I collapse into the couch, holding my head in my hands. A headache throbs at my temples.
Clearly, she didn’t care enough to tell you anything. She didn’t feel for you what you feel for her. Stupid, stupid. Let it go, soldier. It’s over, and that’s the end of the story.
With a limp hand and heavy heart, I grab the remote, turn on the TV, and lose myself once more in a boring sitcom.
10
Jordan
I’ve been working my ass off in the yard all morning. My body is drenched in sweat, there are callouses on my hands, and my back hurts. Yet I keep going like a madman because yesterday, I found out that Misty took off to see some old boyfriend without even telling me. The sting hurts, and right now, I’m doing everything in my power to keep myself from thinking about this fucked up situation.
I’m pacing the lawn with the push mower when I notice a young girl approach Misty’s house. She’s a bigger girl with dark brown hair, and I recognize her as Jessie right away from the pink streak in her bangs.
I never got an opportunity to meet Misty’s best friend. However, Misty talked a lot about Jess. There were nights when she’d recall three or four escapades they’d had together, almost bent over double from laughter. She even asked to invite Jess over for a movie night with all three of us, but I wasn’t ready to let it happen. To me, discretion is key. We needed to tell her parents first before anyone else knew.
I watch as Jessie knocks on the front door. She looks around and then cups her hand over her eyes to peek in through the glass panels flanking the door. She looks like she’s worried about Misty too. But surely Misty told her best friend about her long-standing plans to visit Jimmy Kross, right? I mean, why wouldn’t she? I thought teenage girls always gossiped about this kind of thing.
I get as close to the edge of the yard as I can with the mower and then kick it off. I squat down on the grass beside it, taking cover behind a row of large bushes as the front door opens. I begin to tinker with the motor, pretending something glitched, but really what I’m trying to do is to hear the conversation between Misty’s best friend and her parents.
I can only pick up bits and pieces, but I realize that Jessie had no clue that Misty was taking off for the end of summer either. Strange. The Snows feed her some of the same bullshit they fed me, and then I watch Jess as she walks back to her car at the end of the long drive, looking confused and upset. She gets to her vehicle and spins on her heels to face the house once more. Reaching into her bag, she pulls out her phone and dials someone up. Hmm, what’s happening?
After a moment, Jess hangs up and throws the phone back into her purse in a fit of frustration. She must have tried calling Misty, and it went straight to voicemail. The same thing has been happening to me, and my mind begins to race.
Why would Misty’s phone be off for days? Why are her parents not concerned about that fact as well? Something shady’s going on.
But then I force my breathing to calm. I’m overreacting, and jumping to conclusions like that idiot Jeff from the movie. But something tells me that all is not right, and the soldier in me comes to the fore. I need to figure this out.
I run down my side of the long drive and quietly wave Jessie over to me. She looks around warily, and thankfully decides to go against her gut and approach the strange man gesturing to her from over by the bushes.
“Are you here looking for Misty?” I ask, realizing how unbelievably insane I sound but continuing regardless. “Have you been able to reach her at all the last few days?”
The brunette looks at me suspiciously.
“No, I haven’t been able to reach Misty. I came over because I was starting to get kind of scared. We usually talk every day and then out of the blue…” She trails off. Her voice is tight and she looks at me suspiciously again. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”
I take a deep breath.
“I’m Jordan Slate. I live next door. I spent a fair amount of time with Misty this summer, just chatting. I felt kind of responsible for her while her parents were gone.”
Jess isn’t fooled for a moment. She must know her friend well.
“I see,” she says slowly. “You must be the reason why Misty was so busy all the time.”
I nod.
“Yes,” I say simply. “I am.”
Jessie nods and assesses me carefully. Evidently, I’ve passed the test because she speaks again.