Waiting for the Last Dance, Chapter Three

For a list of posted chapters, please go here

Chapter Three

We had Story Time on Saturday afternoons in the library, and every nanny in the community arrived with their little rug rats. The first few minutes are always chaotic. The Miesen twins, aged six -- and old enough to know better -- inevitably create problems. I had come to dread living across the street from them, fearing the kind of trouble they'd make as they got older. Their nanny -- the fourth one in their six years of life -- didn't look as though she would last much longer, either.

Mrs. Berlin enjoyed doing the readings while Gian and I manned the posts and helped the rest of the people. She had a good voice and a way of holding the children's attention. Sometimes she got my attention, too.

Gian and I had plenty of work, which I appreciated today. I didn't want to think about anything outside the library. Despite Missy's intrusion, I felt as though the building had become a sanctuary. I felt safe here.

Gian wasn't happy. He grunted things when I asked him questions. He shoved magazines away so hard he ripped a cover, and snapped the newspapers back into shape before he pushed them into place. And he glared at me. We began re-shelving books. Gian didn't want to have anything to do with the work and rolled away whenever I tried to make small talk.

When he went back to the desk and happily spoke with Mrs. Berlin, I realized he wanted to get away from me, not the work.

The shock made me ill. I hadn't realized he was angry with me.

"Gian?" I asked as we worked at cleaning the kids' area. He glanced my way, his dark brown eyes glaring. "What did I do?"

"Missy saw you."

"Yes? She saw me what?" But I knew. At first I felt hurt, but the feeling turned to anger in the next breath. I had done nothing wrong. "She saw me drive past the Kimura house on the way back from the park. I got a nice picture of a hummingbird, by the way."

His eyes narrowed and then softened a little. He shook his head. "She told me Akio is there."

"Yes, I saw her arrive. I had stopped to pick some cherry blossoms, but when I saw her, I got the hell out of there."

"Cherry blossoms? From there?"

"Yeah, from there. I . . . I wanted to make amends with Mr. Kimura. I know that sounds stupid, Gian but I felt bad. He lost everything. He was completely alone after Nadine took off. I sure wouldn't want anyone to blame my parents if I did something stupid or cruel."

He blinked several times. The anger disappeared from his face and I felt as though I could breathe again. He stared for a moment and finally shook his head. "I couldn't. I couldn't forgive any of them."

"I don't think you should." He handed me a book from a chair and we went over to the shelves. He kept pace with me and he seemed more troubled than angry. I couldn't imagine everything going through his mind about Akio and her father. "I don't think anyone would expect you to forgive them, Gian. But I don't want to be another Missy and think of no one but myself. I don't want to be anyone but me."

"Good." I caught a glimpse of a little crook of a smile on his lips before he turned away.

I blushed. I know I did. I thought I had grown past that kind of reaction. I also felt very good. I hadn't seen his smile in a long time.

My Gian was coming back again.

We even had fun for the rest of the day. The sky clouded over once more and the rain soon began to pour, which meant we had fewer people during the late afternoon. Mrs. Berlin, the dreaded Library Dragon, went out and bought tacos and we ate them in her office. I think she wanted to help Gian past the awful mood he'd been in. I felt camaraderie with her for the first time and decided maybe I could work a little harder around the library until next fall when I went away to college.

I didn't want to think about the future, not today when things felt so right, here.

An hour before closing we began the final cleaning. We didn't have much left to do. I took about twenty minutes to vacuum, being extra careful to get everything up. Afterwards, I stood and watched the rain outside where the day had gone to a dull gray beyond the windows. I feared Missy might return tonight. I should have expected her to tell Gian about seeing me at the Kimura house. I tried very hard not to be angry at Gian for listening to her.

No one else had come in during the last half hour, so I took a chance and mopped the floor by the door, hoping I wouldn't have to redo the work. I finished and had about fifteen minutes until we truly closed. Mrs. Berlin sat in her office, entering new books into the database. I couldn't see Gian. I found a stack of audio books at the counter and decided to put them away. Busy little person, me. The work helped, and the quiet meant we would likely get out pretty much on time today. Sometimes the library is busy right up until closing.

I found Gian in the periodical section. He had a newspaper on the table in front of him and I knew what he read without looking. I'd seen the story plastered on the front page of the LA Times when I put the paper in the rack earlier. I'd been shocked at first. Sometimes I forget how important AviTen is to the rest of the world and how Seiji Kimura's suicide would draw attention. I had hoped Gian wouldn't see the headlines. Now I wondered if I'd been right to try and protect him.

He turned to me, his face bleak as he pushed back his hair. He used to have longer hair, but he cut it off after the accident. Dark strands curled a little around his face and fell into his eyes. For years I had been jealous of his hair. Mine was mostly straight and ugly. I hate when the guys have better hair than I could buy at a beauty salon.

Gian waved a hand towards the newspaper. "I decided I might as well read what they have to say. Have you?"

"No." I put the audio books on the table. My hands trembled and I didn't want him to see. The reaction came from too much emotional overload today. I glanced at the page but didn't try to read the words. "I don't want to know."

"It's interesting." His voice seemed oddly calm, though he sat too straight, his shoulders tight beneath the pullover he wore. I could see the tenseness in him though he tried to hide his emotions. "Did you know some people are saying --" he leaned forward, his finger moving across a line of print -- "'Deervale is an elitist private community, hiding their secrets behind a veil of riches and anonymity, always one step short of a scandal.'"

"Sounds a lot more interesting than the Deervale where I live," I replied, and then regretted being so flippant -- at least until he grinned.

"They talk about the accident, too." His finger moved over the paper as he searched for the information. I felt my mouth go dry and my heart pound a little harder. I was the one who didn't want to relive what had happened. "I don't remember much from then. I felt strange, reading about myself. They got my name wrong. Gino Calabria? Sounds like someone out of those gangster movies my mother loves."

He seemed ready to talk, so I plunged in. We kind of acted as though nothing had changed, despite the wheelchair. I think keeping a distance from the accident had helped both of us to pretend to normality while we recovered in our own ways.

"What do they say?" I asked, steeling myself for a dark glare and anger.

Instead, I saw a hint of pain in his eyes, which was worse. I wanted to take my question back. I didn't care about the stupid article. I started to reach for the paper --

He caught my wrist in a gentle hold. "No," he said. "Not reading doesn't help. It's long past time I started dealing with everything."

"I can read for myself," I whispered, my voice trembling. I didn't try to pull out of his hold and I was sorry when he let go. I sat in the chair by him because my legs felt wobbly.

