Weird Girl and What's His Name Read online

  “Who do you think you are?” I felt the printout of Lula’s diary entry crumple a little in my grip. “I’ve been Lula’s best friend since seventh grade. You left her without even a goodbye. Do you have any idea how much time she’s spent thinking about you? Reading your stupid actor books? Looking you up on the computer, trying to figure out where you were?”

  “Rory.” Janet patted my arm.

  “And now you show up—why? You think it’s going to help anything now? You don’t even know her.”

  “I’m her mother,” Christine said, her face flat.

  “So what?”

  “Rory, that’s enough.” Janet put her hand on her hip. “Can you please look at this letter and tell us something helpful?”

  I looked the letter over again. Christine clipped off into the dining room, her boots tapping on the parquet.

  “I don’t know, Janet.” My hands were shaking. I’d just totally gone off on Lula’s mom. What had gotten into me? I had to stop losing my shit like this. “We fought because she was upset that I was seeing someone else. But she knew that I, uh—”

  “You don’t like girls. That’s fine, Rory. But—what’s this about sleeping in her bed?” Janet opened the silverware drawer. Looking for her cigarettes.

  “I stayed over. One night before she left. She let me sleep in her bed. Instead of on the floor. That was all.”

  “You don’t think she could be pregnant?” Now there’s a theory.

  “It wasn’t like that. I promise.”

  “Oh, Rory.” She lit her cigarette. “Honey, I’m sorry. I’m asking you all these embarrassing questions. I feel like a fool. But I’m grasping at straws, here. We just want to bring Lula back home, and the police are losing interest. They figured out what she looked up on the Internet the night she left: Amtrak and Greyhound schedules. But the people working at the bus station and the train station that night can’t remember seeing her there. The police are still looking, but now they’re saying she’s just a runaway.” Janet shook her head. “Just a runaway. Can you believe that? They won’t even put out an Amber Alert, because she’s too old and there isn’t enough evidence to prove that she isn’t just . . . off partying or something, I don’t know. It’s ridiculous. Missing is missing, I don’t care how it happened.” Her voice was bitter, exhaling smoke. “But where else could she go? We checked out the boarding school where her friend Jenny goes now. Jenny hasn’t heard from her in years. We’re trying to remember the name of that girl she was pen pals with a few years ago—Stacy or something—one of the girls she went to drama camp with. But there’s nothing on the computer and we can’t find the letters. Did Lula ever mention anything to you?”

  “Not about any pen pals, no.” Lula had told me about going to Drama Camp for Teens at the community college. Something she’d done over the summer to try and get closer to her mom. I remembered that Lula said it was lame, having to visualize yourself as a tree or whatever, but she’d met a cool older girl there. They hung out a few times before the girl moved away, but I never met her, and Lula never told me about writing any letters. As for Jenny, she and Lula stopped hanging out back in junior high, back when Jenny started trying out for cheerleading and Lula started spending her weekends watching Star Trek: The Next Generation reruns with me. Janet studied the letter again.

  “What about this GA? What does that mean? Leo’s on the phone with someone he knows in Atlanta right now—do you know why she would’ve gone down there?”

  I hated to let her down. “No. GA—we were talking about Gillian Anderson. The actress. From The X-Files.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Janet sighed and sat down. Deflated. She put her hand to her eyes, shaking her head, muttering softly to herself. “Her favorite show. I should’ve known that. I should’ve known.”

  Janet already knew who Sam was. And I did, too. Sam was Samantha. Mrs. Samantha Lidell.

  twelve

  THERE WAS A FRAMED, BLACK-AND-WHITE PICTURE in the foyer of the Lidells in their wedding garb, both of them wearing widemouthed smiles, like they’d just been caught laughing their heads off at a joke. Beneath it in the frame was a handwritten note on a cream-colored card. To Sam and Mark, wishing you all the joy in the world. And, beneath that, an illegible signature. In real time, right before my eyes, Mrs. Lidell looked exhausted. But I couldn’t wait until school the next day.

  “It’s a little late for a tutorial, don’t you think?”

