The Goodbye Girls Page 10

  “Just one.”

  I see the look on her face. “Oh, no. Amy?”

  “Yup.”

  All along I’ve tried to keep disconnected from the couples breaking up, especially the dumpees. And truthfully, it hasn’t been that hard. There are so many people at the West that I don’t know, never even heard of, it’s rare when there’s someone I actually do know involved in the process. Even less so when it’s a delivery from one of the other schools. But this time it’s Amy Duggan. The order came in a while ago and I’ve been dreading it ever since. Willa and I have known Amy since grade one. We were in the same class every year until junior high. She’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. Even Willa likes her, and Willa doesn’t like anyone. Amy’s shithead boyfriend, Trevor, is dumping her after two years.

  “They had their first kiss at your grade eight Halloween party,” I say.

  “I remember. In the backyard. On the trampoline.”

  “This is going to be a tough one.”

  “No kidding.”

  “I hate Trevor Hayes.”

  “No kidding.”

  * * *

  “Mom!” I check the time on my phone. The bus comes in ten minutes. “Have you seen my red scarf?”

  Mom comes out into the hall. “The one with the white flowers?”

  “Yeah. Do you know where it is?”

  “Um…Trish needed something with school colours for some spirit thing.” She cringes. “She left with it. I assumed she’d asked you.”

  “God, Mom! Why would you ever assume that?!”

  She starts rifling through a basket. “Here. Wear something of hers.” She pulls out a mint green scarf with pink dots. “This is her new one. If you try hard enough you can probably stain it at some point during the day.”

  I grab it and stuff it in my knapsack.

  “And just a heads up. If I can manage to get the time off, I’m going to the Valley to visit Nanny and Grampy next weekend.”

  “Sure. Everything’s okay with them, isn’t it?” I ask.

  “Yes, yes. Don’t worry. I just haven’t seen them for a while and I’m starting to feel guilty.”

  “Do you want me to go with you?”

  “No. You stay and keep an eye on Trish.”

  “I can’t promise she’ll be alive when you get back,” I say as I rush out the door.

  “Have a good day, honey,” I hear Mom call.

  I’m out of my mind furious. I’m supposed to go wreath canvassing with Garret after school, and I need my favourite scarf. I planned my whole outfit around it. Trish’s scarf doesn’t match what I’m wearing at all.

  Willa’s already on the bus, saving me a seat.

  “Hey,” I say, flopping down beside her.

  “Hey,” she says back. “Looks like you had the same kind of morning as me.”

  I shrug. “Just Trish being a troll. What’s your story?”

  “Just Mom. Trying to pretend she doesn’t want to put her fist through the wall.”

  “Oh?”

  “Aunt Meredith said she saw Dad downtown last weekend, having dinner with some young woman.”

  “Don’t you mean some young brainless ditz?” I try to lighten the mood.

  She cracks a half smile. Her phone buzzes and she pulls it out of her pocket. Reading the screen she frowns. “Speak of the devil. Dad wants me to stay at his place this weekend. Sean too.”

  I watch her put the phone face down on her lap.

  “I’m going to say no,” she says. “It feels like I’d be setting some kind of precedent. You know, ‘Every other weekend at Dad’s.’” She turns and stares out the window. “You know, when he first moved out I thought he’d be all sad and lonely, that he’d change his mind and come home. But he’s not sad or lonely. And I’m starting to think he’s never coming home.”

  We both fall silent and listen to the drone of the bus, the yammering of the students around us. It’s all the usual drivel, with some sporadic moments of kids singing along to bus radio.

  I can’t imagine what Willa is going through. My memories of my dad are hazy at best. What’s it even like to have a dad in your life—even one who’s making you miserable?

  “Were your parents happy, Willa?” I ask.

  She doesn’t answer right away. “They fought a lot. Yelled a lot. Well, it was Mom doing the yelling. Dad never said anything.” She sighs. “Maybe that’s worse. Not saying anything.”