"No, I'll read it." He pulled the newspaper closer and I watched him, while trying to gauge his emotions and attempting to control my own. I put my trembling hands on the table and tried very hard to appear calm. "I won't read the stuff about Mr. Kimura. I don't know how I feel about what happened yet. I don't like the way they made him seem a bad guy. You were right, you know. He didn't have anything to do with the accident."

I said nothing. I couldn't imagine being in Gian's place and the turmoil he must be going through. I thought I could blame Mr. Kimura for creating more trouble, but no. I would not blame the victim -- the other victim no one noticed because he wasn't in a wheelchair, too.

"Here." Gian tapped the paper in front of him. I thought his hand trembled and I regretted having encouraged him. "Nearly seventeen months ago the closed and secretive community was rocked by the attempted murder of high school student Gino Calabria. Arrested and charged with attempted vehicular homicide was 17-year-old Akio Kimura, daughter of the late Seiji Kimura. Testing showed Miss Kimura was drugged at the time, and shock over the incident sent her into what doctors and psychologists called a catatonic state. Miss Kimura was remanded to a private facility where she spent the next thirteen months and afterwards went to a private school out of the country." He glanced at me and this time frowned. "Did you know she was out?"

"Yes. She sent me a note from England," I said, and hastily added, "I never read the letter, though. I saw the name and the postmark is all."

"Why do I make you nervous?" I was too used to looking down at him, and I found staring straight into his dark brown eyes disconcerting. Then I felt better, realizing this made us equals once more. "I never used to make you nervous."

"You don't," I answered, which wasn't entirely true. "I wish none of this had happened."

"Well, you and me both." He surprised me with an unexpected laugh. "Let's finish here. I want to get home to dinner. Mama made lasagna today. Want to come over and have some with me?"

"I'd love to." My stomach began to growl at the thought of dinner at his house. His mother was the best chef I'd ever known, and I had missed the wonderful, home cooked Italian food more than I liked to think about. I'd probably lost some weight, though, since I stopped going over. I couldn't figure out how his mother stayed so thin, except she had a lot of work with all those kids.

My stomach growled again.

Gian heard the sound and laughed. It felt wonderful, seeing him happy, even at my expense, so I laughed as well. We finished the work, putting some last books away and cleaning the counter. I prayed no one came in to slow us from leaving, or worse, to bring some news which would ruin the night. I dreaded the possibility with a kind of dull, growing pain every time a car seemed to slow going past.

Mrs. Berlin turned off most of the lights and prepared to lock up as we left. I barely remembered to call home and say I was going to eat with the Calabrias so mom didn't make anything special for me. She sounded pleased, which made me blush yet again and I didn't even know why this time.

Gian didn't bother to call his parents about me coming over. There's always been an open invitation to eat at their house, but I hadn't been there . . . in a long time. I was glad we'd reached some sort of understanding. Then I was more honest with myself and admitted I had found the courage to accept Gian the way he is and not hold on to the memory of the boy who had danced --

I shoved the thought away. I didn't want him to see regrets in my eyes. Not tonight.

"I don't think the rain is ever going to stop," Gian complained as we hovered near the door, waiting for his father to arrive. "I hate being stuck inside all the time, but going out in the wheelchair is uncomfortable. I might be more on my feet in a few months."

"Great!" I worried because I didn’t want him to think I would be unhappy if he wasn't on his feet, but I wanted him to know I cared -- my stomach began to knot at the thought of trying to balance my words.

He glanced at me and frowned again. I began parsing my way through a major speech but his father's arrival saved me from any further distress.

I walked in the rain with Gian as we went down the ramp. A cold breeze blew past as we reached the sidewalk and I shivered at the feel of icy water running down my neck.

"Hello, Mr. Calabria."

"Good evening, Marisha," he answered. He was always so proper, and his accented English very precise. Gian could speak Italian like a native, but he'd lived most of his life in Deervale, and he didn't have an accent unless he wanted one.

"Mar is coming over for lasagna," Gian said as he pulled himself into the car seat.

I saw his father freeze in mid-movement before he gave me the most dazzling smile I'd ever seen from the man. "Good. I'll see you at the house, then?"

"I'll be there in a few minutes. I'm going to take my car home and walk over."

"In the rain?" Mr. Calabria shook his head. "No, no. Take your car home and we'll follow and you can ride with us."

"I only live next door!" I protested with a laugh.

"There is a football field of land between us," he answered and sounded adamant. "We'll wait. No sense you getting wet."

I saw Gian look surprised and pleased. Well hell. I didn't care for walking in the rain much anyway.

"Okay. Thanks! I'll get my car!"

I darted around the side of the building, slowing when I almost slipped. No, no. I had to be adult about this. And not giggle. I wanted to giggle.

I hurried into the lot, past Mrs. Berlin's car and over to mine. One more sat in a nearby spot, and I turned with a start when the door popped open.

Missy stepped out into the rain. Not exactly who I wanted to see, of course, but I'd been watching too many police shows lately, and the door opening had scared the hell out of me. I was so relieved to see Missy that I stood right there while she came at me, her face lost behind the shadow of her wide brimmed hat. She wore those stupid heels and appeared wobbly and half drunk. Maybe more than half. She caught hold of the car when she neared, and for a moment I thought she might pass out before she even spoke.

Not tonight! I was not going to let Missy ruin this evening for me!

"I saw you with Akio," she mumbled the words hardly discernible.

"No, you didn't," I answered. She stopped and I could see her frown, confused. She swayed a little when she let go of the car: drugged, drunk and stupid. And I was stuck with her for the moment. She annoyed the hell out of me this time. "All you saw was me in a car outside the Kimura's house. I never spoke with Akio and, in fact, I never got out of the car."

"Odd you were there when she arrived, don't you think?" she demanded, her words precise. The accent had disappeared. She obviously couldn't manage real words and a fake accent at the same time when she was drunk.

"I don't know. What were you doing there when she showed up?"

She stopped all movement and her breath caught. Apparently she didn't like being accused of the same thing she was accusing me of -- whatever that might be.

"I don't have time for this, Missy. And shouldn't you get out of the rain before you melt or something?"

Her lips drew back in a little snarl. I wasn't sure if she caught the allusion or not. "Gian knows about you and Akio." She leaned closer. I could smell the liquor on her breath this time. "I told him."

"Yes, I know. He told me. We might talk about it more tonight. I'm going to his house for dinner."

