Read Online What Remains of Me by Alison Gaylin - Free Book Online

the radio like drips of ice cold water.
    â€œKelly?”
    â€œJust brushing my teeth!” Kelly brushed the awful taste out of her mouth, along with the questions floating around in her brain, the sadness. The past. Valentine’s Day would be the two-year anniversary of Catherine’s death and her mother was up all night scrubbing the kitchen floor, an ancient box of stale chocolates ( Who gave them to her? ) waiting on her nightstand. She brushed all of that away, too. And then she flushed the piece of candy down the toilet.
    Once she was in her room again, Kelly checked the very back of her nightstand drawer—the place where she now kept the necklace. She changed into her pajamas and got into bed. A little bit of her high still lingered and she was glad for that. As she closed her eyes, she brought her thinking back to Len, how tightly he’d held on to her. She thought about Bellamy, her new friend, and what she’d say to her in science class tomorrow.
    BELLAMY DIDN’T SHOW UP AT SCHOOL FOR THREE WHOLE DAYS. THE first day, Tuesday, Kelly could barely keep her eyes open from lack ofsleep the night before. She spent most of the day in a haze but arrived early to science class and stood waiting at the new girl’s empty desk, clutching the Denny’s matchbook with Len’s number on it—her new talisman. She stood there, waiting and waiting until Mr. Hansen came in and started writing on the board and Evan Mueller, who sat next to Bellamy, asked Kelly what the hell she was doing, all moony-eyed at Bellamy Marshall’s desk like a groupie. “Are you a lezzie or what?” he said. Kelly didn’t answer.
    After school, she finally went to detention, which was held in the same room where she normally had study hall. There were three other kids in the room with her—a couple of punk rock boys with scary spiked Mohawks and dog collars and anarchy signs on their leather jackets, a girl in tight jeans and a tube top, chewing fruit gum Kelly could smell from three rows away. None of them paid attention to her and neither did Miss Rivers, the teacher in charge. And so the three hours went quickly. Kelly spent the whole time with her notebook open, writing long letters to Bellamy, asking her questions.
    THE NEXT DAY OF BELLAMY’S ABSENCE, KELLY SNEAKED OVER TO THE administration office during lunch, the Denny’s matchbook buttoned into the pocket of her denim jacket. She asked the receptionist, Mrs. Yanikian, if she could tell her where Bellamy Marshall’s locker was.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI’m in her science class.”
    â€œYes. And?”
    â€œAnd . . . we have a project. We need to work on it and I can’t find her . . .”
    Mrs. Yanikian glowered at her over the cat’s-eye glasses she wore on a gold chain around her neck. The rhinestones at the edges twinkled.
    â€œCan you tell me the locker number, please?”
    The receptionist paged through a notebook on her desk, her manicured nails a deep bloodred, her copper hair molded into perfect waves. Mrs. Yanikian spent an awful lot of time dolling herself up, just to sit in this cage of an office all day long.
    â€œBellamy Marshall is absent today,” she said. “But if you have a project together, you should already know where her locker is.”
    â€œI . . . forgot.”
    Mrs. Yanikian smiled at her with flat eyes. “Run along, Kelly,” she said. “The bell is going to ring soon.”
    ON THE THIRD DAY, WHICH WAS VALENTINE’S DAY, KELLY SAT WORRYING through science, Bellamy’s empty seat gaping at her back until finally she could no longer stand it. She raised her hand.
    Mr. Hansen, who had been explaining something having to do with cell production, said, “Yes, Kelly?”
    â€œCan I get a hall pass please?”
    â€œSilly me. I thought you were going to contribute to class discussion.”
    A few kids snickered. Kelly took a breath. “I need