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  “Just take it, Tammy,” she said.

  So Tammy just took it. She felt awkward about it, but if her mother told her she could draw on it and glue things to it, then Tammy guessed it was okay and she wasn’t pushing anyone’s buttons or hurting anyone’s feelings.

  BEFORE DINNER, TAMMY asked Steffi to rehearse with her so she could practice memorizing her lines. Steffi read the Dorothy parts and Tammy melted on her bedroom floor. Tammy liked yelling the last part about how she couldn’t believe a little girl like Dorothy could kill a Wicked Witch like her. And then she died.

  Steffi read the whole part lying on her bed with the script pages sticking up out of her stomach. She wasn’t really acting.

  “I don’t think you’re doing it right,” Steffi said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t think you should yell this part.”

  “Why not? I’m mad. I’m supposed to yell.”

  “Yeah, but you’re melting. I don’t think melting people can yell.”

  “Yes they can. They can when they’re mad that someone threw water on them and melted them. They’re mad because they’re dying and they don’t want to die.”

  “I don’t think the Witch is that mad. I think she’s sad. I think she’s trying to decide what to do.”

  “She can’t do anything. She’s melting.”

  “But maybe there’s a magic spell to stop her from melting and bring her back to life. But she doesn’t know what it is. This is her last chance. It’s her last chance to be a good witch.”

  Tammy knew Steffi was wishing there was some kind of magic spell to bring Kirin back to life, but there wasn’t. She was really dead. They had gone to her funeral and Tammy had worn her itchy pants suit and Steffi had worn a skirt. Kirin’s dad cried the whole time and it was hard to look at him. When Tammy and Steffi left the church, he pulled Steffi toward him in a sideways hug. Then he let her go and walked into the parking lot still crying. Steffi thought she would get to see Kirin lying in a coffin, but there was only a little square box about the size of the jewelry box their mother kept on top of her dresser. Tammy’s mother said that meant Kirin had been cremated and now she was just ashes. Tammy and Steffi never saw Kirin again, not even dead.

  Tammy wasn’t sure what Steffi meant about the Witch trying to be good. Tammy couldn’t change the words in the script. Even if the Wicked Witch was going to decide to be a good witch, it’s all the same in the end. She has to die and the nice girl has to win.

  DINNER WAS SPAGHETTI and Tammy and Steffi and Hugh ate off of plastic TV trays in their kids’ TV room. They used to not be allowed to do that, but a couple nights after Kirin died Steffi asked if they could, and since then they always ate in front of the TV.

  Tammy didn’t notice at first that Steffi had gotten up from her TV chair a while ago and had not come back. The clue that Steffi had been gone longer than a normal bathroom break was the change of the TV program at the half hour. Bosom Buddies had ended and Dallas was about to start, but Steffi hadn’t come back.

  Tammy took her ice cream dish to the sink and saw Steffi sitting in the living room on the couch. Tammy’s mother was slumped against the cushions with her hand on Steffi’s back and Nick was standing with his back to the kitchen leaning with his shoulder against the wall. Steffi was sitting up perfectly straight and answering questions from a man and woman who had dragged over chairs from the dinner table and were scribbling notes onto yellow pads.

  The woman was leaning toward Steffi with her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped together, and her thumbs hooked behind her chin. She wore a suit like a man’s except with a ruffly blouse underneath the jacket and a skinny ribbon bow tie. She was still dressed in her work clothes even though it was nine p.m. and Tammy’s mother and Nick had changed into jeans a long time ago.

  “Can you tell us,” the woman asked, “what Kirin thought about her mother? What her feelings were when she talked about her?” When the woman spoke, her fingers came apart, but at the end of each sentence she clasped them back together. Steffi sniffed a few times to get a good breath so she could answer the question.

