Ghosting Read online

  and pull him toward the car.

  C’mon, Maxie, I call. We gotta go. Bye Mom, bye Dad.

  Time to get this

  party started. Time for

  some serious fun.

  MAXIE

  Emma is still Emma,

  only more so.

  More assured,

  more full of life.

  Shinier.

  And, I have this feeling,

  even harder

  to say

  no to.

  FAITH

  I love

  how Polly

  knew Maxie

  right away.

  Dogs are

  amazing.

  And I’m glad

  Maxie has

  moved back.

  Maybe she

  and Emma

  will be

  friends again.

  But probably

  not.

  Emma is on

  her own

  fast track,

  the way

  she’s been

  since

  middle school.

  No patience for

  anyone

  a little

  different.

  Saturday, August 28, 7:00 p.m.

  BRENDAN

  Took the turn onto Elm a little wide.

  A car blares its horn at me.

  Emma shoots me a look. So, yeah,

  I’ve had a few beers already. Big deal.

  No DUI yet and I’ve driven

  hammered plenty of times.

  It’s those Donnelly reflexes,

  the ones my dad takes the credit for.

  “Yeah, that’s my boy, the star athlete,

  just like his old man.”

  Fine, long as it gets me that free ride

  to college somewhere far away.

  Colorado or California,

  that’s where I’d go.

  But of course the old man has

  his sights set on his alma mater.

  “Ivy’s the way to go, boy. You’ll make connections

  there that’ll set you up for life.” Fuck that.

  Want me to drive? Emma asks.

  I’m cool, I say.

  Okay, if you’re sure, Emma says.

  She picks up my iPod, searching for a song.

  I turn the AC a notch higher.

  So, Anil, what’s your dad do? I say, catching his eye in the rearview mirror.

  He and Chloe are in the third row.

  She’s got her hands all over him.

  He’s a doctor, Anil says.

  Anil’s mom is a doctor, too, Chloe pipes up.

  Two doctors in the family,

  must be loaded.

  My little brothers go to your mom, says Chloe.

  They do? Anil says, his voice surprised.

  Yeah, didn’t I tell you?

  Emma makes one of her impatient

  noises, shaking my iPod.

  It keeps freezing, she says.

  Battery’s low, I say.

  Then I catch Anil’s eye again

  in the rearview mirror.

  And he looks so superior,

  I can’t help myself, saying

  Hey, bro, speaking of your mom. She is smoking hot.

  Both his parents came out to say good-bye

  when I picked up Anil and Chloe.

  Shut up, Bren, says Emma.

  What? I say, with innocent eyes. Just sayin’ I could totally do her.

  You’re so gross, Emma says, but not really paying attention.

  She’s finally found the song she was

  looking for and plugs the iPod back in.

  Thought I might get some

  kind of rise from Anil. But no.

  In the rearview mirror I see he’s just staring

  out the window, no expression at all.

  Mr. Poker Face might not be so calm if he knew

  what my dad accidentally left in the glove compartment.

  ANIL

  1. Anger,

  like nothing I’ve felt before,

  courses through me.

  Blood heats my skin,

  and I want nothing more than

  to punch Brendan Donnelly

  in the face.

  I’ve never hit anyone in my life,

  but I know, with a mathematical certainty,

  that if I weren’t pinned back

  in the third row of this SUV,

  I would hit Brendan.

  It’s a physical, palpable thing

  in my gut.

  Chloe leans into me.

  Ignore him, she whispers. He’s a jerk.

  Her breath in my ear distracts me.

  But I can still feel the pulse throbbing in my neck.

  My blood pressure must be sky-high.

  I liked your mom, says Chloe in a soft voice.

  She’s nice.

  2. I think back to their meeting.

  My mom was shy but warm,

  and my dad was easy to read.

  Okay, I see now, his eyes said to me.

  3. My thoughts go back to Brendan,

  what he said.

  Why did I react that way?

  I’ve heard worse in the weight room.

  Jocks mouthing off,

  showing off.

  I should be able to joke back.

  Yeah, bet your mom is hot, too, I should have said.

  Is it the Indian in me?

  My father in me?

  These disrespectful American teenagers.

  But then I get a sudden image

  of Brendan standing beside my mother,

  putting his hands on her,

  and my hands curl into fists again.

  My breath goes short.

  I almost feel like

  I could drive my fists through the

  car window beside me and

  not feel a thing.

  FAITH

  Mom and

  Dad are

  watching a

  movie in

  the family

  room.

  I’m about

  to join

  them,

  bringing

  a plate of

  cookies.

  But just

  before I

  enter,

  before they

  can see me,

  I hear

  Brendan’s

  name.

  I stand

  very still,

  hardly

  breathing

  so I can

  hear them

  over the TV.

  I don’t get why you don’t like him, Dad is saying. Brendan seems like a good kid to me, very polite.

  I don’t know. I guess I think it’s an act, Mom answers. And I’ve heard stuff about his father.

  What kind of stuff?

  That he makes the Great Santini look like a walk in the park, Mom answers.

  I’m dying

  for her to

  go on,

  explain

  what she

  means,

  but Dad

  just gives a

  chuckle,

  like he

  knows.