  “It could turn out they’re happier apart. You know, eventually.”

  She just shrugs.

  “They say there’s nothing worse than being in an unhappy marriage.”

  “They?” She spins around. “Who’s they?”

  I immediately regret bringing it up. “I dunno,” I mutter. “I think I heard it on Dr. Phil or something.”

  “Because I can think of a lot of things worse than being in an unhappy marriage. Say, like having cancer, being murdered, burning to death in a house fire.”

  “Willa…” I attempt to reason with her. “That’s really morbid, and I don’t think that’s what—”

  “And what’s his girlfriend going to do all weekend if we’re there?” she says. “I suppose she could come over and we could read Teen Vogue together.”

  I open my mouth to say something like maybe the woman’s just a friend, but she cuts me off again. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” And she goes back to staring out the window.

  The school day passes quietly. It’s been a while, and there’s still no word or even a whisper about anything to do with Claire and Bradley.

  “No news is good news,” Willa says as we head to the front entrance. She holds the door open for me.

  “Oh.” I hadn’t had the chance to tell her about the fundraising wreaths. “I’m not going straight home, I’m meeting Garret to go sell Christmas wreaths.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “Really.”

  I explain to her how Garret noticed I hadn’t signed up for any fundraising activities and so not to arouse suspicion, I agreed to sell wreaths with him.

  “That’s actually a clever move.” Then she gives me a sly smile. “Though I’m sure it will be a huge hardship for you.” She elbows me in the side. “Text me later with all the deets.”

  Garret waves to me from the school driveway. Deciding to give his neighbourhood the first shot, we walk to his house.

  The conversation comes easily. We talk about teachers, the New York trip, his plans for university. Usually I feel awkward and can’t think of anything to say around people I don’t know well, especially boys, but there’s something about Garret. It’s like I’ve known him forever. I’m actually pretty chatty, and…funny. He laughs at everything I say. I’m on fire.

  We manage to get about twenty people signed up for wreaths, then hit Tim’s for a well-deserved reward. Garret orders a coffee for himself and a hot chocolate for me. We both have a sour cream glazed donut. He pays for it all and points to a table.

  I do a quick head check before I sit. Phew! Don’t seem to be any of Trish’s friends here.

  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he says, peeling the lid off his coffee.

  “No. Not at all.”

  “It’s better when you have someone to do it with. Makes the time go faster. So yeah, thanks for coming.”

  Willa’s words echo in my head: I’m sure it will be a huge hardship for you. I smile and blow on my hot chocolate.

  He goes on to tell me how he’s counting down the days till the new Star Wars movie opens and how he bought tickets for himself and his dad a month ago but hasn’t told anyone because all his friends would think he’s a nerd.

  “Nothing wrong with being a nerd,” I say.

  He nods. “Or maybe I just need new friends.”

  It sort of feels like a date, but it’s only six o�
�clock…so I guess it’s not.

  Later that night when I’m doing my homework, Willa starts with the texts. The short version of my wreath expedition with Garret doesn’t cut it, so I have to start at the beginning and leave nothing out. It’s almost midnight when I finally crawl into bed.

  * * *

  “I think the Claire-Bradley thing was fluke,” Willa says, passing me a stack of paper. We’re helping Mr. Fraser organize the new sheet music into piles before band class. “I think whoever was trying to cause shit got the message and gave up.”

  I don’t say anything. I still didn’t feel 100 percent convinced.

  “You should come for supper,” Willa says.

  “Sure.”

  “Then we can drop off Amy’s basket.”

  “Oh, right. Amy.” I’d pushed that to the back of my head.

  “Mom will be working and we’ve got a ton of Thai leftovers—a break from tacos. And I know Thai is your favourite,” she sings. “Might help take the edge off ruining Amy’s life.”

  “I wish. I know it’s Trevor who’s really breaking up with her, but I still feel sort of guilty.”

