“Why did she do that?” Julia asked. “Is it because I stole those cigarettes?”
Shelly smiled dark. “It wasn’t the smoking. She was afraid I’d tell you. That’s how I knew for sure it was real. The whole world isn’t in on it. Not even the whole block. It’s just her, and it’s real.”
“But now you did tell me.” Julia’s voice broke, even though she wanted it to be kind, strong, an affirmation.
“Yeah.” Shelly tried to smile again; failed. Her eyes were so sunken that it startled Julia.
“What do we do?” Julia asked.
Shelly shook her head. “I don’t want her to get in trouble. I love her. And sometimes, when she does it, it almost feels like it’s because she loves me most. It’s a thing we share. But it’s not right. I know it isn’t.”
“Can you tell your dad?”
“He’s invisible. Like you said. He’s a ghost.” Shelly bit her lip. Swiped the sweat from her brow that was trickling down into her eyes. “… What about your parents?”
Julia thought about that. Felt sad to admit the truth of it. “No. They don’t always know what to do. We could tell Ms. Lopez, but she won’t be back at school until September. This can’t wait. I think we have to go to the cops.”
Shelly went to smooth her hair again. Her hands came back disappointed. She looked at Julia’s with longing. “She’ll get in so much trouble. I don’t want that.”
“She won’t,” Julia said. “That only happens in the ghetto. Here, they’ll just make her stop.”
“What if they don’t believe me? What if they tell my mom I’m a troublemaker and then she hates me forever?”
“I don’t think cops do that,” Julia said. “Look at your back. Nobody would call you a liar.”
“You don’t understand. I’ll have no one without her.”
“You’ll have me. If it goes bad, we’ll run away. We won’t come back until it’s safe,” Julia said.
“You’d do that?”
A calm settled over Julia. A kind of steel she’d never imagined she possessed. “I’m in this. Now that you told me, I’m part of it. I can’t do nothing. I can’t let you do nothing. You said it yourself. You’ll die if you stay. I believe that. I can see it happening already. I won’t let you die.”
Eyes welling with tears, a kind of peace settled over Shelly, and she nodded. “Okay.”
They hugged. “I got blood on you. I’m sorry,” Julia said.
“S’okay.” She pointed at a speck on Julia’s Hawaiian shirt. “I got blood on you, too.”
“We’re blood sisters.”
“Blood sisters,” Shelly echoed. She chuckled for the first time Julia could remember. The sound broke her heart and then healed it, changing it forever.
* * *
While the girls reconnected, the Rat Park had been doing their part. They’d run the half mile at first, but in the heat, eventually walked, except for Sam Singh, the athlete. When they arrived, they’d rushed into houses, stirred parents still sleeping or working or pouring ice into coffee for breakfast. Eventually, parents were informed. An ambulance was called. The block became lively, like morning birds. Those without tweens still heard the shouts along the houses, the panting and the warning and the general milieu of unease. They came out to see. Some came running.
The Pontis, the Hestias, the Ottomanellis, the Walshes, and Jane Harrison all made haste, wearing house robes and flip-flops. Jane carried a Krispy Kreme Doughnuts mug that she dropped along the way. Arlo Wilde was still nursing his hangover when he heard the commotion. He didn’t stop to dress. He saw the frightened Rat Pack out his window, pointing into the park. He saw the crowd heading there. Something urgent was happening. Something bad. He scanned the faces, looking for Julia and Larry. Couldn’t find them. And then he saw what looked like his own Hawaiian shirt and a tangle of blond by the sinkhole. In tiger-striped boxer briefs and nothing else, Arlo got out and ran.
Fifteen minutes into their talk, the girls had been so preoccupied that they hadn’t noticed the adults headed their way. Julia spotted them first. Their pace was swift. Rhea Schroeder had the lead. She looked stark and small and devastatingly normal.
It felt like life-and-death. Like the only possible option. Because if they waited, Julia might lose courage. She might let herself be convinced that this wasn’t as serious as it seemed. She might tell her parents, who would conceal and make excuses, because underplaying was all they knew how to do when it came to the people of Maple Street. And Shelly would lose faith, too. She’d shrink into herself while the monster grew meaner and angrier. The Shelly that Julia loved would die.