“What about the library?” Cathy is once more focused on Isabelle. Willow can tell that she’s only listening with half an ear, but Willow herself is all attention as she leans against the counter pretending to be totally focused on her cereal.
“They have most of the things I’m looking for, but not the one book that I really need immediately,” David says unhappily. “I’m told that an interlibrary loan will take weeks.”
“I bet you can find it online.” Cathy is reassuring. She unties the little bib that Isabelle is wearing and picks her up.
“You’d think.” David shakes his head. “But most of the sites that deal in out of print books don’t handle this kind of thing at all.”
Willow is sure that shecan find whatever book he’s looking for. Forget online, the easiest thing to do would be to go downtown to their favorite bookstore. The one she talked about with Guy. The one that their father introduced David to years ago, back when he was still in grade school. They have everything under the sun, out of print or not.
Could David possibly have forgotten about that place?
Of course he didn’t forget about it!
Willow knows why he isn’t going there. It’s probably just too painful, it would stir up too many memories. Her actions haven’t only deprived them of their parents. So much of the fabric of their daily lives has been changed because of her. Now a simple trip to the bookstore is impossible for David.
“I’ve got to get ready,” Cathy says. “Excuse me, Willow.” She puts her coffee cup and Isabelle’s dishes in the sink, then starts to walk out of the kitchen with the baby in her arms. “Don’t you have a class this morning?” She stops to give David a kiss. “Shouldn’t you be getting a move on?”
“You’re right.” David pushes back his chair. “I’d better hurry.”
“What about you, Willow?” Cathy turns toward her. “Are you working this afternoon? Or will you be home early?”
“I’m working,” Willow says. She moves out of the way as David brings his own dishes to the sink. She’s hoping that he’ll leave his pile of books and notes on the table when he goes out of the room to shave or whatever it is that he has to do.
“We’ll see you at dinner, then.” Cathy smiles at her.
“See you later,” David calls over his shoulder. He follows Cathy out of the kitchen.
Willow puts her cereal down and walks stealthily over to the table. If she’s lucky, that legal pad that David’s scribbled all over will give her some clue as to what he’s looking for.
She glances over her shoulder. She definitely doesn’t want David coming in and catching her going through his notes, but the coast is clear, and she picks up the pad.
There’s a mass of things written down—not only that, but David’s handwriting is barely legible. Still, Willow flips through the pages, hoping to be able to make some sense out of it all.
What’s this?
It looks like a list of reference works. David’s jotted down several different titles, along with notes as to their availability. One in particular is heavily underlined in red. Willow is sure that she’s hit upon exactly what she’s looking for.
A Study of the Social Origins of Greek Religion? Published in 1927? Sounds right up his alley.
If the bookstore is too painful for David to go to, then Willow will just have to do it for him. Of course, she’s sure that it will be difficult for her too, but she doesn’t care. She wants to do something for David so badly that she would brave almost anything. And at least this will have meaning for him. Unlike her other attempts to cheer him up, this is something that he truly needs and wants.
If she cuts her last class she’ll have time to go down there before her stint at the library. Skipping school isn’t the best idea, but school doesn’t rank very high on her list of priorities these days.
Willow smiles a little as she rips off a page from the pad and writes the reference down. She’s not sure exactly how she’ll present the book to him, but she can’t believe that he won’t at least be somewhat pleased.
Finally, somethingshe can do for her brother.
“Oh, Willow?”
What now?
Willow stops dead in her tracks. She’d bolted out of French as soon as the bell had rung—unusual for her—but she simply can’t wait to get downtown and scope out that book for David.
“Yes?” Willow turns around slowly. She studies Ms. Benson carefully, trying to figure out what it is that she wants. Does she suspect that Willow is going to cut her next class? Or that Willow cuts herself?
“You left the room so fast,” Ms. Benson says. Her voice is pleasant, but the expression on her face is rather serious. “I didn’t have a chance to give you this.” She hands her the quiz she took the week before.
That’s all?
Willow is relieved until she glances at it more closely. She can’t believe it. She simply can’t believe it. Just when she’d come up with this idea of how to help David too. . . .
“It’s nothing to be too concerned about, it’s early in the semester, and you have plenty of time to bring up your grade. However, the school policy is that when any student fails a test it has to be signed off on by a . . .” Ms. Benson doesn’t finish, and it’s obvious that she’s even more uncomfortable than Willow is. “It has to be signed off on,” she says after a moment. “I want to reassure you that this doesn’t have to affect your final grade. There’s plenty of extra credit assignments we can come up with to offset this. If you could bring it back signed tomorrow that would be great. Friday at the latest, okay?”
“Sure thing,” Willow says, but she can barely meet her gaze. Her eyes are riveted by the piece of paper in her hand, by the red Fslashed across the top of it.
It’s not that she’s failed a quiz—bad enough, since she’s never failed anything before—it’s more that she’s failed her brother. The thought of giving this to David, of presenting him with further proof that she’s screwing up is too much to bear. She can’t add to his worries, she can’t give him one more thing that reminds him that he is the parent now. What’s the point of even tracking down that book if she’s going to hand him thisat the same time?