  “I know.” I had gone home to shower and look up Mrs. Lidell’s address. And to plan in my mind what I was going to say. “But I saw Lula’s last diary entry. I know she came here that night and she told you about me.”

  Mrs. Lidell’s shoulders dropped.

  “What do you want from me, Rory?”

  “You have to tell the police! If they know she was here, maybe it changes things. Maybe it changes how they investigate—”

  “The police know.” Her voice got quiet. “I told them everything I knew as soon as I heard she was missing. I let them search my house, my office, my hard drive. It didn’t change anything. They still think that she left because of you, not because of me.” She stopped, catching herself. “Of course, presuming she did indeed leave under her own power, you know she didn’t leave because of either of us. She left for her own reasons, and whatever the outcome of this is, you have to know that it wasn’t your fault.”

  “You don’t have to—” I swallowed. “You don’t have to say it like she’s already dead.”

  “I’m sorry, Rory, I—” she shook her head. “Why don’t you come in, have a seat?” I followed her into the living room. There were a bunch of guitars propped up on stands in the corners. Electric ones, acoustic ones. Somehow, I wasn’t expecting Sam Lidell’s living room to look like a music store.

  “Your husband plays guitar?” I blurted out.

  “No.” She sat down on the couch. She didn’t seem tired anymore. She had on her all-business face, the one she got when we had a lot of material to review for a test. She lit one of her cigarettes from a soft pack on the coffee table. They were just regular Winstons. “So, are we having it out, or what?”

  “I guess we are.”

  “Lula came to me that night after she saw you with the bookseller. Rory, did you have any idea that Lula was in love with you?”

  “I know.” I said. “I mean, I know it now. But I didn’t know it then.”

  “I suspected it. She alluded to having feelings for someone who didn’t return them, and I assumed it was you. Lula and I talked a lot over the past semester.”

  “About me?”

  “About everything. She kept signing up for tutorials—I didn’t understand why, at first. Aside from a rather irrational intolerance for William Faulkner, she had no trouble grasping the material. I realized pretty quickly that she just needed someone to talk to. I probably should have advised her to see Mr. Peeler, but it wasn’t . . . she wasn’t troubled, she was just lonely.” Mrs. Lidell exhaled smoke. Mr. Peeler was the guidance counselor at school, and he wouldn’t have helped, anyway. He was, like, twenty-five and always tried to solve your issues using extreme sports metaphors. “Lula’s grandparents were very supportive, and of course she had you, but I think the fact that her mother was out of the picture was a . . .” Mrs. Lidell stopped. “My mom left me, too. She divorced my dad when I was a teenager and went off on her own to pursue her art career. She made it clear that me coming with her . . . wasn’t an option. It’s not something I talk about much, but I told Lula, because I wanted her to know that I understood where she was coming from. She started coming around more after that, hanging out in my office, just wanting to talk. Maybe she saw me as a sort of maternal figure. Anyway, I thought it was okay, considering she didn’t have very many female role models, or even female friends in her life. But then it seems she developed something of a—” She hesitated. “A crush on me, I guess you could say. When she came here that night she . . . confessed her feelings. And I had to let her down.”

/>   I nodded. Mrs. Lidell looked away, touched her finger to her tongue to retrieve a loose tobacco leaf. I had a moment of feeling almost out of my body. I never expected to be here. To be sitting on a sofa in Mrs. Lidell’s living room, talking about Lula, who was in love with one or both of us. Lula, who was suddenly gone.

  “What did you say to her?” I asked. What did you say to make her leave?

  “Well, I was in shock, at first.” Mrs. Lidell frowned. “And then I was sort of weirdly flattered and horrified at the same time. Look, it’s never easy to have to let someone down, but I think she understood that it wasn’t personal. I liked Lula a lot, she was a bright kid, really sweet, great student. But that’s as far as it goes. I’m heterosexual, I’m married, I’m her teacher, and she’s only seventeen years old, for God’s sake. Not all of us are as unscrupulous as Andy Barnett.” She gave me a hard stare, and I blushed.