  “Sometimes,” Steffi whispered, “Kirin said she hated her mother.” Steffi squeezed her eyes shut, as if not crying somehow excused her from telling this secret. Steffi looked worried, like she would get in trouble for something, like she should have already told someone this. If she had told the woman about it before, maybe Kirin wouldn’t be dead. Maybe her parents would’ve gotten a divorce and she would’ve gone to live with her dad or her grandmother. But Tammy knew that when someone is crazy, that’s it, they’re crazy, and there’s nothing you can do about it. They have to go live at a psychiatric hospital like old people who live in old folks’ homes. They can’t take care of themselves. Sometimes people are normal and then all of a sudden they go crazy and the police have to come and take them away. It just happens. That’s probably what happened to Kirin’s mom.

  Everyone was so focused on Steffi that they hadn’t noticed Tammy standing there eavesdropping. Tammy’s mother eventually looked over at her and motioned to Nick who turned around. “This doesn’t concern you,” he said and he told her that she could go back and watch TV or go to her room. Tammy didn’t say anything and headed up to her room.

  In the shadows of the upstairs hallway, equidistant between her bedroom and the bathroom, Tammy could listen in on the living room conversation without anyone seeing her. If anyone did notice her, she could say she was going to the bathroom.

  “One time,” Steffi sniffled on, “her mom didn’t talk to her for almost three days. Kirin thought maybe she had tonsillitis, but she didn’t go to the doctor. She wouldn’t even write notes or use sign language.”

  “Was Kirin afraid of her mother?” the woman asked.

  “I don’t know. But she did say the house was haunted. Her mother said it was.”

  The woman asked more questions that Tammy couldn’t quite hear and Steffi answered only yes or no. When Tammy heard them all stand up, she darted back into her room and pretended to read a book.

  A minute later, Steffi walked by Tammy and through the separator door. Steffi left the separator door open and Tammy got up off her bed and stood on the narrow piece of wood that marked the official border of their rooms. Steffi was curled up on her bed with her back to Tammy. Tammy asked her who the people in the living room were. Steffi said they were lawyers. She told them that sometimes Kirin said she hated her mother, but Steffi didn’t think she really meant it. Everyone says that, right?

  Tammy said it all the time about her mother, but usually when she said it she meant it.

  Tammy asked Steffi if Kirin’s mother was going to jail. Steffi said she didn’t know.

  Steffi didn’t say anything for a few minutes. She lay there on her bed and Tammy watched her side move up and down as she breathed in and out. After several breaths Steffi said very quietly, “Do you think they found the wine? In the closet?”

  Steffi seemed worried about this. Steffi never got into trouble, but the way she asked Tammy, it was like the wine was a big deal. She didn’t want them to find it. Tammy told her they had probably already found it. Police usually search a house where a murder takes place. They have to look for clues. But would they look in her closet? Steffi asked. Tammy had read all the newspaper articles. She didn’t remember them mentioning the wine.

  “I wish we could go get it,” Steffi said, “and pour it down the drain and wash it out.”

  Tammy said it didn’t matter anymore. Kirin was dead. Kirin couldn’t get in trouble anymore. It didn’t matter if they found the wine or not. That made Steffi start to cry. Tammy said she was sorry. Don’t cry, she said. It was mean of those lawyers to come and talk to you. Why did they do that? You don’t know anything.

  “It’s not just that,” Steffi said, squeezing her eyes shut, “I left something there.”

  Tammy tried to tell her that whatever it was, it was probably too late. Or the police took it. Gretchen said
that no one went in the house anymore. Kirin’s dad had moved away.

  “Do you remember the photos we showed you?”

  Tammy looked at the piece of Steffi’s hair that was plastered with tears across her cheek. It looked like a dead worm that had drowned on the sidewalk after a rainstorm. Steffi had her face turned toward the wall and the blue pencil mark in her cheek still hadn’t worked its way out. Tammy didn’t know why Steffi was bringing up the photos, unless she was going to say that she knew they were taken with Tammy’s Polaroid camera.

  Tammy muttered, “Yeah,” because she knew Steffi needed it to go on.

  “We took Nick’s gun that was in there. I let Kirin borrow it.”