She’ll have to do a little forgery. Odd that she has qualms about doing something so minor.
After all, a little sleight of hand is nothing compared to murder.
“I’ll get it back to you.” She nods. “Tomorrow’s no problem.”
“Terrific,” Ms. Benson says, and melts back into the press of students that are crowding the halls.
Willow hurries out of the school and onto the street. Walking is probably the quickest way to get to the bookstore, and she heads downtown as fast as her feet will take her.
She’s so intent on getting there that she barely notices the other people on the pavement. Willow zigzags down the street, avoiding people when she can, but bumping into them more often than not. She doesn’t care, though, as long as—
“Can you say excuse me?” An irate voice fractures her consciousness. “Oh, hey, Willow, right?” Chloe calms down as she recognizes Willow. “What are you in such a rush for?”
“I’m really sorry,” Willow says somewhat breathlessly. “I just . . . I have to get downtown, I wasn’t really watching where I was going.” She looks back and forth between Chloe and Laurie.
“We’re headed that way too,” Laurie says between sips of an iced coffee. “Shopping,” she confides. “There’s some serious shoe stores downtown.”
“Shoes?” Willow gives Laurie a look. She never figured her for someone who would skip school to score the latest pair of shoes. “Don’t you guys have class or something?”
“We have a study hall at the end of the day three days a week. Technically we’re supposed to be in the library, but nobody cares if we just leave,” Laurie explains.
“We spent our entire junior year trying to figure out how to schedule that,” Chloe adds with a laugh.
“Seniors’ privilege.” Laurie shrugs. “So,
you want to come with us?”
“Yes . . . I mean no.” Willow shakes her head. “I mean, I’m headed downtown, but I don’t have time to go shopping. Thanks, though.”
“Well, walk with us anyway,” Laurie urges.
“Okay,” Willow says, somewhat reluctantly.
She feels more comfortable around them than she would have a week ago. She’s no longer quite so worried about saying the wrong thing. Their time in the park has made her feel like she can be with people without making a complete fool of herself. But she wants to be alone. She needs to think about how she’s going to forge her brother’s signature. She needs to think about how she’s going to find that book. Much as she wishes she could, she can’t be thinking about shoes.
Won’t it be obvious if she forges David’s signature? Won’t her writing look like a girl’s?
Maybe I should just trace it. . . .
“So, Chloe and I want to know, what’s going on with you and Guy?”
There’s got to be some bill or paper with his signature on it lying around the house. I’ll just—
“Excuse me?” It takes a second for Willow to realize that Laurie’s asked her a question. It takes her even longer to process just what that question was.
“Sorry.” It’s clear that Laurie interprets Willow’s confusion as embarrassment.
“Oh, don’t pay Laurie any attention,” Chloe says to Willow.
“She has to know everything about everybody. Don’t even answer. You’ll only encourage her.”
“I don’t have to know everything,” Laurie protests. “I was wondering, that’s all. It just seems like there’s something going on between the two of you.” She pauses and looks at Willow.
You have no idea. . . .
“Fine, I’m more interested in shoes anyway,” Laurie says. “They’d better still have that red pair that was on sale last week.”
“The ones that were half off? With the kitten heels? You’ll be lucky.”
Chloe and Laurie start debating various heel heights and styles. Willow nods as if she’s following the conversation, but she can’t stop thinking about the failed quiz.
How can I trace his signature? The paper’s so heavy. Will I even be able to see through it?
Without thinking she digs the quiz out of her bag and holds it up, trying to assess just how opaque it is.
“So you agree, Willow? Purple snakeskin stilettos are just too conservative for school?”
“Huh?” Willow doesn’t even pretend that she knows what’s going on.
“I knew that would get her!” Laurie grins at Chloe. “You’re so totally in your own world!” She pries the paper out of Willow’s hand. “C’mon, what could possibly be more interesting than shoes? Oh!” She looks at Willow with a stricken expression on her face, and for a moment Willow can’t help smiling. Clearly, for Laurie, nothing could be worse than a bad grade. “I’m sorry,” Laurie says after a second. “And I shouldn’t have grabbed it either.” She hands the paper back to Willow.
“It’s okay.” Willow shrugs. Having Laurie and Chloe know that she failed hardly matters to her at this point.
“You know what?” Chloe says. “You’ll be able to handle this really easily. Benson is totally open to extra credit projects and stuff like that. If you do better on the rest of the quizzes this semester, she’ll probably even drop this one.”
“Completely true,” Laurie is quick to agree. “I did some extra work for her last year, just to lock in a really good grade.”
“It’s not that so much,” Willow says. “It’s more that my brother has to sign off on this.” She is surprised to hear herself confiding in them.
“Okay.” Laurie nods slowly; she’s willing to listen, but she looks a little bit confused. And Willow knows that while Laurie is totally sympathetic about the bad grade, she’s completely ignorant of the bigger issues at hand.
“I mean, that’s something that a parent’s supposed to do! Only now he’s the one who has to deal with this kind of stuff!” Willow bursts out in frustration.
