9. Where It All Began

Omar and I didn't break into the Burris' cottage, technically speaking but I felt like a thief when we stepped inside. It was eerie, walking in without them there to greet us. The shutters remained over the windows, creating an unfamilair darkness. I didn't recognize the kitchen table because it was missing the fruits-of-the-world tablecloth. I wasn't scared, actually, I felt I was the creepy one, like I was watching the cottage while it was sleeping. The radio was unplugged, the cord wrapped around it, unable to play classical music. I wouldn't be hearing Mr. Burris tap along to the orchestra while he and Mrs. Burris raced with crosswords. I missed them, realizing it was only a fraction of what Curtis must have felt.

It was after dinner, the sun was setting but there was enough light for me to read 'Soviet Union' on the large, yellowing world map pinned up behind the door. There wasn't much time, maybe a half hour before curfew. I was expected back before nine thirty for the traditional lecture about beach chores. I had skipped out on doing the dishes to meet Omar.

I had convinced him to borrow the sacred spare key entrusted to his parents. "We'll pick up the mail," I had told him, a half truth, "Save your folks the hassle." He had agreed. Omar ate up responsibility like normal kids eat candy. Now that we were here, he dutifully scooped up the small pile of mail inside the door. That's when I missed my chance to discreetly look at the top envelope.

"Okay, got it. Now we can go." I walked further into the Burris' cottage as he hummed a disapproving tone. I had no idea why Omar hung out with me. I stressed him out. It was easy to feel mischevious around him. Omar was the kind of person who had never faked an illness to avoid school, never did anything without asking twice, and always used his real name signing up for stuff on the internet. Seeing him with Jill proved that any two people on Earth could end up as friends.

"Wait. We should check things out while we're here." I said, stalling, wondering if my cousin was coming.

"What do you mean?" He complained, following me into the hallway, toward the bedrooms.

Truth be told, I had no idea what I meant. I wondered if it was possible to pinpoint the precise moment when an idea spun out of control. Perhaps it was when I told Curtis that we may be able to do something for Jack. Perhaps it was when I asked my cousin to help. I was completely unaware of the chain of events that I was setting in motion. All I knew was I'd rather be doing something, anything, than standing there staring at an upset Curtis. The ugly truth was obvious, as Omar had said, there was nothing we could do for Jack. I should have turned around and left but I couldn't, I was supposed to be the one who knew what they were doing.

It was Noa who wanted to see Jack's bedroom. Noa who had used the word 'investigate'. Noa who didn't follow me after dinner to meet Omar, staying to help clear the table, ignoring my attempts at eye contact. I didn't need to see 'what kind of person Jack was' or whatever Noa's reasoning had been. Some help she turned out to be.

Omar was getting impatient. "Rach? Let's-" I think he tried to say 'let's go' but he made a sound like he was choking on a vowel. I had no idea how long she had been standing there. Omar probably thought she was a ghost, stepping right out of a black and white photo and into Jack's bedroom. Somehow she had appeared in the Burris' cottage.

"This is my cousin, Noa Park." I said, surprised how naturally it came out, considering my heart almost exploded.

"Omar, tell me," she said, ignoring how startled he was to hear his name before he was introduced, "was Jack a fan of Jane Austen?"