  “I know. But it’s just business.”

  “I suppose so…wait. Your mom’s gone back to work?”

  “Yup.” She smiles. “Started yesterday. She’s redoing the menu. She’s wearing real people clothes and everything. No pyjamas.”

  “That’s great, Willa.”

  “I think the girlfriend sighting lit a fire under her or something. She says it’s time to channel all her emotions into being creative.”

  “So something good came out of it.”

  “I’m guessing the result is going to be a lot of cupcakes with black icing and names like Murder, Mutilation, Dismemberment, Strangulation, and Death. All by Chocolate.”

  I laugh. I can’t help it.

  At Willa’s I text Mom to tell her where I am and that I’m staying for dinner. We go to the kitchen and start pulling takeout boxes from the fridge. Everything’s fine until she opens one of the containers. “Sean!” She wails like a wounded animal and slams it on the counter. Then she shoves me out of the way as she storms into the family room.

  I flick through the recipe calendar hanging next to where my shoulder smacked into the wall and wait for them to fight it out over whatever.

  “There were five spring rolls left, Sean!” I hear Willa shout. “Why is there only one in the box?!”

  “Because I ate the other four,” Sean replies.

  “They weren’t all for you, you know!”

  “Then put your name on them next time.”

  “You’re a pig, Sean! A shitty little pig!”

  Willa blows back into the kitchen, face bright red. “He’s a shitty little pig,” she announces.

  “Yeah, I heard.” I pick through the cartons on the counter. “Don’t sweat it, Willa. There’s tons of food here.”

  After she does some deep breathing exercises and calms down, we sit at the table and stuff our faces with pad Thai, ginger beef, shrimp curry, and jasmine rice. We split the one remaining spring roll.

  “So how’s Trish doing?” Willa asks.

  “Good, I guess. It’s not like she’d confide in me or anything.”

  “I heard Jordan Short’s going to ask her to prom.”

  “Really?”

  “Not positive, but I was behind two of his friends in the bus-pass line. I think that’s what they said.”

  “Wow. He was one of our first customers.”

  “Victims,” she points out.

  I think back to how awful I had felt. Knowing what was coming for Jordan, and him all oblivious. “Dumpee,” I correct.

  “But look, he survived. And maybe he’ll be happier with Trish,” she says, choking back a laugh. “Though I can’t imagine.” She starts stacking the empty takeout boxes. “Okay, we can’t put this off forever. Let’s take care of Amy.”

  Willa goes to sweet talk Sean into taking us on our delivery run. Of course he refuses. Can’t really blame him.

  “You’re up,” Willa says after her failure. “He likes you.”

  I go into the family room. “Sean, pleeease,” I beg. “It’s our last job for a while, promise.”

  He’s playing on the PlayStation and doesn’t take his eyes of the TV. “She treats me like shit, then expects me to drive her around town like a friggin’ servant.”

  It’s hard to argue that point. “That’s just her way, Sean. She does it out of love.”

  He burst out laughing. “That’s so funny I’ll do it. For you.”

  “Thanks, Sean.”

  “With a few conditions.”

  I cross my arms. “Shoot.”

  “She has to apologize, you guys have to start giving me more gas money, and I want a Christmas bonus.”

  “Sure.” It all sounded reasonable to me. Willa will just have to suck it up.

  After Willa’s extremely dramatic yet un-heartfelt apology, we climb into Sean’s car and head for Amy’s.

  Something dawns on me. “We know this is legit, right?”

  “Yeah, already thought of that,” Willa says. “This order came in way back but was delayed because Amy’s been off for two weeks. Jaw surgery.”

  “How nice for Trevor to wait till she recovered.”

  She nods. “Plus, I saw Trevor twice today and both times he was hangin’ around with Sarah White…so yeah, I think it’s legit.”

  Chapter 17

  The house is dark. The driveway is empty. The only light comes from the faint glow of the street lamp on the corner.

  We’re crouched down behind the woodpile.

