Todd Strasser - Wish You Were Dead

Open your eyes.…

Please .

My cell phone was ringing. I opened my eyes and looked at the clock on the night table. 10:34. All at once I was both relieved and disappointed. Thank God it was a dream, darn it! Tyler wasn’t kissing me, but he wasn’t driving and not watching where he was going, either.

The phone rang again. I picked it up and stared blearily at the number. It was Courtney. “What happened to our ‘No Calls Before Noon’ rule?” I answered with a yawn.

“This can’t wait,” she said. “Like, Lucy Cunningham’s parents are calling her friends, looking for her? Turns out she didn’t come home last night. Did you hear anything?”

“Hear what? When?” I asked.

“Like, last night? Didn’t you and Tyler drive her home?”

“Yes, but—”

“But she didn’t get there, okay? Jen Waits just called me.”

My thoughts drifted back to the previous night and my last glimpse of Lucy, standing stubbornly on her front walk with her arms crossed. My heart staggered and skipped. We didn’t wait to watch her go inside .

“Did Lucy say anything?” Courtney asked.

“About what?”

“I don’t know. Just anything.”

Outside my room, footsteps came up the stairs, rapidly. Rap! Rap! Knocks on my bedroom door. “Madison?” Mom came in, holding the portable phone. The tips of her blonde hair were wet, which slightly darkened the shoulders of her white terry-cloth robe. Her hand was over the phone’s speaker.

“Later,” I said into my cell phone and snapped it shut.

“Did you drive Lucy home last night?” Mom asked, worry lines joining the reddened bathing-cap line in her forehead.

I nodded. It wasn’t hard to guess who was on the phone. My parents and the Cunninghams had been close friends for years. The frown on Mom’s face deepened and she held the phone to her ear. “Paul? Yes, she drove Lucy home last night. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yes, I understand.” Mom handed the phone to me. “He wants to speak to you.”

I took the phone. Everything was happening too fast, and it left me feeling shaky and uncertain. “Hello?”

“Madison?” Lucy’s father sounded grave and urgent as he explained what I already knew—Lucy hadn’t come home the night before. “Can you tell me where and what time you dropped her off?”

“Right at your front walk around three.”

“Did she say she was going anywhere else? Or meeting anyone?”

“No.”

“Did she start up the walk toward the house?”

“Not really,” I said. “She just stood there smoking a cigarette.”

This information was met with silence. I suddenly felt guilty and added, “She only does it at parties sometimes.”

“Had she been drinking?” Dr. Cunningham asked.

“Yes, I’m pretty sure.”

Lucy’s father muttered to himself. “Did she say anything that might have indicated that she didn’t plan on going right into the house?” Anxiety and hope slithered through his words.

“No. She just seemed really upset. I mean, have you talked to Adam?”

“Yes,” Dr. Cunningham replied tersely. “Did you happen to see anyone else around when you dropped her off?” A hint of desperation tinted the edges of his voice.

“No. It was really late. I don’t remember seeing anyone. I’m really sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Madison. Just promise me that if you do remember anything else, anything at all, you’ll call me immediately.”

“I will,” I said. “I promise.” I hung up and handed the phone to Mom.

“You’re sure there isn’t something you’re not—” she began.

“Mom, give me some credit, okay?”

She sighed. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that. Those poor people. I feel so terrible for them. They must be worried sick.”

Once again, I replayed the memory of Lucy standing in the dark, hugging herself against the chill, her cigarette glowing. Where could she have gone?

“Well, hopefully she’s safe.” Mom checked her watch. “You remember that your father’s expecting you to crew for him this afternoon?”

I’d forgotten. “Who’re we racing against?”

“American, I think.”

The American Yacht Club was on the other side of the Sound. “We won’t be back until after dark. I have homework.”

“Take it with you,” Mom said, heading for the door.

I slid back down into the covers and squeezed Rumpy, my ratty old Gund dog. My thoughts drifted back again to the night before. What could have happened? Where could Lucy have possibly gone? Nothing I could think of made sense. And yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was my fault.

It was dark when Time Off , Dad’s racing sloop, returned to its slip. The other members of the crew had families and Sunday dinners to get back to, and it wasn’t long before Dad and I were left alone to finish the job of packing up and securing the boat. On Sundays Mom was used to keeping dinner warm until we could get home.

“Get your homework done?” Dad asked as we tied the mainsail to the boom. It had gone from a cool but breezy and sunny afternoon to a chilly, damp, dark evening. My hands were cold and a little stiff. I wished I was wearing gloves.

“Uh-huh.” I’d done my homework at the galley table below decks while Dad and the other crew members sailed home after the race.

He smiled. “I know crewing wasn’t your first choice today, Maddy, but it makes me happy when you come along.”

“No prob, Dad.” I was always glad to spend time with him. These Sunday-afternoon races were his only respite from his role as head of M. Archer and Company, his investment firm. There were often entire weeks when I didn’t see him. Dad literally traveled the world to attend meetings, meet investors, and consider business possibilities. On any given day he might be in Brazil looking at sugarcane producers, then fly overnight to meet a wealthy sheik in Dubai for a breakfast meeting, and then continue to Vietnam to look at a toy-manufacturing facility.

The smile on my father’s face was replaced by a pensive look. “I hope they’ve found Lucy by now.”

“Me, too,” I said. But I could not shake the sense of dread that I’d felt all day. An hour before, we’d called Mom from the boat to see if there was any news. There wasn’t. Lucy was still missing.

By the time we finished securing the mainsail, a crescent moon had risen over the Sound, creating a shimmering white swath of moonlight across the black waters. Dad and I walked through the dark boatyard past the tall, hulking cranes and hoists, the dry-docked hulls, and racks of powerboats. We’d almost reached the parking lot when I realized I’d left my books in Time Off ’s galley. I told Dad I’d only be a moment, then rushed back through the dark.

Walking quickly through the shadows left by the tall white hulls, the only sound I heard was the crunch of my footsteps on the gravel. I reached the ramp that led down to the dock and hurried along, my thunking footsteps now accompanied by the slosh of water. A few moments later I climbed on board the Time Off , dashed into the galley, and grabbed my backpack. While locking the galley door, I thought I heard footsteps on the dock and stretched up to look out at the dark. But there was no one on the dock, just the empty berths and the sticklike silhouette of a mast here and there.

Pulling my backpack over my shoulder, I walked quickly along the dock, water sloshing beneath me with every step, my eyes darting left and right. Stop it , I told myself. There’s nothing wrong. You’re just freaked by what’s going on with Lucy . Reaching the end, I hurried up the metal ramp and once again started through the boatyard. Something felt odd, but it took several moments for me to realize what it was. Abruptly I stopped and listened. At first all I could hear was the thumping of my own heart and the clinks of halyards knocking against metal masts, but I was certain there’d been another sound, almost an echo of my own footsteps.