The Goodbye Girls Read online

  With the rubber spatula hanging out of my mouth, I text back, Thanks for the invite would really like to but totally up to my eyeballs with class presentation stuff. Party responsibly :)

  He replies a few minutes later. Ha ha 2 late good luck see you in school.

  A bit dazed from what just happened, I go out to the kitchen to clean up my mess. Did Garret just kind of ask me out? I can’t believe it. It’s like a dream come true. Then reality sinks in for a second time and the dream dies right here, because Trish would have a cow. No joke. She would have an actual cow.

  I debate texting Willa and telling her what happened. But something stops me. Like maybe I want to keep it to myself and savour it for a while.

  Phase two in the big push to finish my assignments involves falling asleep in front of the TV. Sometime later a noise wakes me up. I blink a few times till my eyes can focus. SNL’s Weekend Update is just finishing up, so I know it’s late. I hear the noise again. It’s coming from the front door. I’m about to go investigate when Trish stumbles into the hallway.

  “Man,” she whispers super loud. “My key wouldn’t fit in the lock.” Her words run together to make one.

  I roll my eyes. The door’s not even locked.

  “Is Mom asleep? I know I’m late.” The more she tries to be quiet, the louder she gets. “She’ll kill me.”

  “Mom’s still out.”

  Trish’s jaw drops. “Whaaat?!” The look on her face is as if she just won the lottery. She points to the stairs. “I’m just gonna go to bed before she gets home.”

  “Good idea,” I say.

  When she gets to the top landing I hear her say, “Way to go, Mom!”

  The responsibility of staying up till Mom gets safely home is left to me. Talk about a role reversal. She waltzes in almost an hour later.

  “Lizzie!” She’s surprised to see me. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

  “I wanted to wait for you. Make sure you made it home okay.”

  She smiles. “Well, thanks for that, Mom.”

  I notice her cheeks are flushed and her hair’s a little messy. It occurs to me that she and mystery man may have just been making out in the car or something. Ew.

  “You must have had a good date, huh?” I say, trying to fish a little. “It being so late and everything.”

  “Oh, I don’t know if I’d call it a date, really.” She reaches for a coat hanger, avoiding eye contact.

  “What would you call it, then?”

  She doesn’t answer and makes a big production about straightening out her coat and hanging it in the closet.

  “Okay. So…like…what’s he like?” I ask, not ready to give up. “When do we get to meet him?”

  Mom turns and raises her eyebrows. “When’s the last time you or Trish told me anything about your relationships?”

  “Mom.” I fold my arms. “This is totally different.”

  She smiles again, then glances up the staircase. “Did Trish get in on time? She’s been pushing her luck lately.”

  “Um. Yeah. I think so,” I say. “I was sort of asleep on the couch.”

  She looks at me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m lying. “Get to bed, missy.” She stands to the side and waits for me to go up the stairs. I do. She follows right behind.

  * * *

  A knock on my bedroom door wakes me up the next morning. Mom sticks her head in. “Willa’s here. She says you’re expecting her.”

  I rub my eyes, prop myself up on an elbow, and reach for my phone. It’s 10:02 A.M. I flop back on my bed. The letter.

  Mom sighs. “Well?”

  “Just send her up.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  My eyes won’t stay open. My brain barely let me sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about Garret and our textual exchange. Is it possible he really does like me? Like, like like me?

  I feel Willa throw herself across the bottom of my bed, crushing my feet. “Wakey, wakey. It’s been thirty-six hours and no word from Bradley.”

  “Can I at least brush my teeth?”

  “No.”

  “Fine.” I sit up and lean against the headboard. “Did you bring it?”

  She looks at me like I’m crazy. “Of course I did.” She whips the letter out of her jacket and waves it in my face.

  I take it from her. There’s nothing written anywhere on the envelope. I flip it over to check out the seal. “I might be able to peel it open. Or we could try steaming it.”

  “No time.” Willa snatches it back and tears the end off.

  I throw my hands in the air. “So much for that plan.”

  “We can just put it in a new envelope if we have to.” She pulls out a folded piece of paper and opens it. I can’t explain it, but subconsciously I brace myself. Please just let it be a normal breakup letter from Bradley….

  The paper is blank, but sitting inside the fold is a photograph. I slide over closer so I can see. We each hold an edge.

  Willa leans her head in toward mine. “Is that…Claire?”

  “Taking a hit from a bong?”

  We look at each other with giant eyes. “Shit,” we say in unison.

  “Isn’t her dad a minister?” I say.

  “And isn’t she always trying to organize anti-drug rallies at school and stuff like that?” Willa says.

  I nod. “She was in Trish’s Drama class. She did a whole monologue on ‘Just say no to drugs.’”

  We take another look at the picture.

  “Which leaves the question, where is Bradley?”

  “I don’t see him,” Willa says. “That’s a West party. Recent. Like this year. I recognize some of the grade tens.”

  “He must not be there,” I say.

  At that moment my bedroom door bursts open. “Do you have the Advil in here?” It’s Trish. Willa shoves the photo under the duvet. We freeze like statues and try not to look guilty.

