We pedaled back to the driveway where we had “borrowed” the bicycles. There was no movement. We put the bikes back where they’d been and started up the road toward Jared Lowell’s house.
“Buck,” I said.
“I know.”
“What are you thinking?” I asked her.
“What do you mean?”
“About it being Buck. About Buck falling for you.”
She kept her eyes on the road. “On the one hand, I know that online is not real life. But on the other hand, maybe there is something more real about being online.”
“How so?”
“Online, it’s kind of like you’re in a vacuum without outside pressures. Buck didn’t have to worry about being in his brother’s shadow. He didn’t have to worry if Troy or his friends would mock him because he liked me.”
“So what you’re saying is, maybe you saw the real Buck?”
“Maybe.”
“And?”
“And I fell hard for him.”
I shook my head. “For Buck?”
“Weren’t you the one who told me people change?”
“And weren’t you the one who told me that they didn’t?”
“Good point.”
Ema increased her speed, moving ahead of me and ending the conversation. We were about fifty yards from Jared’s street when Ema ducked behind a tree. She signaled for me to do the same. She was behind the only tree close by, so I joined her.
“What’s going on?” I whispered.
She gestured toward the road. “See that woman with the shopping bag?”
I took a quick peek. There indeed was a woman carrying a brown grocery bag. “What about her?”
“That’s Buck’s mom. I saw her a few times at school concerts and stuff.”
Buck’s mom turned and disappeared down Jared Lowell’s street. When she was out of sight, Ema hurried out from behind the tree. I stayed with her. We slowed when we reached the turn.
“She doesn’t know me,” I said. “I can keep following her.”
But there was no need. Buck’s mother broke to the left, took out her key, and opened the door to what I assumed was her house.
Right next door to Jared’s.
“The sisters live next to each other,” I said.
Ema nodded. “Makes sense.”
“So now what?”
Ema started biting one of her black-polished fingernails. This island was starting to give me the creeps. Maybe in part it was the name, Adiona (duh, you think?), and all this talk about heartache and hurt, but for a second, I wanted us to listen to Jared Lowell and just get off this crazy island now. I didn’t know where Buck was or what he was doing. I didn’t care. I wanted to go home. I wanted to go home not just for me but, even more so, for Ema.
Jared had told us that she’d find heartache on this island. Bat Lady had warned us that the answer would hurt her. I didn’t want anyone or anything to hurt Ema anymore. I didn’t want anything to hurt Rachel or Spoon either, but the truth was, since I had entered their lives, they had all taken devastating hits. Rachel had been shot and lost her mother. Spoon had been shot and now lay paralyzed in a hospital bed.
If something happened to Ema…
“I’m going to knock on the door,” Ema said.
“I’ll go with you.”
“No.”
“What?”
She turned and looked up at me. “Not this time, Mickey. Okay? Just trust me on this.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just stood there. Ema walked to the door. She raised her fist, hesitated for a moment, and then knocked on the door. Time stood still. After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened. When Buck’s mother saw who it was, her hand flew to her mouth as she choked back a cry.
Ema stepped forward. “My name is-”
“You’re Ema,” Buck’s mother finished for her.
Ema looked confused. “Yes. But how did you-”
Buck’s mother opened the door. “Please, come inside.”
CHAPTER 41
Time didn’t stand still. It just passed by really, really slowly.
For the first ten minutes, I sat on the curb in front of the house. I got antsy. I stood and started walking just a little up the street, then a little down the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of something-anything-in the windows.
But there was nothing.
Another ten minutes passed. Then another. People walked by me. They eyed me with suspicion. It was clear to them I didn’t belong here. This was a very small road on a very small island. Visitors didn’t often loiter.
Ten more minutes passed.
What the heck was going on in there?
I stopped looking at the time and started looking at the sky. The sun shone down on my face. I closed my eyes and soaked it in. I stopped thinking about Ema and Buck. I stopped thinking about Troy’s drug test. I even stopped thinking about my own Butcher of Lodz, the sandy-haired man named Luther.
I thought about my mom and dad.
You often hear that you only get one life and that life isn’t a dress rehearsal. That was true, but it felt more direct to me. Simply put, this was it. What you’re doing right now is life. This moment, every moment impacts and builds on the next. I could think about the days when my father was alive and my mother was sober. I could dream about going back in time to that moment and altering it, but that would never happen.
Time only goes forward.
My cell phone rang. I looked down and saw that it was Uncle Myron. I was about to hit ignore but I decided to answer it.
“Hey, Myron. I need to ask you something.”
“Where are you?”
“It’s not important,” I said. “Why did Randy Schultz want your help?”
“I already told you. I can’t talk about it.”
“Did it have something to do with steroids?”
Silence.
“Because I know Buck took steroids. And I know Randy dealt them. Did he get caught? Is that why he needed your help? Is that why you turned him down?”
“Mickey?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
“I told you. I can’t talk about it. Attorney-client privilege. Where are you, Mickey?”
The door to Buck’s house finally swung open.
“I’ll talk to you tonight,” I said, and hit end before Myron could say anything more.
Have you ever seen one of those horror movies where someone goes into a house one way and then they come out another, like maybe they’re a zombie now or their hair is gray or they’re possessed? Like they walked through some portal and completely transformed into something else?
That was what I thought about as I looked at Ema.
She was still dressed the same. The black was still black. The tattoos were still the same. The silver jewelry gleamed just as it had gleamed before. But somehow everything about her seemed different. I know how crazy that sounds. Uncle Myron had told me that when my dad was about my age, he went inside Bat Lady’s house and came out a different person. It almost felt like that, as if Ema had gone through the closet to Narnia and come back again. There was a knowing in her eyes, a maturity in her face.
She looked somehow more grown-up.
Or maybe, after all I had seen on this crazy island, I was big-time projecting.
She didn’t so much walk toward me as float. She kept her head up high. Her eyes didn’t meet mine like they always did. Instead she looked past me and just kept walking.
“Ema?”
“Let’s go,” she said, and even her voice sounded more mature. “We can still catch the next ferry.”
“Wait, what happened in there?”
She didn’t reply. She just kept walking.
“Ema?”
“It’s over,” she said.
“What’s over?”
“Come on. I want to be on that ferry.”
“What do you mean, ‘it’s over’?”
She kept moving faster and faster as though she needed to put distance between herself and that house.
“Did you talk to Buck?”
She didn’t stop. I put a hand on her arm. She shrugged it off. I jumped in front of her, blocking her path. I tried to make my voice as gentle as I could.