A Void the Size of the World Read online

  I chose it because Abby wanted me to, and while she had picked up the language quickly and would walk around the house pointing at objects using the French word, it was obvious that I stunk. The words wouldn’t come out right, no matter how much I rolled my tongue to make that stupid “r” sound that the rest of the class seemed masters at creating. Mademoiselle Lang would pucker up her face like she’d sucked a lemon when I tripped over my words. Once, when Mademoiselle Lang was particularly frustrated, she said, “I can’t imagine how you can be so different from your sister. Abby est magnifique avec le français.”

  Of course she was. Abby was always the better one. And now she was gone. How could I have ever thought to take her place—even just with Tommy? Would I have measured up to her in his eyes? And how would it be if things were reversed? If I was the one missing? Would people be as upset? Would the town hold out the same hope for me?

  Mademoiselle Lang took Dad’s hand, holding it between her own. “I’m so sorry to have to meet up with you under these circumstances, but it’s good to see you here.”

  “The same to you,” Dad said. He cleared his throat and spoke louder. “Thank you for coming to support my daughter.”

  “Abby was a wonderful girl,” she said.

  “Is,” I corrected her.

  “Pardon?” she asked, confused.

  “You said Abby was a wonderful girl. She is a wonderful girl. There’s no past tense to Abby.” I said the words slow and steady, my voice firm.

  Dad stepped in front of me, creating a blockade between the two of us. “I’m sorry about that. This is hard for everyone.”

  Typical Dad, always trying to make things better. He was a master at pretending and apologizing for us. It was like he’d become some politically correct robot who only focused on facts and tried to please everyone. It was as if he followed the police’s script, only repeating what we knew and not daring to talk about the things we feared.

  I let him continue to make excuses and walked up the bleachers. Tessa was at the very top with her back against the press box.

  She stood when she saw me and waved her hands in big sweeping motions. She looked like a bird about to take flight.

  “Rhylee. Hey, Rhylee, over here.”

  I hurried up the rest of the steps to get to Tessa and silence her. There were enough people staring at me already. I didn’t need her to create even more of a spectacle.

  She had on a red Coffinberry High sweatshirt over black leggings and cowboy boots. Her hair was braided into two long pigtails and she had the bracelets for Abby all the way up both arms. She must have been sporting at least fifteen of them. I imagined Mary Grace’s pursed lips when she saw how many Tessa had swiped.

  Tessa threw herself at me when I finally reached her, wrapped me in a tight hug, and tried to pick me up off the ground.

  “Okay, that’s enough love from you,” I said and swatted at her to get her to let me go.

  “I want you to know that I’m sacrificing for you here.”

  “You are?”

  She nodded and pointed to her red sweatshirt. “I wore my school pride even though my school pride clashes with my hair.”

  “I’m honored that you undertook such a great hardship for me.”

  “You should be.”

  She sat down and patted the spot next to her for me to do the same. I joined her and she pulled a bag of Swedish Fish out of her purse and offered them to me. I shook my head.

  “I can’t believe these people showed up today for Abby.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I looked around the stadium. The place was packed, and most people had on the purple bracelets. A man a few rows down looked at me, nudged his wife, and pointed me out to her. “We’re here on display so everyone can watch Abby’s poor, sad family.”

  Tessa took a fish out of her bag and bit it in half. “They’re here to support you.”

  I knew that. Logically. But still, I hated to be the center of attention and pretend everything was okay.

  I scanned the crowd of my so-called supporters and found Dad and Collin on the sidelines of the field. Dad talked to the cross-country coach, Mr. Hoch, and Collin warmed up with some of the team as if he were going to run with them. My eyes continued to search the bleachers. There were kids who sat next to me in classes and never said a word to me and upperclassmen who didn’t give a shit about cross-country. They wore a sea of purple, dressed to show their solidarity for Abby’s return. A stadium full of people who wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for what I’d done.

