Tess Sharpe - Far From You

“No, I borrowed the truck,” Mina says. “What’s in the bag?” She makes a grab for it, and I step back so she can’t get it. She pouts, her strawberry-red lips sticking out. “Mean.”

I just smile and set the bag out of her reach before boosting myself up beside her.

Mina sinks down, lying on her back in the truck bed, and I follow suit. We pass a bottle of Boone’s Farm back and forth, the fruity sweetness clinging to the back of my throat as Mina traces clouds with her fingers, rings glimmering in the dying sun. She describes shapes to me, each more fantastic than the next.

“Soph, do you ever think about what’s going to happen when we leave?” she asks.

I tilt my head to the right so I can look at her. My hair and hers, blond and brown, are twined together on the blanket, and she’s careful not to meet my eyes.

“You mean for college and stuff?”

Mina nods, still staring up at the darkening sky. The crickets are starting to sing, and their chirps echo across the water, blending with the frogs and some distant laughter from a houseboat out past the harbor.

“It’ll be weird, right?” Mina asks. “Not to see each other?” When I don’t answer, she turns to look at me, rolling from her back to her side, our faces inches apart. “Won’t it be?”

“I don’t like thinking about it,” I say.

Mina bites her lip; I’m close enough that I can smell the strawberry gloss. “Sometimes it’s all I think about,” she says, so quiet I almost don’t hear her. She sighs and reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Her hand lingers for a moment on my skin, settling into the little crook under my jaw where my pulse thumps.

There’s a pop-pop-pop in the air, breaking the spell. Sparks light up the night sky in a dazzling cascade of red, white, and blue. The reflection of the fireworks on the water stretches out until it feels like we’re surrounded by light.

“It’s starting!” Mina sits straight up and hops out of the truck, clapping her hands like a kid, and I smile as she watches the show, as transfixed as I am by her.

After the final firework has been shot off, the night settling into hints of smoke and ash, Mina stands there, eyes fixed on the sky, waiting, like there’ll be one more just for her.

While her attention is on the sky, I reach back and pull out the plastic bag I stashed earlier. When she turns around, I’m sitting on the edge of the tailgate, a lit sparkler in hand, my offering to her.

She beams at me, and I beam back.

Instead of taking it, she wraps both hands around mine, and we stay there, me sitting on the tailgate and her standing in front of me, the sparkler showering light between us, popping and hissing in the air. Shadows play across her face, the light illuminating her in fits and starts, and I’ve never felt more sure, and she’s never looked more beautiful.

Long after the sparkler’s fizzled out, Mina’s ash-smeared hands hold mine between her palms.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispers.

I hook my thumb around hers, and our matching rings click against each other, the unspoken promise of forever…someday.

NOW (JUNE)

When I get home, I page through Mina’s notes, trying to find any mention of Jackie’s possible pregnancy. But either she hadn’t had the time to write it down or she hadn’t finished figuring it out, because there’s nothing in the time line or her notes to suggest she even suspected it.

I close my laptop after I’ve searched all the files. I’m almost positive an unplanned pregnancy is the reason Jackie disappeared. I wish it were July, so Margaret Chase was back from vacation. I don’t have much hope that she’ll confirm my suspicions—­there are rules about sharing that kind of stuff—but maybe if I go into the clinic and talk to her, I’d be able to tell from her reaction. Just to be sure.

“Sophie?” My mom taps on my door before opening it.

I jerk in surprise, and the notebook in my lap falls to the floor. “Yeah?”

“Just checking on you. I made dinner, if you want some.”

“Thanks, but I already ate.”

“With Trev?” she asks.

“No, I went to Angry Burger with Rachel.”

“Your father said Trev was here earlier.”

“He dropped me off after we were done hanging out,” I say, and her lips pinch together.

“I see. Well, then, good night.”

“Night.”

As the door closes behind her, I open the notebook in my lap again. The plastic bag containing the warning notes is pressed between the pages.

I’m scraping up on the edges of something…something that will make all this clear. It buzzes underneath my skin, makes me want to pace, to keep moving, forward, upward, no matter what.

Is this how she felt? This tantalizing reach for answers that had her addicted and reckless?

I can almost understand it. It’s just another kind of high.

I press my hand over the notes, safely enclosed in the plastic. What would Detective James do if I brought them to him now? Would he think I wrote them myself? Would he laugh in my face?

Tomorrow, I have to ask Trev what we should do. After we talk to Amy Dennings. Maybe it’ll be enough, the threats coupled with Mina’s notes about the case. Detective James would have to listen to Trev. He’ll have to pay attention to new evidence, even if it messes with his drug deal theory. And he’d worked Jackie’s case—he might be able to draw connections that none of us could see.

I close the notebook, tucking it carefully in my desk drawer before shutting off my light.

I sleep, but all I dream about is chasing after Mina, her laughing, and me never quite catching up.

The next day, I drive to the soccer field at quarter to six and sit on the hood of my car, waiting for Trev. He shows up five minutes later, and we walk across the wide green lawn, the summer sun beating down on our shoulders. The girls are still out on the field, with some parents watching on the sidelines as Coach paces, shouting encouragement or correction.

“Do you know what she looks like?” Trev asks. “She has dark hair, I think.”

I shade my eyes against the sun, looking over the sea of heads to pick out the brunettes. We hang to the side until practice finishes and the girls disperse. A girl with a pixie cut jogs up close to us to grab her bag, and I smile at her and ask, “Hey, I’m looking for Amy. Is she here?”

“Yeah, she’s over there with Casey.” The girl points to two girls huddled together. The dark-haired girl is laughing, and the other, a short redhead, squirts water at her from her bottle while Amy shrieks and dodges back.

“Thanks.”

“Hey, you’re Coach Bill’s daughter, aren’t you?” the girl asks. “You used to play.”

“I used to,” I say.

“Your dad’s cool. Way easier than Coach Rob.”

I can’t help but smile. “I’ll tell him you said that,” I say to her. “Thanks again.”

By the time Trev and I make it across the lawn, the redhead has walked off, leaving Amy by herself, stuffing her gear into her bag.

“Amy?” I call.

She turns, her long brown ponytail swinging over her shoulder. I can see the resemblance to Jackie: the upturned nose, the sweet expression in her blue eyes. “Yeah?”

“I’m Sophie,” I say. “This is Trev. Can we talk to you for a second?”

“What’s this about?” She casts a sideways look at Trev that lasts a little too long. “Do I know you?” she asks him.

“I was friends with your sister,” Trev says. “I think we met once or twice when you were little.”

“Oh.” She crosses her arms, looking us up and down. “Is this about Jackie? Because I don’t talk about her. Especially with strangers.”