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“Some people hate that I’m back.”

“I understand,” Dr. Bernay said from Carrie’s laptop monitor. “But we expected challenges.”

Carrie also raised her anxiety around having accepted Sofia Vera’s invitation for coffee. She was supposed to meet her at the high school later that day.

“I think,” Dr. Bernay said, “revisiting the location where a number of your issues originated is a good step.”

“It won’t be easy.”

“True, but neither was moving back or going to Lacey’s party. And you did both. Keep building on your successes.”

Carrie turned to Emily, who sat on the floor nearby playing with her toys, happy for the moment to stay in one spot.

“Carrie, you said you had concerns about Luke?”

“He’s kind of distant, even with small stuff. He seems preoccupied.”

“Allow him time to adjust to the move, his new job. Remember, he’s carrying his own trauma.”

“I want to help him but he internalizes so much.”

“Give it time. Look at the positives. Luke wanted to move, wanted the new job. And, of course, there’s your dad, with Emily. This is also a time to be cherished.”

“Yes.” Carrie brushed a tear. “It’s beautiful to see him with her—he just lights up.”

“Keep taking these small steps. Like going for coffee at the school today. It’s a welcoming gesture that will help you reconnect, give you a sense of belonging.”

Carrie reached down and stroked Emily’s hair.

“One day at a time,” Carrie said.

“Yes, but,” Dr. Bernay cautioned her, “be ready for the potential to unearth memories. Even disturbing ones.”

***

Clear River High School was a two-story building, built circa 1970.

There were plans to build a new school with a big football stadium—in keeping with the community’s passion for the game, Carrie thought as she parked in a visitor’s spot. She buckled Emily into her stroller, took a breath, then went to the secured door and used the buzz-in system. After identifying herself over the intercom, an armed guard escorted her in.

Instantly, the smell of polished floors, the portrait wall of administrators and the glass case holding prizes won for school glory pulled her back to adolescence. She went to the office, where Sofia Vera was waiting at the counter, looking at her phone. Upon seeing Carrie, a couple of the staff nudged each other, exchanging glances. One, who Carrie recognized from Lacey’s party, gave a small wave.

“Hey, Carrie.” Sofia hugged her, then bent down to Emily. “Hi, sweetheart. Having fun visiting with Mommy like a big girl?” Then to Carrie, “Let’s get you signed in and get your visitor badge, then we’ll go to the cafeteria.”

The halls were deserted now that the school day was over, the faint echo of a basketball bouncing on hardwood and the squeak of running shoes underscoring the emptiness.

They went through the student common area, where Carrie slowed to a near stop. Abby Hall and Erin Eddowes stared at her from the framed photographs of a memorial display, pulling Carrie to them with their pretty clothes and pretty-girl smiles.

Noticing Carrie’s disquiet, Sofia said, “They put this up after you’d graduated and moved away. Their families set up a memorial college scholarship. I hope it doesn’t—”

“No, it’s okay. That was a nice thing for the families to do.”

They rounded the corner to the open doors of the cafeteria. While no one was there, they could hear activity in the kitchen.

“Have a seat. The coffee’s on me. How do you take it?”

“Thanks. A dribble of milk.”

“How about a juice box or something for Emily?”

“Thanks, but I’ll give her a bottle and she’ll be happy. She might even nap in the stroller. She’s good that way.”

Carrie took in the rows of empty tables and seats. The room seemed so much smaller now. A moment later, Sofia returned with two ceramic mugs bearing the school’s crest.

“I like having the place to ourselves,” Sofia said.

“Yes, it’s calm, peaceful.”

“It’s so good to see you.” Sofia put her hand over Carrie’s.

“It is nice. How’re you doing?”

“I got divorced last year.”

“Oh, no, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was for the best.”

“And kids?”

“No kids. That was part of it. Anyway…” Sofia smiled. “I’ve been seeing Kendrick, who moved here from Atlanta after his wife passed away from cancer. He’s a good man who wants kids. He’s got his own trucking company. We’re taking it slow.”

“You look great, Sofia.”

“Thanks, Carrie. But what about you? Your dad’s got to be happy to have you back home.”

“He is. It’s good for him to see Emily.”

Sipping coffee, Sofia blinked, choosing her words.

“You know, we were so young back then, but with your mom’s passing, then what happened in the woods…whenever I thought of you over the years, I just wanted to hug you.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“And thank you for meeting me at the school. I’m actually finishing up grading papers, and leaving notes for my sub. Then Kendrick’s picking me up. We’re driving to Houston tonight, then flying to Seattle for a short holiday.”

“Sounds like fun.”

Sofia paused, peered into her coffee and said: “I have to confess a secret.”

Carrie tensed. “A secret?”

“I wanted to do this before I left. This is embarrassing.”

“What is it, Sofia?”

“I’ve written a screenplay, a rom-com, about high school teachers.”

And there it is , Carrie thought.

“Congratulations.”

