Hey Jude

by Star Spider

  Copyright © Star Spider 2020

  Published in Canada and the United States in 2020 by Orca Book Publishers.

  orcabook.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Title: Hey Jude / Star Spider.

  Names: Spider, Star, author.

  Series: Orca soundings.

  Description: Series statement: Orca soundings

  Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 2020017603X | Canadiana (ebook) 20200176048 |

  ISBN 9781459826359 (SOFTCOVER) | ISBN 9781459826366 (PDF) |

  ISBN 9781459826373 (EPUB)

  Classification: LCC PS8637.P54 H49 2020 | DDC jC813/.6—dc23

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2020930589

  Summary: In this high-interest accessible novel for teen readers, a teen tries to balance the last year of high school, a new romance and looking after her sister with mental health issues.

  Orca Book Publishers is committed to reducing the consumption of nonrenewable resources in the making of our books. We make every effort to use materials that support a sustainable future.

  Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada, the Canada Council for the Arts and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

  Edited by Tanya Trafford

  Design by Ella Collier

  Cover images by Gettyimages.ca/pixhook (front) and

  Shutterstock.com/Krasovski Dmitri (back)

  Printed and bound in Canada.

  23 22 21 20 • 1 2 3 4

  Orca Book Publishers is proud of the hard work our authors do and of the important stories they create. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it or did not check it out from a library provider, then the author has not received royalties for this book. The ebook you are reading is licensed for single use only and may not be copied, printed, resold or given away. If you are interested in using this book in a classroom setting, we have digital subscriptions with multi user, simultaneous access to our books, or classroom licenses available for purchase. For more information, please contact digital@orcabook.com.

  ivaluecanadianstories.ca

  To Ben, for always

  taking care.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  It’s the first day of school. Jude doesn’t answer when I call her down to breakfast. My heart seizes up briefly, but I manage to breathe through it. I call her one more time before I abandon my lumpy effort at pancakes and run upstairs. As I make my way down the hall, I try hard to convince myself that everything is fine. She’s probably just playing music or something and can’t hear me. I listen at her door. No music. I knock quietly. No response. I exhale to steady myself and push the door open. I took the lock off her door a year ago, when she had a bad episode. Really bad. Which is why I get so panicky. I’m always wondering when it’s going to happen again.

  The first thing that hits me is the smell. People say teenage girls smell like sugar and spice and everything nice, but that’s total bullshit. Jude smells as bad as a teenage boy. And to make matters worse, she tries to hide it by applying a toxic level of scented lotion to her body after she showers. It’s truly awful.

  Jude’s room is dark. The floor is covered in a thick layer of clothes, magazines and crumpled paper. Not a good sign. I wade through the mess and pull up her blackout blinds, which are coated in a nasty layer of dust. How long has it been since I’ve been in here? She usually keeps the door closed and is pretty particular about her privacy, but I shouldn’t have let it get this bad. I usually make weekly checks. But I’ve let it slide because I’ve been so busy with my summer job at Java World. Someone has to help Mom. She works hard, but there is never quite enough to cover the bills.

  The light from the morning sun streams through the window, making all the dust I’ve kicked up way too visible. I unlock the window and throw it open. It doesn’t help much.

  I pick up one of the crumpled pieces of paper and open it up. It’s a face, so scratched out that the original drawing is barely visible. Another bad sign. Jude only hates her art like this when she’s starting to crash.

  As I make my way to the bed, I move carefully, trying to avoid stepping on anything. The comforter is pulled so high I can’t even see Jude’s head. I sit down on the side of the bed and something crunches under me. I don’t even bother checking to see what it is. Instead I pull back the covers to reveal my sister, a lump of arms and hair with no face.

  She groans, low and long, and rolls over.

  “Hey, Jude,” I say quietly. It’s our little family joke. My mom was a Beatles fanatic back in the day, so she named her daughters Penny and Jude. Kind of embarrassing when people make the connection. Luckily it doesn’t happen that often. Most people our age are clueless about music from older generations.

  Jude groans again, this time more of a grunt. “Fuck off, Penny Lane,” she says.

  I’m used to her sass, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting. I reach out and touch her shoulder, give her a little shake. “First day of school, kiddo. I’m making pancakes.”

  “Your pancakes suck,” she mutters.

  I roll my eyes, which doesn’t matter because she can’t see me.

  But she’s right. For some reason I have never been able to make good pancakes. I’m a master of all the other breakfast foods. Eggs, oatmeal, even omelets, but pancakes are my mortal enemy. They’re always lumpy or way too flat. I continue to do battle with them though. I’m determined. It’s kind of my thing.

  “Seriously, Jude, tenth grade, first day,” I say.

  Jude’s two years younger than me. I’m already worrying about what she’ll do if I decide to go to university. Mom works nights at the hospital as a nurse and sleeps all day, so who will wake Jude up in the mornings? Cook her horrible pancakes? Most important, who will be there when she crashes?

