Finally, I make it to Connie’s place. It’s almost as pathetic as the house Diane and I have been hiding in, its back porch cluttered with boxes and rusting junk. We rarely hang out here, and I know it’s because Connie – even as tough as she is – is embarrassed by it. By it and by her parents.
Connie is at school, but as I climb the creaky back steps, I say a silent prayer in my mind that Johnny will be home.
Step, creak.
Step, creak.
Please, please, please let him be home. Please let me catch a break. Just this once. Please.
And then, suddenly, like a hoped-for birthday present or a shiny quarter you discover on the street, there he is at the back door, opening it wide, like he’s been expecting me. Johnny Treadway. As handsome and lanky and dark-eyed as ever, with a ripe bruise across his left cheek and a dark red slice across his right eyebrow.
‘Evie Barnes?’ he says, a confused smile on his face. ‘What the hell are you doing here, kid?’
In all my years I never thought I’d be here, in the Treadway family living room with Johnny Treadway, smoking cigarettes and sharing secrets.
We ash into a chipped, puke-green plastic ashtray on the table in front of us, Johnny leaning forward in a recliner that’s seen better days and me on a tattered sofa with more than a few cigarette burns in it, their perfect circles reminding me of a demented connect-the-dots. So far as I can tell, we’re the only ones here.
His dark eyes bore into me with curiosity. He is handsome. The kind of handsome that would turn the head of a girl from River Oaks and make her risk it all to be with him. The kind of handsome that makes even the mothers in the neighborhood high-pitched and giggly when he passes by. Normally, he’d make me nervous. But on this strange October afternoon, any nervousness I should be feeling left me the moment Johnny let me inside the house.
I did what I promised Diane I would do. I found her true love for her, and soon, I’ll share her words with him.
There’s a copy of the morning paper on the table next to the ashtray, and Johnny motions to it. Of course he knows about what Diane’s done and her confession – it’s everywhere. And he knows from Connie that Diane and I are in hiding.
‘She’s sworn it’s better if I don’t know where y’all are, and she’s probably right,’ he says. ‘You know she’d flip out if she saw you here.’
I nod, reaching for another Salem. ‘I know. But I promised Diane I’d come and deliver this. She couldn’t wait. She wanted to come and see you herself, but I offered to at least do this so she could stay safe.’ My heart skips a bit as I slide the letter out from the pocket of my jeans. I’m about to change Johnny’s life forever, and he doesn’t know it yet.
‘I still can’t believe Diane did what she did,’ he says, his voice a mix of awe and sadness.
‘She did it to protect me,’ I say, the torn piece of Juanita’s composition book clutched in my fingers. I realize they’re shaking.
‘I know she did,’ Johnny says. ‘That girl is brave as hell.’
‘She is,’ I say. Braver than he realizes, even now. ‘Here. This is … I’ve read it. It’s …’ I pause, unable to find the right words, then simply say, ‘Diane wants you to have it.’
Johnny reaches out, eager for the paper. He opens it, and I freeze to the couch, unable to move even though I think I probably should. I should step away. Or leave entirely. I wish Diane and I had thought this part through.
I watch his eyes scan Diane’s perfect script, widen, and reverse course to read her words again. My mouth goes dry, and I try to drag my eyes away from Johnny. I feel like a thief, like I’m stealing a moment from Johnny that he deserves to have alone.
We sit in silence until at last Johnny folds his hands in his lap, Diane’s letter still clutched in his fingers, then simply says – in the most heartbreaking voice I can imagine, a voice so heartbroken it cracks, ‘Diane.’
To see tears well up in the eyes of Johnny Treadway seems almost as unreal as the story that just produced them. But what happened to Diane did happen. It is real. And so are Johnny’s tears.
He sniffs, composing himself, and I look down at my shoes, trying to give him privacy in the only way I can.
‘I have to go to her,’ he says, breaking the silence. ‘I have to go to her now. Tell me where she’s hiding.’ I whip my eyes up and see him heading for the back door.
My heart starts to race again. This is what Diane wants, after all. But as Johnny moves toward the door, he stops suddenly.
‘Wait,’ he says out loud. To me or to himself, I’m not sure. ‘This is too risky.’ He looks at me, ponders the situation. Does a million calculations in his head. Johnny is no kid on the streets. He knows the score.
‘Y’all are hiding out somewhere close, aren’t you?’ he asks, his brow furrowing.
‘Yes,’ I admit. ‘At an abandoned house that Connie found.’ I know I’m breaking my code by revealing our location, but this is different. It’s not about impressing anyone with blind loyalty or never spilling a secret. It’s about helping Diane, and that’s what matters most right now.
He sits back down on the recliner, his blue-jeaned legs bouncing, just like his sister’s do. He lights another smoke.
‘Tonight,’ he says. ‘I’ll go tonight when it’s dark. Eight o’clock. It’s safer that way. It kills me to wait, but the cops might be tailing me. Just because they released me doesn’t mean they don’t still suspect I had something to do with what happened. And if they’re following me, I’ll lead them right to her.’ He closes his eyes, rests his head in his hands. ‘Oh, Diane,’ he mutters to himself. His voice is aching again, and I’m not sure what to do or say.
‘Maybe you should stay put here, too,’ he says, lifting his eyes toward me. ‘Damn. It’s too risky for you to be out, Evie. Diane should never have sent you. But … I’m also glad she did.’ He curses in frustration under his breath and leans forward, pressing his forehead into the heel of his hand, his lit cigarette inches from his hair. For a moment, I worry he’ll burn some of his hair off. It seems silly to worry about something like that in the face of everything that’s happening.
‘No, I think I have to leave,’ I offer at last. ‘Diane will be waiting for me. If I don’t come back eventually, she might come out looking for me.’
Johnny’s face crumples as he stabs out his second cigarette. ‘She would do that. I know she would.’ He runs a hand through his hair, the cut on his eyebrow even more visible. It’s a mean and angry slice, still red and on fire.
‘How’d you get that cut and that bruise?’ I ask, wincing.
‘How do you think?’ he snaps. ‘The fuzz when they hauled me in, trying to get me to confess to offing that rich kid.’ I pull back a little at the anger in his voice, and he immediately mumbles an apology. ‘You didn’t deserve that, kid. Sorry. This is all just …’ He gives up finding the words, and I don’t blame him.
‘It’s okay,’ I murmur, but warm tears start to prick my eyes, and I sniff, managing to hold them back. Johnny gives me a sympathetic smile.