“Oh.” Laurie pauses for a moment. “It’s terrible about your parents,” she says quietly. “But you know,” she continues, “at least your brother’s willing to do this kind of thing. I can’t imagine mine would. I mean, it’s sort of sweet, don’t you think?”
Sweet.
Laurie’s a nice girl. She’s truly nice. She’s willing to include Willow in whatever she’s doing, she’s willing to overlook stupid remarks about kittens, she’s willing to commiserate about failed quizzes, and she’s even, unlike some people, compassionate about Willow’s situation.
But it’s clear that kind as she is, caring as she is, she’s utterly clueless!
“Yes,” Willow says dully. She stops outside the bookstore. “It’s sort of sweet.
“I have to go in here,” she says after an uncomfortable pause. “I need a book,” she adds unnecessarily.
“Sure,” Chloe says agreeably. “If you feel like it, when you’re done, you can catch up with us. We’ll be across the street, down two blocks.” She gestures toward some shops in the distance. “There’s a whole row of shoe stores over that way.”
“Okay.” Willow manages a smile. “And good luck finding the red shoes, Laurie. They’ll go with your hair, I mean when you get around to coloring it.”
“Thanks.” Laurie smiles back. “I’ll wear whatever I get to school tomorrow.”
Willow watches them walk away, then turns to head into the bookstore.
It’s as if there’s a plate glass wall standing between her and the entrance.
That’s how hard it is for her to bridge the gap that lies between her and the door. Of course she’d known that coming here would be difficult, but she’d thought that she could handle it. As long as she was doing something for David, she figured that she could put up with just about anything.
Except she hadn’t counted on the place itself being so overwhelming. Every time she’s been here before, every time, has been in the company of one of her parents.
Willow stands still and watches as other people go in and out of the store. Suppose she went up to one of them, that cute guy going in right now for instance, and asked him to help her, to take her arm as if she were an old lady and walk her across the street. Would he look at her as if she were crazy? And if he did do as she asked, would it even be enough?
For a second Willow considers abandoning the whole project, running after Chloe and Laurie, seeing if she can help them find the red shoes with the kitten heels. But they’re long gone, and besides, she so wants to do this. . . .
She’d better do it soon too, she doesn’t have that much time left.
Okay, c’mon, deep breath now. . . .
She’s sure that she must actually look like an old lady as she crosses the few feet of sidewalk. She’s certainly never walked this slowly, this painfully, before. Someone holds the door open for her, not the way they would in the normal course of things, but more like they can tell that she’s terribly sick, and they want to spare her any further pain.
“Thank you,” Willow says. She sounds like an old lady too.
Willow looks around. The place hasn’t changed since the last time she was here. Well, it probably hasn’t changed much in the last fifty years, but still, the stability is unsettling. She can’t help thinking that her parents’ deaths should have changed everything in their world, not just the immediate world of their family.
She takes a few steps forward and is immediately assaulted by the smells, the crush of people, the sheer energy of the place. But it’s okay, she can handle it now. The important thing is to get David’s book, and then to head back uptown as fast as possible.
Willow walks over to the anthropology section—she could find it blindfolded—and pulls out the scrap of paper that she scribbled the title on.
Harrison, J.E.
At least it won’t be anywhere near her parents’ books.
But after a few minutes of searching the she
lves, she’s forced to conclude that it doesn’t look as if it’s anywhere at all.
Fine, so I’ll have to deal with the staff.
Willow goes over to the information desk and hands the slip of paper to the clerk. He’s probably only about five or six years older than she is. Like the store itself, he’s slightly unkempt. He doesn’t look like someone who loves books. Willow can see that he’s reading an alternative music magazine.
“Whas up?” True to form, he looks irritated at the interruption. Clearly, reading his magazine is much more important than helping a customer. She smiles as she remembers Guy’s description of the employees.
“I couldn’t find this anywhere,” Willow says as sweetly as possible. “Do you think you might have it? Maybe upstairs in the rare book room?”
“Gimme a sec,” the guy says between bites of his sandwich. “What is this, anthropology? Archaeology? Religion?” He squints at her handwriting.
“Most likely anthropology,” Willow says. “But I guess technically it could fit into—”
“I’ll find you, okay?” He interrupts her. “Just hang out in the anthro section and I’ll let you know in a few minutes.”
Willow wanders slowly back to the anthropology area, stopping at British imports on the way.
She leafs idly through a few books. It’s strange, but except for school assignments, she really hasn’t read anything in months, not since her parents died. Books used to be as vital to her as food, reading them, talking about them, but now . . .
Although of course, she and Guy did discuss—
“I said to hang out in the anthro section.” The clerk startles her out of her reverie. “Anyway, we got it, I mean we canget it.”
“Great!” Willow is beyond relieved. For a second there she thought that she’d have to leave empty-handed.
“Yeah.” He picks his teeth as he looks her over from head to toe. “Special order, a hundred and eighty-six bucks, six weeks max, more like three probably. Oh, you have to pay in full now. You know, it being a special order and all that.”
“I . . . Wha . . . It’s . . . Huh?”