  It was in the very right hand corner near the top that I spotted Tommy. His feet were on the bleachers in front of him and he rested his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands and earphones around his shoulders. His foot bounced like he does when he’s nervous. He was sitting alone, the seats around him empty, as if he were in his own personal VIP section. But there wasn’t anything special about his seat. Tommy stared straight ahead and ignored everyone; his jaw muscle clenching and unclenching the only indication that the stares of those around him were affecting him. I thought back to how he pulled me out of the cafeteria when everyone was looking at me. And here I was, leaving him alone. It wasn’t right.

  “I should go sit by Tommy,” I said. He’d do the same thing for me in an instant without even debating it. I couldn’t leave him alone like that. Could I?

  “You what?” Tessa asked.

  “Nothing,” I told her, because I couldn’t go over there. Not after my promise to the universe. I could never sit near him again. “It’s just that Tommy is over there alone and everyone is avoiding him like he’s got some kind of deadly disease. He doesn’t deserve that.”

  “They’re looking for someone to blame. It’s easier than not having an answer.”

  “It’s bullshit,” I said, my voice rising as I got madder and madder. I was the one they should be blaming for Abby missing from our lives. “Tommy didn’t do anything, but everyone is acting like he did. Even my mom thinks he has something to do with Abby’s disappearance.”

  “I know he didn’t do it, and you do too. That’s got to count for something,” she said, and I was so happy she was my friend at the moment.

  “I wish it did,” I said. “The whole town believes he’s the reason Abby is gone. It’s like they’re on some witch hunt to destroy him. Everyone’s gone mad.”

  “Except you. Tommy has you,” Tessa said, but that wasn’t true. We hadn’t talked since the day at the pool. He’d stayed away from me like I asked, but I couldn’t help thinking I was abandoning him, when he was the one who was protecting me and letting everyone believe he was the reason Abby was gone.

  But before I could do anything, Mary Grace stepped up to the microphone. The rest of the runners entered the field and stood in a line behind her, their hands linked. The crowd became quiet without her having to say anything.

  “Thank you for joining us today. It’s so important that we come together. Two weeks ago we lost someone very special to us,” Mary Grace said.

  “Lost?” I asked Tessa, my voice rising. “Why the hell is she talking as if Abby is dead? She can’t really believe that, can she?”

  In front of me, a woman turned and shushed me. Her face turned from a look of annoyance to one of recognition when she saw me.

  “Sorry,” she mouthed, and faced forward again.

  Mary Grace went on. “Today we’re here with Abby’s family to send out prayers for her safe return.”

  The team let go of one another’s hands and walked around Mary Grace, forming a semicircle.

  “What the hell did they do? Choreograph this?” I asked, loud enough this time that a bunch of people turned around to look at me.

  Tessa placed a hand on my knee. “Relax, it’s going to be okay.”

  I pulled my leg back and tapped my foot against the bleachers. This was not going to bring Abby back, none of this would. As each day passed and Abby remained missing, the longing inside of me to see my sister again would destroy me.


  Mary Grace turned to my family. “Mr. Towers, why don’t you and Collin come stand with us?”

  To give Dad some credit, he seemed a bit bewildered. His face froze in a look not much different than the one on animals who find themselves in the street with a car suddenly right in front of them. But Dad’s expression quickly changed and he smiled at Mary Grace, ever the gracious community member, and stood, offering Collin his hand.

  If Mary Grace was surprised that Mom or I were missing from the group, she didn’t show it.

  “Mr. Towers and Collin, I want you to know that every single person here is praying for Abby’s safe return,” Mary Grace said. “We miss her so much, and we need her to come home.”

  She wiped away tears and some of the girls on the team stepped out of their formation to wrap their hands around her. I glanced at Tommy and locked eyes with him. Even across a crowd of people, he could still unnerve me.

  I turned away, my attention on Dad instead as he stepped forward and took the microphone. Collin stood by his side, fidgeting with the pockets on his shorts. He looked confused and unsure of what to do, and I wished I could go swoop him up and take him away from everyone’s prying eyes.

