The Shimmers in the Night

Two

"Rule Number One," said Hayley as they pulled into the parking lot. "If you absolutely have to talk to people, at least do me one favor. Or all my work on the popularity situation will be wrecked. Do not constantly remind people you're my mother. In fact, if you don't refer to it a single time, that'd be awesome."

"Hayley!" chided her mother with a smile, as though her daughter was joking.

"Keep the relationship, like, under wraps," said Hayley as they pulled into a parking space. "Because if you keep trying to tell humiliating baby stories about me, I'll have to end my suffering. All your years of bringing me up will be totally wasted in a tragic teen suicide."

"Honey, people already know I'm your mama," protested Mrs. M. "I mean"-Ah main-"I hate to break it to you, but that little kitty's already out of the bag."

"What I'm saying is, don't rub it in," said Hayley. "Let them forget a bit. You know what I'm saying?"

She popped her door open and shrugged her miniature backpack over her shoulders.

"Hi, guys," said Jaye as Hayley plucked her larger bag from the trunk.

Jaye was Asian-looking from her mother's side, pretty and slim; she stood with her duffel bag placed neatly on the ground beside her, light-blue iPod buds in her ears. Jaye could be timid, unlike Hayley; she was comfortable with her two best friends but not too great at reaching out to other, new people.

But what all the approving parents didn't know-when they patted her on the back to reward her for being an A student and also for not wearing shiny purple lip gloss like Hayley-was how independent she could be, despite the shyness. She was the type you could depend on to know things like CPR without ever bragging about it. Recently she'd tried out for the school play because her mother had thought it would be a good way to conquer her shyness; she'd done it even though it terrified her, and she'd gotten a small role.

Her parents were well-dressed and reserved: her dad was an engineer, and her mother ran a plant nursery. Compared to Mrs. M, Jaye's parents were distinctly unembarrassing.

"God, you're so lucky to be solo," said Hayley, apparently thinking the same thing. "I still can't believe my mom's tagging along. I'm having orphan fantasies."

"Well," said Jaye, and shrugged, "if you ignore them for long enough, sometimes they go away."

She and Hayley laughed, and then stopped and both looked at Cara guiltily.

"Oh, wow," said Jaye. "Slowly remove foot from mouth. I'm so sorry."

"It's all right," said Cara softly.

And it was true. It had been harder to hear things like that before she saw her mother and was reassured that she hadn't left them-or not because she wanted to, anyway.

Not that Cara didn't struggle with her absence. But at least it hadn't been caused by something that was wrong with their family. Hayley knew what had happened, too-that Cara's mother was out there fighting in some mysterious war, and had visited them; that there were more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy...(Max, usually a so-so student, had a thing for Shakespeare quotes).

But Jaye didn't know any of that. Cara and her brothers had talked to Hayley about it, and they'd all agreed not to say anything to anyone else-or not yet, anyway. The true story was too far-fetched, and Max, in particular, wanted to limit how many people heard it. Jaye's family had been away in Maine when the whole thing went down, and as far as she knew, Cara's mother had left back in June, and that was that.

Coach Essick was herding people into the charter bus, a tall black behemoth with a bright purple swipe on the side. The coach was a beefy bald guy who liked his swimmers to say daily affirmations.