Free Buried by Robin Merrow MacCready Page B

hair. “You look like your mom with your hair down. Come eat and we’ll make a plan.”
    I walked around back with her, Brandy licking at my hand. I wiped it on my pants.
    Mr. MacPhee stood up, spatula in one hand, soda in the other. “Claudina, my girl. Long time.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek and opened the grill lid with the spatula. He hadn’t called me that nickname in a while. I secretly loved it, even though I claimed to hate it.
    â€œHey, Tomasina,” I said.
    â€œAh, you remembered. Please join us. There’s tons to eat. Tons.”
    I waved to Mrs. MacPhee, who was on the chaise looking pissed off but glamorous in her Jackie Onassis sunglasses. She waved back but didn’t say anything.
    â€œIs your mom okay?” I whispered to Liz.
    â€œShell-shocked, but she’ll be fine.”
    We got sodas and moved over to the patio. “So, Dad told us he’d been drinking more and now he knows it’s time to cut back. If the meetings aren’t enough, he wants to look into Jackson Heights, too.”
    The condensation on the can was slimy under my hand, and I wiped it on my jeans. “Yeah, you told me.”
    â€œIsn’t that great?”
    I took a sip. It was too sweet. “I need some water, Liz.”
    She fished for a bottled water in the cooler. “It went pretty well.”
    My hands were sticky with dog drool. I had to wash them. “I’ll be right back,” I said, and went into her kitchen. I filled my palms with blue liquid dish soap and let the water get hot before I rubbed my hands into a lather. I rinsed and did it again. Brandy panted at the door, strings of drool dangling from his jowls. “I don’t think so, dog.” I shook off the water and dried my hands with a paper towel.
    From the sink I could see into the living room, where Mrs. MacPhee had her collection of crystal figurines. I looked around the corner. My stomach did a flip, and I remembered a sleepover we had in that living room in front of the Christmas tree. The tree reached all the way up to the second-floor balcony.
    I heard Mr. MacPhee ask Liz to get the condiments, so I stepped back into the kitchen. She came in and got ketchup, relish, and mustard from the fridge. “What do you want to do after we eat?”
    â€œAnything,” I said.
    Â 
We spent the afternoon at the beach, sitting on the hood of the car, getting the last of the sun and hanging with whoever stopped by. But then Jenna Carver came over, and the energy changed. She was convinced that the three of us should go to the after-football-game party that her brother Jake was throwing at her house. Liz agreed, and they hopped in the car. “Come on, Claude,” Liz said. “You’re driving.”
    Out the open window, Jenna said, “Jake was awesome. You should’ve gone. They slaughtered them. Don’t you ever go to the games?”
    I shook my head and hopped in.
    Jenna said, “I love football. Jake’s going to introduce me to Ryan. You know, the quarterback? He’s hot. So hot.”
    Liz and I locked eyes. She looked into the back at Jenna.
    â€œJenna, take a breath,” she said.
    Jenna giggled. “I can’t help it. I’m so pumped up.”
    â€œOh my god,” I mouthed.
    Jenna hollered out the window as I pulled into her driveway. There were people pouring in and out of her house, and the music was pumping from speakers placed in the open windows. She hopped out and jumped on her brother’s back. “Jakey!” Liz was right behind her.
    I stayed in the car, hand on the key. My fingers wouldn’t move. Fear tightened my belly, and I looked behind me. Another car was blocking me in. I’d be blocked in.
    â€œCome on,” Liz called. “Her parents gave them the house for the night.”
    I shifted into reverse and backed the car around the oncoming car and out of the driveway.
    On the way home I kept the windows open