Devin Rhodes is Dead Read online

  An elderly friend or relative of the Rhodeses frowns at me over the top of her red bifocal glasses, her head a helmet of bluish hair.

  She turns to her friend. “Devin had such a lovely figure.”

  Something bubbles inside me, hot and acidic. Right, I think, because the only thing tragic about Devin’s death is that she had a great figure. Worse still, the fat girl lives.

  Mr. Rhodes moves past me toward the door. “Jim,” he says to another arriving guest. “It’s kind of you to come.”

  He’s shaking hands with Mr. Cordeau from Cordeau Jewelers in town. The Rhodeses get all their jewelry from him.

  “I’m so sorry, Ben,” says Mr. Cordeau. He wipes a thick hand across a shiny forehead. “I don’t even know what to say.”

  “Thank you,” says Mr. Rhodes, although he barely looks at him. “Have something to eat, please.”

  “Oh, I’m fine,” says Mr. Cordeau. “You just take care of yourself and the missus.”

  Mr. Rhodes is gone almost before Jim Cordeau finishes his sentence. I’m glad. Mr. Rhodes reminds me too much of Devin. Everywhere there are reminders of what I’ve done.

  Some kids from school are across the room. I want nothing more than to avoid them, blend into the crowd. My heart prickles—Gina and Lizzy are there. Gina waves to me. We used to be a foursome— Lizzy, Gina, Devin, and me—but that ended forever ago. Or at least a few months ago, which really is the same thing. I can’t actually believe that Gina and Lizzy are here, after everything. Jack and Samantha are new friends of theirs and dating each other, I think.

  I walk toward them; I have no choice, really. Better this way. Better to act natural—as natural as I can be when everything about this is so unnatural.

  Lizzy moves toward me first. “Cass,” she says, shaking her head sympathetically, “I’m so sorry. I know you and Devin were still close.”

  Close? She has no idea. No idea how close two people are when one is responsible for the other’s death. How entangled they become. “Thanks,” I say. “It’s really hard.” That sounds so dumb, so shallow. But I’m not lying. Even though—well, I’m not.

  Gina puts her arm around me, and I stiffen. “It’s so awful,” she says. “I can’t imagine anything worse.” There are genuine tears in her eyes. Lizzy and Gina are best friends, just like Devin and I were best friends. I know they’re each thinking how devastated they would be if one of them were standing there mourning the other. They probably can’t believe I’m even there, dressed, having a conversation, stuffing my face with fish. They probably notice how dry my eyes are.

  “So do they have any leads yet?” asks Jack, pouring himself some soda.

  “Nope,” says Samantha. She takes a bite of a cracker, which she’s slathered in port-wine spread. “Just another unsolved case.”

  I don’t know Samantha too well. The thought of her talking about Devin like she’s some crime statistic while cracker crumbs fall onto her baby-doll top makes me want to shove her face into the port-wine spread. I am loyal, if nothing else.

  But I can’t call more attention to myself, so instead I politely nibble on my fish. The piece of sable slides down my throat, leaving a salty aftertaste. Samantha and Jack look at me, probably wondering how I can shovel fish into my mouth when my best friend is dead.

  “I mean obviously someone pushed her,” says Samantha. “Or brought her down there, you know what I mean?”

  “Cass, do you think? I mean, that night—” Gina looks at me, really looks at me, and I know what she’s thinking. But the less I say, the better.

  I shrug. “I don’t know,” I say.

  “Let’s hope they catch whoever did it, and soon,” says Jack. He puts his arm around Samantha. “I don’t want my girl out with some maniac running around.” He squeezes her tight.

  “Maybe it was an accident,” says Gina. “Maybe she just, I don’t know, fell.”

  “Right,” says Lizzy, shaking her head of shiny black hair. “Devin accidentally fell into Woodacre Ravine in the middle of the night.” She reaches for a cracker. “Why was she out there in the first place? She had to know better. Although with her, who knows?”

  “Well, what happened after everything, Cass? Was she still upset?” Gina runs her hand over her chin. “Do you think she, you know, jumped?”