"You're lying." Her voice went icy and her eyes focused fully on me this time. Not pleasant. I didn't want that kind of attention. "I told him about you and Akio and he was mad at you. He was --"

The Calabria van backed up and pulled into the lot. They must have thought I was having car problems. Missy stared, shaking her head when Gian stuck his head out the car window.

"Is there a reason you two are standing out here in the rain? Come on, Mar! I want to get home to dinner, and if we don't hurry there won't be any garlic bread left!"

Missy looked as though her brain was trying desperately to figure out what Gian meant. I got into the car and closed the door, though I wasn't going to move until she got out of the way. I started the car and she swayed a little and caught hold of the roof.

I rolled down the window, shaking my head with absolute disgust. I didn't want Missy to ruin my night and I feared Gian and his father would drive away and abandon me with her. I knew we couldn't leave her here, too drunk to drive home safely. I wasn't going to risk Missy getting into an accident and having her stupidity on my conscience.

Mr. Calabria climbed out of the van and walked around the front, ignoring the rain. I had never seen such distaste on his face. He was not a happy man, and I felt bad he had to come out of the car and save me from a drunken teen. I should have shoved her to the ground and driven away. He stopped by Missy and frowned at her before he turned to smile at me.

"Marisha, would you drive the van home and allow me to take your car?"

"Yeah, sure." I probably appeared as confused as Missy. I got back out and handed him the keys. He smiled, though far less brightly than he had when he found out I was coming to dinner. "There's no reason for the two of you to be any later for your food. I have already eaten. Tell Betta I'll be there soon."

"Okay," I said, and took his keys.

Awful trusting, I thought, to not only give me his van, but put his son into my care as well. Gian rolled his window up as I got in, and wiped rain off his face with the edge of his shirt sleeve.

"Let's go," Gian urged. "Dad used the cell phone to call the cops, and I don't want to be here when Missy throws one of her fits. There was no way she should be out in this condition, though. We couldn't leave her, but I don't think you and I want to be here when the police arrive."

"True." I eased the car forward. I had driven my father's SUV a few times, so I knew the feel of larger vehicles. "She's not the only one going to have a fit. Her mother is going to be calling your house at all hours."

"Won't be the first time," he said, and leaned back.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Missy showed up drunk when the hospital transferred me to the clinic here. In fact, she showed up twice. Old Man Avi had a talk with her parents. I wouldn't want to be them, or Missy, when he hears about this one. And he will."

I nodded and kept my foot from pressing harder on the gas pedal, as though I could outrun the backlash from this new problem. A police car went past us as we turned the first corner -- barely away in time. I glanced back to see the police turning into the library parking lot. I hated to worry Mrs. Berlin, but they'd let her know there was no real trouble.

"I wonder why Missy acts this way," I said.

"Because as long as she's drunk and stoned out of her mind, she doesn't have to face the fact she's an annoying little bitch without a real friend in the world."

I braked at the stop sign, glanced at him once, and drove on, saying nothing.

"I sounded awful, didn't I?" He shifted in the chair, but I didn't think the reaction came from physical pain. "I shouldn't be this way, but for the last year she's been trying to worm her way into my world, and I don't want her there. Hell, the first thing she did when I got out of the hospital was offer to get me some coke so I could forget about all my horrible problems."

"You're joking." I had suspected about her and drugs, but he provided proof of the kinds of things she'd gotten into. "Why the hell would she do that?"

He silently stared at his hands but I figured things out quickly enough.

"She's got a crush on you."

He gave a quick, sullen nod. "Yeah. And it's pretty sick, too. She wasn't interested at all until I was in the wheelchair." I saw him swallow and I felt a little ill at the thought, too. "She gives me the creeps, Mar. I have to be careful not to be alone anywhere in school or she finds me."

"Have you told anyone else?"

"No. I don't want to make a big deal out of this. I mean especially now, when there's only a week of school left. I trust you."

My heart beat a little harder. I felt my cheeks flush and wished to hell they would stop! At least he couldn't see clearly in the dark car. "I don't know if I can help you with her. I can't talk to her, Gian. She doesn't care for me."

"I noticed. I thought you ought to know she's been acting stranger than usual the last couple days. Finding out you're coming to dinner at my house might make her angry, if she can find enough brain cells to create a real emotion."

"She seems to do anger just fine." I shrugged and turned on to Doe Drive, heading closer to home. Another car passed us, but otherwise, no one seemed to be out tonight. Time to change the subject. "Is your brother still in Italy?"

"Yes, but he's going to come home for my graduation," Gian replied. His voice softened. "I haven't seen him in a long time."

I heard the whisper of unspoken words. He hadn't seen Pio since the accident. I remembered how Pio who was eight years older than Gian and used to race him around the yard. He taught us both to roller skate. He'd never learned to speak English as well as his father and he jumped at the chance to go to college in Italy. I'd missed him, and I imagined he could have helped Gian if he had been around.

Gian stared at his hands. We were getting close to home.

"You'll be fine, Gian. It's not like you aren't still you," I said, hoping I wasn't overstepping our newly reformed bond.

We reached Badger Boulevard. I slowed. Having the time alone together seemed to be helping both of us. He stopped examining his fingers.

"I've changed, Mar." His face looked bleak, his eyes almost lost. His hands moved to his legs and rested there. "I'm not the same."

"Bullshit."

He began to get mad but suddenly grinned instead. "You have such a way with words."

"I use precise words. That's what Mr. Tarkin says about my writing, anyway."

"No one wanted to be around me much for a while. I thought I must have changed."

"Damn, Gian." I stopped at the corner, half a block from his house, and turned to face him. I'd been an idiot and he'd suffered for it. "I'm sorry. I really am. I was so afraid I would do something stupid, say something without thinking -- hurt you --"

"Hey." His hand touched my arm. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's all right. I made a mistake, Gian. I was too worried about how I felt. I'm past that stupidity now."

"Good. Let's get to the house. I'm starved."

I drove the rest of the way and slowed at the driveway, but didn't turn in. "Maybe we should wait at my house and give your father a ride home, since he was going to give me one."

"He won't melt."

"Neither would I."

"Come on, Mar. I'll starve!"

I relented and pulled into the driveway before I considered a new problem. "How do we get you out of here?"

"You bring the chair around and make sure the brakes are on. I get myself into it. Don't worry."

I was drenched from my encounter with Missy and I didn't care. Something had lifted from my heart in the last few hours. I hadn't even known I'd been carrying so much guilt for something I had nothing to do with. Right now, cliché as it was, I could have been dancing in the rain.

