As much as Layla wanted to expand their reach, there was something to be said about being at the top of their game, even if the only reason they were big fish at all was because the pond known as Rochester was really quite small.
chapter 4
Josh
Kimmy brought Sasha back to Josh’s house on Saturday at noon. “She slept in this morning,” Kimmy said. “I think kindergarten tired her out.”
“Maybe she’ll start sleeping in regularly,” Josh said.
“Well, we can hope.”
At thirty-seven, Kimmy barely resembled the girl he’d met in detention his senior year. It wasn’t unheard-of to fall madly in love in high school, but it was less likely that two eighteen-year-old kids would take it all the way to the altar. That was probably why his parents hadn’t worried about their relationship too much. They often joked that Josh was their fourth boy and they were tired.
Trying to explain to people why he and Kimmy decided to separate had been the most difficult part of the process. They’d beaten the odds, everyone said. Why throw in the towel now? His parents had grown to love Kimmy and she’d become the daughter they never had. Sitting his mom and dad down to break the news of their split had been one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do.
But staying together wasn’t that easy, and no one could understand that unless they’d been there from the very beginning, the way he and Kimmy had all those years ago. He just wished Sasha hadn’t been the collateral damage, especially when he shared equal responsibility for causing it.
* * *
The only good thing Josh could say about February of 1999 was that it was a short month. The news was filled with doomsday predictions about the havoc Y2K would cause the following year, but Josh and his buddies were too busy setting their sights on May, when they would collect their diplomas and finally be free from the shackles of high school. No more books, no more homework, no more sitting in a classroom. Josh might not have had a good sense of what he wanted for the future, but he was crystal clear on the things he wanted to leave behind. When he thought back to those late-winter days right before he met Kimmy, “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys always popped into his head. Back then, he couldn’t turn on the radio without hearing them, which annoyed him, because the Goo Goo Dolls and Matchbox Twenty were more his style. He spent more time than he should have playing video games on his PlayStation and searching for anything that would excite him during those gray days when it seemed like the sun would never shine again.
Back then, his dark, messy hair almost always needed a trim, but his skin was clear, and several female heads had turned when he entered the room where detention was held. He was wearing a flannel shirt—unbuttoned and untucked—a T-shirt, and faded jeans. None of those preppy button-down shirts some of the senior nerds wore. Or worse, any pants other than jeans.
The minutes dragged and he fidgeted constantly—tapping his pen, bouncing his leg up and down, shifting his position every thirty seconds. He spoke to no one but made two trips to the wastepaper basket in the corner of the room, balling up a sheet of notebook paper each time as if engineering a valid reason to get up. Taking the long way back to his seat, he folded his lanky body into his chair and resumed fidgeting.
There was a girl, a blonde in a pink sweater, and she looked every bit as bored as the rest of them. When she turned around to talk to the girl sitting behind her, she glanced in Josh’s direction and a mischievous smile appeared on her face. That girl looks like fun, he thought.
When the bell finally rang to signify their release, he shot out of his chair and was halfway down the hall before the other kids had even picked up their backpacks.
* * *
He was driving home when he spotted someone up ahead walking along the side of the road. The blond hair caught his eye and rang a bell somewhere in his brain. The air had a bite to it that had stung his cheeks as he walked through the parking lot on the way to his car. Late winter in Minnesota still felt a lot like the dead of winter, and the cold was not something to mess with. He pulled up next to her and slowed the car. She was wearing a thin coat, no hat. Tennis shoes on her feet. She whipped her head toward the car, looking cautious, defensive. Ready to fight. The look turned fearful when he rolled down the window. “Hey, do you need a ride?”
She must have recognized him, because a look of relief spread across her face and she said, “That would be great.” She flung open the door and settled herself into the seat next to him.
“Didn’t mean to freak you out,” he said.
“No, it’s just … you’re not the first person who’s ever offered me a ride.” She didn’t elaborate at the time, but eventually he would learn of her mother’s unreliability and how there had been times others slowed down the way Josh had. At best, she said, the person behind the wheel wouldn’t look as if they cared too much about her welfare but didn’t have the heart not to at least check on her. At worst, it was a man whose inquiry had more of a self-serving angle to it. She told Josh she never accepted rides from adult men. Kimmy might not have been especially book smart, but there was nothing wrong with her common sense and she had no desire to make the front page of the newspaper when it announced the discovery of her body buried in a shallow grave somewhere.
“It’s really cold out. I don’t think it’s good to be outside for so long.”
“No, probably not. My mom must have gotten held up at work.”
“Which way?” he asked.
“Keep going straight. My house isn’t that far from here.”
“I’m Josh.”
“Kimmy,” she said, holding her hands in front of the heat vents.
“I saw you in detention.”
“I saw you too.” The mischievous smile was back.
“What’d you do?”
“Didn’t turn in my homework. What did you do?”
“I cut out of class.”
“I cut all the time. That’s why I don’t turn in my homework and I’m always in detention.”
“I went to class, but I jumped out the window.”
“No way,” she said, looking at him with something like admiration, as if his impulsivity was a plus to her.
“The teacher turned his back and by the time he turned back around, I had the window open. It was a bit of a drop and I hit the ground harder than I meant to, but it was worth it. It’s just so boring in class. I couldn’t sit there for another minute.”
“So boring,” she echoed. “Turn here. That’s me on the right. Second house.”
He pulled to a stop in her driveway. The home was much smaller than the one he lived in. The paint, which had probably once been white, was grayish and peeling.
“Thanks for the ride,” she said.
“Yeah, no problem.” She opened the door and hurried up the sidewalk, slipping and sliding on the snow and ice that looked like it had been there awhile.
Too late, he realized he should have asked for her phone number and her last name. His detention was more than likely a one-time thing. His parents might have been tired, but if he’d gotten into any kind of regular trouble, his dad would have set him straight. His mom, too. With such a large student body, the odds of bumping into her again weren’t great, which was a damn shame, because he wouldn’t have minded that at all.