Catalyst (The Best Days #1) (11 page)

A bottle of perfume and a bit of makeup sat on a black varnished dresser.  The desk was cluttered with clothing, pencils and various odds and ends not dissimilar to what Rory’s own bedroom desk might contain on any given day.  Rory noticed a poster on the wall above Grace’s bed with a picture of a band Rory loved.  She couldn’t help but notice it was autographed and made a mental note to ask Grace about it sometime.

Rory stepped over to the mirror hanging above Grace’s dresser and ran a hand through her hair. 
She’d curled it before she’d left the house but she mustn’t have sprayed it enough because as usual, it was doing its own thing again.  Rory silently cursed her sister for having naturally curly hair.  Rebecca didn’t even appreciate what she had, often throwing her gorgeous locks back in unsightly ponytails or messy buns.  It was a travesty!

“Shit,” Rory muttered as her eyes travelled lower.

She’d taken particular care with her appearance as she figured she’d be seeing Carson and wanted to impress him.  She’d chosen a pair of formfitting dark wash jeans and a curve-hugging t-shirt with slightly ruffled, feminine-looking sleeves.  But now there was a big obnoxious stain over her left boob!

Rory vaguely recalled having to push her way past
a crowd of drunken idiots on her way upstairs.  One of them had probably spilled punch on her.  She couldn’t go back down looking like that – not when Carson was waiting for her!

She and Grace were about the same size, give or take.  Would Gr
ace mind if Rory borrowed a hoodie?  Normally Rory wouldn’t just help herself to something that belonged to a near-stranger, but she was desperate and she doubted mild mannered Grace would care. 

Rory walked over to the closet, her mind made up
.  She wouldn’t snoop, she vowed as she hesitantly gripped the handle.  She’d simply grab the first hoodie she saw and be on her way.  She’d make sure to return it to Grace first thing on Monday…

Rory opened the closet door.

For a moment she froze.  It was a moment in time she’d never forget, those few short seconds feeling like centuries as an image she’d spend the rest of her life wishing she could forget was permanently burned into her brain.

Then s
he gasped and stumbled backwards, crashing over something underfoot.  Rory’s eyes were wide and filled with horror.  Her stomach heaved and she felt her entire body begin to shake.  She shook her head, refusing to believe what she saw.  Her mind raced at the same time as it went blank, struggling to find some other explanation.  It had to be a prank.  It just had to. 

But even as every fiber of Rory’s being screamed that at her, she knew it wasn’t a
prank.

“Are you in there?”  Rebecca knocked lightly on Rory’s bedroom door.  A moment passed and then, when she received no answer, she poked her head inside. 

Rory was lying on her back, staring blankly at the ceiling above her bed.  She wore headphones but whether she was even listening to music at all was anyone’s guess.  She was wearing the same clothes she’d had on the previous day.  When Rebecca flipped the lights on, she squinted and sat up, looking irritated.

“What?” Rory demanded gruffly.

“
Since you’ve already missed two weeks of school, I went around to all your teachers after school and got your homework,” Rebecca said, setting the papers down on Rory’s already cluttered desk. 

“Gee, thanks.”

Rebecca offered an apologetic half-smile.  “I can help you with it if you want?”

Rory scowled. 
“I don’t need my
little sister
helping me with my homework,” she informed Rebecca rather snottily.  Instantly she regretted her snide tone but Rebecca didn’t even flinch, acting like she hadn’t noticed.

Rory knew her sister – and everyone else – had been cutting her a lot of slack lately considering what she’d been through.  For that, she was grateful.  “I’ll do it later,” she mumbled even though they both knew she probably wouldn’t. 
 

Rebecca tried changing the subject. 
“Sheck called for you…again.  He wants to know if you want to hang out tonight.  And a bunch of people at school have been asking about you.  I’m never quite sure what to tell them?”

Rory shrugged.  “I don’t care,” she muttered, turning over so her back was to her sister.
  “Tell Sheck I’m…busy,” she added, even though that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

Rebecca wasn’t about to be cast aside so easily.  She moved so she was standing in front of her sister and then pulled off the headphones just in case Rory actually did have music on.  “You can’t stay in here forever,” she informed her sister. 
“It’s been two weeks, Rory.”

“You think I don’t know t
hat?”  She counted down the days, hours and minutes on a regular basis.  But it was the seconds that mattered most.  It was the seconds that could have counted.  If Rory had just gotten there even thirty seconds sooner, there was no telling how things might have turned out.

“Do you think maybe you should talk to someone?” Rebecca tried again. 
“Dad says you just need time but Mom’s been on the phone with a grief counsellor…she wants to make you an appointment.”

