“Listen, I know it’s weird, but it’s the only sure way to know.”
“Weird? It’s downright insane. Cruel. What about … like … contacting one of her friends? Someone she knows on Facebook?”
“And saying what? I’m a stranger, but please tell me what Julie’s room looked like?”
“No, not exactly. We could explain that we were trying to help.”
“What?Oh, hey, I’m a psychic and I think I can see your missing friend’s room but I just want to double-check?”
She was right about that. “Okay, so you want to call her old house and say … what, exactly?”
“Well, you can pretend to be like, one of her friends or something.”
“Ican pretend? Clara …”
“Please, Lily. I can’t do this all on my own. It was bad enough talking to him the first time around and seeing how upset he was. Plus, what if he’s the one who picks up the phone, and he recognizes my voice? Please help me with this. I’ve got a lot … a lot on my mind. I can’t sleep.”
I wondered if she was asking for help with other things, too, besides the call, and maybe she didn’t know how to say it. “Are you still seeing strange men?”
“It’s under control, okay?” Her eyes shined, and I realized how afraid she must be. How all of that defiance, when she first marched into the spa, must have been hiding so much. I believed that she wanted help finding out what happened to Julie, to Victoria, to Peaches, but I also thought that maybe she wanted help for herself, too. I had told myself I would help this time around, hadn’t I? This time, I wouldn’t sense trouble—watching Steffanie stumbling into the man’s shoulder—and tell myself that everything would be okay.
“Okay,” I relented. “So tonight we’ll call …”
“Tonight? Why not now?” Clara was all raw nerves, desperation; so different from when I had met her a few weeks ago. A girl who shook with fear, who could hardly raise her eyes to meet mine.
“Here?” I looked around. I knew we didn’t have any appointments coming in for two more hours, but still it made me apprehensive. If someone else, one of my coworkers, Emily, even Carrie, overheard, I would probably be fired on the spot.
“I can’t spend another minute wondering. And then, at least if my visions are right … well. I don’t know which to hope for. Whether I’m seeing something real, or whether I’m totally insane. And I don’t know what it means, seeing her room like that. I’m worried that it means she’s in trouble, or she’s scared, or hurt. Sometimes … when things are uncomfortable, I think of something that makes me feel safe. I think of my mother, of the way she talked about her house in California. I just wonder if Julie is doing the same thing, only I can see it, too.”
I looked up to the ceiling. “You have the number?”
She took a folded poster of Julie Zale out of her pocket.
“Tell me again what it looks like, everything you can see … or saw.”
“A pink-and-white checked bedspread. White carpet. Green walls. Lots of white pillows on the bed. Oh, and a brown stuffed rabbit with a black nose.”
I took a deep breath. I’d never been a very good liar, and I didn’t know if I could do what Clara was asking me. But the pleading look in her eyes made me feel like I had to try.
I keyed in the number and hit send on the call, my hands shaking. I held my breath between each ring, hoping it would go to voicemail. Clara stared at me with such pleading intensity that I had to turn away.
On the fourth ring, a woman answered. “Zale residence.” My voice was caught in my throat. “Hello? Hello?”
“Oh, uh, hi. Mrs. Zale?” Clara reached out and put her hand on my arm.
“Yes? May I ask who is calling, please?” She was formal, but polite. Almost warm.
“Hi, uh, you might not remember me, but I’m a friend of Julie’s. I’m Lauren. I, uh, was in history with Julie freshman year.”
“Oh … hello, Lauren. How … how are you?” She paused, and I knew that whatever I said next would have to be a leap. Clara looked at me beseechingly. I wanted so badly to hang up.
“I’m sorry. I hope it’s okay that I called. I was just thinking about Julie today.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” she cooed. “Yes, well. I think of her all day, too. Not a minute goes by. Even if I’m not thinking of her, I feel it. I feel it in my bones.” I felt hot, sweat collecting under the neck of my blazer. I was no better than them, was I? Matthew and Ramona. All three of us were liars, fakes, even if the lies were supposed to be in service of something good. I took another deep breath.
“I was just thinking of the time I was over at your house that spring. I don’t know if you were home.”
“Yes, sweetie? Maybe I wasn’t. I volunteer at the library, or I could have been down at the store.”