  Dad searched the stands for a moment before he spoke. I slouched down and tried to hide from him. He finally gave up and talked to our community. “Thank you, everyone. I can’t express how much your support means to us. My family owes you so much for your efforts and never-ending hope.”

  A few people in the crowd clapped. It got picked up by more and more people until the entire audience was applauding, and I swear it was so loud, Mom must have heard it all the way at our house.

  But it didn’t matter. It didn’t help. Everyone was here for my family, but I never felt more alone. I couldn’t tell the truth, and I couldn’t be with Tommy. There was no end to any of this in sight, and I was afraid that if I stayed any longer, I’d break down in front of everyone.

  I stood up. “I need to get out of here,” I said.

  “It’s almost over,” Tessa replied, but it wasn’t. This wasn’t close to being over.

  “I have to get out of here.”

  I rushed down the steps of the bleachers, and almost lost my balance and fell. My sandals made loud echoing slaps against the metal. I didn’t look back at Tommy, Dad, or the crowd, all of whom were probably staring at the poor upset sister of Abby. I’d seen enough. My hand played with the bracelet Amy had given me when I entered.

  I pulled it off and dropped it into the wastebasket outside the stadium.

  24

  I wasn’t sure if Dad saw me leave the stadium, but it didn’t matter. I needed to get away and calm down before anyone came to check on me.

  The high school wasn’t far from my house, but it also wasn’t close enough that I’d ever willingly make the choice to walk home. I’d missed the bus last year and when my parents didn’t answer their phones, I’d been forced to start the journey by foot. It was nasty and sweaty and everything nightmares were made of. My book bag had dug into my shoulder as cars whizzed past me, junior and senior boys leaning out with jeers and beeping the horn. When I’d finally made it home almost an hour and a half after leaving the school, I’d told myself that was never, ever going to happen again. I’d hitchhike if I had to, even if the guy who picked me up was in a big white van with no windows and had a creepy mustache.

  But today was different. Heading home on foot didn’t feel like torture, but a necessity. My body hummed with adrenaline. I needed to get out of here before someone tried to find me, and I was pretty sure that I’d left a pair of tennis shoes in the car, which would make the walk home a lot easier.

  I got to the car in the parking lot and opened the door. Just like the houses in Coffinberry, no one bothered to lock their cars. Besides, if anyone did break into my family’s old Buick, all they’d find was empty bags from McDonald’s, mountains of flyers with Abby’s face on them, and wadded-up gas station receipts. Dad would probably thank them for stealing the stuff and cleaning out the mess.

  I found the old pair of shoes that stank like gym class and put them on. My jeans weren’t exactly workout-worthy clothes, but they’d do. I sent Dad a text that I was heading home on my own and not to worry.

  My body vibrated. It was as if my thoughts were moving at a million miles per minute and I couldn’t seem to get myself to calm down. Like the time Tessa and I each drank three energy drinks to stay up and study. We ended up staring at the clock as the hours passed, unable to focus on anything. That’s what was happening to me now. It was too much, and I needed to leave it behind.

  I picked up my pace to a jog. The road remained empty, even though I half expected Tessa to drive by and laugh at me. I didn’t do jogging. Ever.

  But today I was. And it wasn’t hard.

  In fact, before long, I was running. I kept waiting for my breath to catch in my throat or a cramp to start in my side, but it was easy. It was as if I’d been running my whole life.

  I fell into a steady pace, chanting a word with each footfall.

  “I . . . did . . . this,” I said, the words beating a rhythm into my head.

  I recalled a conversation I’d had with Abby last summer. I ran with her one afternoon, a brief flirtation with getting myself into shape, but after we got about six minutes away from the house, I stopped. My body yelled, fought, and revolted.

  “That’s what running is, Rhylee,” Abby had said to me when I voiced my protests. She ran in place and spoke to me. “You run for that feeling.”

  “You run for the pain? Why would anyone want that?”