We had no trouble getting him into the chair, though we both got drenched, and Mr. Calabria drove by as I pushed Gian toward the door. He honked and we waved. I saw him pull into the driveway and go up to my house. I wondered what he was going to tell my parents.

Gian's mother was at the door with towels for both of us. She fussed a bit, chattering in Italian, and Gian gave her a few quick answers in the same language. I heard Missy's name and saw his mother frown. She patted me on the arm, smiled, and ushered us into the dining room.

I felt wonderful. Accepted.

The food tasted as heavenly as I remembered and I ate way too much. My mother tends to fix good, solid American food. Not a lot of spices, though, and I love spicy food. I tried really hard not to make a pig of myself.

Mr. Calabria came in, coffee cup in hand. He sat at the table with us, which surprised me. I felt as though Gian and I had gone from kids to adults.

"They took Missy home," he said. "She's lucky they did not do worse. The language she used!"

"I can imagine." I forced myself not to stuff more lasagna into my mouth. I even pushed the plate away. "She wasn't happy tonight."

"Such a shame to see a young woman with a bright future take the wrong road," he replied and turned to me. "You are ready for graduation?"

"Ready?" I asked. "Is anyone ever really ready?"

"I would guess not." He nodded, as though I had said something profound.

I caught a glimpse of Marie Lisa and Umberto, the two youngest, hovering by the dining room doorway and watching us. I felt like an alien invited to dinner. So I made a face at them and they ran screeching and laughing.

"Little rug rats," Gian mumbled and looked embarrassed. I probably shouldn't have teased the kids.

"Gian has no patience for the younger ones," his mother said. She sat at the table as well. It was unprecedented.

After I got over the shock, we had a nice long discussion about the weather and school. I had forgotten life could be this good.

 

Waiting for the Last Dance, Chapter Two

 

For a list of posted chapters, please go here

Chapter Two

"You up, Marisha?" Mom shouted from the bottom of the stairwell, which amplifies her voice and I swear makes her sound like a harpy. "Time to get up, Marisha!"

"Yeah. Right. Whatever." I pulled the pillow over my head and tried to find the perfect warm spot in my bed.

I have always hated mornings. I hate the mere thought of dawn's rosy fingers and the few times I've been awake to hear the sweet bird's morning cries of delight, I've thought about buying a bb gun.

The light is too bright. It hurts.

"Marisha!"

"I'm up!" I yelled, and threw myself out of bed with a whispered curse. My parents don't allow cursing in the house. They don't let me sleep past dawn, either. I thought they ought to allow at least one or the other.

Once I was out of the bed, my brain began to work. A glance out the window showed a bright day and no rain, which was a real plus in my book. Saturday, so I didn't have to go to school. I wouldn’t work at the library until later. All in all, not a bad combination until I remembered Missy's arrival at the library last night

I had slept in my 'teddy bears need love, too' t-shirt and I grimaced at cutesy smile and the butterfly on his nose. I had been in a really piss-poor mood to have pulled out this one. I hate cutesy stuff.

"Marisha --"

"I'm up!" I purposely made a lot of noise stomping across the room and out into the hall. She stopped yelling.

I took my time in the shower and got dressed before I had the nerve to meet my reflection in the mirror. I never found the moment of truth any easier. I finally looked into the perfect glass to see the imperfect image reflected there.

Yup, still me. Ugly little pug nose, teeth sticking out a bit too far, thin lips, eyes not quite the same color blue, but at least they seemed nice eyes. Breasts were too small, shoulders too wide. I could stand to lose some weight, too. I had washed my hair and spikes of brown and blue stood out at odd angles around my head. I needed to change the color. Fuchsia and tangerine for graduation?

I ran through the list of things I disliked about myself every morning; a litany I felt oddly comfortable with these days. Although those odds and ends didn't seem to fit right, they made me. Nothing ever changed much, except sometimes the spikes in my hair were a different color. My parents called it eccentricity and laughed. They'd have grounded my older sister for years if she'd done something this odd to her hair.

Ellen was right when she complained that I was spoiled, but she didn't understand all the reasons for the changes. Ellen was the oldest. They'd been stricter with her because they feared doing something wrong, having had no practice in child-rearing until she came along. I could see the changes: Strict with Ellen, less strict with Michael, easy going with me.

Besides, I wasn't stupid. I stayed out of trouble and made certain I got good grades in school, the only things they really asked of me. I had watched many of the other Deervale teens purposely do things to annoy their parents. I'd have lost more than the right to have odd-colored hair if I acted as stupid as Missy and some of the others.

But their parents never seemed to notice. I'd envied them for a while when I was younger. Now I felt sorry for them instead.

I enjoyed having a little freedom in my clothing, hair and such. Despite the things I disliked about my appearance, I didn't want to be anyone else.

I brushed the spikes out of my hair. My hands felt sore from the fists I had made last night. I found fingernail marks in my palms. I didn’t think I'd ever been as upset as I had been at Missy.

The anger started to return, but I vowed to remain calmer today, though that wouldn't be easy. My parents had been shell-shocked last night. Mr. Kimura had killed himself in his own office, and since my father worked in the same building -- as did almost everyone else in Deervale -- the death had hit him very hard. I don't know how much time he had spent with Mr. Kimura in the last year. He didn't talk about work much.

I wanted to feel comfortable this morning, so I dug out a ragged t-shirt and some old jeans I usually wear when we worked in the yard. They'd do until I had to get ready for the library. I didn't think I could prepare myself mentally to face my parents, though. The pain and worry had dulled a little overnight, but I knew the calm was a temporary condition.

I lingered at the bedroom window, staring out at the house next door, trying to build a layer of tranquility over my jangled nerves. The view wasn't helping.

Homes in Deervale are large, with huge lots and more space than any of us need. Ours is the last house on this block, with a little garden cul-de-sac at the end of the street. The Miesen house sits alone on the other side. Outside my window I could see the Calabria home, almost half a block away. Their place is a little larger, but then they needed the space with seven kids when they first arrived. Five still lived at home. Gian's two older brothers had moved away, one in New York and the other to Milan, Italy. Gian was the oldest now.

Already this morning, two of his younger brothers had come out to play baseball in the area between the two houses. The grass was wet, and Marco kept slipping. David couldn't throw a ball straight to save his life.

I tried to smile, but watching them reminded me too much of being out there with Gian, tossing balls back and forth on warm summer mornings. Those summer days had been wondrous, lazy and magical. I think I even realized so at the time. I never wanted them to end.