“Writing one has been a secret dream and, well, seeing how you worked with movie people in Los Angeles, I wanted to ask if you know anyone in the business who could help me. Oh, gosh, Carrie, tell me if I’m out of line.”

“No, it’s all right.” Emily started fussing. Carrie fished a prepared bottle from the bag under the stroller and gave it to her. “But I don’t know. Just about every second person in LA has written a screenplay. It’s tough.”

“I know, but I thought I’d ask.”

“I have a friend at an agency. No promises, no guarantees, but I could touch base with her.”

“Really?”

“I can ask if she’d be willing to look at it.”

“That would be fantastic! Thank you!”

Sofia’s phone rang as she moved to hug Carrie.

“It’s Kendrick. I’m sorry—I have to take this.”

Carrie waved her off. “No problem.”

Sofia left, talking on her phone, disappearing into the common area, leaving Carrie to stroke Emily’s hair while she drank from her bottle.

Again, Carrie took in the room’s emptiness, this time the subtle, lingering aroma of cafeteria food stirred something buried deep in her memory, seizing her with a haunting sensation that wrenched her back to when she was seventeen and…

…in the cafeteria, packed for the lunch period, the chaos of conversation is deafening, but she’s pretty much alone eating at the table with Opal Wells and some junior girls who don’t have many friends. They blend in with others at neighboring tables—nerds, geeks, unpopular kids and freshmen. At one end are the brainiacs, then rows across, tables with jocks, cheerleaders, and the upper echelon of seniors and super popular kids who rule the school—they’re talking about a wild upcoming party… Carrie spots Lanna. She’s an unpopular junior in the chess club with braces, acne and a speech impediment. Lanna stands alone with her tray, scanning for a seat… One is free but it’s in the exclusive zone of popular seniors, who reign over everyone…

Lanna steels herself before moving slowly, as if stepping onto a minefield, navigating to the empty seat near Abby Hall. As she arrives, a backpack thuds onto the seat. “Taken, Rama-Lanna-Ding-Dong,” says one of the senior boys.

But Abby Hall says, “No it’s not. Kirk, move it. Sit, Lanna.” Lanna looks at her as if seeking assurance, like she’s checking it’s okay, checking they’re not going to kick the chair out from under her. “Go ahead, sit.” Abby grins. The scene attracts glances and giggles from the other popular kids, who, like wolves, are knowingly anticipating a response to Lanna’s daring to set foot in their realm.

Placing her tray down, Lanna sits. She eats while reading a book, her head bowed, bothering no one. Abby smiles, elbows Kirk. The wolves strike; he snatches Lanna’s unopened milk carton from her tray.

“Hey,” Lanna says, reaching in vain for it as he passes it to Abby, who passes it to Erin Eddowes beside her. Erin holds it up like captured treasure, wiggling it to taunt Lanna, igniting the group’s laughter before passing it to the boy beside her, who passes it to the girl next to him. Lanna protests in vain as the chortling group passes her stolen carton farther from her.

Unable to stomach the hurt on Lanna’s face, Carrie makes her way to the end of the table, where one of the senior boys unwittingly puts Lanna’s carton in Carrie’s hand. She strides to Lanna and returns her milk, noticing two empty seats across the room. “I’ll get my tray, Lanna. Let’s sit over there.” Then to the group, Carrie snaps: “That was a juvenile, shitty thing to do!”

One boy mutters, “Yo, Carrie’s Five-O. Her dad’s the sheriff.”

“Busted by the cafeteria cop,” a girl says.

Another chimes in, “Narc.”

“Whoa, Carrie.” Abby flashes a beautiful queen bee smile. “Honey, just chill.”

Erin joins in. “We weren’t going to keep Rama-Lanna’s stupid milk.”

“It’s just a little harmless joke,” Abby says.

“Are you going to take us in, Sheriff?” Erin says, extending her wrists together to be handcuffed.

Carrie stares at them with a growing intensity that prompts one of the boys to warn, “Look out, she may be marshaling her evil powers.” But his grin soon fades, as do the smirks on the faces of Abby, Erin and the others, then Carrie leaves…

Now, sitting in the unoccupied cafeteria, surfacing from the past, Carrie heard her name being called.

“I said, are you okay?” Sofia asked. “You’re so pale.”

“Oh. Yes,” Carrie said. “I was lost in my thoughts.”

Turning to Emily, Carrie grasped the near-empty bottle of formula.

“Want to trade numbers and emails so I can send you my script?”

“Absolutely.” Carrie reached for her phone. “This has been so nice, but I should be getting Emily home.”

Later, in the privacy of her car, after buckling Emily into her seat, Carrie hesitated to start the motor.

She stared at the school, covering her face with her hands.

The cafeteria memory with Abby and Erin was crystalline. It’s happening.

It was the memory of the time leading up to when the three girls went into the woods.

The time leading up to Abby’s and Erin’s deaths.

What did I do?