The End of Forever (31 page)

“I know,” she said. “I loved her too.”

“I kept some pictures of her just so I’ll always remember what that feeling was like. I’ll never forget her. You gotta believe that.”

“I believe you.” Her voice was scarcely a whisper. “And I’m just sorry I treated you so mean. I—I guess that’s all I called to say, Travis.”

“Look, I’ll be wrapping up exams this week, then I’m coming home. Maybe we could get together and talk.”

“I’d like that. It helps to talk about her.” She thought of the items Amy had saved because they came from Travis. “There were some things in her stuff you might like to have. Pennants, a necklace—stuff like that.”

“Sure,” he said. “That would mean a lot to me.
And—uh—thanks for calling, Erin. It always bothered me that you were so angry at me. I feel better about it now.”

“So do I,” she said, and she meant it.

“Well, I gotta get back to the books.”

“And I’ve got someplace I have to go.”

“Good-bye,” Travis said.

“Good-bye,” she told him, and hung up the phone. She took a long, shuddering breath. Her head felt light, but it didn’t hurt, and the tenseness along her shoulders evaporated with a few shrugs. She felt drained, but also at peace.

Still clutching the receiver, Erin rested her forehead on the wall. She closed her eyes. “Goodbye, Travis,” she whispered. “Good-bye, Amy. Good-bye.”

Erin stood at the chain-link fence looking over the crowded track and infield. Banners flapped in the afternoon breeze. The biggest one read: Special Olympians—You’re Winners! The infield was a jumble of athletes in gleaming wheelchairs and orthopedic braces, of bright T-shirts emblazoned with the five Olympic circles, of coaches and paramedics dressed in shorts and baseball hats.

Erin scarcely saw them. She was looking for David, knowing that even if he glanced over toward the fence, he would not recognize her. After all, he’d only seen her once in her full clown makeup.

All at once she saw him. He was making balloon animals for a group of kids swarming around him near a refreshment stand. She ambled toward him, her hands deep in the pockets of her oversize, baggy pants. She asked, “Need some help?”

“I sure do, here—” He stopped midsentence and stared at her. “Hey, I’ve seen you before.” His brow crinkled beneath his whiteface, and his orange drawn-on mouth puckered. “Last year!” He snapped his fingers. “The Children’s Home.”

“Someplace else too.”

“Erin?” His amazed, comical expression made her laugh out loud. “But—but—who? How …?
You
were the girl who worked with me that day?”

“Yes.”

“But you never said anything about it all this time.”

“Its a long story.”

“The girl who was supposed to appear—”

“Was Amy, my sister.”

David shook his head as if to clear it. “Man, am I confused.”

“I’ll let you buy me dinner and explain everything after the Olympics are over today.”

“But I thought you weren’t coming.”

“I changed my mind. And besides, some clown once told me that helping out and making people laugh makes a person feel good inside.”

David came closer, ignoring the kids who began to scatter as the start of various events were announced over the PA system. “I thought you were brushing me off. After the play and all, you hardly spoke to me.”

“I had a lot of things to figure out. Are we still friends?”

He smiled, and she felt as if the sun had just splashed over her. “I’ll be your
best
friend.” He took her hand and led her over to a grassy spot, away from the bustling activity. There he stood facing her, still holding her hand. “I got accepted to clown school for the summer.”

“And I’m going to Wolftrap for sure. The scholarship’s for three weeks.”

“So are you all right now?”

“I will be,” she said. “Our whole family’s going to counseling now, and I also go to the grief support group for teens. Dr. Richardson’s been urging my parents to start attending a Compassionate Friends meeting—that’s a support group for parents who’ve lost kids.”

David nodded. “I guess it helps to be with people who’ve been through the same things you have, huh?”

“It helps a lot.”

“What about FSU in the fall?” David asked. “Will you be going there?”

Erin shook her head. I’m going to start at the junior college, and if Dr. Richardson thinks I’m ready, I’ll transfer to FSU at midterm. Otherwise, I’ll transfer next fall.”

“I know how much you were counting on going.”

Erin shrugged. “I wasn’t as ready to move away as I thought I was. Beth was excited when I told her. We’re going to try to take a class together.”

“I guess your parents are glad too.”

“Relieved, I think. We’re learning a lot about our feelings. What are you going to do in the fall?”

“I’m going to FSU to major in drama. My dad’s not nuts about the idea, ’cause he really wanted me to go to law school, but I can just picture myself plea bargaining—if things got tense, I’d squirt the judge in the face with a plastic flower and get thrown out of court.”

Erin gilded, and David studied her. “So when
you do get up to the campus, I’ll already be there. Will you look me up?”

She sought his eyes through layers of greasepaint. “You can count on it,” she said. In that moment she felt as if they were the only two people in the world, and that the sunshine and the blue sky had been created just for them.

She heard the sound of running feet and glanced away from David’s eyes to see Jody run up with a friend,

“Guess who this is,” David signed to his sister.

Erin awkwardly spelled out her own name, and Jody’s face lit up with a grin, so similar to David’s. She hugged Erin’s waist.

“I think she’s missed you,” David said with a laugh. “She’s running in a race soon and wants us to come and watch.”

“Tell her I wouldn’t miss it.”

Jody stooped down and tugged up a handful of dandelions and shoved them toward Erin. Erin felt her breath catch and her eyes fill as she took the yellow bouquet.

“Are you crying?” David asked, incredulous.

“Tell Jody that dandelions are very special to me.” Erin touched the soft yellow petals, remembering seeds floating away in the breeze at Amy’s funeral. She held out her hand, carefully tucking her two middle fingers against her palm and extending her thumb, forefinger, and pinky. “I love you,” she whispered.

Again Jody smiled, and the smile washed over Erin like a soothing balm. The child turned
on her friends hand, and together they darted across the field toward the track.

David said, “I don’t get it. Jody gives you a bunch of raggy weeds, and you start bawling. Girls are weird.”

Erin poked one of the flowers into his buttonhole. “Didn’t you know that girls get to cry over dumb stuff for no real reason?” She reached up and placed her palm tenderly along his cheek. “And so do clowns.”