  Trish narrows her eyes and stares at us. “What’s up, nerds? Trouble down in Nerdville?”

  “Nope,” I say. “No trouble. No Advil.”

  Willa pinches me, then says, “Hey Trish. What do you know about Bradley Parker and Claire McRae?”

  She leans against the door frame. “You mean, Bradlaire?”

  “Yeah. I guess,” Willa says.

  “Well, I know some people find Claire a little heavy-handed, you know, with all the anti-drug stuff, but she’s just doin’ her thing. She’s a total sweetheart. And the best thing that ever happened to Brad.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  “He used to be a real partier, bad stoner, a complete mess.”

  Willa and I look at each other, and say, “Really?”

  “Yeah,” Trish says. “Claire really straightened him out. I’m partnered with him for our big Business Tech project. He’s been great, a completely new person.”

  “Wow,” Willa says.

  “They sound like a match made in heaven,” I say.

  Trish narrows her eyes again. “Why all the questions?”

  “Oh, um.” Willa’s eyes flit around the room. “We were just trying to figure out couples who were going to the prom. Like already formed couples. Right, Lizzie?”

  “Yeah, like…” I try to think of something to add. “Is it better to go with someone you like romantically, or just a friend?”

  “I think a friend,” Willa says, a fake serious look on her face.

  “Me too,” I say, wearing the same fake look.

  Trish slowly starts to close the door. “You guys are friggin’ weirdos.”

  When we hear it click shut, Willa turns to me. “We’re good.”

  “Thank you Drama 10,” I say.

  “So did Bradley send the basket or not?” Willa asks.

  “No. We would have heard from him by now, wanting to know why
it wasn’t delivered.”

  “Maybe he assumes it was.”

  Doubt starts to niggle into my brain. “I suppose he might not expect to hear from Claire, not after the picture and everything. He’d know she’d be totally pissed.”

  “And mortified.”

  “Yeah. Mortified and horrified.”

  Willa jumps up. “It’s not too late. We can still deliver the basket.”

  “No, no,” I say, shaking my head really fast. “Who are we kidding? There’s no way Claire would go all this time without getting in touch with Bradley—she doesn’t know about the basket or the picture. Bradley should be chewing us out, saying, ‘Why is she still talking to me like everything’s normal?’ So yeah, something’s not right.”

  Willa huffs and jams her fists into her hips.

  “Let’s just wait until school tomorrow. As soon as we see Claire and Bradley, we’ll be able to tell what’s going on.”

  “And how’s that, do you figure?”

  “Don’t worry. We just will.” I try to sound convincing.

  She doesn’t look convinced.

  Chapter 16

  There’s a spider on Willa’s ceiling. We’ve been lying on her bed, flat on our backs, watching it for almost an hour, and it hasn’t moved an inch.

  “Do you think it’s dead?” I ask.

  “What, my soul?” Willa says flatly.

  Monday went just as I expected: Bradley and Claire walking hand in hand down the hall, totally in love. Willa and I stalked them until they started making out outside the art room.

  “I’m beginning to feel uncomfortable,” I whispered.

  “It’s like a trainwreck,” Willa said. “I can’t look away.”

  “Okay, you two!” a voice bellowed.

  We both jumped, guilty, because we assumed it was directed at us. Then we saw Mr. Adams striding toward Claire and Bradley. “Break it up!” He stepped between them. “I’m sure you both have a class you need to get to.”

  They both nodded sheepishly and headed off in opposite directions.

  We did the same, minus the sheepish nod.

  So now we’re back at Willa’s, spider-watching and hardcore thinking.

  “Well, I think we can safely assume Bradley doesn’t want to break up with Claire,” I say.

  “Or if he does, he deserves an Oscar. Plus there’s been no email from him asking what went wrong, and I didn’t hear any gossip or anything like that. Everything seems like business as usual.”

  “I wish we could just ask Bradley. I mean, the order did come from his email address.”

  “We can’t. Not without revealing we’re The Goodbye Girls.” She makes a popping sound with her lips. “If only I hadn’t deleted all his info, I could email and ask him, like officially, from The Goodbye Girls.”

  “And there’s no way to get his student email address?”

  “Not that I know of…” Willa pauses. “How do you feel about breaking into the office?”

  I can’t tell if she’s joking. “Yeah. We’re not gonna do that, Willa.”

  The spider drops down a foot on an invisible thread. It inspires me to finally move. I roll over and pull the party photo of Claire out of my knapsack.

  Willa rolls over too. “If someone wanted to screw with Claire, why not just mail her the picture?” she asks, resting her chin in her hands. “Why use The Goodbye Girls and waste all that money?”

  Back and forth, I flick the corner of the photo with my fingernail. “Maybe whoever ordered the basket wanted Claire to think it was from Bradley, and that he was really breaking up with her, because he found out—”

  “That’s she’s a hypocrite and a liar?” Willa fills in.

  I nod. “If I were Claire and I got that basket, got this picture, that’s what I’d think.”

  “Yeah, but our baskets are supposed to, you know, be nice—take the edge off breaking up, lessen the pain. Sending that picture? It’s more like an in-your-face, stick-it-to-ya thing.”