  My heart pounds. I think over and over again about the last time I saw her, the last time Devin and I looked at each other, really looked at each other. The last thing I read in her face. What was it? If only, if only….

  “Anything’s possible,” says Lizzy. “But I’m thinking not.”

  Samantha shivers dramatically, clearly for effect. “The whole thing creeps me out,” she says.

  Everyone nods, including me. “They’ll catch the bastard soon enough,” says Jack, running his hand through the ends of Samantha’s hair. “They always do.”

  “How do you know it was a guy?” says Samantha.

  “It’s always a guy,” says Jack.

  “I can’t believe it,” says Gina, shaking her head. “I mean, we just saw her. We—” She starts to whimper, and it’s painful to watch. Lizzy touches her shoulder, but me, I’m frozen, my fingers squeezing the fork. “I just hope”—Gina takes a deep breath—“I just hope she didn’t suffer.” Lizzy grabs onto her, and the two of them sob together. It’s what best friends do.

  Just then a familiar figure enters the room, and I swallow a gulp of air. He’s in a blue button-down shirt and khakis, possibly for the first time in his life. The blue shirt looks incredible against his olive skin, and despite my pain, I get a tickle in my insides. He nods and shakes hands with Mr. Rhodes. Even though he’d never met Devin’s family, it makes sense to me that he’s here. That Marcus is here right now, because he was there that night with me. The night it all happened.

  “Hey, Cass,” says Lizzy. “Isn’t that the guy from the mall? The one you were with? What’s his name?”

  “Um, yeah.” I chew on my nail. “Marcus.”

  “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” says Samantha, stuffing more crackers into her mouth.

  “I don’t,” I snap. Who cares if I’m rude? Samantha barely knows me anyway.

  “Sor-ry,” she says, rolling her eyes at Jack.

  I want to see Marcus, so I can’t help myself from watching him. It’s like the first time I realized that I could watch him forever. Then—oh, God—from across the room our eyes meet and I’m back there— back in that moment when everything went wrong.

  A pain, an awful pain, slams into my head. It thumps against me and spreads to my temples. The feeling grows, strengthens, and my head sinks. Instinctively, I grab onto the charm on my necklace.

  Before

  “WE NEED NEW CHARMS,” Devin said. We were walking down Birchtree Lane in town, which for some reason was lined with elms and sugar maples.

  “Why?” I asked. We were just going for a walk, and suddenly we’re buying new best-friend charms.

  “Because we threw out the old ones.” Devin said it so matter-of-factly, as though we didn’t also throw out our friendships with Gina and Lizzy, our friends since second grade. Tossed out like gum wrappers. Several weeks before we’d had the fight to end all fights.

  “No way,” I said. “I’m saving up for a new guitar.” I was done with those charms anyway. They were a little juvenile, if you asked me.

  Devin was nothing if not persistent. “Cordeau will cut us a good deal. Especially since,” she grinned at me, “he likes my mom.”

  “Everyone likes your mom,” I said. It was true. It was hard to be more likable than Mrs. Rhodes. Perfectly coiffed and made up, stylish even in sweats (although I’d never seen that) and kind as can be. Real-life storybook princess. My mother hated her.

  “No,” Devin said, grinning, “he likes her likes her.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know,” she said, “he’s always giving her those big eyes and getting a little too close. He practically drools when we walk into
the store. ‘Well, hello, Susan,’” she said, mimicking Mr. Cordeau. “‘Don’t think I have anything in my store as beautiful as you.’”

  “That’s gross.”

  “Beyond,” she said. “But true. Can you even imagine them—?”

  I cover my ears. “La, la, la, la, la!”

  She laughed and slapped me on the shoulder. “Okay, okay. It’s repulsive—but definitely worth the discount. Besides,” she said, grinning, “my parents will probably pay for the charms anyway.”

  I was uneasy, and I felt it everywhere. “We’re getting the same ones?”

  She looked at me. “Well, yeah.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a little weird?”

  “Halves this time, not quarters.” She put her hand on her hips. “Unless you want a third of it for your guitar. Or is the guitar your best friend?”

  “You’re so funny,” I said. “Okay, fine.” But then I added something: “I want the half that says ‘Be Fri.’”