Rory made a face.  “What for?” she demanded.

Rebecca raised an eyebrow and tugged at her high ponytail, choosing her words carefully before she answered.  “You went through something pretty traumatic,” she pointed out.  “Maybe getting some professional help wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

“I don’t know why people keep saying that,” Rory grumbled.  “I’m sick of hearing about how
I
went through something.  You should have seen the way people stared at me at the funeral.  I could see them whispering and I know it was about me because any time I’d make eye contact they’d go quiet and look away.”

Rebecca pursed her lips and said nothing, giving Rory the chance to say whatever it was she’d been keeping bottled up inside.

“But the bottom line is it’s not about me.” Rory choked out, sounding irritated.  “Who cares what I went through?  That’s nothing.  What about what
she
went through, huh?  What about Grace?”

It was the first time Rory had uttered Grace’s name since her gruesome discovery the night of the party.  It felt foreign and strange tumbling off her lips and she immediately wished she hadn’t said it.
  Hearing the name roll off her tongue brought back a flood of memories she’d much rather forget.

“You can’t keep blaming yourself,” Rebecca said gently as she sat on the edge of the bed beside her sister.
  “Grace had issues.  No one could have known she had a mental breakdown last year…none of us even knew her then.  When she transferred to Belleview partway through the year she didn’t tell anyone it was because she was being harassed at her old school.”

“Mom’s already given me this speech,” Rory said flatly.  “More than once…”

“Yeah well Mom was right,” Rebecca insisted.  She crossed her arms and firmly informed her sister, “Rory, you didn’t kill her.”

“No,” Rory said lightly, turning around to look at her sister.  “Grace killed herself.”
  Although technically that was the truth, Rory didn’t exactly say it with conviction.  It was clear she was still grappling with a whole host of emotions.

“Yeah,” Rebecca agreed sadly.  “She did.”

Rory sat up and scowled at her sister.  “You don’t actually believe that, do you?” she demanded, sounding furious.  “Is that what they’re all telling themselves?  That it’s somehow all Grace’s fault for being weak minded or something?”  She looked like she wanted to hit something.  “They pushed her over the edge.”

“Rory…”

“You don’t know!”  Rory exclaimed, her voice getting louder.  “You weren’t at the party to see it for yourself.  I was.  I saw…I saw it all.  Maybe Grace is the one who tied the noose in her closet but it may as well have been us.  We did it.  We killed her.”

Rebecca sighed and attempted to change the subject.  “So what do you do here all day anyway?” she asked.  “Do you sleep or…?”

Scoffing, Rory shook her head.  She wished she could sleep but it wasn’t that easy.  Every time she closed her eyes she saw Grace’s motionless, lifeless body slumped over in the closet.  Grace’s feet were not quite touching the ground and her face was beginning to turn blue.

She’d been stiff.  That was the worst part.  Even though deep inside Rory had known Grace was already gone, she’d tried to
cut her down, hoping against hope that maybe the young woman who was supposed to have so much life ahead of her could still be saved.  She’d never forget the way Grace’s body felt in her arms, rigid and stiff.  Now she knew the meaning of dead weight.

Rory shuddered at the recollection.

“Where are Mom and Dad, anyway?” Rory asked. 

For the past two weeks they’d been hovering.  She knew they meant well but it was suffocating.  It made Rory feel awkward even in her own house because she knew their watchful gaze was always on her.  She hated seeing the worried expressions on their faces.  It gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“They’re both at work things they couldn’t get out of.  They left us pizza money.  I’m just about to order…what kind do you want?”

Rory shrugged.  “Whatever.”

It was completely unlike Rory to be indifferent about pizza.  Normally she was very, very specific about what topping she wanted:  pepperoni and mushroom and absolutely no onions.  She definitely wasn’t herself…she hadn’t been ever since that horrible night.

A half hour or so later, the doorbell rang.  Rory di
dn’t bother getting out of bed as she knew her sister would get it.  Instead, she burrowed under the covers and put her pillow over her head.  But before long, the enticing aroma of hot cheesy pizza was wafting in under her bedroom door.

Begrudgingly, she made her way into the kitchen.  It was pizza-less…and sister-less.

“Rebecca?” Rory called.  “Where are you?”

“In here!”

Rory followed the sound of her sister’s voice into the living room.  She stopped when she saw the couch had been completely disassembled, the cushions propped up in an elaborate design.  Blankets were draped over top of them and held in place by a few random pieces of furniture.  It was just like the pillow forts she and Rebecca used to build every Friday night back before popularity and social status demanded Rory spend her weekends  with fair weather friends who were undeniably cooler than Rebecca.

“What’s all this?” Rory asked,
eyeing the pizza box on the coffee table guardedly.