  I think about that. “If someone just wants to stick it to her, you’re right. Why bother with the basket at all?”

  Willa slides off the bed and begins pacing restlessly around the room. “Unless…the basket’s part of it.”

  “Huh?”

  “Think about it,” she says. “What would have happened if we delivered the basket like we were supposed to?”

  I tug on my lip. “That was probably Claire’s dad in the minivan. He would have found the basket first.”

  “Some random basket on your porch with no name on it? Claire has two other sisters. I bet he would have opened that letter, even if it was just to see who it was for.”

  “He would have gone ballistic.”

  “Claire would be grounded for life, if not worse. And after it hit the fan, either Claire, maybe even Claire’s dad, would confront Bradley. He’d deny having anything to do with it. Assuming they believe him, who would be next on everybody’s hit list?”

  “Us,” I say. “The Goodbye Girls.”

  Willa nods. “They’d definitely be wanting to question us, all three of them. Because as far as they’re concerned, we’re the ones who sent the picture.”

  “I’m not sure, Willa. It sounds pretty elaborate. The planets would really have to be aligned.”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “No, they wouldn’t. That basket was going to be found by somebody, and that somebody would be hunting us down for answers.”

  “Wouldn’t we just deny it, like Bradley? We didn’t send it.”

  “But we delivered it. ‘The Goodbye Girls’ is right on the basket.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. “We should really rethink those gift tags.”

  “It was supposed to be for advertising, not for linking us to a crime.”

  My eyes fly open. “A crime?”

  “Well, the photo is from some West party. It’s like a poster for illegal drug use and underage drinking.”

  I go back to staring at the picture and flicking the corner.

  Willa plunks herself down beside me. “No matter how it would have gone down, they’d be looking to find out who is behind The Goodbye Girls.”

  “You really think someone wants to get us in trouble?”

  Willa shrugs. “Not really. I mean, no one knows we’re The Goodbye Girls.” She exaggerates her words. “But I guess I don’t want to rule it out as a possibility either. Stranger things have happened, you know?” She takes the picture and slips it into her side table drawer. “For now we should be on high alert, see what the next few days bring, if anything.”

  “Okay.” I get up and reach for my jacket. “Maybe whoever’s behind it will give up when they see that whatever it was didn’t work. It’s probably just someone wanting to screw with Claire or Bradley.” I loop my knapsack over my shoulder. “I’m sure that’s all it is.” I’m sure that’s all it is. Willa says saying something over and over doesn’t make it true. I’m hoping she’s wrong.

  “Fingers crossed.”

  I happen to glance at the ceiling. The spider is nowhere to be seen.

  * * *

  The next morning when I go to drop my books off, Garret’s leaning against my locker.

  I try to casually smooth my hair. “Hey,” I say.

  “Hey.” He moves aside so I can get to my lock.

  “Did you want me?” I ask.

  He smiles. “Now that’s a loaded question.”

  I feel my cheeks burst into flames. “Ha, ha,” I croak. It takes me two tries to get the right lock combination.

  “Did you get your presentation done?”

  “What?” I’m hiding myself behind the locker door until the redness in my face goes down a bit.

  “You couldn’t come to the party. You were working on a presentation.”

  “Oh right. How was the p
arty?”

  His head appears around the edge of the door. “The usual. Pretty dull.”

  “Sorry I missed it then,” I joke.

  He smiles again. Super white teeth. “Listen. They put out a new list of fundraising opportunities. Your name wasn’t signed up for any. Thought maybe you hadn’t seen it.”

  “Oh, uh…” I nervously scratch the back of my neck. I don’t need to do any fundraising, but I realize that probably looks suspicious. He went out with Trish. He would know we don’t have a ton of money. “Yeah, I haven’t had a chance to check it out yet.”

  “Thought we could team up or something. I’ve sold the Christmas wreaths before. They’re pretty easy. Everyone orders them.”

  “Okay.” I can’t think an excuse to get out of it, and I’m not sure I want to. Slamming my locker shut, I see Trish coming around the corner. I quickly step away and put some distance between me and Garret. “Sign me up,” I blurt out as I start walking backward down the hall.

  The rest of the morning drags on. In English, Willa sits beside me doodling all over her grammar worksheet. I can’t concentrate either. And weirdly, not because of anything to do with Garret, but because I’m too busy staring at every person who comes into my peripheral vision, trying to assess their threat level. Is it you? Or you? Are you out to get Brad? Or Claire? Or The Goodbye Girls? Did you get a basket? Are you super pissed? But we’re just the messengers….

  After class we head to the cafeteria for lunch.

  “I still haven’t heard a thing,” Willa says. “You?”

  “Not a word.”

  She nods. “Good. Hopefully we won’t.”

  “Should we maybe shut down for a while?” The whole Claire-Bradley mystery still had me feeling on edge. “Until we know for sure?”

  “Yeah, we had that pre-Christmas rush, but it’s slowing down now. We’re almost at our goal and we still have about a month.”

  “Really?” The relief I feel isn’t only because Willa agreed to the shutdown, but also because we’re close to having enough money and being able to shut down for good. “Do we have any this week?”