  “I’ll do it,” I say, flipping up my hood and tying it snug under my chin.

  Willa moves out to the end of the pile for a better view of Amy’s front door. “Okay. I got your back.”

  I grip the handle of the basket and make my way up the yard, keeping to the edge, so that I’m under the trees. When I’m even with the porch, I cross the lawn. I’ve only taken about two steps when lights flash on, illuminating the entire yard. A dog starts barking from inside the house.

  Shit! Motion lights! I clutch the basket to my chest, momentarily paralyzed. Drop and run! I place the basket on the grass and race toward the woodpile. I’m almost halfway there when I realize the dog’s still barking and no one has come to the door yet. There can’t be anyone home. I stop and go back for the basket, but not before seeing Willa waving her arms frantically like she’s having some kind of spasm. As I set the basket on the porch, the dog starts barking again and the front door swings open. Instinctively I look up. It’s Amy. She’s in a robe and has a towel on her head. Shit! I turn and tear down the steps but somehow miss the bottom one and end up sprawled flat on the gravel walkway.

  “Oh my god, are you okay?” I hear Amy ask.

  Keeping my face hidden, I jump to my feet and sprint back to the woodpile.

  “Hey! Wait!” Amy calls.

  Shit, shit, shit. I don’t stop running except to grab the shoulder of Willa’s jacket and drag her along behind me.

  Back at Sean’s car, we lean against the trunk until we can catch our breath.

  Shit, shit, shit. I repeat it over and over again.

  “I saw the shadow of a person go by the window. I tried to warn you,” Willa squeaks out between gasps. “Did she see you?”

  I flick my hood off, push my sweaty hair from my forehead. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure she did.”

  “Dammit,” Willa says, then, “Wait. Turn around.”

  I do.

  She pulls my hood back up, tucks my hair in and ties the strings tightly. “Was this how you had it?”

  “Yup.”

  She grips the fur trim on both sides of my head and pulls my face in close to hers. She studies me for a few seconds then shakes her
head. “Even if she did see you, I don’t think she’d know it was you.”

  I frown. “Really?”

  “No offence, but without seeing your hair, there’s nothing remarkable, nothing that stands out about your face.” She takes a step back, looks me up and down. “You could be anybody. And everyone and their dog has a coat like that.”

  I lightly touch my fingers to my generic cheek, glance down at my generic black puffer jacket from Joe Fresh. “Gee, thanks.”

  “I said, no offence.”

  * * *

  Hoping Willa’s right but not wanting to risk it, the next morning I opt for extra layers of sweaters and leave my jacket hanging in the closet.

  By lunchtime it’s apparent it was all for nothing. Amy’s not in school.

  In the cafeteria, Willa sets her tray down beside mine and puts two of her garlic cheese fingers on my plate. “Save me from myself.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Have you seen Amy this morning? She wasn’t in Science.”

  “I’m pretty sure she’s not here.”

  She squints at me. “You don’t look so hot. You okay?”

  “You’re just full of compliments lately, aren’t you?” I’m still stinging over her comment about how unremarkable I am.

  “I criticize because I love,” she says. “You look a little pasty and tired, that’s all.”

  I drive my fingers into my eye sockets. “I am.”

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I put up a notice on the website that we aren’t taking any more orders for now, that we are experiencing technical difficulties,” she says out of the corner of her mouth.

  Yay! my brain screams.

  “I figured we should probs lay low until we figure this out. I can tell you don’t agree with me that it was just a fluke.”

  “Thanks, Willa. And yeah, it does make me feel better.”

  “No prob. But it’s only for a little while,” she adds.

  There’s not a lot of time left until Christmas vacation—a little over two weeks. I know Willa’s trying to get in a few more deliveries before the new year, just for spending money. I made my second-last payment for the trip a while ago. The final one’s due the last day of school before break. That’s all I care about. I don’t need spending money. What I really want is to just stop now.