  Tammy was shocked. Steffi was going to get in big trouble for that. Tammy was surprised Nick hadn’t noticed it was missing. Kirin had been dead for a couple of weeks. Steffi would definitely get in trouble for that and she would most definitely get spanked. Tammy almost wanted to laugh at Steffi for so obviously breaking a rule. Stealing Nick’s gun was such a stupid thing to do. If she wanted to use it she should have just used it at home, quietly in her room, and then put it back before Nick came home from work. She shouldn’t have let Kirin take it to her house. Or if she and Kirin wanted to use it at Kirin’s house, Steffi should’ve taken it there and brought it back home the same day, or the next morning if she was sleeping over. She shouldn’t have let Kirin take it for a couple weeks and promise to bring it back like a library book.

  Tammy felt herself beginning to get nervous. A prickly feeling was creeping across her hands and her skin was starting to itch. She was partly nervous that she would get blamed for losing the gun, because who would believe that Steffi would do such a thing? It was so un-Steffi. Hugh wouldn’t do it. Tammy was the only logical choice. And telling the truth would be too farfetched. No one would ever believe that it was still at Kirin’s house in her bedroom closet with a Tupperware container full of wine.

  Tammy’s stomach turned over and her mouth felt cold and mucusy from the ice cream she had eaten. This was serious. Now that Steffi had told her about it, Tammy was involved. If Nick found out, and eventually he would notice it was gone, even if Steffi confessed, Tammy doubted Nick would believe that Steffi had taken the gun. He would probably think that Steffi was trying to do something nice for Tammy. That she was covering up for Tammy. And no one would ever punish Steffi now with Kirin dead. They all felt bad that her best friend was killed. And they really didn’t want to think about how many times Steffi had slept over at Kirin’s house.

  “Why?” was all Tammy could put together in her brain to say.

  “Because,” Steffi said. The pink was draining from her face and she was breathing funny. “Kirin’s mom said there were bad people living across the street who might come in and try to kidnap her. She was scared. She needed it.”

  It occurred to Tammy that Nick’s gun could have been the one that killed Kirin. Maybe those lawyers already knew about it or they thought Nick had killed Kirin. After all, Nick wasn’t home that night, and when the guy at the music place made the announcement, her mother didn’t answer. Tammy really couldn’t say for sure where they were that night. They hadn’t written down the number. The guy who worked at the music place couldn’t say for sure they were there. Tammy didn’t know what time they came home. But why would Nick want to kill Kirin and injure her mom? That was the part that didn’t make sense.

  Tammy walked over to Steffi’s little wooden desk. She had a manila folder their mother had given her from her office to make a file about Kirin. Steffi had cut out all the newspaper articles about Kirin and put them in the folder. Tammy read through one of the articles. She had read it before but she didn’t really remember any of the details. This time when she read it, she saw that Kirin had been killed by a big, rifle-style gun and not a little gun. It also said that Kirin’s mom said she did it. Tammy closed the folder and a piece of gray newspaper shot out trying to escape.

  It was back to Tammy and Steffi. Nick was a dick, but he had nothing to do with it.

  “We should go get it,” Tammy said.

  Steffi finally turned her head away from the wall and looked at Tammy. Her right cheek had zigzag marks pressed into it from her pillowcase. She had dark circles under eyes and her breath was getting the little whistle that meant she would soon begin to wheeze and need to take her asthma medicine. It was a capsule full of teeny brown and white balls that she took by opening it up, like the red capsule in the Contac cold medicine commercial, and mixing the balls with a spoonful of applesauce. Steffi didn’t know how to swallow pills.

  Tammy knew Steffi didn’t want to go back there. She didn’t want to go back into her dead best friend’s bedroom and look at the spot where she got shot. That house was definitely haunted now.

  Steffi’s eyes were straining and she was starting to wheeze.

  “Do you want me to get Mom?” Tammy asked.

  Steffi shook her head.

  Tammy tried not to look directly at Steffi. She stared down at the gray floorboards and glanced over to the closet where Steffi and Kirin used to stand on the dresser and sing songs to the radio. Kirin was the one who made up the deejay game.

  “I’ll get it,” Tammy said. “I’ll get it out of her house.”

