What happened to my best friend sickens me, despite the fact that I can’t remember a thing about it.
Is she still alive? I pray to God she is.
* * *
Let’s just say that I was never one of the cool girls at Shepherd’s Bay High. When Willow befriended me that day, something changed inside me, as much as it changed the way others looked at me. I felt like a new girl. The other kids perceived me in a different light when I walked through the halls with her by my side—and I liked the powerful feeling this gave me. She had style and grace and oozed charisma, and I was quite surprised when we ended up sitting next to each other in many of the same classes. She had smarts, too, although one would have never known it by looking at her.
I wondered what she saw in me. In many ways, we were at complete opposite ends of the spectrum. She stood around five-ten and had long blond hair, smoky blue eyes, and an exaggerated gait, which caught the eye of every male she passed. I had maxed out at five-three, dressed conservatively, and had brown hair pinned back with hairpins. We couldn’t have been more different. I was the old soul, as my mother jokingly referred to me, and she was the wild young thing.
When the cool girls asked to hang out with her, Willow informed them that she had more important things to do. From that point on, she became public enemy number one to those girls. By association, I became enemy number two, despite having grown up with many of them. They bared their fangs whenever we passed.
As much as they gossiped about her in the hallways and in the school cafeteria, it didn’t seem to faze Willow. She’d simply extend her arm and flip them off and then walk away without a care in the world. Nothing seemed to faze her. It was only when they started taunting me that she became upset.
It happened one day after school, as we headed out the back door. Two weeks had passed since I watched her step out of that Mercedes. I remember how we stopped to look at the poster advertising the new musical the school was to put on that winter.
“Grease,” she said in an approving tone. “I love that old movie.”
“Me too.”
“Did I ever tell you that my father knows John Travolta?” she said matter-of-factly.
“Really? That’s so cool.”
She glanced at her almond-shaped nails. “He used to be so hot back in his Saturday Night Fever days.”
“I never saw that movie.”
“Then you definitely should,” she said, touching my arm. “Did you know that John has a house in Maine? He told my dad that he’d invite us up there this summer. Maybe even give us a ride in his plane.”
“He has his own plane?”
“Totally. And John’s a pilot, too.”
“That’s so cool.”
“I know, right?”
“I can’t believe you know John Travolta,” I sighed dreamily, recalling him in his Grease days.
“Actually, it’s my dad who knows him.”
“Still, it’s practically like it’s you.”
“I suppose,” she said. “Would you like to come with us when we go see him?” She flipped her hair back and stared at me with those icy blue eyes.
“Would I ever, assuming your parents will let me.”
“My parents will do whatever I tell them.” She looked back up at the poster, hand on hip, as if to pose. “Is this your thing, Katie? Musical theater?”
“One of my many hidden talents.” I laughed.
“Really?”
“If you’re asking me if I’m in the theater group, the answer is yes, although I’m hardly one of the stars. Mostly, I’m in the background, lip-synching.”
“I see they’re holding auditions next week.”
“Are you thinking about trying out for one of the supporting roles?” I asked.
“Supporting roles? Hell no. I plan on winning the part of Sandy Olsson.”
I covered my mouth and laughed, trying not to hurt her feelings.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’m sorry for laughing. It’s just that Mrs. Carlson always picks seniors for the top roles, and this year Debbie Lowe has the best chance of winning the part of Sandy Olsson.”
“Are you saying that the auditions are rigged?”
“No. It’s just that there’s a lot of really talented girls trying out this year, so Mrs. Carlson tries to give it to a deserving senior whenever possible. And not only has Debbie Lowe been waiting her turn, but she has an amazing voice, too.”
“But will she judge these auditions with an open mind?”