We all grew up. We faced the real world and I wanted the bad things to go away. I could stay here in my room until after the funeral. I could hide, and pull the shades, turn on the stereo and disappear from the world.

"Marisha! Breakfast!"

Or maybe not.

I pulled on my sneakers and headed downstairs, letting the scent of breakfast fill my thoughts. One step at a time and get past this day and the next, and the next. . . .

How long would this go on? How long would I feel as though someone had kicked me in the gut; the same feeling I'd had the day of Gian's accident. I had thought we were past the worst.

I paused on the stairs, took a deep breath, and went on.

My father sat at the table across from me. He seemed troubled, his eyes narrowed and a frown at the corner of his lips. Even on a Saturday morning, he dressed as though GQ might stop by for a photo shoot. Today he wore grays and I thought the colors probably reflected his mood. My mother had dressed in a casual pullover and slacks, but even so I looked like a beggar they'd invited to breakfast.

Neither of them said anything about my clothing, though. Toast and coffee sat on the table already. I helped mom with the omelets and pulled the marmalade out of the fridge. Everyone kept too quiet, which didn't help.

"Anything else today?" I asked to get the worst out of the way.

"The AviTen head lawyer should return soon, but there's rough weather in the Aegean Sea where he's sailing, and he's been delayed," Dad said. He looked at his food and then back at me. "The police have the office sealed off, and Mr. Avison says we can't have any of Kimura's papers until the lawyer gets here."

"How's --" I stopped myself from saying Old Man Avi "-- How's Mr. Avison taking all of this?"

"Not very well. He's never had a top exec kill himself before and certainly not at the office." Dad held a piece of toast in his hand, but didn't take a bite. "Seiji wasn't a bad guy, you know. I realize, with everything else --"

"What happened wasn't his fault." I meant those words, which made me feel worse since I hadn't considered the implications until now. This had been hard on him, too. His daughter went to a mental ward and his pretty actress wife took off, leaving him alone in his huge house.

"Eat your breakfast before it gets cold, Marisha," Mom said. She patted my hand, and reminded me, perversely, of Mrs. Berlin.

We ate the rest of the meal without talking about the Kimuras or the accident . . . but I could hear the Calabria boys playing outside, and their yells and laughter seemed a counterpoint to every pounding heartbeat and every regret I felt.

I couldn't stay around the house. My father kept getting calls and some distressed both him and my mother. They spoke in quiet whispers. I could still hear the sounds of the boys playing next door. Everything wove into a maddening orchestra, where every ring of the phone set my heart pounding harder and every shout next door nearly brought tears to my eyes.

I needed to get away, so I decided to take my camera and head to the park at the edge of the hills. Mom appeared relieved to have me out of the house. I think she and dad wanted to talk about things they knew would upset me. I told myself I was adult enough to handle those things, but I would leave for their sakes, so I didn't add to their worries.

Yeah. I didn't believe it either.

I grabbed my camera bag and tripod from upstairs, snared some rechargeable batteries from where mom always keeps them on standby for all the various electronics, and headed out into a bright morning. Only a sprinkling of white clouds moved against the blue sky. My car felt like a haven and armor against the world. I drove away without watching the boys playing in the yard.

Deervale is an odd place to live. The entire area is a new development, which isn't unusual in Southern California. What is unusual is to find an entire community peopled almost exclusively by employees of one company.

A little over twenty years ago, Old Man Avi had this huge multi-billion dollar company, AviTen, trading all over the world. High impact stuff: stocks, bonds, securities, gold, jewels, and even some techie things. The man has a golden touch and he knew how to pick people to help run the business. He had offices in a dozen different countries, and he decided he wanted to have one main office for his top people. He put the decision to a vote, and eventually the majority chose the site in Southern California. I don't know why. I would have gone for somewhere exotic like maybe London or Paris or something. Since most of them were from Europe and Asia, I guess Southern California was exotic to most of them.

Anyway, he built a huge, modern office on the edge of the hills. The building rises in glass-fronted tiers, taking advantage of the landscape rather than destroying the natural setting. So do the houses, which sit close to the street, but often have hills and glades behind them, rather than the usual yards. We all have huge houses , most with pools closed in, and linked by twisting, tree-lined roads. Though a small community, we also have our own parks, schools -- and library.

Not many people on the outside know about Deervale. There's no freeway close enough to have an exit, and we're between the Valley and the ocean, tucked away in the hills. It's hard to come in on the road unnoticed. Reporters sometimes hike in from other ways to get into the residential area, but they're always spotted and escorted out.

I know some of the kids here do the 'oh so rich and bored' routine, but I remember living in New York City. I had a little courtyard to play in and my mother worried about me even there because, at eight, I had a fear of nothing and curiosity about everything.

My father had headed the East Coast branch since before I was born, and Mr. Avison later promoted him to North American Rep when the last guy retired. We came here when I was nine. My older sister and brother hated this place and the loss of the life they'd known. My sister went to Vassar for college, just to be on the East Coast. My brother joined the Marines to get away. But I always liked being here. I love the freedom and openness. I wouldn't consider anywhere else as home.

Except someone got really silly about naming the streets. I live on Badger Boulevard. There's also Raccoon Road, Doe Drive, Panther Place and a few more, before someone caught the guy and slapped him silly. He changed to flowers afterward, which is only marginally better.

I headed for Rose Garden Park, thinking of the buds after the rain. I didn't intentionally drive past the Kimura house. Maybe my subconscious chose the way, but I hadn't realized until I saw the familiar driveway and the cherry trees in bloom.

Akio loved those trees. So did her father, who bought special varieties, including those that bloomed later than others so that he could savor them for longer. I thought about Mr. Kimura coming home to this big empty house every day . . . and maybe deciding he couldn't face going there one more time, alone, on the last day. He'd killed himself at the office, not here.

So much lost.

I started bawling. Straight out crying, tears running down my face and sniffing back the snot. I hadn't cried when I heard about Gian. I'd felt rage, anger and betrayal, but today I felt sadness for the loss for things I'd never have again. I felt remorse because I'd never thought to talk to Mr. Kimura. If I'd visited with him, would he have felt better, knowing he had a friend? I knew his death wasn't my fault, but I didn't want him to be dead. Nothing could ever be what it had been since he died. I couldn't pretend any more.

I wanted to pull over and cry but not here!

I drove on to the park, no more than a couple blocks away. There I sat in the car and cried harder than I had the day my brother Michael left, afraid he would go to war and be in danger. Afraid he'd never come back home.

