On the Night She Died: A Quarry Street Story Read online

  Jenni laughed at her sister’s anxious expression and tossed her hair over her shoulders. She’d been thinking of dying it. Black, maybe. Or streaks of color, kind of punk rock. Oooh, she could cut it short, maybe even shave it to the scalp, why not? She’d been the blond princess her whole life. It would shock the shit out of everyone if she went that dark and edgy…baby sister was staring, so Jenni pressed her lips together before saying, “Of course. I told you I would. A whole case.”

  "How did you get a whole case of beer?" Allie was still pacing. Her fingers clenched and curled, then released. She was clearly freaking out.

  "Allie!" Jenni snapped her fingers in front of Alicia's face to get her sister to focus. "Chill. You're making me nervous."

  Mom and Dad were still here, getting ready in their room down the hall. They were leaving Jenni in charge for the first time. At almost eighteen, she was supposed to be old enough to handle things. She should be proud they thought so, right? Allie clearly didn’t think Jenni could handle shit, because she was still looking like someone had stuck her with a fistful of pins. For a second, Jenni wanted to put an arm around her younger sister and reassure her it would all be okay, and that if anything, she ought to be on her knees thanking Jenni for setting this up. Allie’s cool factor was going to skyrocket after tonight, and Allie sure could use a little cool.

  It hadn’t been that long ago that she and Allie had been “thick as thieves,” as their mother said. Now Jenni couldn’t remember the last time the two of them had really shared their secrets. And Jenni had plenty, didn’t she? Allie probably didn’t have a single one, the good girl, the quiet one, the nerd. Jenni had never envied her sister until just now.

  "How did you get a case of beer?" Alicia lowered her voice to a hissing whisper.

  "I know a guy." Jenni shrugged again.

  She knew a lot of guys. Always had. That these new “guys” were all older, much older, was something new. She wasn’t going to tell her sister about any of them, though. Not about the perv who bought drugs from her and thought that meant they had something between them. Not about her dealer, who’d promised her more money than she could spend if only she sold for him. And not about him…the one who Jenni thought she might love. Or could love. Or shouldn’t love. One or all of those.

  Jenni looked in the mirror to admire the heart-shaped pendant she knew Allie wanted, but which had been gifted to her. For a single moment she considered taking it from her neck and giving it to her sister, who certainly wanted it more than Jenni ever had. Her fingers curled around it, but she didn’t take it off. Keeping something her sister wanted had been a long habit.

  Black flecks speckled the glass where the silvering had come off it in the back. This mirror was an antique, attached to an old dresser that had been their grandma's when she got married. When she died, Mom got it. It had been in their room forever, so both of them were used to standing in weird poses in order to see all of themselves.

  Jenni cocked her hip and tilted her head as she ran her hands up her sides to close her fingers around her own throat. Steve liked to do that when they were fooling around. It made her feel woozy and dangerous, and even though he’d never really scared her, part of her was always waiting to be frightened. Part of her wanted to be. She pressed her thumbs against her throat and her eyelids fluttered closed as warmth spread upward from low in her belly.

  "Where did you meet a guy that old? The diner?"

  Jenni’s eyes snapped open at the question, and any desire she’d fleetingly had to give away the necklace vanished with her annoyance at Allie’s nosiness. Jenni had been working at the diner since she got her driver's license, which was about the same time she started growing distant and irritable about everything that happened in this little house. With her little friends. Their little lives. The people — the men — who stopped at the diner were almost always on their way to someplace else. Someplace, any place better than Quarrytown.

  She’d met him at the diner.

  Jenni turned with another toss of her hair. The heat in her belly had rushed to her face at the way Allie was staring, but Jenni shook it off. "What do you care? Ilya said bring beer, I'm bringing beer. What difference does it make to you what I had to do to get it?"

  "Jennilynn! What did you have to do?" Allie squealed.

  "Jesus, Alicia. Enough with the Spanish Inquisition. I met a guy, he's old enough to get beer, and he likes me enough to bring it to the party. Quit acting like this is some kind of big deal, because it's not." Jenni turned to face the mirror again, pursing her lips and turning her face from side to side. More blush? More eyeliner. What would Ilya say if she showed up in full-on Goth?

  What did she care what fucking Ilya Stern thought about anything? Jenni scowled at her reflection. Not a damned thing, not now or in the future.

  "What's going on with you lately?" Allie demanded.

  Jenni looked at her sister in the reflection, then once again turned to face her. Slowly, this time. Without the flounce. Again, Jenni remembered how close they’d been. If only she could trust Allie not to run to their folks if Jenni told her the truth…but no. She couldn’t trust her little sister with anything like that. Not if she wanted to keep doing what she’d been doing. Not if she wanted to get away with it. That was the trouble with secrets, wasn’t it? You had to keep them all by yourself.

  "Nothing." Jenni put on a vacant smile. Allie didn’t believe her, Jenni could see that. She also knew her sister wasn’t going to press her for answers. “It's going to be a slammin' party. Don't be such a loser."

  The "L" Jenni made with her thumb and first finger pressed to her forehead was meant to be a joke, but Allie clearly didn’t take it that way. She frowned. "We're going to get in trouble."

  "Not unless someone narcs on us. Mom and Dad won't be back until late Sunday. Galina's working a double or something. Ilya said she won't be home until morning. Barry went fishing for the weekend. And Babulya's staying with some friends in Camp Hill, some kind of quilting thing."

  Allie wasn't satisfied. "What if someone calls the cops?"

  "Who's going to call the cops?" Jenni rolled her eyes so hard she swore she could see her own asshole. "We're the only houses on this dead-end street.”

  Allie left the room. Jenni checked her pager. He hadn’t sent a message, but she hadn’t expected him to. He was out of town. There was a message from Dillon, the guy who was supposed to be getting her the beer. Downstairs in the kitchen, she called him back.

  “I’ll bring it to the party,” he said.

  He wasn’t invited to the party, but Jenni didn’t say so. If that was the only way to get him to bring the beer, fine. She rolled her eyes, though. Dillon was a loser, one she didn’t feel bad about using to get what she wanted.

  Allie had been lingering, listening. “Who was that?”

  “Beer delivery,” Jenni said with a grin and a toss of her hair. “C’mon. Let’s go over.”

  Chapter 3

  Rebecca

  Then

  It was going to be the party of the year.

  Rebecca Segal didn’t hang out much with the kids who lived on Quarry Street, even though they’d all gone to school together since kindergarten. The Stern and Harrison families were tight with each other, their own little club, and although Rebecca had imagined Ilya Stern’s mouth on hers a hundred times, well, so had almost every other girl in school. Fantasizing about Ilya was pointless, since he had eyes only for Jennilynn Harrison, anyway.

  Besides, Rebecca had been going out with Richard Goldman practically since her bat mitzvah, when her parents had insisted they share the celebratory kiddush at the synagogue. Their birthdays were only a week apart. Their dads did business together. Her parents liked and approved of him, and if the Stern brothers had the bad boy swagger and good looks that turned girls’ heads, Richie had…well, Richie had money. Or at least his parents did. He also had a car. And a good future, according to Rebecca’s mom and dad, who liked to talk about “a good future” a