Amanda Vs The Universe

by Patricia B Tighe

  Tears stung my eyes, and I blinked them back. “Thanks, Gamma, but I doubt it.”

  “We shall see. I love you, my dear.”

  “I love you too.”

  We hung up after the usual “talk to you laters.” My bedroom had grown dim with dusk settling over everything outside. Guess I should turn on a light. Or not. I could just sit here in the growing darkness deciding if my parents would really try to make us be comedians. It just didn’t make sense. How could that be done anyway? Give people random jokes and make them stand up and deliver them? The whole idea was stupid. And I wanted no part of it. I couldn’t see Molly doing it, or Gabby and Noah either. Not every person in the house liked to perform.

  I gathered up my shower stuff and headed for the bathroom. Maybe hot water could help get my mind clearer. And after that, I’d go check my Dad’s iPad. Because if there was any comedy club info on it, I might have to fake an illness.

  ***

  Later, I thumped down the stairs in my pajamas. Well, kind of. I had on a lightweight sweatshirt, pj bottoms, and slippers. Oh, and wet hair. There was absolutely no one here that I wanted to impress.

  Everybody but Gabby and Noah sat around the coffee table in the living room playing Lord of the Rings Monopoly. They must have voted down Mom’s new games. The muted sound of a guitar came from the front porch. Ah, so that’s where Noah was—and, I could only assume, Gabby. That didn’t bother me, though. It was nice not to worry about awkward conversations.

  “How’s it going?” I asked, dropping onto the loveseat beside Kenzie.

  “Great,” she said. “Except your brother is cheating.”

  “So business as usual,” I said.

  “I am not!” Geoff said. “It’s not my fault you suck at Monopoly.”

  Kenzie looked at him through squinty eyes. “You turned the dice over so I’d land on your Helm’s Deep.”

  Geoff straightened, pretending to be affronted. “As if.”

  Molly chuckled. “I haven’t heard that expression in a while.”

  “I’d love not to hear it again,” Dylan said, smirking at Geoff.

  My father held out the dice to Kenzie. “Your turn.”

  She took them and, after rattling them in her cupped hands, tossed them onto the board. “Eight,” she said, and moved her Gimli playing piece that number of spaces.

  Geoff erupted in laughter. “Go to jail, Gimli.”

  Kenzie tossed a card onto the board. “And here’s my Get out of Jail pass.”

  “Crap,” Geoff said.

  My mother yawned loudly. “Can we ever play a game without you two bickering?”

  Everyone else in the room said, “No,” and then laughed.

  Yup, this was how it always went at the New Mexico house. We played games, we argued, we laughed, and we ate. I enjoyed it, but not as much this year. Not with Haley missing and my heart bruised.

  “Keep up the good work,” I said, giving Kenzie’s shoulder a squeeze.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, still staring at the board.

  I stood and stepped over Molly. “Back to my room, I guess. Or maybe to get a snack.”

  “Get me one,” Geoff said.

  I just laughed and walked out. They were all reasonably busy, so snagging my dad’s iPad should be easy. But my mom’s yawn meant she wasn’t going to last much longer. I needed to get this done.

  In my parents’ room, I looked around. The tablet wasn’t on the bed anymore. And no sign of it on any other surfaces. I went to my dad’s nightstand and opened the drawer. Success! I pulled out the iPad and quickly typed in a password. The home screen with its green and blue swirly pattern opened. I eyed the door and listened hard. Still the same game-playing conversation. My breath came faster. Now, where to start? I touched the browser app and it opened to the favorites screen. I checked the history. There was nothing but a website for a barbecue place in Ruidoso. He’d either cleared the history or it wasn’t where he was keeping his info.

  Footsteps sounded. I froze. Um, um. What could I say if someone caught me? Ideas flew through my mind like paper caught in a dust devil. Crap. Come on, Amanda. You’re good at coming up with stuff. Haley always says so.

  But the steps stopped at the tiny hall bathroom and the door thumped closed.

  I let out a long breath. Okay, where else could I look? I scanned the apps. Everything looked completely boring—stocks, a solitaire game, sports. And then it hit me. The notes app! I opened it and read. Wow, he used that a lot. But about halfway down a long list, I saw one titled “Ideas.”

  With a shaky finger, I opened it. There were no details. Just a list that read:

  1. Comedians

  2. Horses

  3. Dinner party games

  4. Group birthday

  5. Costume party

  6. Poetry reading

  Poetry reading? Since when were my parents interested in poetry? But that would be a better choice than comedians. And what the heck could we do with horses other than ride them? No, that didn’t sound like something that would be a big event. The costume party idea could be dangerous, though. They loved that kind of crap.

  The hall bathroom door opened with its normal squeak, making me jump. Footsteps sounded, moving back toward the living room. I breathed in sharply through my nose. Time to quit this. I shared the list to my messages, quit out of the app, and turned off the iPad. I needed more time to think. To try to figure out which of these ideas my parents might want to push on us.

