12.2 Happily Ever After

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

I don’t remember the car ride home. I don’t remember shutting my curtains or crawling into my bed.

I do remember my restless sleep, waking up to the ringing phone, listening to my mother’s concerned voice as she explained her version of the story again to the police, to the parents of the victims, to Mr. Anderson from Social Services, and to the Greenfields.

I churned beneath my dinosaur sheets. I dreamt of Danny’s death. I drifted between planes of consciousness, reveled in the mystery, and pondered the hundreds of unanswered questions.

Why was A.J. at the carnival? There was more he wanted to say, but he never got the chance. Why was Ryan Brosh a target of Mara’s wrath? I hated the boy, but there was a time when her diary declared us as equals. Who were the boys with the bleach? What summoned them to the trees outside my window? They heard about Mara through the grapevine, I convinced myself. Somehow, they heard her voice and wanted more.

The most important question wracked my brain for hours as I slept: why was I spared?

I awoke again when a hand touched my forehead. The curtains were dark, but I could still see the white part of Mara’s eyes. The blood was gone.

“I’m so sorry,” I said.

“Shh,” she replied.

“Mara--” I said, but she shushed me again.

“Just sleep.”

*  *  *

When I awoke again, Mara was still there. “What time is it?” I asked.

“Midnight,” she said. “You slept all day.”

“Tomorrow night... let’s go on a date.”

“Where to?”

I wiggled my face into the pillow. “How about Gator Golf? Milkshakes afterwards. Dad’ll drive us.”

Mara nodded in the darkness and smiled. “I’d love to.”

*  *  *

The sun was up. My stomach was nauseous and hungry. Twenty-six hours after returning from the carnival, I finally rolled out of bed.

A pair of shorts and a fresh tee were folded and waiting for me on the nightstand. I dressed myself, pressed the swollen bags beneath my eyes, and patted down my hair.

The castle was quiet. Livy’s door was open. Her room was spotless.

“Hello?” I called, but my throat was dry and my voice cracked. I swallowed and tried again. “Mara? Livy?”

“In here, sweetie,” Mom said from the dining room. “There’s tea in the refrigerator.”

I braced myself on the piano, then stumbled through the archways to the kitchen. I cracked an ice cube tray, poured myself some tea, then stepped into the dining room.

Mom, Dad and Livy were sitting around the table. My sister stirred her ice with her index finger. Dad rolled the base of his glass on the wooden top.

“Mornin’” I said. “Where’s Mara?”

“Have a seat, hon,” said my mother.

I narrowed my eyes and asked again. “Where’s Mara?”

Mom stood. “James...” Her voice waned, but her face said it all.

I stepped backward to avoid my mother’s advance. “Dad?” I asked. “Where is she?”

Mom answered for him. “Honey... Mara’s gone.”

I shook my head. “We have a date tonight.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Greenfield picked her up this morning. They’re adopting her, James.”

“Adopting?” My mind grappled with the news. “But school starts next week.”

“Mara’s enrolled in a private school near the Greenfields,” Mom said. “She gets a brand new start, James.”

My chest heaved and I dropped the glass. It clamored on the tile but didn’t break. Tea splattered everywhere.

“Honey--” Mom stepped closer but I held out my palms and she stopped.

“How long did she know?”

Mom sighed. 

“How long!”

“She knew for... a while. She wanted to be the one to tell you.”

“Well she didn’t!” I screamed, then backed against the wall, slid to the floor, and cried.

*  *  *

I knew better than anybody what was best for Mara. Although it took days to admit it to myself, Mom was right, she was safer with the Greenfields.

Mara Lynn could never live within biking distance of Grand Harbor. Her biggest obsessors were years from the legal driving age. Forty miles was enough distance to sever all ties with the boys who lived to love her.

Why was I spared Mara’s wrath? With Mara gone, the answer was obvious: I wasn’t spared. The kiss was my punishment. The kiss had sealed our bond. I belonged to Mara Lynn and now she was gone.

Ryan Brosh was a testimony to the power of Mara’s lips; without ever hearing her sing, a silly kiss propelled him to destroy my sister, to lie to my family, and to perform Shakespearean monologues in public. Now, the desire was in me too--more potent than love, lust, or infatuation--and it could never be satisfied.

*  *  *

Life carried on in spite of my loss.

The carnival deaths made the front page of the tribune for nine straight days and appeared on CNN twice.

Dad took up marksmanship as his new hobby. Friday nights were spent at a firing range, and he even purchased an automatic skeet shooter from Mr. Greenfield’s store.

Mom was scheduled to pick up Fantasia on my first day of school. She changed the sheets in the crib, bought a new pack of onesies, and vacuumed the entire house in anticipation of the baby’s arrival. But the night before Fantasia’s return, Mr. Anderson called and explained to my mother that her foster license had been temporarily revoked. Her stability had been called into question thanks to Mara’s involvement in the carnival carnage.

A thorough investigation lasted through November. In the end, the charges were unsubstantiated and Mom’s foster license was reinstated, but she had already lost the devotion necessary for foster care. Mara Lynn was our last temporary blessing.

Junior high began without incident. My teachers knew my situation and offered me exemption from class to deal with the anxiety that comes with witnessing death. I declined their offer and attended the first day of school with Whit at my side. It was my only distraction from the sickness.

I rarely slept in those first few weeks, spending my nights editing the movie, losing myself in Mara’s fuzzy image, yearning to hear her sing just one more time.

I finished Fairytale during the second week of school and dedicated the movie to Dorothy with a handmade title card. Mom promised me we’d visit the Greenfields when Mara was ready for approved guests. I could even bring a copy of the movie to show the whole family.

I reached my goal weight of one-twenty-five in anticipation of my reunion with Mara, but excuses were made and the date was rescheduled. 

I tried to call her house, but the Greenfields were diligent in picking up the phone first. “She’s not ready, James...” they told me. “But if you have a message, I’ll be sure to deliver it for you!”

It would be Christmas before I saw her again.

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net