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“What the fuck,” he muttered.
McCrae slid him a sideways glance but didn’t say anything. Woody, on the other side of him, said, “Lesbian grief’s the worst. Ow!”
McCrae had elbowed him hard. Tanner was glad. He didn’t want Woody screwing things up. This was a solemn affair, and Tanner had done his part. That’s what he wanted people to remember.
Crystal Gilles, Woody’s girlfriend, who’d recently traded in a Goth look for something more hippie-like—“bohemian,” Delta had told him—looked past Woody to catch Tanner’s eye. “Let’s all act like adults,” she said in a speaking voice, which kind of pissed Tanner off. She wasn’t part of the popular crowd, and Tanner suspected Woody was only with her because he couldn’t get any other girl. Tanner wished Woody would kick her to the curb.
The Fives thought Woody was annoying, and, yeah, he could be. But he was funny. It was Crystal who was the problem.
Tanner flicked McCrae a look. Everyone thought they were good bros, but McCrae was really kind of a pain in the ass as well. Too intense. Sure, he could cut loose sometimes, but overall he had this “do right” thing going. Tanner could admit that it had kept them out of serious trouble a time or two, and God knew he couldn’t afford to get caught seriously fucking up, not with college and his whole future in front of him, but did McCrae always have to put the kibosh on the good stuff?
You shoulda listened to him at the river . . .
That was true, sure, but Carmen had made her own choice. It wasn’t his fault.
But that’s lucky for you . . .
He shut his mind down on that, shaken by his thoughts. I’m a good guy, he reminded himself. I’m a really good guy.
Bailey’s homage to Carmen was half teary reminiscence, half call to arms. She finished with, “I made a promise to Carmen to do everything in my power to find out how this could have happened. A lot of people are saying it’s God’s will. If that’s so, I’ll accept it. But if it’s not, if there was someone’s hand in this, whether they meant it to be or not, I will find that out, too.”
There was silence as she walked away, making the sound of her footsteps loud beneath the cathedral ceiling of the old wooden church.
Tanner made certain he didn’t look her way as Bailey walked past him . . . and right out of the church.
McCrae let out a long breath.
Tanner said, “She’s kinda outta control.”
Woody leaned forward so he could look around McCrae at Tanner. “Ya think?”
“Give her a break,” Crystal said on a sigh.
The room grew restive when, after Bailey, no one else went for the podium. Pastor Stevens stepped in and hurried up the steps, addressing the room with her somewhat sad smile.
“If no one else has something to say, I’d like to finish with a hymn and a prayer.”
Tanner
stared straight ahead through both, moving his lips through the hymn though he didn’t know the words. His mind was back at the barbecue, in the woods, kids all laughing softly, secretly getting high . . . the feel of warm lips around his cock . . . He’d looked over, and there was Carmen. They’d locked eyes. Through his haze of weed and alcohol, he’d seen a tall, somewhat gangly, kind of plain girl staring at him with betrayal.
She’d seen. She’d seen him with her . . . and she’d seen him earlier, too . . .
He’d thought, I could still have her right now, and he made up his mind then and there to pop her cherry before the night was over.
Only things hadn’t quite worked out that way. He’d gone under the rope, and so had Carmen, and only one of them had survived.
Bailey knows.
He swiveled around to look at her, but Bailey hadn’t gone back to her seat. She’d left after her speech.
No . . . if Bailey knew, she would have said something.
The pastor made a few closing remarks, and then the crowd slowly exited the church. Penske caught up with him on the way out. He was a loser with girls. Too awkward to get anybody hot. But he was a good friend.
“Hey, man,” Tanner said. “Keep an eye on Bailey, okay?”
“Yeah?” Penske asked.