"It's not fair!"

I hit the steering wheel. The horn blasted, winning a yelp from me. I cursed. Fluently, and in language I don't usually use, which I think helped, though I wished I had skipped breakfast. I felt shaky and ill, and I didn't want to be here alone, though I didn't want to be with anyone either. Perverse. Annoyed. Angry.

Hurt.

How could Akio do this to me? She knew how I felt about Gian.

Bad things weren't supposed to happen in Deervale. This was paradise. Sure, we had our scandals. Mrs. Martin OD'd when I was thirteen and died the next morning. Last year, I heard a jealous husband killed Mr. Abraz while he vacationed in Europe, though officially he died in a car accident.

"It's not fair," I whispered again, and didn't pound on the steering wheel this time.

Community Security drove by in one of their pretty blue cars. I knew the routine. They'd return in five minutes and if they found me in the car they'd come over to see if everything was all right. The last thing I wanted was for any of them to find me crying my eyes out and blubbering over the unfairness of life.

I climbed out of the car, jerked my camera bag and tripod out and slammed the door shut, silencing the nearby birds for a moment. By the time I reached the arbor entry to the neatly trimmed rose garden, I was determined to enjoy the walk despite it being morning, for God's sake. Everything remained wet from the night before. My stomach felt as if I'd eaten rocks for breakfast. My eyes hurt and I was still in a damn bad mood.

I saw no one else in the park as I stomped along the path, loud enough to startle the birds. I swatted at bugs and glared at one lone butterfly. Then I reached the fountain and the roses.

And hell, everything looked beautiful! Drops of water glittered on pastel rose petals, reminding me more of a painting than real life. I grabbed my camera, forgetting my bad mood, and shoved the batteries into place as quickly as I could. The light would shift at any moment and I'd lose this perfect opportunity. Everything would change in the next few minutes. Where was the polarizer?

The butterfly flew past, settling on the flowers. A lone hummingbird fluttered by and I spent nearly an hour trying photograph him. I realized the emotional overload I felt had eased. I could breathe without feeling half ill. I could think about going to work this afternoon, where Gian would be working too. I'd volunteered at the library a full month before he did.

Sometimes I thought, maybe . . . .

I never let the thought go very far. Gian and I remained friends, like we'd been most of our lives. Even if I had been ready for something more, now wasn't the time to trouble him. I kept my feelings to myself.

As I pulled out of the park, I decided to go past the Kimura house, though not because there wasn't another way. I didn't want to fear facing the house, let alone all the rest. I promised myself not to cry this time. There was nothing I could do to change what had happened. I had to accept the truth.

I pulled over and stared at the house. I thought about picking a cherry blossom or two and putting them away: a keepsake, to try and recall the better times. I was ready, too late, to forgive Mr. Kimura for something he'd had nothing to do with. I wanted, really, to let go of my own guilt.

I started to get out when a cab suddenly appeared at the corner and slowed, turning into the driveway. My heart began to pound too hard and I froze there, the door a hand's breadth open.

Akio got out of the cab. She stood with her head a bowed, a very small young woman with waist length black hair in a single braid, and wearing a black dress and sunglasses.

God, she hadn't changed at all. I stared, unable to breathe. She was, I realized, staring at me as well while the driver got out and pulled her suitcase from the trunk.

My mouth went dry and the palms of my hands grew damp. They slipped as I jerked the car door closed. I pushed my foot down on the gas pedal and barely avoided hitting the curb as I sped away.

And then I saw Missy Murphy sitting on the hood of her car, a half block away. She'd obviously been watching for Akio, probably to have more dirt to spread around town.

She'd seen me and my reaction. I hated her for it.

I drove home and went to my room and sat on my bed, waiting for time to pass, for things to get better.

I could hear the Calabrias outside, and soon I'd be at work with Gian. This wouldn't go away.

Waiting for the Last Dance, Chapter One

Marisha Fortier is only days from high school graduation. Living in the exclusive community of Deervale, she is surrounded by security and riches. Deervale, however, isn't without trouble. Over a year ago, a drug-related auto accident left Gian, the boy next door, in a wheelchair. And now Akio, the person who was driving that car, has returned to Deervale for her father's funeral.

Gian is recovering, and Akio has spent months in hospitals as well -- but can Marisha deal with the return of her former best friend? Can she bring herself to believe that Akio is not a monster? As Marisha tries to reconcile her conflicting emotions, she finds herself drawn closer to Gian, and inexplicably becomes the target of someone's wrath as she begins to question what happened on the night of that accident.

(I will be posting chapters as I get them finished and ready for publication. I hope to post at least a couple a week and maybe more. Come back often or follow my Twitter account: LazetteG.)

Chapter One

Someone leapt from a car at the curb and rushed up the steps to the library door to get out of the rain. I barely restrained an urge to curse aloud recognizing Missy by both her unnaturally blonde hair and the fact she left her car in a no parking zone. Rules did not apply to Missy. 
 
She wouldn't have come out in a storm like this for anything good. Missy Murphy was a harbinger of bad things. She gloried in it.

When she almost slipped on the top step, I did my best not to smirk. Those spike heels weren't made for this kind of weather, but Missy would never sacrifice style for appropriateness. I glanced at my baggy shirt, warm sweater and blue jeans. I'm no poster child for good style, but at least I won't fall on my ass rather than forgo wearing $300 spike heels in the rain.

"Missy is coming in," I warned, glancing over my shoulder to where Gian sat, his wheelchair pulled close to the desk as he sorted books to be re-shelved.

He frowned and pushed aside his hair, craning his neck so he could see around the counter. He didn't appear any happier than I was about the arrival.
Missy pulled the door open, cursing. The few people still here turned to stare at the overly-dramatic entrance, but it didn't surprise Gian or me. Missy always made certain she was the center of attention. 
 
She didn't come to the library for a friendly chit-chat. Missy didn't have any real friends since she delighted in being snide to everyone. She hadn't changed since grade school: drama queen, gossip and fashionista. She'd have been very lonely, except people swore her parties were The Best and she gave at least one a month. I never went to them. I wouldn't have even if she had invited me.
 
Missy glanced around. I doubt she'd ever been inside the building. She spotted Gian and gave a quick nod of relief, shaking water off her arms, splattering books, the newspaper rack and other people. Someone protested, but Missy didn't seem to hear as she stomped across the marble-tiled floor. The loud tap of her heels made a rude counterpoint to her dripping water. I was already unhappy long before she reached us.