  “You run because you can control the pain. You cause it and you can take it away. Running makes your body feel something. It makes you feel alive.”

  And she was right. Running was freeing. Today, it was as if Abby and I had switched roles, and I held on to that thought. I ran the rest of the way to my house as if I were my sister. As if I could fill the hole I’d created, and give back what I’d taken away.

  25

  Mom was in the kitchen when I walked through the door, sweaty and out of breath.

  “What are you doing back so early?” she asked. She had a sandwich in front of her, but it was untouched. She’d always been thin, but now she looked especially frail. People had been dropping off casseroles and pasta dishes, but she rarely ate more than a few bites. Just the other day, Tommy’s parents had brought one over. Dad had accepted it politely, but then made up an excuse about waiting for a phone call and quickly closed the door. Mom had watched them walk back down the road, and then promptly picked up the meal and dumped it into the wastebasket.

  We’d lost so much more than my sister. My parents were shells of their former selves, and I don’t remember the last time I’d seen either of them smile. They never went out, Mom stopped cooking, and Dad no longer joked with us. Instead, our house was a collection of hushed voices and quiet apologies as everyone tried to get through each day.

  My parents used to be good friends with Tommy’s too. The four of them would get together a few times a week, meeting for drinks after dinner or to play games, but now Mom wouldn’t even acknowledge them. If I had to make a list of things that I’d ruined, I feared it would stretch on until infinity.

  “I couldn’t handle it,” I explained. “It was too hard, so I left Dad and Collin there.”

  Mom didn’t argue with that, because how could she? She’d used the same excuse earlier today.

  “I’m going to take Hound Dog outside for a walk.” I left her at the table, the circles in our field visible out the window behind her.

  I called for Hound Dog, and he ran down from upstairs. He hung out in Abby’s room more than the rest of the house; he’d been her pet, a present for her tenth birthday. A gift that surpassed anything I’d ever received. I’d asked for a pony when I was ten, but all I got was a new winter jacket. Abby had named him after Elvis. We’d protested the name, considering the fact that he was actually a big black poodle, but Abby insisted on callin
g him that.

  Hound Dog endlessly searched for Abby. I’d find him whining in her room or sniffing around her shoes that sat waiting for her in the mud room. I was pretty sure I detected a bit of disappointment when I came home and he saw it was me and not Abby who walked inside.

  But right now he was tail wags and wiggles, jumping up and licking my face. I tried to push him off me and get him to sit, but he wouldn’t stay.

  “What’s gotten into that dog?” Mom asked.

  “I have no idea. Usually he couldn’t care less about me.”

  “He’s acting like he does when Abby comes home.”

  Mom was right. Hound Dog had now pressed himself against the side of my leg and stared up at me adoringly.

  The two of us headed outside. He strained against his leash and pulled us toward the circles that spread throughout the fields. Dad wasn’t here to stop me, so I followed Hound Dog’s lead until we were standing right in the middle of one of the huge crop circles.

  He ran with his nose pressed to the ground and whined, as if he picked up on a familiar scent. He darted back and forth between the sides of the path cut in the circle, and I pulled the leash tight, anxious from his pacing.

  The grass crunched under my feet and the weeds were overtaking everything. In some places brambles, leaves, and vines twisted together, and thorns reached out, threatening to cut your legs if you tried to cross the field.

  It hadn’t rained since Abby went missing, and the weatherman didn’t believe we’d have relief anytime soon.

  I followed Hound Dog through the circles and felt a strange sort of unease. This was my house, my backyard, but it didn’t seem right. A breeze lifted the tips of my hair and whistled past my ear as if it were trying to let me in on a secret.

  Hound Dog froze and faced the woods. He barked three times, and then made a high-pitched whining sound. I expected to see something, but it remained dark and empty. The trees at the edge of the woods were still, but around me, the tall stalks of grass bent from some invisible wind that only seemed to be around us. He tugged to go farther, but I was done. This place was giving me the creeps.