  “Now is probably not the best time to give you a lecture on ethics,” she said, ashing her cigarette into a small, red glass bowl. “And you’re not the one who should hear it, anyway—”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “We already . . . he broke up with me.”

  “I could tell you I’m sorry to hear that, Rory, but it would be a lie.” Mrs. Lidell said. “You’re a little young to be involved with a married man—”

  “He’s divorced,” I interrupted. “And why does everybody think I’m so young, like I’m some little kid who doesn’t get it? We were in love—why is that so hard to believe? I mean, Lula thought he was molesting me. But I’m the one who came on to him in the first place.” My whole face flushed hot, remembering it. Closing up the shop, asking him to help me with some boxes in the back. Palms sweating like crazy, scared to death. Scared he’d fire me right there, and I’d never see him again. Scared he’d beat the hell out of me, because I was pretty sure he was gay, but I’d never worked up the nerve to just come right out and ask him, and what if he wasn’t? Scared, just utterly scared shitless that he wouldn’t want me, this sweaty repulsive fat kid. Rehearsing my speech in my head, this whole confession that I was all set to swear I would never mention again if he didn’t feel the same way. And then as soon as we were behind the curtain, just going for broke, kissing him right on the mouth. He pulled back and looked at me all surprised, and for a second I thought I was going to die. Like time had stopped and I was already dead. And then he kissed me back. And everything that happened in my heart and my brain and my blood after that was unnamable but was the exact opposite of dying.

  “It doesn’t matter if you started it, Rory. It’s still statutory rape, and he shouldn’t have let it continue,” Mrs. Lidell said angrily. I was beet-red and trying to wipe a tear out of the edge of my eye without her noticing. “I’m not saying what he did was your fault. I’m not saying that at all.” Her voice softened. “Look, I know from experience that being involved with a divorcee with kids is difficult at any age. And that sometimes when you’re involved with someone who’s older than you, it’s easy for them to forget that you might be a little more vulnerable than they are. That, for them, maybe it’s just dating, but for you, it’s your first real love.”

  Now I was crying. I didn’t care if I cried in front of her. So she knows I’m a big baby. Big deal. She handed me a wad of Kleenex from the box on the end table and patted my back while I blew my nose and composed myself.

  “Well, what did Lula care, anyway? Especially if she had some big crush on you. Why should she give a damn if I want to date somebody who’s too old for me? Why should she care if Andy Barnett breaks my heart? It’s my stupid heart, not hers.”

  “Rory.” Mrs. Lidell sighed. “Whether she was attracted to you or me or the man in the moon, did you really think that Lula didn’t care about your heart? She was your best friend, and she didn’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “Is my best friend,” I corrected, imitating Mrs. Lidell’s classroom voice. “Tenses, tenses.” She smiled faintly but didn’t laugh.

  “She’s your best friend. And you’re hers. Lula didn’t have a big group of friends, Rory. She wasn’t part of any teams. She had you. Has you. And, for better or for worse, you met someone and fell in love—and I know, Rory, believe me, what it does to you. Falling in love for the first time, for real. It rearranges your molecules, it turns you inside out. And you kept all of that from her. Never mind the fact that she had feelings for you, herself, even though she was too busy trying to be your friend to mention it. I think she knew, deep down inside, that you were never going to ‘come around,’ you were never going to fall in love with her like she hoped you would. But she didn’t have anybody else. She was just a lonely kid, Rory, trying to find some little sliver of what you already had. Trying to find what we’re all looking for, you know? Love. Real, serious love.”

  “So she came to you.”

  “Yeah. She came to me. And I couldn’t help her. Not with that.” Mrs. Lidell scratched absentmindedly at her thumb. “I don’t think she was serious, though. About having feelings for me. Romantic feelings, anyway. It’s easy to mistake affection for infatuation, at her age.”

  I thought about me and Andy. Did I mistake affection for infatuation? Did he?

  “Do you think Lula had real feelings for me?” I asked her. “I mean, do you think it was really love?”

  “Affection, infatuation—you tell me, kiddo. She’s your best friend.” She took a long drag on her cigarette.