When I saw her malicious smile, and how her eyes seemed almost fever bright, I knew I was right about the bad news. Missy was never happy unless she had some dirt to tell. I wondered what she thought would interest either Gian or me.

I didn't expect her to have something for both of us.

"Damn rain," she said, too loudly. She had a South Carolina drawl, faked since she hadn't been anywhere near Raleigh since she turned five. She thought the accent sounded sexy or something. It suited her and her fake nose and boob job. "Going to sue the library. Wrenched my ankle. If I can't walk at graduation --"

"You'd lose the case," Gian interrupted before she began her tirade. Missy scowled, her mouth still open, but I suspected she'd lost track of what she'd been saying a moment before. I had always suspected there was no connect between her mouth and her brain. "No one wears spike heels in the rain," Gian finished and frowned.

"I do," she replied, as though nothing else could matter. Her answer didn't surprise me. After all, the universe revolved around Missy.

I glanced at the clock. Time slipped away while Missy stood there, dripping water everywhere, her hand on the counter. I thought I could smell something a little stronger than beer on her breath and wasn't surprised, either.

"Do you want something, Missy?" I asked, leaning forward. She pulled away in haste, as though she expected me to attack. I'd already had more than enough of her theatrics. "Gian and I have some work to finish here."

"Oh, that's right. You volunteer here, don't you?"

"As you well know, since you came here to find us," I replied and this time didn't hide my smirk. Honestly, how stupid did she think we were?

Her face reddened beneath limp, blonde hair, and her eyes narrowed in anger -- green today, but they were apt to change color, depending on what contacts she grabbed. She stood more than a head taller than me, most of it from the heels. Until the tenth grade she had out-bulked me as well, but she'd turned almost wraith thin over the last couple years. I didn't worry as much about getting into a punching match with her as I had when we were in the fifth grade and she could knock me down and sit on me.

We'd never been friends. We never would be, which made me happy.

I saw Mrs. Berlin watching, and I knew she wasn't going to stand by and let us gab for very long. She'd laid out the rules the first day and the big one was no socializing at the library. She told us to take the job seriously, even if we were unpaid volunteers. And I did. I liked working here, and no one complained that I dressed a bit more punk than they were used to.

"You came to tell us something, Missy?" Gian asked, sounding out of sorts.

I saw that look come over her. This wasn't going to be good. My skin began to prickle and my mouth went a little dry before she spoke.

"I just heard from my father. Seiji Kimura blew his brains out this afternoon at work," she said.

And then she grinned.

"Damn," I whispered, grateful I had been leaning against the counter after all. The news shocked me. I felt ill. This kind of thing didn't happen in Deervale.

"You know what this means, don't you?" Missy asked. Her voice grew louder, and her right hand waved as though she had no control over the movement. Was I the only one who suspected she had gotten heavy into drugs the last couple years? The woman was out of control. Her eyes brightened as she stared at Gian as though only his reaction mattered. "You know who's going to show up for the funeral, right? That little bitch, Akio Kimura is going to be here! Bet you can't wait to see her, right, Gian?"

My breath caught and my own arm started to move. I wanted to slap her. I wanted to grab her by the arm and throw her out the door and hope she broke her stupid, petty neck on the steps. Of all the damn, cruel, thoughtless things to say --

I turned away from her to get control of my rage and found myself watching Gian instead. He had paled, and I could see the little scar on his right cheek, a souvenir from the last time he and Akio had met -- along with the wheelchair he now sat in.

He looked at Missy as though she were some kind of alien creature who spoke a language he didn't understand. I don't think she noticed. I would have died if I'd had gotten such a stare from him.

My reaction, and Gian's, fueled her enjoyment. She smiled brighter. "I can't believe they let her out of the treatment center. She runs you over and she gets to laze around in a hospital for a year or so, and then she's cured? Justice, huh?"

"Missy." I hoped my voice remained calm. I had shoved my hands into my sweater pockets to make certain I didn't swing at her. My fingers formed fists, the nails digging into my palms, but I still forced myself to speak calmly. "You know, this isn't the place for this kind of discussion."

"What do you care? Or are you upset because we're talking trash about your good friend Akio?"

"You couldn't say anything I haven't already thought." I met her vulture stare and forced a fake smile, but I doubted she would know the difference, especially since Missy kept staring at Gian. Her face had flushed almost a dark red with excitement, her eyes grew wider. This was dirt heaven for her.

"Time for you to go, Missy. You wouldn't want people to see you spend too much time here," Gian leaned back in his chair and appeared deceptively relaxed. "People might think you're working on your term paper rather than buying one."

Oh hell. . . .

I thought I would have to throw myself on her to save him. I almost pushed away from the counter, but Missy didn't take his snipe badly. Instead, she gave a little snicker of a laugh and another wave of her hand. "True. Besides, there are places I've got to be. See ya'll Monday in school. Be good."

She spun and sauntered away, her heels sounding like one of those tin drums that kids get at Christmas, and the tune tapped out by someone with no sense of rhythm. She headed straight across the room to the door, forcing a woman with her child to sidestep before she shoved them away. I started to protest, but feared stopping her exit. I wanted her away, and in a moment, she threw open the door and headed out into the pouring rain. 
 
I stared, hoping she'd fall and break her neck. I hated the rage that overwhelmed me. I wanted revenge and justice -- and Missy Murphy would make a perfect enemy. If I had been any closer, I might have shoved her myself. I took the coward's way out and asked God to trip her for me.

She reached the little Jaguar she'd left in the no-parking zone. I could hear the wheels spin on the wet pavement as she hit the gas and hurried away to spread the good word.

I stood by the counter, trying not to gasp as the rage swam through me, threatening to come out in a scream or a curse -- or worse yet, to make me weep like a little girl. I would not cry, not here, in front of Gian, the one who had suffered in this tragedy. I stared out into the rain, trying to count the splatters as the drops hit the steps, like I had done as a child. I wanted anything to help me to stop thinking about Missy, and all she had told us.

Silence filled the library, and I could hear nothing more than a page turned and Gian breathing behind me. I wanted to be somewhere else. I had buried the nightmare. How dare she --

"We better get these books shelved," Gian said. I turned, trying to find the right words to say, as he propelled himself away from the desk.

I watched him head into the maze of book shelves. My breath still came very short, and I hadn't dared push away from the counter because I felt so weak. Mrs. Berlin left her desk and came towards me, a wad of paper towels in one hand. Great. Bad enough to put up with Missy's bullshit, but now I would have to clean up after her as well.