  Steffi’s face relaxed a little bit. “How are you going to do it?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Tammy said. She didn’t know how she would do it, but she knew it had to be done. Tammy had to be the one to do it. Steffi was too scared. If Tammy made Steffi go back in that house with her, Steffi would get asthma and give them away. Tammy and Steffi didn’t say anything about what Nick would do if he found out. Tammy realized that she and Steffi never talked about Nick, just like they never talked about their dad. And soon, Tammy thought, they would never talk about Kirin and her mom, about the time all three of them had slept over there and could’ve been killed, shot to death in their sleeping bags on the floor of the guest TV room. It was the unspoken rule in Tammy’s and Steffi’s house not to talk about things that scared them.

  “You should do it soon,” Steffi said.

  “Yeah,” Tammy said. It had already been too long. Tammy was surprised they weren’t in trouble already. But whenever someone dies things get stretched out longer. Like the extra time Mrs. Perkins gave Tammy’s class for their book reports that were due the Monday after Kirin died. Sooner or later though, they’ll remember, they’ll think it’s been long enough, and why did you think we didn’t notice, or why did you think we had forgotten, or why did you think you could get away with it? Just because someone died doesn’t mean you can get away with something.

  ON THE ROAD

  There was a moment at the airport when Jeffrey felt like one of those women in the supermarket checkout line. The cashier rings up the total and the woman digs through her big messy purse full of crumpled tissues and lipstick caps. She finds her wallet, but she doesn’t have enough money. She writes a check instead and the cashier has to get it approved by the manager. The manager, some fat, bald guy in a white shirt with short sleeves, comes over and looks at the check. He won’t accept it because she’s bounced a check to the market before and now she’s on the no-check list. The woman looks at her groceries that have been pushed off the conveyor belt and into the tin basin where they wait for some kid to bag them. What should she throw back? Now she’s holding up the line and the cashier’s got to get the key for the register in order to void out what doesn’t make the cut. And you can tell the thought is going through her head that she hopes she’s not on the no-check list at the gas station because she’s almost out of gas. She can eat, but she might not be able to get home. By the time she’s out of there no one feels sorry for her. Her kids are screaming. Everyone just wants her gone.

  Jeffrey felt like that woman when he opened his wallet to pay the agent for his plane ticket back to Texas. He didn’t have the cash and he didn’t want to admit it. He thumbed through the bills in his wallet. He knew it wouldn’t be
enough. Jeffrey felt someone unscrew an opening in his body and pour corrosive battery juice directly into his veins. He felt it travel down his arms to his fingertips, down his legs, and finally, it grabbed onto his jaw. Jeffrey turned his head and looked back at the lines of people shoving their suitcases along with their feet as they waited to check in. No one else seemed to be having this problem. There was one guy who was loudly complaining about something, opening and closing his ticket envelope, but he was one of those guys who liked to be loud.

  “Sir?” the ticket agent said, trying to get his attention. She had perfectly white teeth and perfectly hair-sprayed hair. Why wasn’t she a stewardess?

  Jeffrey could feel the people behind him becoming restless. Some whiner said, “What the heck is taking this idiot so long? I’ve got a plane to catch.”

  Jeffrey turned back to the ticket agent.

  “I’m sorry. I have to make a telephone call.”

  Jeffrey picked up his bags and walked away from the counter. The ticket agent called after him. Jeffrey thought it best not to explain too much. Better to act like he was obsessed with important business matters.

  For good measure, Jeffrey went to the nearest pay phone, picked up the receiver, and dropped in a dime. He waited a moment and then held down the coin release latch. The dime tumbled back to him. At least some things still work around here.

  Jeffrey swallowed a few times to oil his tight jaw. Then he dialed zero for the operator and placed a collect call to his parents.

  Jeffrey had the cab ride from the hotel to lay out his excuse. He had gone to the Columbia School of Broadcasting for orientation day, but he wasn’t on their list of new students. They had lost his application. The lady in the registration office was nice enough about it; he must have caught her on a good day because she let him fill out an application form right there and said she was going to see if she could push it through. She understood that this was probably the school’s fault, and she confided that this type of thing had happened before. She could probably get the whole mess straightened out and he would only have to miss the first few classes. It would be easy enough to catch up. But, she would need a copy of his high school diploma and his immunization records or a note from his doctor. He needed to come back home to get them.