Time was running out to say something. Anything. She just didn’t want to. The water reached her shoulders and a single tear pressed forward. She couldn’t believe this was happening. This couldn’t be happening. She was Margaret O’Malley for Christ’s sake. She was the head cheerleader, voted most popular, and just crowned prom queen a few short hours ago. It couldn’t be ending now.

She pressed her face against the roof of the car, stretching herself as far from the water as possible. Jake, her boyfriend of eight months and former captain of the football team, continued to drop below the surface, struggling with desperate lurches and splashes to force open the door, or something.

“Jake!” she shrieked. “Jake, get me out of here!” Margaret, whose friends all called her Maggie, was in a panic. She didn’t remember how they ended up here. She didn’t even know where the hell here was.

All she remembered was leaving the prom. After her cheerful goodbyes to her posse of girlfriends she rode away with Jake. Jake was fine and all, but she only planned to date him until fall when she would head off to Brentwood College. There she’d find her new love, some guy who oozed popularity, who could get her in touch with the ‘in’ crowd. They drove down route 62, a long and winding road light on traffic this late at night. Jake had ideas for the two of them. She knew about it. She was kind of in the mood, actually. They were heading out to Falls Bluff, one of the area’s most notorious, and most secluded, make-out spots. Jake wasn’t the best she ever had but he was worth the drive.

They drank before the prom. Everyone did. It was the only way to go, as far as she was concerned. During the prom itself though, Jake went off with his football buddies a few times, probably downing a few more shots. It didn’t bother her except for the fact that he didn’t offer her any. ‘Damn bastard,’ she had said to her friends as they huddled in the restroom, ‘I can’t wait to be rid of him.’ To Maggie, Jake was a trophy and nothing more. The guy every girl wanted.

The trip from the prom to Falls Bluff was about twenty miles. At two o’clock in the morning and a bit-in-the-bag, it had seemed even longer. Maggie started doing something, but she couldn’t remember what. Her mind fogged over at some point.

She slapped the roof of the car with her palm. Water splashed her face. It was almost to her chin now. What the hell did it matter what she was doing? She was losing space and air to the rising water. Jake was still fighting with the door, or the window, or something. Why doesn’t he just roll the damn window down? she thought.

“Jake, pulee-heez!” she was crying now. There was no stopping it. This wasn’t her life! This belonged to someone else. This belonged to Sara Caufield, or Regina Matthews. Plain looking, unpopular, useless wenches. They were the ones who deserved this fate, not her.

Jake suddenly surfaced, gasping for air. “Jesus Christ, Maggie,” he said, coughing water between his words. “Jesus, I can’t get out.”

“Open the fucking window!” she yelled, slapping the roof again, her cheek mashed against its wet tapestry.

Jake spat water. The car leaned down to his side and the water was almost completely to the roof. He was struggling for air. “Pshower wiblows,” he spat.

“What?” Maggie was beyond hysterical now. She was angry and impatient. She swore she could feel the icy hand of death on her legs, carefully moving up her body, copping a quick feel.

With a blast of effort, Jake lunged closer and was able to get his head out of water enough to breathe and speak. “Power windows, Maggie. They’re power windows. You get it? There’s no power. They won’t open.”

“Oh God, Jake!” She wanted to cry but she was beyond that. So many people were going to miss her. Why did they have to drive out here? If they had just gone to a hotel room, they’d be dry and safe, and in each other’s arms under a pile of blankets. She could’ve put up with him for another year if it meant getting out of this mess. “What good are you?” she screamed at him.

The water bubbled and continued to rise. Maggie watched it overtake Jake, but before it did he told her he was going to try the door one more time.

“Goddammit, you bastard. You got me in here,” she cried, “get me out. I’m not dying in here.” The words died in a flutter of weeping.

Jake had already submerged. Her breaths became short bursts and each one splashed water on her cheeks. Her face now pressed into the upper corner of the car. Water lapped at the corners of her mouth. There was no more room. No more time. She didn’t say goodbye. The last thought she could hold, even though she didn’t want to, was that he wasn’t good enough to die with her. He was only prom king because of her. Son-of-a-bitch couldn’t even get out of his own damn car.

