The Goodbye Girls Read online

  Garret runs up to me, his hand extended. “Good match, Turner. You’re a worthy opponent.”

  “Foiled by my own weak wrist,” I say, grasping his hand and giving it a shake.

  “Garret! Come on!” one of the guys calls out.

  “See you later?” Garret says.

  “You bet,” Willa answers for me and pulls me toward the movie-viewing part of the gym.

  On our way we pass by a couple having an argument. The girl keeps sweeping a finger under her eye. I think she’s wiping away tears.

  “That’s the third couple I’ve seen fighting tonight,” Willa says.

  “Must be the dim lighting and lack of personal space. It’s like it magically creates drama.”

  “The no sleep thing doesn’t help. People get delirious. But whatever it is, we should anticipate a new batch of emails by Monday morning.”

  I dig my teeth into my bottom lip. “You might be right.”

  They’re halfway through the third Harry Potter when we pick our spots, slide our backs down the wall, and sit.

  I must have zoned out at some point because suddenly I notice Garret is beside me. He’s stretched out, his head resting on his knapsack, eyes closed. I poke him on the shoulder. “Wake up,” I whisper.

  “I’m not asleep, I’m just resting my eyes.” He pulls himself upright and stays for the end of Harry Potter three and all of number four. He’s sitting so close our shoulders are touching. I can feel the heat from his body.

  As the credits roll for Goblet of Fire, Mr. Fraser stands in the centre of the gym with a stopwatch and we all count down from ten to zero—it’s finally seven.

  Garret stands and stretches. “You guys need a drive?”

  “No, we’re good, thanks,” Willa says.

  “Kay, see ya,” he says.

  We both nod. “Yup.”

  The principal and a few teachers are standing in the front entry by a table with juice, hot chocolate, and boxes of granola bars.

  “Want something?” Willa asks.

  “Nah.” My head is starting to throb. All my energy is focused on getting home to my bed.

  When we push through the front doors, the sun is just starting to rise.

  A horn honks. It’s Marlene. She’s fourth in a long line of parents waiting to pick up their kids. We make our way over to the car.

  “Soooo,” Willa says. “What are you going to tell Trish about Garret?”

  I shrug. “That I didn’t notice him with anyone, or anyone hanging off him. And that she doesn’t have anything to worry about.”

  Willa opens her mouth then closes it. After a second she says, “Yeah. That’s what I’d tell her too.”

  Chapter 10

  I don’t make it to my bed—the stairs are too much to contemplate at the moment. I end up doing a face plant on the living room sofa. With my one exposed eye, I see a pair of shiny black high-heeled shoes standing neatly in the front hallway. I know they’re not Trish’s; she’d never take the time to line them up like that. So they must be…Mom’s? Mom doesn’t wear shoes like that. And then I drift off to sleep.

  “Ouch! What the—?” I instinctively wave my arms around in the air.

  “Shush,” Trish says. “You’ll wake up Mom.”

  I push myself up into sitting position. “Well, maybe if you didn’t stab me in my sleep.” I rub my upper arm.

  “Oh, quit being such a baby. I only poked you.”

  I shove the hair back from my eyes and blink a few times. “What time is it?”

  “A little after eleven.”

  I blink a few more times. “And Mom isn’t up yet?”

  “Never mind about Mom,” Trish says. “Tell me—”

  “Are you coming or going?” I interrupt. I notice she has her jacket on.

  She throws her head back in frustration. “I slept over at Madison’s,” she says. “So…what’s the update?”

  My brain is still foggy. “What?”

  “Are you being stupid on purpose? I’m talking about Garret.” She spits out the T just like Willa did.

  A bit more awake, I squint at her. “That’s really gonna make me tell you anything.”

  She sucks in her breath. “So there’s something to tell me?” She makes a fist. “I knew it!”

  I rub my eyes. I could really have a lot of fun here…if I wasn’t still half asleep. “No, there’s nothing to tell you. He spent most of the night organizing games and stuff. And when he wasn’t, he was just hanging out with me and Willa.”

  She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply. “Thank god.”

  Then she sits there without moving. Curious, I say, “Were you really worried?”

  It takes her a few seconds to answer. “I’m not always so nice to him, you know?”

  I nod. Yeah, I can only imagine. But I don’t say it out loud.

  “It’s how I’ve always treated other guys. I guess because I knew I could get away with it, because I knew they liked me more than I liked them.”

  I nod again.

  “Garret’s different. I may have pushed him a little too far.” She stares off into space for a second. “I think I like him more than he likes me. That’s a first for me.”

  “Well….”

  “I’m saving up to buy him a Fossil watch for Christmas.” She looks at me. “I’ve never spent serious money on a guy before.”

  “You could maybe be a little nicer to him?”

  It’s like she suddenly remembers who she’s talking to. “Are you really trying to give me relationship advice?” She stands up before I have a chance to answer. “Because I hope you know we would have to be living in some kind of parallel universe before I’d ever take it.” She stomps off toward the stairs mumbling, “God, I can’t believe I told you any of that. What was I thinking?”

  No “thank you,” no nothing. Surprise, surprise.

