Pasadena by Sherri L. Smith Read Free Book Online

relaxed Tuesday night, on the beach at Dockweiler, or up at Blue House.”
    Blue House is Eppie’s dad’s place in Eagle Rock. She splits her time between her mom’s town house in Pasadena and the weathered blue Craftsman her dad, Mike, rents across the freeway overlooking Downtown LA. Mike is an old hippie, tanned as a piece of leather and mellow from a lifetime of weed. His girlfriend, Shasta, reads tarot cards for everyone at their house parties. Maggie was more of a champagne-and-caviar girl, but even she could not deny the bohemian tug of Blue House.
    â€œGod bless you, Eppie child.” I kiss her on top of her spiky hair, breathing in the faint scent of patchouli.
    â€œAw, Jude, you just need to hang in there, all right? Blue House. Tuesday. And then . . .” She spreads her hands like seaweed on the water and I fill in the blanks.
    Then we bury Maggie, then we make it through the summer and the rest of our lives. In another few weeks,we move on to our senior year, the beginnings of our last good-byes.
    Maggie’s death is a training ground for all the other endings we’ll face this year. She’s the wake-up call that says you’re not a kid anymore. Tally knew it with her buttoned-up, adult dinner party. Clearly, I did not.
    The ladies’ room suddenly feels too small to hold us both.
    â€œYou got a ride home?” Eppie asks.
    â€œJoey’s got me.”
    â€œI bet he does.” She winks and slips sideways so we can open the door to the world outside.
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    â€œNot very subtle,” Joey says as we climb back into his car.
    We’re the last to leave. The valet, a young guy with a name tag that says “Chico,” closes the door for me. I nod at him and shrug at Joey. “What can I say? I’m not Maggie.”
    Joey shakes his head in a way that says
fair enough
. “Where to now?” he asks.
    I’ve done enough damage for one night, I decide. “Take me home.”
    Again, to his credit, Joey says nothing. He’s a smart one. A classy guy. He pulls into the road and half smiles at me, the wind ruffling his hair.
    It makes me wish life was normal again, that things could be different between us. But normal’s been in my rearview mirror for a long time, and with Maggie gone, it’s faded completely from view. Joey and I are friends. Good ones. And that’s all we’ll ever be.

5
    T he air smells like an East Coast autumn, like burning leaves. Joey points north toward the San Gabriel Mountains. A line of fire is marching across the foothills. In the moonlight, it looks like the dull red glow of a giant cigarette butt, bright on the front line, then cooling to a cinder. The wind gusts and for one moment, the fire burns brighter. Then we’re surrounded by swirling ash, carried on the wind like an unfamiliar snow.
    The house is quiet when he drops me off—my mom and Roy must be out. It’s the first good news I’ve had in days.
    Joey drives off and leaves me to unpack. I wash a load of laundry in the rickety machine at the back of the houseand start the dryer before climbing into bed. Jet lag and grief make for good soporifics. To the click and roll of the dryer, I fall fast asleep.
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    I sit up in the middle of the night, wondering what woke me. The room is quiet. The air conditioner groans, shifting gears for another cooling cycle. I stretch out, cracking vertebrae up and down my spine.
    The doorknob moves. It twists slowly, like someone is absentmindedly entering the room. I freeze. Despite the AC, I start to sweat.
    But the door is locked. It stays closed.
    â€œWelcome home, butterfly,” a voice croons through the door.
    Good night, Roy. Rest in Hell.
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    When I wake up again, it’s still dark out, and the fires have gotten worse. My windowsill is lined with ash, and the air is dry enough to make my lips crack.
    Last