Page 48 of Middle of the Night

Which explains the lowered voices from the ladies of the cul-de-sac whenever they talk about their kids. It denotes seriousness, especially when it involves something that affects all of them. As an only child, Ashley doesn’t know how she feels about being lumped in with the other neighborhood kids like they’re distant cousins seated together at a wedding reception. She has nothing in common with the others save for the fact that they all live in the same place. She doesn’t even like them very much.

Well, that’s not true. She likes Ethan Marsh, who’s a good kid, even though she sometimes catches him staring at her like she’s Claudia Schiffer or something. She lets it slide because it’s in an innocent, awestruck way. Not like the leering of Ragesh Patel. A few weeks ago, Ashley spotted him hiding in the woods, watching her house. It creeped her out so much she told her dad, who marched next door and yelled at the Patels to, in his words, “keep your Peeping Tom son away from my house!” Ragesh denied it, of course, but Ashley knows what she saw.

As for the other kids on Hemlock Circle, she has little patience for huffy Russell Chen, who gets upset at the littlest things when he occasionally comes over to play with Ethan while she’s watching him. Ashley barely knows Andy Barringer, the youngest of them, but has a soft spot for his brother, Billy. He’s a weird kid, which makes her worryabout him. In this world, weird kids are bully magnets, and she fears life will only get worse for Billy if he doesn’t lower his freak flag a little bit.

“This world gets crazier every day,” Ashley heard her mother say this morning, which piqued her curiosity enough to lure her out of bed and closer to the window. Maybe they weren’t talking about one of the neighborhood kids after all. But by the time she got close enough to listen in, the group had broken up, with the women going back to their cooking and cleaning and whatever other forms of suburban drudgery they do every day.

Ashley vows to not live like that. She has plans. Short-, medium-, and long-term.

The short one is to scrape up enough money to go to Woodstock in August. Doable if she saves every penny of her babysitting money and can convince her parents she’s going to the Poconos with Tara and her family and not driving to upstate New York with Tara and her cousin to crash a music festival. The lying part is easy. She does it to her parents all the time. It’s the cover-up that causes her the most concern. While her parents and Tara’s moms aren’t friends, there’s always the risk they’ll run into each other at the Stop & Shop or the movie theater in downtown Princeton.

Also simple is her medium-term plan: graduate high school and peace the hell out of here. She’s not the best student. School bores her and, frankly, she’s too lazy to apply herself to things she doesn’t care about. But Mrs. Daniels said her grades are decent enough to get her into college, which is all Ashley needs to know.

As for her long-term plan, well, that’s not so easy. Her father has made it clear he wants her to go to Rutgers, major in sports science, then work at his gyms. Ashley hasn’t yet summoned the courage to tell him that’s not going to happen. But she will, once she figures out what she wants to actually do with her life. She knows it’ll have something to do with music. She’s just not sure what. She can’t sing to save herlife, and the only instrument she knows how to play is the guitar—poorly. But marketing or PR is a possibility, which is why she perks up when Tara says, “By the way, I hear Steve Ebberts is going to be at the party tonight.”

The party in question is being hosted by Brent Miller, whose parents took his little sister to Cape May for the weekend. Ashley’s already told Tara she’s not going. The last time she saw Brent Miller was at Sherri Benko’s graduation party, and he got so handsy she had to knee him in the balls. He’s lucky it wasn’t worse. Ashley is stronger than she looks. That happens when your dad owns several gyms. She’s been lifting weights since she was ten. She’s not huge. Not like those badass women onAmerican Gladiatorswith necks the size of tree trunks who can lift, like, a Volkswagen Beetle. But she’s sinewy.

“Are you sure?” Ashley says, holding the receiver to her ear now even though her thumb still throbs.

“Positive,” Tara says.

Well, this changes things. It’s not that Ashley has the hots for Steve or anything like that. In truth, he’s kind of weird-looking and a bit of a jerk. But his older brother works for Warner Music, and she’s more than willing to pretend to like Steve if it helps make a connection to the industry, no matter how thin.

She’s not going to date him. She refuses to wrap her life around a boy. But she can go through the motions if she has to.

“Can you give me a ride?”

“No can do,” Tara says. “My moms are taking the car to visit my aunt in Pennsylvania.”

“Then how are you getting there?”

Tara sighs. “I’m not. Unless you can take me.”

“I’ll think of something,” Ashley says, with the kind of finality that shows she means it.

And she does. She knows the party, a possible hookup with Steve Ebberts, Woodstock, college, and a career in music are all necessarysteps toward her real goal, which is to not live like her mother and the other women of Hemlock Circle. She loves her mom, and she has no issue with the others, but their lives disappoint her. Raising kids. Keeping house. Gossiping on the lawn. It all seems so orderly, so banal. And Ashley wants to get messy. Not too messy. Not like Courtney Love. Just messy enough to know, when she’s on her deathbed, that she lived.

No regrets.

That’s the kind of life she wants.

Even if it means leaving Hemlock Circle and never looking back.

In the hall, Ashley hears her mother calling up the stairs. “Ash? You up there? It’s time to go to work, honey.”

Ashley checks the Swatch around her wrist. Shit. She needs to be at the Marsh house in two minutes.

“Tara, I gotta run,” she says before hanging up and swiping the bloody tissue and Band-Aid wrapper into the trash. She slips on a pair of Keds and runs downstairs, shouting “Bye, Mom!” on her way out the door.

Although she could have easily gotten a summer job at one of her dad’s gyms, Ashley instead jumped at the chance to babysit Ethan Marsh. The hours, each weekday from noon until five, are far better than at the gym, which would have required her to be up at the butt crack of dawn each morning. Also, if she worked at the gym, her father would know exactly how much she got paid, which would have made it harder to sock away money in secret like she’s been doing all summer. In a few weeks, the money Joyce Marsh is paying her—in cash, no less—will cover the entire cost of the Woodstock trip.

Ashley traces the curve of the cul-de-sac to the Marsh house and skips across the lawn to the front door. When it opens, she expects to be greeted by Ethan, happy as usual to see her. Instead, it’s Mrs. Marsh at the door, blinking at her in confusion. Ashley’s equally confused. Shouldn’t she be at work?

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Marsh says in a way that makes Ashley’s heart start to sink in her chest. “I completely forgot to tell your mother.”

Ashley’s heart drops another few inches. “Tell her what?”

“I’m so sorry, but we won’t be needing you anymore this summer.”

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