“Pizza just tastes better when you’re eating it in a pillow fort, you know?” Rebecca replied from where she sat cross legged on the floor beneath a blanket canopy.

It was a ridiculous statement but even more absurd, Rory knew exactly what Rebecca meant.  Everything was better from the safe confines of a pillow fort.  Under there, you were invincible, sheltered and protected from the world.  In fact, the world seemed to almost disappear completely and time stood still.

Rory had a feeling that even if she and Rebecca built a pillow fort when they were old ladies, they’d still somehow, magically, feel like they were twelve years old the minute they climbed
inside it.  It was funny how that worked, but also comforting.

Inside the pillow fort
, the only expectations were that you eat junk food, watch bad movies and maybe occasionally thwack your sister in the face with a pillow amidst a fit of giggles. 

“Is there room under there for me?”

“Of course there is.  I’m not supposed to tell you this,” Rebecca added, “But I’m under strict orders from Mom and Dad to make sure you eat something.  So grab a slice, alright?”

Rory
rolled her eyes.  Then she climbed in and sat next to Rebecca.  Begrudgingly, she reached for a slice of pizza and warned, “I don’t think I’m in the mood for a slasher movie tonight.”

Bad horror movies were their go-to.  Rebecca always covered her eyes during the scary parts and Rory stared at them wide-eyed, entranced.  But the last thing Rory felt like doing
right now was watching a movie about an axe murderer killing a bunch of college kids or a zombie apocalypse. 

“It’s okay,” Rebecca assured her as she took a bite of her pizza
, a string of gooey cheese hanging off the side before she pulled it free with her fingers and popped it in her mouth.  “I’m sure we can find something else to watch.”

It had been way too long since they’d done this.  It was Rory’s fault – she’d scoffed and declared the pillow forts babyish even though she hadn’t really thought that.  She’d pulled away.  She’d take it all back if she could.  Oh God, the things she’d take back if only she could…

Tears pricked at Rory’s eyes as her thoughts inevitably turned to Grace.  She wondered if Grace had ever done the pillow fort thing – likely not as the funeral had confirmed Rory’s hunch that Grace had been an only child.  Sadness washed over Rory as she realized Grace would never have the chance to do the pillow fort thing ever again.

“Rory…”

Rory sniffled and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes.  “What?”

“You have to stop doing this.”

Rebecca didn’t say it in a rude way.  In fact, she said it very kindly, with a look of sympathy in her clear green eyes.  But it wasn’t that easy.  “You’re not upset about Grace, but you weren’t there,” Rory pointed out, her eyes downcast.

“I
am
upset,” Rebecca corrected her.  “Not like you are or anything, but…it’s sad, what happened.  I feel bad about it.  I wish I’d known what Grace was going through.  I wish I’d talked to her more.  I just assumed she was a snob because…”

“…because she
started hanging around with my friends?” Rory guessed.

Rebecca hesitated.  “Well...yeah.”

“Grace wasn’t a snob,” Rory informed her sister.  “She actually seemed, I don’t know, timid or something.  I think she was just kind of…lost, you know?  Like, she didn’t quite fit in anywhere – she was still trying to find her place.”

Rebecca nodded.  “I know the feeling.”

Rory looked at her sister for a long time before speaking.  Then, finally, in a tiny voice she asked, “Do you hate me?”

Rebecca looked genuinely surprised.  “Hate you for what?” she asked even though she probably already knew the answer. 
After all, she was a smart girl, and observant too.  There wasn’t much that was lost on her. 

“I haven’t exactly been the best sister.”

“Neither have I.  But I could never hate you…not seriously.”

The girls watched some stupid sitcom for a while, sitting in their fort and eating their pizza in silence.  The cheesy laugh track was comforting, somehow.  It let the audience know when to find things funny.  It told them how to respond to the dumb, groan-worthy one-liners. 

Rory wished life came with a laugh track or background music or an instruction manual or
something
to dictate how one should feel.  That would make this nightmare so much easier to navigate.

Lately Rory didn’t even know how she felt let alone how she was expected to feel.  She circled the drain somewhere between anger and regret, caught in
the inevitable downward spiral – a deadly whirlpool of emotion.  But then a lot of the time she was just numb.  Sometimes she just wanted to sit alone in her room and stare at the wall while trying her best to make her mind go blissfully blank.  Surely that wasn’t normal?

The worst was when Rory momentarily focused on something else:  the
cheesy taste of the pizza, the way the fort’s ceiling drooped just the right amount or the way she suddenly felt closer to her sister than she had in months.  She’d catch herself after those brief reprieves from the darkness and the guilt she felt was immense.