of her name, has one that goes right down the front of her hairline. That’s where they are most common. But they can develop anywhere, and anytime in your life. It runs in the Tabor family. But it’s not like I have to explain genetics to you.”
My mind whirled again. I blinked several times. “It’s not a sickness? Like XP?”
Bonnie shook her head. “No. According to the doctor he’s dating, Garrett’s very healthy indeed.” She slapped her hand over her mouth and laughed. “Now I’m gossiping. Time to leave, young lady!”
MY MOTHER PICKED me up in the circle drive. We drove slowly past the red sports car. I asked her if she knew Garrett Tabor.
Garrett Tabor. G.T. G.T. G.T.
She looked surprised. I think she was all set for a heart-to-heart talk about the import of my doctor visit in the wake of what had happened with Rob. Not that I’d told her, but of course she knew. She was Jack-Jack. I wasn’t ungrateful for an excuse to postpone that little chat. You can have the most open-minded mother on earth, but there are still going to be things that are uncomfortable.
“Well,” my mother said. “I know who he is. He’s an asshole.”
I almost smiled. The wonderful thing about my mother: she is so socially reticent on delicate subjects. “How so?”
“He’s screwing one of the residents, and I mean that in every sense of the word,” she said. “Anyway, he’s Dr. Stephen’s son. Why do you ask?”
“He’s a ski coach,” I said.
“Right. Oh … he coached Juliet! That’s why you’re wondering. For a while, he coached in upstate New York someplace. Now he’s back here full time.”
“So he’s really an asshole, huh? But Dr. Stephen is so nice.”
“Good people have rotten kids. Look at my own fate.”
“Ho, ho. Ha, ha. Tee hee.”
Mom chuckled, but her grip tightened on the steering wheel as we rounded the corner onto the road that led home. “Can you keep a secret?” she asked with a conspiratorial grin.
“Jack-Jack, please. I’m insulted.”
“He’s definitely sleeping with Dr. Olson’s friend, Dr. Wilenbrand.” Her voice dropped to a stage whisper. “But he’s also sleeping with Gina.”
“Gina? She’s older than he is! Lots! And you told me she wasn’t a gold-digging mistress!”
“That’s not illegal,” Mom muttered.
Still, I thought … Gina was a single mom with two daughters older than Angela, but younger than me. In past summers, Gina and Mom spent vacation time together between the dark and the light, bringing out sandwiches and sunscreen for all us little girls so we could splash in kiddie pools. On the other hand, maybe it did make sense. More than once, Gina had announced (after a few beers) that she wished she’d never met her husband, and that she wished he could have just mailed her his sperm to produce Regina and Ronnie.
“Maybe Gina thinks she could end up with a piece of the Tabor pie,” Mom said in the silence.
I stared ahead at the road. “I can’t believe Gina would be with that guy. She’s so strong and tough.…” But so was Juliet. Had Juliet really gone all the way with him? You don’t tat a guy’s initials on your belly because he helped you master a triple twist.
“It’s worse because Lauren Wilenbrand works with Gina and me, and Lauren’s about twenty-eight years old.” Mom sighed. “I guess people see what they see.”
Instead of going to Nicola’s funeral, we decided to make a Dark Stars video in her honor. We couldn’t have gone to her funeral without attracting an offensive and inappropriate amount of attention, anyway; like all funerals, the service was held when people were generally awake. That’s one thing you learn hard and fast about XP: nobody is ever really equipped to deal with a ski mask, sunglasses, umbrella, and layers of (hopefully) reflective clothing at a midday gathering. But any guilt dissipated as we approached Watching Rock in Rob’s Jeep.
I will say this: for the first time in a very long while, we were the tres compadres again, united by a single purpose. We weren’t just going to boulder tonight. We were going to boulder in a way that made Parkour and David Belle look soft. We would live hard and fast for a girl who no longer could. And for the first time in a very long while, I truly didn’t care what Juliet was thinking. She was here. With us. For Nicola. At least I hoped. That was all that mattered for now.
Watching Rock is tall, thirty