my mind, Stephanie perched on his lap, in a bathroom stall at the skating rink…

I climbed back into the car, slammed the door shut, and sped into reverse out of Stephanie’s driveway for what, I was sure, would be the last time.