"You handled her very well, Marisha." Mrs. Berlin wiped the table where Missy had left a hand-sized puddle while she told us the news. "Thank you. You'd better go help Gian."

I felt my first true warmth for the woman I had been working with for the last three months. She patted my shoulder the way my mother sometimes did, and nodded towards the place where Gian had disappeared. I thought I saw worry in her face and liked her even better.

I went as far as the first rows of shelves and stepped out of sight. I stood there, gasping as I breathed in the scent of books, ink and dust. My hands remained in my pockets, my fingers still in fists. I tried to push all the dark stuff away -- both Missy's announcement and the memory of what had happened on a late fall night over a year ago.

The reports the police had released stated that Akio, drugged out of her mind, had been driving her father's car home from a Hollywood Hills party. A witness, who was underage and unnamed in anything we got to see, said Akio had purposely turned the car towards Gian and hit the gas and run him over. On purpose. There was no doubt.

I hadn't heard about the accident until the next morning when I came down for breakfast. The same feeling of disconnect came over me now; the cold ice from the pit of my stomach to the top of my head. My arms began to tremble. Not Gian, I thought. No one would hurt Gian. Not on purpose.

Not Gian, whom I had been in love with since at least fifth grade, but who didn't know me as anyone but the girl who lived next door. I was the girl he played baseball with in the summer and who had gone camping with his family when I was twelve.

They hadn't told me for another day about Akio driving the car. I had felt another, different cold shock. Akio had been my best friend. I hadn't wanted to believe she would do such a thing.

The memory still hurt. God, it hurt, there in the depth of my soul, as the feeling of betrayal rose within me once more. I had treated Akio like a sister and better than I treated my own older sister, probably. We'd been more than friends --

I pushed the thought away. I remembered the few times I had visited Gian in the hospital, not long after the accident. Then my mother took me to the Bahamas for the summer and I pretended not to think about what had happened. By the time we came back, Gian was in the wheelchair and back in school. We talked sometimes, but nothing like before. Things had changed.

As I stood there in the library I thought back before the accident and for a brief moment I remembered Gian the last time I'd seen him walking. I was heading home, but he was going to the gym to work out. He had been head of the dance class at school, and though he was never going to be a Baryshnikov or anything, he'd loved performing. Loved to dance, and play baseball, and run track --

And I remembered how I smiled as I saw him jogging away, his hair bouncing at his shoulders. He'd leapt a small wall and headed to the grassy area --

"Hey!"

I spun, startled at the sound. Gian sat at the end of the aisle. I wondered how long he'd stared at me. Half the books still sat on the tray in front of him, and I knew those were the ones he couldn't reach to put away.

At least Gian was much better than he had been the first months after the accident. I had heard his mother say he might be using no more than a cane by this time next year.

I wanted to see him stand. I wanted it very much.

I followed Gian through the dusty shelves to put books away, finishing our little good deed for the day. Being here felt trite and stupid in the face of everything else, but Gian kept at the work, so I couldn't sulk. We had less than an hour before the library closed and we still had a lot of work to do. Just as well. The work kept my mind off everything until I saw Gian staring out the door into the darkening night, his face bleak and the loss too plain in his dark eyes.

Gian's father arrived to drive him home after work, the van pulling up where Missy had been parked. Gian rolled down the ramp and I waved goodbye, wondering what Mr. Calabria would say to his son. I wondered if he would help.
I wondered if he could say things and help me, too.

Stupid feeling. 
 
I stayed long enough to watch Gian pull himself from the chair to the front seat and his father pack the wheelchair away in the back of the van. I could see Gian, his head bowed a little, and I thought maybe his lips moved, though his father hadn't climbed into the van yet. Did he pray? What did he ask for on a night like this?

When they pulled away, I hurried to the parking lot beside the library. I threw myself into my little white Mustang, glad to be out of the rain, and sat in the relative silence for a few moments. 
 
I had to fight a demon I thought I had tamed a long time ago.

The demon came from guilt. I knew nothing was my fault; not what had happened to Gian or what Akio did. I wasn't in the car with her and I hadn't given her the drugs. I hadn't seen her since English class that afternoon.

But . . .

Akio Kimura had been my best friend. Except for Gian, there had been no one outside my family whom I cared for as much as I did her. She had become my little sister and I'd found delight in helping her learn English and in sharing my world with her. I hadn't laughed with my older sister as much as I had laughed with Akio.

And she had betrayed me. She had tried to kill the boy I loved; the one she had been getting closer to, as well. Double betrayal. Little Akio, who spoke such poor English when she had first arrived two years before and who had always been so shy and lost that even Missy showed occasional kindness to her.
She'd been in America two months when her father met and married Nadine O'Hara, a wannabe actress with enough pretensions to put Missy Murphy to shame. We had all felt sorry for Akio.

The question of why this had happened had plagued me for months. School councilors had tried to help. Nothing made sense, and in the end I had been forced to accept what happened, and realize I would never understand the reasons why.

I'd been okay with everything until Missy cut the wound open again.

Mrs. Berlin's car remained in the parking lot and I didn't want her to find me here when she came out. Unfortunately, I didn't want to be anywhere else. I would have to go home and deal with my parents. My father worked with Seiji Kimura. Mr. Kimura had seemed almost as lost as his daughter sometimes. And Nadine had left him within a year of the accident. I felt bad, since I hadn't thought about him in so long.

I didn't need a new form of guilt.

I had thought . . . well, not the nightmare was over, because I saw Gian every day, and couldn't forget about why he sat in the wheelchair. However, the pain had lessened over the last year and a half. I had seen Gian improve. I had hopes things would, somehow, return to normal.

A stupid, childish wish.

The lights went out in the main part of the library, the huge glass front going dark. The few circles of street lights filled the darkness and I felt very alone. Mrs. Berlin would be heading for her SUV next to mine. I needed to be away.
I started the car and began to press down on the gas, anxious --

Too anxious. The wheels spun and I almost lost control backing out, and that brought me to my senses. I didn't want to have an accident. I thought about hurting someone the way Gian had been hurt. The thought made me so ill I almost couldn't move the car at all.

Control. I could handle a little rain. I slowed as I drove out of the water-slick parking lot onto the road. Streetlights shaped like old gas lamps lit puddles and emerging flowers. Nearly summer. Graduation and prom were coming soon. Next fall I'd be in college and away from Deervale and everything that had happened here.

Away from Gian.

I was glad for the rain. No one would notice my mascara running from the tears.