Jake wasn’t coming up again. There was no room and she wasn’t about to give her last breath up for him. But he never tried. Maggie finally started taking water into her lungs. The horror of drowning found her and she fought it. She couldn’t let go, much less try to get out. Her mind couldn’t reason through it.

She hacked out water and continued to cough, sucking in more and more water with each breath until finally there was no more air. Her eyes went wide and her hands grasped for anything. Any sign of hope. Her chest ached, feeling squeezed in a powerful hug. A hot, burning sensation coursed through her. Her head flailed back and forth as she looked for something. She didn’t know what she was looking for. Then she looked for Jake. What she found made her scream a wall of bubbles.

*****

Jake stood at the edge of the lake watching bubbles drift up from beneath the water’s surface. They grew smaller and more infrequent with each passing second. Water dripped from his hair and his clothes, forming a puddle around his feet. The six-foot dark haired senior watched with a blank expression as his self-centered prom date choked on her last breath.

Ten minutes later Jake knew it was over. He had one thing left to do. He dove back in the water, flashlight in hand, and swam to the bottom of the lake where his car rested like a tomb. He shined the light through the driver’s window and saw Maggie’s bloated, dead gaze. Her shocked and frightened eyes stared through him, her face inches from the glass. A thin grin crept across his face. He couldn’t help it. She was right where she should be.

As he climbed out of the lake, he headed for the road. As far as anyone would be concerned, they had gone up to Falls Bluff where they had a fight. She took his car and left him there to walk home. He’d get home, crawl in bed, and wake up to hear that she was missing, along with his car. His mom would drop his tux off to be cleaned tomorrow.

It would be some time before they found her, but he knew they would. Someday she would turn up and people would say what a tragedy it was, what a damn shame. Jake would have to pretend and smile and for those brief moments forget that Maggie O’Malley was nothing more than fingernails scraped across the blackboard of his life. He knew she’d have left him soon, but something, somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind, wouldn’t wish her on anyone. Not even his worst enemies. She was Maggie O’Malley for Christ’s sake. Hell beneath a matte of blonde hair.

Jake laughed as he walked down the road, tense shivers coating his skin. He kept thinking of the last thing he said to her, and couldn’t help but laugh.

“Power windows.”

Shelly had seen this girl before. She waved and laughed from across the tall meadow as an early morning fog broke, but she couldn’t make out her face. It was the same every morning. This girl always dressed like Shelly, as though she spied on her in the waking hours. Today was a white spaghetti-strap top with light cyan shorts. Her dark hair combed straight, hanging just beyond her shoulders. She looked to be the same age, too. It was like peering into some kind of magical mirror and whenever Shelly ran to her, she disappeared with a playful laugh.

It had become a game of theirs, a daily ritual. There wasn’t much more to do on her uncle’s farm unless she wanted to muck stalls or milk cows. Shelly was a city girl; she had no interest in rural activities. She missed home. She missed her mom. It was proving to be a difficult adjustment, living out here with people she barely knew. Her mom and her uncle had rarely spoken. Now she had to learn to live with him and his wife and six kids, all of them boys.

She woke earlier and earlier each morning, teeming with inspiration and hope. Hope that today was going to be the day the girl in the meadow finally spoke.

She held back and watched the girl twirl among the grasses that hugged her waist. She was laughing and breathing in deep, rich air, rich with life. Not city air. Shelly wondered if the girl even realized she was here.

“Hello,” Shelly called out as she had done a dozen times before. The girl acted as though she didn’t hear her. Shelly took ginger steps closer. The fog continued to life and the girl faded. “Please, don’t …” Shelly’s smile slipped. Each day it became easier to lose hope, and her smile; this was about the only time it appeared anymore.

Her head dropped and when she looked up again, the blue sky pierced the remaining clouds in staggered rays; the girl was gone. No matter how early she woke, Shelly realized she was never going to meet her.

Back at the house, William, Ted, and Michael, the youngest boys, all of three, six, and seven, were racing around, crashing into walls and the dining room table. Soon it would be the china cabinet. Aunt May was yelling at them from the kitchen with little effect. Shelly was careful to avoid them. If they noticed her, there would be no quarter. They’d chase and tease her and pull on her hair until lunch. Aunt May wouldn’t mind; they wouldn’t be destroying her house.