  I lie back down and close my eyes. Bitch.

  * * *

  The smell of peanut butter pulls me out of a deep sleep. Mom is sitting on the edge of the coffee table holding a plate of toast under my nose. “Rise and shine, princess,” she says. “It’s almost one thirty.”

  I raise myself up onto my elbows. “Really?” I check my phone as if I don’t believe her. “Crap. Half my Sunday, gone.”

  “Or half your Sunday still left.” She smiles and passes me the plate. “How was the wake-a-thon?”

  “Tiring.” I peel the crust off a piece of toast. I can see that the high-heeled shoes are gone. “So how was your night?”

  “Fine,” she says, getting up and re-fluffing the sofa cushions.

  “Because there was a pair of fancy shoes in the hall when I came home,” I say slyly.

  She keeps arranging the cushions.

  I take another bite. “Yours?”

  She hesitates, then says, “Yup.”

  “Ooooh, Mom. Hot date?”

  Her cheeks turn a little pink. “Hardly.”

  “It’s okay, Mom. You’re old enough to date now.”

  “Ha, ha.” She sits beside me. “You and Trish were away for the night, and I got…invited out.”

  “On a date,” I say, hoping for confirmation.

  She shrugs.

  “So you’re ‘seeing’ someone?” I air quote.

  She looks down at her hands folded on her lap. “It’s complicated.”

  “Let me guess.” I lick some peanut butter off my finger. “Kids? Tonnes of baggage?”

  She nods. “You could say that.”

  Just then my phone chirps. It’s a text from Willa: Meet me at McDonald’s asap. I can tell by the shortness of the message and lack of emojis that it’s important.

  I give Mom a quick pat on her shoulder. “I hope it works out for you, Mom. You know, if you want it to.” I tug my hoodie over my h
ead. “I gotta go.”

  “Where?”

  “I have to go to meet Willa at McDonald’s.”

  “But you just ate.”

  “I need ice cream,” I say—the universal explanation.

  * * *

  Willa’s already there, sitting at a table by the window and eating fries. Her laptop is open in front of her.

  She doesn’t look up as I sit down. “We might have a problem,” she says. “More than one, actually.”

  Uh-oh. “Like what?”

  “This morning after we dropped you off, we picked up Grace Munro. She was walking home from the wake-a-thon.”

  “And?”

  “I don’t know how it came up, but somehow we got around to talking about Rachel Currie. Ring a bell?”

  “Rachel Currie…we delivered a basket to her last week.”

  “Well, apparently she dropped out of the wake-a-thon because she was so upset.”

  I start to get a bad feeling. “How do you know? Is she Grace’s friend?”

  Willa shakes her head. “I wish. Grace overheard Mr. Scott talking to Mrs. Fitzgerald. She said he was saying something about the baskets. Something like adding flames to the fire. He was going to make it a priority to find out who’s behind them.”

  Dammit. “How does he even know about them?”

  “He’s probably heard talk. You know how he’s always lurking around the halls. Plus he probably saw the posters.” She rips the top off a salt packet. “Why does he even care? I mean seriously, students are upset about stuff all the time, so unless someone complains…doesn’t he have bigger fish to fry?”

  “It’s going to turn out to be a school policy issue or something. Especially if he thinks somehow we’re doing it through the school. Even though we’re not,” I add.

  “He doesn’t have a leg to stand on. The only connection to the school is that so far the majority of our customers are West students.” Her eyebrows scrunch together. “I suppose he might have figured out it started up at the West, but I don’t think we have to get hysterical or anything. It’s just something we should keep an eye and ear open for. The last thing we need is him stickin’ his nose in.”

  Tiny prickles of sweat bubble underneath my bangs. “So what’s the other problem?”

  “Well, it’s not really a problem for me, but it might be for you.”

  I frown. “Okay…care to elaborate?”

  She leans back in her chair. “When I woke up, I checked our email.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Actually, I don’t even know why I’m surprised. I knew it was coming.”

  “Knew what was coming?”

  She pauses dramatically. I want to punch her.

  “An email from Garret,” she finally says.

  “An email from Garret,” I repeat. “An email about what?”

  She snaps her fingers in front of my face. “What do you think, Einstein? He wants to order a basket for Trish!”

  “What?” I check behind me, over both shoulders. “A breakup basket?” I whisper.

  “No, an Easter basket,” she says sarcastically. “Of course a breakup basket!”

  I can only stare back at her. My heart is doing this weird fluttery thing.

  She starts typing. “I’m sending him a confirmation.”

  I grab her arm. “No!”

  She yanks it back. “Yes! We can’t just randomly turn down a job.”

  “But she’s saving for a Fossil watch.”

  “Yeah…” She shakes her head and returns to the keyboard. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “It means she really likes him. She’s going to be totally blindsided.”

  “They usually are,” Willa says.

  “Can’t we say no just this one time?”

  “We don’t get to pick and choose who we take on.”

  “Why not?” I whine.

  “Because that’s not how you run a successful business,” she says, then she stretches her body across the table toward me. “Plus, it helps keep our identities safe. Who would ever suspect one sister of aiding in the destruction another sister’s happiness?”