  She wrinkled her eyebrows. “What difference does it make?”

  I shrugged. “I just like it.” I did. I liked the way it almost looked like “Be Free.” Almost.

  “Whatever,” she said. “The important thing is that we ditched those two losers.” She made a face and stuck out her tongue. “Thank God.”

  I winced at the word losers. “That’s harsh.” Gina and Lizzy weren’t losers. They just weren’t.

  “You’re not still upset about it, are you?” she asked.

  “No.” I sucked on my lip. “Don’t you think it’ll be strange once school starts? I mean, seeing them?”

  “You are still upset.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You’re not thinking of making up with them, are you?” She frowned. “You better not, Cass. You’re not leaving me alone.”

  “Relax,” I said. “I wouldn’t do that.” Actually I couldn’t. I was pretty sure that after our fight, Gina and Lizzy would never speak to me again.

  “Good,” she said. “Don’t be upset. You’re lucky— you stuck with the right quarter of the friendship pie.” She smiled, then linked her arm in mine. “We’re lucky,” she added, leaning against me. “Right?”

  I was buoyed by her change of heart. It was a sign of the old Devin. The one I met at the first-grade cubbies. The one who shared her snacks with me and invited me to play with her dollhouse every day after school. She’s the one I stuck it out with despite everything, because, well, that’s what best friends did. I uncurled my hand.

  “Come on,” she said. “It’ll be fun.” And just like that we were off to see the jeweler.

  We walked into Cordeau Jewelers, onto a soft blue carpet that was so plush our footsteps were silent. A gentle bell at the door sent Jim Cordeau, the jeweler, hurrying out.

  “Devin Rhodes!” he said, smiling. He was large and friendly. His bald head glowed under the bright lights of the store. “How’s your mom?”

  Yup, totally gross. I shot Devin a look, and somehow she grinned with just the corner of her mouth.

  “Well?” he said. “Does she love her tennis bracelet?” Mr. Cordeau had a lot of bracelets, too, thick and gold, which dangled from his wrists. I’d never seen a man his age with so much jewelry. I guessed that’s what happens when you actually make the jewelry.

  “You know my mother,” said Devin. “She likes anything that glitters.” And I swear, at that moment, Devin was sparkling, too.

  Mr. Cordeau laughed—a big belly laugh, à la Santa Claus sans the beard. “She sure does,” he said. “I’ve got some wonderful new pieces I think she’d like. Do tell her to stop by when she has a chance.”

  Devin shot me an I-told-you-so look. “I’ll let her know,” she said to him.

  Mr. Cordeau smiled and leaned on the jewelry counter. “So, what can I do for you girls today?”

  “We’re looking for best-friend charms,” said Devin.

  Mr. Cordeau raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t I make some of those for you last year?”

  Devin nods. “We had to toss them,” she said. “No offense, Mr. Cordeau, but the other two quarters were given to the wrong people.”

  Mr. Cordeau nodded sympathetically. “Jewelry is forever,” he said. “Not so much friendships, eh?”

  “We like the one we had before,” I said.

  “We just need it cut in half this time instead of in quarters,” said Devin.

  “Ah, of course,” said Mr. Cordeau. He walked over to one of the glass counters, pulled out a tiny key from his pocket, and unlocked the door. He carefully lifted out two little gold half-moon charms. They were like tiny glittering pebbles in his giant hand.

  “Perfect,” said Devin.

  “Remember, I get the half that says, ‘Be Fri,’” I said.

  Devin rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything.

  “Wait here while I get some chains for you to try on.” Mr. Cordeau walked over to another counter, humming something familiar that I couldn’t place.

  “I’m so glad we’re doing this,” said Devin. She grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

  “Me, too,” I said. And, to my surprise, I was, a little. I’d missed the feeling of the cool chain around my neck. I still reached for it sometimes, and it was weird that nothing was there. It was weirder, though, that Gina and Lizzy were gone, too. But I couldn’t buy them back at Cordeau Jewelers.

