But Maggie was the only one with the chance toappreciate it. She was the only one watching asSylvia reached the car ... and paused.
And then turned away from it and continued ondown the street.
And the end credits run, Maggie thought.
Then she thought, she's going to her apartment. Maggie stood frozen, pulled in two directions. She wanted to stay and help her mother. But something inside her was utterly furious and focused and it was screaming at her to follow Sylvia.Instinct had always been Maggie's strong point.She hung there for a moment, with her heartpounding so hard that it seemed to be coming out-of her mouth. Then she ducked her head andclenched her fists.
It was a gesture the girls on her soccer teamwould have recognized. It meant that Steely Neelyhad made up her mind and was going to rush inwhere smarter people feared to tread. Look out,world; it's stomping time.
Maggie whirled and dashed back down the hallinto her bedroom.
She slapped the light switch on and lookedaround as if she'd never seen the place before.What did she need-and why did she always keepit so messy? How could she find things?
She kicked and pulled at a pile of bath towelsuntil a pair of hightop tennis shoes emerged, thenshe jammed her feet in them. There was no timeto change her pajama top. She snatched a dark blue jacket off the floor and found herself, just fora moment, nose to nose with a photograph stuckinto the frame of her mirror.
A picture of Miles, on the summit of MountRainier. He was grinning and giving the thumbs upsign. His hat was off and his auburn hair was shining in the sun like red gold. He looked handsomeand a little wicked.
Scrawled in black marker across white snow was"For the bossiest, nosiest, stubbornest, BEST little sister in the world. Love, Miles."
With no idea whyshe was doing it, Maggie pulledthe picture out of the mirror. She shoved it in herjacket pocket and ran back down the hall.
Everyone was gathered around the couch, now.Even Jake was nosing his way in. Maggie couldn't see her mother, but the lack of frantic activity toldher that there wasn't any crisis going on. Everyoneseemed quiet and restrained.
It'll just take a few minutes. It's better for me notto tell them anything until I'm sure. I'll probablybe back before they even realize I'm gone.
With that jumble of excuses in her mind, sheslipped out the front door to follow Sylvia.
Chapter 3
Itwas raining, of course. Not a terrible storm, justa steady spitting patter that Maggie hardly noticed.It plastered her hair down but it also concealed thenoise of her steps.
And the lowlying clouds blocked out MountRainier. In clear weather the mountain loomed over the city like an avenging white angel.
I'mactuallyfollowingsomebody,Maggiethought. She could hardly believe it, but she wasreally moving down her own home street like a spy,skirting cars and ducking behind rhododendron bushes.
While all the time keeping her eyes on the slender figure in front of her.
That was what kept her going. She might havefelt silly and almost embarrassed to be doing thisbut not tonight. What had happened put her farbeyond embarrassment, and if she 'started to relax inside and feel the faint pricklings of uncertainty,memory surged up again and swept everythingelse away.
The memory of Sylvia's voice. The buckle might not have been fastenedright.And the memory ofher mother's hand going limp as her body sagged.
I'll follow you no matter where you go, Maggie thought. And then...
She didn't know what then. She was trusting to instinct, letting it guide her. It was stronger andsmarter than she was at the moment.
Sylvia's apartment was in the U district, the college area around the University of Washington. Itwas a long walk, and by the time they reached it,the rain was coming down harder. Maggie was gladto get out of it and follow Sylvia into the under ground garage.
This is a dangerous place, she thought as shewalked into the echoing darkness. But it was simply a note made by her mind, with no emotionattached. At the moment she felt as if she couldpunch a mugger hard enough to splatter himagainst the wall.
She kept a safe distance as Sylvia waited for the elevator, then headed for the stairs. Third floor. Maggie trotted up faster than the elevator could make it and arrived not even breathing hard. Thedoor of the stairwell was half open and she watched from behind it as Sylvia walked to anapartment door and raised a hand to knock.
Before she could, the door opened. A boy wholooked a little older than Maggie was holding it,letting a couple of laughing girls out. Music driftedto Maggie, and the smell of incense.
They're having a party in there.
That shouldn't be so shocking-it was Saturdaynight. Sylvia lived with three roommates; they were undoubtedly the ones having the party. But as the girls walked past Sylvia they smiled and noddedand Sylvia smiled and nodded back before walkingcalmly through the door.
Hardly the sort of thing you do when your boyfriend's just been killed, Maggie thought fiercely.And it doesn't exactly fit the "tragic heroine" act,either.
Then she noticed something. When the boy holding the door let go, it had swung almost shut - but not quite.
Can I do it? Maybe. If I look confident. I'd haveto walk right in as if I belonged, not hesitate.
And hope she doesn't notice. Then get behindher. See if shetalksto anybody, what she says...
The laughing girls had caught the elevator. Maggie walked straight up to the door and, withoutpausing, she pushed it open and went inside.
Look confident, she thought, and she kept ongoing, instinctively moving toward a side wall. Herentry didn't seem to have caused a stir, and it waseasier than she'd thought to walk in among these strangers. The apartment was very dark, for onething. And the music was medium loud, and everybody seemed to be talking.
The only problem was that she couldn't see Sylvia. She put her back to the wall and waited forher eyes to adjust.