Shelly managed to sneak into her room and closed the door behind her. She leaned back against it and tears pushed through the fortress she tried to build. She sank to the floor and drew her knees to her chest and wept. She felt so alone and so afraid.

“Mom,” she whispered through her tears, “why?”

It was a question she had asked so many times in the past month and like the girl in the meadow, she never got an answer. She knew she never would.

She lost track of time sitting on the floor crying. It could have been an hour. It could have been five minutes. When a gentle knock pulled her back from the darkness of her knees, she jumped.

“Y-yes?” she said, scooting away from the door and struggling to get up. The doorknob turned slowly and Shelly rubbed her eyes as quickly as possible. She swallowed hard, thinking, for some morbid reason, that the boys found her.

Aunt May poked her head in and looked at her with a gentle smile. Shelly had yet to figure her out. She was nothing like her mother, always yelling at her boys about chores or running in the house or homework or not eating their vegetables or something. She almost always seemed to wear a scowl and Shelly didn’t know if she ever saw her smile before. This wasn’t the smile of her mother, for certain, but it was something.

“Ah, you are in here,” Aunt May said as she opened the door and stepped inside. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Shelly shuffled to the edge of her bed. “I’m fine.” She tried to smile but it scurried under her bed. She looked down for it to avoid Aunt May’s approach.

“Were you crying?” Aunt May stopped, reached out her hand and placed it gently beneath Shelly’s chin.

She lifted her head up and with reluctance looked into her eyes. She felt them coming. In waves they were coming once more. She swallowed, bit her lower lip, and looked around the room, but they were already there. She broke down and cried harder than she had since the morning the live-in nurse met her in the hallway to tell her it was over, that she was an orphan. There was no denial this time. No hiding from the truth. She knew it. Everywhere she looked was another reminder.

Aunt May drew Shelly into her embrace. “Dear, dear,” she said as she stroked her back. “Let it out, Shell, let it all out.”

Shelly pushed back enough to look at her. Through choking sobs she said, “Wh-what d-did you s-say?”

“I said it’s alright. It’s good to let it out.”

“N-no, y-you called me Shell.”

“Oh, I guess I did. Is that wrong?” Aunt May held Shelly’s shoulders and knelt down before her.

Shelly fought to gain control of her breath and in time she managed to get back some. “N-no. It’s … it’s what my mom called me.”

“Oh, I didn’t know. I won’t do it again. I am so sorry.” Shelly thought for a moment that Aunt May’s face was going to disappear into darkness.

“No, it’s alright,” Shelly said, not wanting the connection to break. She needed it. She knew it. “It was nice.”

Aunt May took Shelly’s face into her hands and, ever so gently, rubbed the streaking tears from it. “I know this has all been so hard for you. I can’t even imagine what you went through. Such a brave young girl.”

“Why did she have to go?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps God wanted her home. Maybe it was fate. I really don’t know, Shell. I wish I could tell you something that would help.”

“I just want to go home,” Shelly said and immediately regretted it. She didn’t want to hurt Aunt May’s feelings, but this wasn’t home, no matter how well disguised. Home was where her mother was and she knew that wasn’t an option.

“I know, I know.” Aunt May gazed into her eyes and Shelly saw something in there that she didn’t expect. It was a light, a special kind of light. The kind of light only girls have. The kind of light her mother had.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” Shelly said, dropping her head.

“I know.” Aunt May got to her feet. “Would you like to go for a ride?”

Shelly looked up at her. “Where?”

“To town. We’ll do some shopping.”

“Really?” Shelly liked shopping. She and her mother used to go all the time, that was, before the doctors, before the bad things. They never bought anything. They just liked to look.

“Yeah. I don’t have a girl. Thought it might be fun.”

Shelly followed Aunt May out of her room. She paused in the doorway and gave it one more look. It felt different. She didn’t know why. Suddenly it didn’t feel so alone.

*****

Shelly woke up one morning about a week later and headed out for the meadow in the same white spaghetti-strap tank and cyan shorts. She looked for the girl in the low clouds and couldn’t find her. It didn’t matter.

She brushed her hand across the top of the grass. A smile creased her face. She looked around at the fields and to the sky. She laughed. There was nobody around but she wasn’t alone. She twirled among the grass and breathed in deep the fresh, fragrant air.

She couldn’t help but laugh.