  “Why didn’t you—why didn’t anybody tell me she came to see you?”

  “Probably for the same reason you didn’t tell anyone about Andy.” She exhaled smoke. “We’re all trying to protect someone, aren’t we?”

  “Except Lula. Nobody tried to protect her.”

  “Lula’s exactly who I was trying to protect. And I think I’ve done a pretty fair job of it up to this point. Right now, you and Detective Addison and I are the only ones who know the whole story. And her grandparents now, with this diary entry.” Mrs. Lidell gave me the chilliest of her cool looks. “I don’t think having the details of her clumsy teenage longings splayed out in the daily paper would make Lula feel very welcome back home, do you?”

  “No, ma’am. I don’t reckon it would.”

  So much for no more secrets.

  thirteen

  I SENT LULA EMAILS EVERY DAY. I don’t know whether she got them or not. Maybe the only person reading them was Detective Addison. Or maybe even he’d given up.

  To: BloomOrphan

  From: SpookyKid

  Subject: Family Reunion

  Tallulah dearest,

  I think you should know about the startling plot twist from yesterday’s episode. A long lost visitor has made a surprise reappearance. Your mother’s back at Janet and Leo’s. Not sure how long she’s staying. Would you at least give a call? So that we can make our shocked faces at each other?

  yrs,

  Theodore

  To: BloomOrphan

  From: SpookyKid

  Subject: I want to believe!

  L,

  just saw the preview for the 2nd XF movie! July 25th! You better be here by then because I won’t go see it without you!

  R.

  To: BloomOrphan

  From: SpookyKid

  Subject: Mulder, it’s me

  Lula,

  I’ve had it up to here with this absentee bullshit. School sucks. I can’t watch XF without you. I don’t even care about XF without you. I just want to see you again. Lula, if you’re reading this, just know that I can understand why you don’t want to come back here. And know that I love you.

  R.

  To: BloomOrphan

  From: SpookyKid

  Subject: no subject

  lula,

  what makes you so sure I wasn’t drowning, too?

  r.

  JANET CALLED THE FOLLOWING SATURDAY TO invite me to dinner, and to tell me that Lula’s mother was flying out that night. I went over, even though I hadn’t spoken to her since that first day, when we got
the diary entry. When I got to Janet and Leo’s, Janet was making pierogies. Leo was on the back porch, smoking cigars with another old guy I’d never seen before.

  “Can I help out?” I asked. I’d always liked helping Janet in the kitchen.

  “Of course. Why don’t you run upstairs first? See if Christine’s bags are ready to come down.”

  I walked up the stairs, hoping that this was going to end up like a movie. Lula would be there, sitting on her bed. Her mom braiding her hair. No, not braiding her hair. They’d be watching Lord of the Rings together. They’d both be fast-forwarding to the Aragorn parts.

  But it was just Christine, alone in Lula’s room. Sitting on the bed, her boot heels crossed in front of her. Looking around at all the posters. The Mulder and Scully action figures, still in their plastic packaging. The books stacked against the peeling black paint.

  “Janet wanted me to see if you needed any help,” I said.

  “Thanks,” she looked up at me. “Rory, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m Chris. We didn’t really get off on the right foot the other day, did we?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Oh, can the ma’am crap. I hate all that southern-manners bullshit.” She looked around the room again. “I’m just sitting here trying to figure out who this kid turned out to be. I can’t believe I gave birth to a sci-fi nerd.”

  “Lula’s not a nerd.”

  Chris just smiled at me.

  “Of course she’s not.” She raised her eyebrows. “So what is she, then? Just between you and me? Your lover? Friend with benefits? Or maybe you’ve got a boyfriend hidden away somewhere, and Lula’s your loyal, long-suffering fag hag.”

  I took a sharp breath and didn’t say anything. I was ready to walk out of Lula’s room. I wanted to remember Lula and me there, alone. Just us two. Not Lula’s mother. Not this mean interrogation.

  “Or is she the one that’s putting on the act? I still haven’t figured the two of you out. What’s all this business with the English teacher? Is my kid a dyke, or is she in love with you?”