  “Here we go,” said Mr. Cordeau. He put mine on first. His hands were heavy on my neck, and he breathed in and out quickly through his nose. I imagined his forest of nose hair blowing in a musky breeze. “How’s that feel?” he asked.

  The chain was cool against my skin, as it always feels. A small part of me liked that Devin was so insistent about getting new charms. Part of me, though, felt a little like it was a dog collar: If Lost, Please Return to Devin Rhodes. “Good” was all I said.

  Mr. Cordeau smiled. His smile was large like the rest of him and spread across his face. “Excellent,” he said. “Your turn, Miss Rhodes.”

  Devin grinned and held up her hair in the back. Mr. Cordeau walked behind her and gently pulled the chain on. “How’s that, hmm?”

  Devin did the shampoo commercial thing with her hair. “Fabulous.”

  Mr. Cordeau laughed loudly again. “Your mother’s daughter!”

  Ew and double-ew. I grinned at Devin, and she grinned back.

  “Let’s take these off and wrap them up,” he said, reaching for my clasp.

  “We want to wear them home.” Devin looked at me. “Right, Cass?”

  “Sure,” I said. Why not?

  “Alrighty, then,” said Mr. Cordeau. “I’ll ring you up and send you on your way.” He made his way to the register. “Cash or charge, dear?” he said to Devin.

  She smiled, showing her white teeth. “My mother said to put it on her account.”

  I nudged her. I knew she hadn’t asked her mother. She ignored me and kept smiling at Mr. Cordeau.

  He looked at the two of us. “Everything okay?”

  Devin was smiling at me now, but her eyes said something else entirely.

  “Yes,” I said. “Everything’s fine.” I wasn’t going to argue as long as I didn’t have to pay for it. I was still three months away from having enough cash for a new guitar, which was like forever in high-school time.

  “Lucky girls!” he said. “Soon enough your boyfriends will be buying you all sorts of sparkly things.” He winked again.

  Devin tilted back her head and laughed. “Not the boys we know.”

  I shrugged and smiled. “Definitely not.” Not for me. Devin had a chance if she stopped going after jerks.

  “Too bad,” said Mr. Cordeau. He worked on the calculator. “Pretty girls like you.” He used the plural, but for a very, very quick second his eyes lingered on Devin. He looked down so quickly, I wasn’t even sure she noticed. But I did. It was always Devin. Even with an old bald guy like Mr. Cordeau.

  “Here you go,” he said, looking up again. “Wear them in good health!”
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br />   “Thanks,” I said.

  “You’re the best,” said Devin.

  “Oh, my pleasure,” said Mr. Cordeau. “Be sure to give my regards to your mom.”

  “Sure will,” she said, then turned to me and stuck her finger in her mouth in a gag-me kind of way. It was impossible to not giggle.

  Devin and I walked out of the store together. The late summer sun beat down on us and warmed me from the outside in. I got a jolt of good feeling, and it lifted me. “You were right,” I said. “I’m glad we got these. They look good.” And at that moment, it was like it always had been, Devin and me, me and Devin, best friends forever. For real.

  “Better than a dumb guitar, hmm?” she said.

  The feeling was sucked right out of me. “My guitar is not dumb,” I said. “Just because you don’t play—”

  “Sorry,” she said. “I just mean this is pretty special—that’s all.”

  “Fine,” I said, still irritated. “Leave my guitar out of it.”

  When we reached the sidewalk, she stopped and shot her hand up across my chest.

  “What?” I asked.

  She faced me and put her hand on top of my gold charm. Her manicured fingers just barely scratched my skin, but her hands were warm and soft. “Best friends forever, Cass,” she said, “means forever.”

  “I know.”

  She pressed down harder, her hand pushing at my heart. I took in a quick breath.

  “Don’t forget,” she said. “Gina and Lizzy forgot.”

  I nodded and exhaled slowly. Devin’s hand, still on the charm, moved with me.

  AFTER

  MY HEAD IS POUNDING. Marcus moves toward me, through the crowd. He holds up his hand.

  “Cass,” he says. He doesn’t shout because it’s a shivah, after all, so I pretend I don’t hear him. Seeing him brings it all back; he has to know that. Doesn’t it do the same for him?