  “First day can live without me. I’m too tired.” She rolls over to face me but doesn’t move the hair out of her face.

  I bend over to try to see her eyes through the mass of tangled brown.

  “Then we have to up your meds,” I reply.

  She pushes the hair out of her face finally and glares at me. She’s pale. Too pale. I try to keep my concern tucked away behind a relaxed mask. She can read me too well. I don’t want her to feel like something is wrong. That will probably just make things worse.

  “I know it’s not ideal, but that’s what the doctor said,” I say. “Here.” I dig her first dose of the day out of my pocket and hand it to her. It’s part of my morning ritual—get Jude’s drugs, shower, eat breakfast, brush my teeth. “I’ll get you another pill to take with the pancakes.”

  She groans again but swallows the pills, then opens her mouth wide to prove it.

  This is our deal. About a year ago she almost died from an overdose. One morning she didn’t respond to me when I called, and I had to kick down her door. I found her passe
d out with an empty bottle of meds next to her. I had to shove my finger down her throat and make her puke them up before calling 9-1-1. So now we have a deal. I make sure she gets up, eats my shitty pancakes and takes her pills. And for nearly a year we have been good. So good that Mom thinks everything is fine now. I know better, but I don’t want to worry her. I hope this is just a single bad day, though, not the beginning of a downward spiral. I’ll have to keep a closer eye on her. And make her clean her room.

  I get up, remove the granola-bar wrapper stuck to my ass and wipe off the crumbs. I crumple the wrapper into a tiny ball and stick it in my pocket.

  “Down in five. And tonight you clean your room.”

  Jude has pulled her hair back from her face now. She smiles at me sarcastically. She’s way, way prettier than me. But I’ve never had time to be jealous.

  “Okay, Penny Lane, you’re the boss,” she says in a singsong voice.

  “That’s right,” I reply. “I am.”

  Chapter Two

  For most people, the first day of school is something to dread. But not for me. I’m a good student, and I love the structure of school. It’s all laid out for you, and people tell you what to do. It’s a huge change from the rest of my life. Taking care of Jude, for one—always telling her what to do and making sure she follows the rules. Plus, I’m a manager at Java World, and I have to boss people around there too. So school is a dream. I don’t even mind when teachers are assholes. I just smile sweetly and get my work done.

  Jude and I ride the subway together and head to the same place, but technically she goes to a different school. The alternative school is located in the same building as my public school. It’s a place people go when they don’t quite fit in regular school. When they need extra help, looser rules, more time with the teachers. It’s amazing, actually, because Jude gets to focus on her art there. I’ve met most of her teachers, and they are good people, way less burned out than mine. I thought about going there myself. But it would be much harder to graduate with all the “extras” I need for my applications for grants and loans for university.

  When we climb out of the subway station and step out into the city streets, there’s a bit of a breeze. It’s a relief. I’m not much into the heat, so I can’t wait to be done with summer. Fall is my absolute favorite. I love the colors, the smell of dying leaves and bonfires, the back-to-school excitement.

  I look over at Jude. Her eyes are only half-open, and she’s walking so slowly. I fed her the extra pill this morning, and I pray it will kick in soon. I had to scrap the pancakes—they were just too terrible. So we ate slightly stale Froot Loops instead. We always have them in the house because they’re Jude’s favorite. Sometimes I like to let her have things she loves because most of the time I’m just ordering her to do stuff she hates.

  Jude grabs my hand as we approach the front door of the school. We have done this every first day of school since I was old enough to take her on my own. It’s a little ritual we have that I love. Today it makes me even more happy—hopefully it’s a sign that she hasn’t crashed too hard. I squeeze her hand tightly even though it’s so warm out that both of our hands are nasty and sweaty.

  I walk her to the entrance of her school. There’s a big mural over the door. The art class makes one at the end of every year for the incoming students. It’s bright and colorful, decorated with rainbows, smiling faces, mountain ranges and various sketches of people doing art—bent over drawings, writing on old-fashioned typewriters, carving sculptures. I love the sketches the most, but I’m biased. Most of them are Jude’s. She’s incredibly talented and creates such beautiful work when she’s not depressed.

  Jude turns to me. Her face is serious and lovely in the morning light and reminds me of her self-portraits. She often draws them—I have a million tacked to the walls of my bedroom. Somehow she always manages to capture her own stunning sadness. That look in her eyes like she has seen worse things than I can ever imagine. And still she keeps getting up every morning.

  “You know I love you, right, Penny Lane?” she asks.

  I nod, my eyes burning with tears that I try hard to contain.

  “Hey, Jude,” I whisper, “I love you too.”

  “Have a good year,” she replies. She puts her hands on my cheeks and leans in to kiss me lightly on the forehead. It’s a fleeting thing, the kiss, but it is heavy with all the things she doesn’t say but I know she really feels.

  Then she’s gone.

