Now, I trudged ahead, past the spot where I’d met the new mother in the wide-brimmed hat. A squirrel darted across the path and Moose lunged after it, pulling my thoughts back to the present and nearly yanking my arm out of its socket. Voices echoed from another trail in the distance and I shortened the leash in case our paths crossed. I squinted toward the other hikers, but the trees were thick with leaves, the branches blocking my view. A melodic laugh echoed over the ridge. My feet stopped, my jaw locked. Moose wagged his tail and peered back at me. I knew that laugh. I’d heard it earlier today. Was Elena here? Or was it only someone who sounded like her?
I jogged forward, Moose trotting alongside me until we reached the top of the ridge. For a fleeting second, I could barely make out the tops of two heads floating around the bend of a neighboring trail. One of the people had light hair. Another person a few inches taller and with dark hair hiked a step away. Elena and Rowan? Something sour bubbled in my stomach. Had they left school to take a walk in the woods together? I backtracked up the hill, Moose pulling against me with a determined look in his eyes. Digging his paws into the dirt, he crouched low and barked. I found a treat in my pocket and lured him toward me.
“C’mon, buddy!”
My dog scampered forward, easily bribed by the broken peanut butter dog cookie. Perching on my toes, I scanned through the woods toward the other trail, heart pounding. The people who’d been there a few moments earlier had disappeared down the other side of the hill. I wound the leash tighter around my hand, ignoring the way the nylon cut into my fingers. I stood motionless, listening for another clue. The quiet of the forest surrounded us.
A songbird flitted past my head, and I coughed out a laugh. My imagination had spun out of control. I hadn’t even seen their faces. There were probably hundreds of people in this city who had similar laughs. Elena wasn’t a rookie. Surely she knew that taking a walk in the woods with a student after hours, especially a student as troubled as Rowan, would look bad. Really bad.
Four
Amy
Amy pulled into her driveway with the car windows open. The fall leaves rustling in the treetops produced dramatic shades of red and orange that popped against the blue sky. It was Saturday and she’d just dropped Ben down the street at his friend Noah’s house after returning from his soccer game. Unlike Phoebe, her son’s commitment to his sport’s team hadn’t wavered since the previous year. He’d led them to victory with three goals and several more assists.
Amy breathed in the fresh air and smiled. She had made it to the weekend and it was one of the good ones, one of her weekends with the kids. She had a rule that she wasn’t allowed to think about what Scott and his new girlfriend, Cece, were doing on their free weekends. The visions weren’t productive. Still, as with most overly strict and unenforceable rules, she broke it often, sometimes imagining Scott and Cece dining at the table in the alcove at the romantic Italian restaurant on Main Street where Amy and Scott had celebrated most of their anniversaries and birthdays, or Scott and Cece strolling hand-in-hand along the river path, planning for their future. Other times, she envisioned them splurging on weekend trips to exotic locations, sipping piña coladas on the beach, and massaging coconut oil into each other’s backs.
Despite her overactive imagination and the tennis drama with Phoebe, this had been Amy’s best week in a while. She’d found her bearings at the new job, agreeing to a schedule of three afternoons per week. The school’s accounting records had been in shambles and she’d already created new spreadsheets to track income and expenses. She’d even formed a casual and friendly relationship with the school’s jovial principal, Nathan Albright, who added her to the committee for Ravenswood’s first fundraiser of the year, the Geeks and Goblins event. It felt empowering to connect with people who had no relation to Scott, to be in charge of something of her own again.
Saturday morning had developed into a beautiful fall afternoon by the time Amy pulled into the garage and exited her car. She hoped to discover Phoebe out on the back patio, reading or listening to music. Instead, she wandered through the empty house, finally locating her daughter holed up in her bedroom with the door closed.
An uneasiness prickled up Amy’s spine as her knuckles rapped against Phoebe’s door. She wasn’t sure how much hostility would be waiting for her on the other side. Feet shuffled. A drawer closed. Was Phoebe hiding something? Amy clenched her jaw, remembering the horrible note she’d found in the mailbox a few days earlier—DIE, BITCH! Amy had wavered at the end of the driveway, eyes searching in every direction for the perpetrator who, of course, was already long gone. She’d drawn in a shaky breath and fought against her urge to tear up the offensive message.
Now the piece of paper sat in a small folded square buried in the bottom of Amy’s jewelry box. As she hovered in the shadows of the darkened hallway, she was relieved she’d kept the note hidden from Phoebe. It was most likely an isolated incident, an immature prank played by mean girls. If it escalated to anything more, she’d contact the authorities. They could dust the paper for fingerprints. The note was solid evidence.
The door creaked open and Phoebe’s pale face appeared in the crack. Her hair fell past her shoulders in tangled clumps, and she wore a ratty T-shirt and sweatpants.
“Good morning,” Amy said, despite the time being just past noon.
“Hi.”
“Did you get some breakfast? Or lunch?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Can I come in for a second?”
Phoebe stepped backward and opened the door wider.
Amy tiptoed inside her daughter’s room, the thick air filling her lungs. The shades on Phoebe’s windows were drawn, and her dirty clothes were scattered across the blue-and-white striped rug covering the hardwood floor. Amy lowered herself onto the edge of the bed next to a tangle of sheets. She tried not to breathe in the dank scent of unwashed socks.
“Ben’s at Noah’s for the afternoon. I thought we could go out and do something fun. Just the girls.”
Phoebe stared at her hands, her mouth turning down in the corners.
“Do you want to go shopping?”
Phoebe shrugged. “I have a lot of homework.”
Amy drew in a breath, focusing on relaxing her shoulders. “Maybe you can do it tomorrow.”
Phoebe gawked as if Amy had suddenly grown three heads.
Amy picked at a loose stitch in Phoebe’s bedspread. “Does Dad know you quit tennis?”
“Probably not.”
“It isn’t okay that you just quit like that. You should have talked to me first.”
“Sorry.”
“Did something happen to make you want to quit?”
Phoebe shrugged again. “A lot of things happened.”
“Like what?”
“Like, they fixed it so I can’t win.” Her daughter’s lower lip quivered.
Amy inched closer. “Who?”
“My former friends.” Phoebe sunk to the floor, a bird with a broken wing.
Amy hugged her arms around herself, scared to say the wrong thing or make any sudden movements that might stop her daughter from talking. The faces of Phoebe’s teammates flitted through her head—Simone, McKenzie, Grace, and Dawn.