We drove in silence while I fretted about being out so late, which was ridiculous since neither of my parents were likely to check on me. I was a good, curfew-abiding daughter. The post-adrenaline crash left my skin feeling too tight, and I fidgeted trying to get comfortable in the vinyl seat.
Haley mistook my discomfort for judgment. “It’s my mom’s car. Kind of a beater, I know.”
“It’s not that. I’m trying to keep it together right now. I’m still a little shook up.”
She smiled a new smile. It was softer than the razor-edged smirk she usually produced, more like a butter-knife grin.
Eventually, Haley pulled to the top of a ridge and put the car in Park. “We’re here.”
“Where is here?” I strained to see in the weak light of her head beams if we’d come to an actual destination. Didn’t seem like any place special.
“This—” she seemed to struggle finding the right words “—is my place. It’s where I come when I need to be reminded.”
“Reminded of what?”
“That this moment, this day, this year, is just a blink of an eye when you consider the vastness of the universe.” Her voice had a faraway quality to it. Haley had never been so open with me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was showing me something most people never got to see. My first impression of her as someone who’d destroy me without a second thought didn’t fit anymore.
“That sounds very depressing. Not like something you should drive twenty minutes to remind yourself of. Just look around you at school.”
“School is part of the problem. It’s easy to get sucked into it all and feel like it will never end. Never get better. When I’m out here—” Haley gestured to the darkness cocooning us and the sky’s canopy of stars “—I’m reminded that nothing, not even the moon, is permanent.”
I was beginning to understand. “You come here when you feel bad about something you’ve done. Red Court work.”
She nodded, her face a painter’s palette of emotions—sadness and anger and hunger. Somehow, they all worked together to form a determined look, like when you mixed three colors together and got something totally new.
“I understand.” I turned to stare into the distance. The lights from my neighborhood were visible, or at least I could see the way the sky reflected their glow. “I’m a bit relieved, actually. I was thinking that I was the only one our work affected.”
“You’d have to be made of stone not to let it get to you, even just a little, but it gets easier every time.”
I couldn’t let an opening like this pass me by. “Do you think the Queen of Hearts feels that way?”
She chewed her lip. “It’s better not to think about questions you’ll never get the answer to.”
Haley’s guarded attitude reminded me of the way I acted when someone spoke ill of Gideon or even mentioned my sister. It was almost as if she was defensive, like I was talking about someone she knew, someone she cared about. Did she somehow know the Queen of Hearts?
The conversation was striking a nerve. I had to pull back or I’d risk all of the ground I gained. There didn’t seem to be a safe way of asking about the Queen of Hearts. What I needed was to find a way to get Haley to open up more and trust me.
“You said school was only part of the reason you come out here. What’s the other part?”
Her jaw locked and something dark came over her face. “My stepdad.”
Neither Haley nor I had mentioned her stepdad’s drunken behavior the night I was at her house. “Dave. He seems like a real gem.”
She huffed through her nose. “He married my mom five years ago. At first it was ok, but eventually I saw through his act. He’s just one of those guys who makes himself feel bigger by pushing the rest of us down.”
“What does your mom say?”
“Nothing. She’s always making excuses for him. Spineless.”
We watched the car’s headlights shine into the endless night. It was like the track at dawn. Nothing and no one around. Maybe Haley found the idea of being the last person left alive comforting, too.
“I can’t wait to get out,” she whispered fiercely.
“Where will you go?”
“Art school hopefully, but I’d need a scholarship to pay for it.”
She let her words hang in the air until I understood the pause. “The favor.”
“The lady in the postgrad office? Her sister is on the scholarship review board at the art institute I want to go to.”
“But how will that work?”
“The same way all of this works. Until then, I have this place. I like the openness of it.”
“Me, too. Thanks for taking me here. I feel better.” My mind ached to wander through our conversation like a gallery and dissect every moment as though they were still-life photos. I found myself thinking of Haley’s painting from school, the flame, but I couldn’t say why.
I turned to her. “I bet you won’t even need the Red Court to get the scholarship. Your paintings in the art display are great.”
“Thanks,” she whispered without looking at me, like she wasn’t used to compliments on her work.
After a few more minutes, Haley drove me back to my car. I went home without incident and pulled out my corkboard and an old yearbook. The corkboard remained empty on my wall unless I needed it. It was only pulled out for big projects as a place to put all my thoughts before I could arrange them into logical threads. I often tacked ideas or articles or pictures to the board. Something about looking everything over at once helped me put together the bigger picture, like everything on the board was an individual puzzle piece. I just needed to find where it fit.
I set up a wheel with thirteen spokes—one for each member of the Red Court. On three of the spokes, I wrote the names of the Red Court members I knew: Haley, Shauna, and me. I added Haley’s and Shauna’s yearbook photos to each of their spokes. When I wasn’t dead on my feet, I’d begin adding details about them, but this was a start. At the center of the wheel I added a red cartoon heart I foraged from an old sticker book. I flipped it around so the work was facing the wall and the blank backside was visible.
Still in the cat burglar uniform, I crawled into bed. As I drifted to sleep, I realized why Haley’s painting had come to mind earlier. Looking at her work had given me the oddest sensation of looking at a reflection of myself. Listening to her speak tonight had given me the same feeling, like I was looking into a mirror.
* * *
The next day, the Homecoming Court names were announced and not even a whisper of the break-in and subsequent bust was to be heard. To no one’s surprise but her own, Maura was named Queen. I watched from down the hall as she teared up in front of the display decreeing her royal in silver glitter and distributed hugs to her friends and boyfriend. No matter what else happened, I was glad Maura won. She looked genuinely happy, and I was proud of my role in that. From the corner of my eye, I caught a swish of blond curls and a grim smile that reminded me I had work to do.