  I watch her as she moves away, her feet dragging a bit too much. As fragile and pale as a dream.

  “You too,” I call out. The words that finish our ritual, break the spell.

  She doesn’t turn around. She just raises her hand and waves. I’m dismissed. Allowed, for now, to go about my own life and enjoy the small thrill of a new school year.

  Chapter Three

  Most people have already gone in. I heard the first bell when I was seeing Jude off, but I know I still have a couple of minutes before the second bell. It doesn’t really matter anyway, though, because it’s my final year and most of my teachers know me well. I have a certain degree of freedom. They know about Jude and the complications of being her caregiver and trust me to get my work done. So I take this time to wander down the halls without hurrying. I run my fingers along the lockers, feeling the cold metal and listening to the sound of the locks shifting under my touch. I love that sound. The smell is wonderful too—pencil shavings and fresh paper, with an occasional whiff of body spray.

  The halls are deserted, so it comes as a complete shock when I round the corner and almost run into someone. We both stop short. He smiles. I have never seen this boy before. He has the whitest, straightest teeth I have ever seen. His dark brown skin and closely shaved hair highlight the spiky red mohawk that runs all the way down to the back of his neck. He’s wearing dress pants with suspenders and a Beatles T-shirt, Yellow Submarine, which just happens to be my favorite album. And his gray eyes are lined with just the slightest hint of black liner.

  I have no words.

  I smile back at him and then immediately flush with embarrassment.

  “Hi,” he says. His voice is low but delicate, like he’s not quite used to the sound of it.

  “Hi,” I reply. I’m surprised I can even say that much. I’m not much for dating, because Jude takes up so much of my time. But it’s not like I’m a robot. This guy is hot.

  “I’m looking for B101,” he says.

  “You’re new,” I say, then shut my mouth quickly. What a stupid thing to say. Of course he’s new. I definitely would have noticed him last year.

  “Is it that obvious?” he says. He spreads his arms, palms up, and looks down at himself.

  I laugh, but it comes out more like a bark. I smile to try to cover it up. He tilts his head at me and looks puzzled.

  “Actually, I’m going to B101 right now,” I say.

  The second bell rings. It’s so loud we both cover our ears. I’m usually in the classroom by second bell, so I’m not used to the volume of it bouncing around the empty halls.

  “Physics?” he asks after the bell has finished.

  “My favorite,” I reply. I try to sound like I’m joking, but it comes out completely serious. I mean, I wasn’t joking—I do love physics. But I was trying to keep it light in case he hates it and thinks I’m a giant nerd.

  “I’m more into chemistry,” he replies, “but it’s all physics in the end, isn’t it?”

  I wait for a second to make sure he’s not joking. But his smile is sincere. Have I died and gone to heaven?

  “Yeah,” I say. “I mean, I guess.”

  There’s a moment of silence where we just stare at each other.

  “So?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

  “What?”

  “The classroom?”

  “The class…” My brain is definitely not working.

  “Like, where we sit in desks, write notes and listen to the teacher drone on about velocity?”


  My eyes keep venturing down to his lips. It’s hard to focus on the words he’s saying. It takes me a second to snap out of it.

  “The classroom. Yes.” I start walking abruptly and almost bump into him. I’m not usually like this, I swear. But I can’t seem to control the feeling that’s pulsing though me. The boy with the funky hair and perfect smile turns to follow me. I notice that he has an earthy boy smell. I like it.

  “I’m Jack, by the way,” he says as we head toward the classroom.

  “Jack,” I say. “Cool. I’m Penny.”

  “Like Penny Lane?” he asks, laughing a little.

  I look over my shoulder at him. He’s walking slightly behind me but still keeping up. He locks eyes with me, and it makes me shiver. His gray eyes stand out against his dark brown skin. I’ve never seen eyes like his before.

  “Yeah, actually,” I reply.

  His eyes open a little wider, and I feel like I could just fall right into them.

  “Really? That’s cool. I’m a fan, if you couldn’t tell.” He points to his T-shirt.

  “I love Yellow Submarine,” I say.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  I look forward again just in time to see the door of B101. It would be just like me to miss it completely and make an even bigger ass of myself. I stop suddenly, and he bumps into me. We both laugh, and I point at the door.

  “Classroom,” I say.

  He grins at me. “Classroom, good,” he says like a caveman.

  I laugh a little too loudly as he opens the door and waves me inside.

  Chapter Four

  I stare at Jack way too much during physics class. He catches me a couple of times and smiles, like it’s completely normal to have some girl he barely knows watching him. Whenever I try to look away, something always brings me back. It’s not that I’ve never felt this way about someone before. But it’s been a long time, and I feel a little embarrassed by my instant attraction. For me crushes can be kind of annoying and distracting. They are too overwhelming. Too many hormones pounding through my bloodstream, making me giddy and unable to focus. And I have too much going on to lose focus. I can’t afford to waste my time staring at someone for an entire class.