  My eyes widen in horror.

  “Relax. It was a joke.” She tilts her head. “Sort of.”

  “Not funny.”

  “Could you please find your chill? This is me you’re talking to. You can be a little happy. I know you like him.”

  I feel the heat creep up my neck. “For the hundredth time, I do not!”

  She jams a fry into the ketchup cup and pops it in her mouth. “Just because you say something a hundred times doesn’t make it true.”

  Chapter 11

  My body feels like total dead weight, but my mind is full-on wide awake so I can’t sleep. I did try to nap after I got home from meeting with Willa. It was useless. I finally give up and drag myself, draped in my duvet, down the stairs. There’s a note on the hall table from Mom saying she’s gone to work and giving detailed instructions for baking the shepherd’s pie for supper.

  I plunk myself on the sofa and stare blankly at the TV. There’s an episode of Big Bang on. When is there not? The dryer hums from the basement and I have to turn up the volume. Is Trish doing laundry? I think for a second. No, that can’t be right.

  A few minutes later, Trish appears and stands between me and the TV. She shakes out a red sweater and holds it up. “Does this look like it needs to be ironed?”

  My mouth falls open. “That’s mine! And it’s not supposed to go in the dryer! Or be ironed!”

  “Relax,” she says. “I took it out before it was completely dry.”

  “So?!” I stretch out my arm and try to grab it from her.

  She whips it back, just out of my reach. “You never wear it, and Garret told me to wear something red.”

  My arm turns limp and drops to my lap. “Garret?”

  “Um, yeah.” She gives me that oh-so-familiar look, the one that implies I’m a complete moron. “We’re going to a Moosehead game tonight.”

  “With each other?”

  “Actually, we’re going with Mr. and Mrs. Claus,” she says all snotty as she pulls my sweater on over her tank top and flicks her hair out of the neckline. “Personally, I don’t give a damn about hockey, but he’s so crazed about it, I figured it wouldn’t kill me to make an effort, right?”

  Then something flickers in my memory. Something about her buying those tickets for Garret’s birthday. How could he still go?

  “You look like you’re having a seizure or something,” Trish says.

  I swallow. “Isn’t he tired?”

  She raises her eyebrows. “From the wake-a-thon? He was probably bored stupid. I bet he slept through most of it.”

  I don’t comment. I have that same icky feeling I had with Jordan. I know things about her that she doesn’t know, things I shouldn’t know. What makes it worse is the whole “making an effort” thing, like she’s trying to nurture the relationship. It’s so not like her. Maybe she suspects? I start to panic that she can see it in my face. “Mom went on a date last night,” I blurt.

  Trish picks a piece of lint off my sweater. “I know. I forgot the cheque for the wake-a-thon pizza and had to come back. I saw her leaving.”

  “Did someone pick her up?”

  “No. She took the car.”

  I tug on my lower lip. “Sketchy.”

  “She told me it was complicated or something.”

  “Yeah. That’s what she told me too.”

  Trish shrugs. “Actually, I hope she’s just hooking up with someone.”

  Ew. I can’t deny it. The thought of Mom hooking up makes me a little squeamish. “Why? Why would you want that?”

  “Are you kidding? What if we had to merge with some random family? Had to live with some psycho wannabe dad and his loser kids?
“

  “Oh my god, Trish. That’s not going to happen.”

  She juts out her chin. “You don’t know that.”

  Before I can argue, a horn beeps from outside.

  “That’s Garret.” Trish grabs her jacket off the chair. “I’m outta here.”

  “Have fun,” I say after she leaves. And I actually mean it. It’s probably your last date. With Garret, anyway.

  The icky feeling lingers in my stomach. Then I realize that after all that, Trish never even asked to borrow my sweater. She just pranced off with it like she owned it. The feeling lessens.

  My phone starts to ring. I root around in my crumpled duvet until I find it. It’s Willa. She never calls. She only texts. “What’s wrong?” I ask quickly.

  “Calm down,” she says. “I’m too tired to text, that’s all.”

  There’s something in her voice, something more than tiredness. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She pauses. “Dad was just here.”

  Sometimes that’s good, sometimes that’s bad. “Oh?”

  “After the mandatory kitchen fight with Mom, he left with Sean. They went to the Moosehead game.”

  “You didn’t go?” Willa loves the Mooseheads. Her family has season tickets.

  “He asked. I declined.” I hear her sigh. “I don’t feel like being around him right now.”

  Confused, I say, “But I thought you were mad at your mom. You said it was all her fault.”

  “Yeah…I’m pretty much mad at everyone.”

  We don’t talk for a bit. The theme from Big Bang drones through Willa’s phone as well.

  Willa finally speaks. “I heard Mom talking to Aunt Meredith. She thinks Dad’s going through some mid-life crisis.”

  “It’s possible, I guess. I’m not sure I really know what that is though.”

  “Me neither. Mom told her he’s working out all the time, has a bunch of new clothes, says he’s acting like a teenager.”

  I can’t think of what to say to make it better, so I don’t say anything.

  “Sometimes I debate the pros and cons of running away,” she says.