  Still, that doesn’t make him a bad kid, even if his father is a sonofabitch, he says.

  And then

  the ad that

  was playing

  ends and

  the movie

  they were

  watching

  starts up

  again.

  I’m frozen

  for a

  moment.

  I don’t

  think I’ve

  ever heard

  my dad

  use that

  word before.

  And even

  if I don’t

  know who

  the Great

  Santini is,

  it’s pretty

  clear he’s

  bad news.
r />   And,

  truth is,

  I don’t

  want to

  feel sorry for

  Brendan

  Donnelly.

  POLICE CHIEF AUBREY DELAFIELD

  Things are starting to get busy.

  As predicted.

  Last night some middle school boys

  rounded up a bunch of stone statues

  from all over Wilmette—

  geese, rabbits, even one of those old-fashioned jockeys—

  and stuck them in the sand at Gillson Park beach.

  Of course the tide came in,

  knocking them down, dragging some of them

  out into the lake.

  Sorting the damn things out,

  wading out to retrieve the ones

  caught out on the first sandbar

  and figuring out which one belonged to which address,

  was a nightmare.

  One lady made a great hue and cry because

  the little Northwestern sweatshirt

  she’d had specially made for her goose

  got washed away by the tide.

  And one garden gnome never did turn up.

  Like I said, it’s going to be a long weekend.

  But if looking for a goose’s sweatshirt is the worst of it,

  I’ll be a happy man.

  MAXIE

  Brendan pulls up

  in front of

  Felix’s house.

  So many memories around that house:

  epic games of freeze tag

  with flashlights.

  eating doughnuts in the big oak tree

  in the backyard.

  his mom making the best grilled cheese sandwiches

  and Campbell’s tomato soup,

  with crumbled-up saltines.

  The house looks

  different somehow

  and at first I can’t put

  my finger on it.

  But then I realize there aren’t

  any lights on

  in the windows.

  Plus the lawn needs

  mowing and tall weeds

  crowd the front bushes.

  It almost looks

  deserted.

  Felix’s house is in

  the part of town where

  the houses are smaller

  and closer together.

  Felix’s parents are young,

  and his dad is

  in the military.

  But his mom always

  used to keep their house

  neat and pretty.

  I heard his mom is working a couple of jobs, says

  Emma, while his dad is in Afghanistan.

  I notice a small orange glow

  near the front door

  and realize someone is

  sitting on the front steps,

  smoking.

  Brendan lowers Emma’s window

  and leans over her.

  Put down the blunt, dude, he yells, and get your butt over here.

  Nice, says Emma. That lady next door probably heard you.

  So what, says Brendan.

  The orange glow gets brighter

  for a second,

  then

  goes out.

  I hop out of

  the car.

  Hey, Felix, I call. Long time no see.

  But he doesn’t bound

  toward me,

  not the way he used to.

  He moves slowly,

  and his big grin is slower, too,

  though it’s just as warm.

  Max, he says, and gives me a loose but lingering hug.

  I can smell the weed on him,

  strong.

  His hair is the same curly mop,

  but he’s gotten

  bigger and taller.

  And something else about him,

  other than the slower speed

  and smell of pot,

  is different.

  I can’t figure out what it is,

  not right away.

  It’s great to see you, he says.

  And he means it,

  I can tell.

  Come on, calls Brendan from inside the car. We’ve got places to go.

  Brendan says we need

  to make a quick

  fueling stop

  before we head

  to the party

  and I think he means

  a gas station,

  but he pulls into

  the parking lot

  by Centennial Park, near the

  kid’s playground.

  Time for some pre-party refreshments, says Brendan.

  The playground is deserted.

  Under the nearly

  full moon

  the swing set and jungle gym

  look like skeletons of

  long-ago

  prehistoric creatures.

  What’ve you got? asks Emma.

  The cooler’s between you two, says Brendan to me and Felix. Pop it open.

  Felix is slow to respond

  so I reach down

  and unlatch the cooler,

  opening the lid.

  Nestled in ice

  are about a

  dozen brightly

  colored cans

  of what looks

  like soda pop.

  Emma peers

  into the cooler.

  Holy shit, where’d you find that stuff?

  Craigslist, says Brendan proudly. Only fifteen bucks a can.

  What is it? I ask, amazed by how expensive those colorful cans are.

  Don’t they have MoonBuzz in Colorado? Brendan says.

  I shake my head.

  Then you are in for a treat, Brendan says with a big grin.

  I heard it was banned in Illinois, comes Chloe’s voice from the back.

  Yep. That’s why it was such a rip-off, says Brendan.

  But believe me, it’s worth it. Cocaine in a can.

  I’ve read about it, comes Anil’s voice from the back. They say drinking one can is the equivalent of five beers and a cup of Starbucks coffee.

  Sweet, says Brendan.

  He grabs one can

  for him and one

  for Emma.

  Help yourselves, he says to the rest of us.

  It sounds

  really

  bad to me.

  But Felix reaches into the cooler,

  fishes out a couple

  and hands them back to

  Chloe and Anil.

  Then he picks out two more,

  and offers one to me

  with a wink.

  I start to say no,

  but then

  catch Emma watching me

  in the rearview mirror.