  When Molly came to bed later, I’d show her the list. Two minds on this were definitely better than one.

  Ten

  Two days later, I pulled up in front of Cady’s house in a pair of shorts I didn’t mind ruining, a.k.a. the red flowery board shorts. I also had on an old black tee of my dad’s that I twisted into a knot at my waist. I absolutely didn’t care if either of the pieces of my outfit got paint smudges on them, which was good because I’d always been a messy painter. I hoped Kyle wasn’t one of those anal types that wanted every single edge taped off so no paint would go where it wasn’t supposed to be.

  But if he did paint that way, I could deal with it. Getting out of the house and away from Geoff and his entourage ranked as my number-one priority. It’d be nice to spend time with people who didn’t make everything a joke. Or at least everything about me a joke.

  Maybe that wasn’t fair. It was mostly Geoff who gave me crap about stuff, not his friends. And Molly had been a big help last night. When I’d shown her my dad’s list of options, she’d quickly picked dinner party games as the most likely choice. Why else had my mother been so weird when she talked about inviting Cady and Kyle for dinner? And while I felt relieved, I still wasn’t completely relaxed about the whole thing. It seemed too easy. My parents liked to go big. And making a comedy club flew us right over the top.

  The front door opened as I approached the house. Kyle stood there, holding a cup of coffee, his dark blond hair sticking out on one side. He wore blue plaid pajama pants and a plain gray T-shirt that fit the V of his torso just right. He lifted his chin at me. “Morning.”

  There was technically only an hour of morning left, but I didn’t want to start the day by teasing him. I’d had enough of that at home. No need to subject him to it.

  “You just get up?”

  “About fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Oh. Do you want to wait until this afternoon to paint?”

  He stepped back and motioned me inside. “Nah. I figure I’ll be up to speed in another fifteen. Want some coffee?”

  “No thanks.”

  He padded off in his socks toward the kitchen, and I followed. Bacon sizzled in a pan on the stove. On a plate nearby, cheese melted on top of an omelet.

  I breathed in noisily. “Ah. I love that smell.”

  “It is pretty great.” He turned off the burner under the bacon. “You want an omelet or something? We can split this one and then I can make another one.”

  “No, thanks. I ate. But I wo
uldn’t cut off your hand if you offered bacon.”

  He grinned. “Then bacon it is.”

  We brought the food to the kitchen table alcove, and I changed my mind and poured a cup of coffee. “Do you cook often?” I asked as he shoved a large bite of ham and cheese omelet into his mouth.

  He made a show of chewing and swallowing before he spoke. “It depends. During the school year I don’t have a lot of time. But in the summer I like to cook things for breakfast. I’m not a huge cereal fan.”

  I bit into my bacon, relishing its salty crunchiness. “I eat cereal almost every day. Except when my mom cooks, and that’s usually just on vacation.”

  “What’s your favorite thing that she makes?”

  “For breakfast?”

  “Um, sure.”

  “That would have to be waffles. They’re big and fluffy, and we always have fresh strawberries and whipped cream to top them off.”

  He nodded slowly, like he was contemplating the worthiness of waffles. “Spray-can whipped cream?”

  I shook my head. “Fresh.”

  He pursed his lips. “Nice.”

  His gaze suddenly felt intense; his brown eyes studied me but didn’t give away any emotion. Which was good. I couldn’t do emotion. “Where’s Cady?” I blurted.

  He nodded toward the window. “In the studio. She says she’s behind on mugs.”

  “But it seems like there’re so many.”

  “She says they’re her top sellers,” he said, taking his last bite of omelet.

  I frowned. “Shouldn’t she be resting?”

  “Probably.” He sipped his coffee and picked up a slice of bacon.

  I hated when he acted like he didn’t care. That was how all those first conversations between us had gone. Me griping, him looking like “whatevs.” Maybe he had trouble showing he cared. Or maybe it’s how he hides that he’s really worried.

  I took another piece of bacon. “Is it time for her to take a break? Between the two of us we could probably convince her.”

  His shoulders relaxed. I hadn’t even realized he was tense. “Maybe we can.” He held up his bacon. “Here’s to breaks.”

  I smiled and lifted mine. “To breaks.”

  ***

  After Kyle changed into painting clothes and ratty sneakers, we walked into the studio to the whir of Cady’s pottery wheel. She glanced up but continued her work. Warm light from two skylights poured across the space, and classical music played in the background.

  I edged closer. Watching her creations take shape on the wheel fascinated me. Even though I’d taken lessons from her, my clay always folded over like a sad lump. She was currently thinning the lip of a mug, fluting it slightly outward. Once satisfied, she turned off the wheel.

  “Well, hello. You two about to start painting?”

  “Yes, but I wanted to say hi first,” I said.

  Kyle pressed his lips together, since he knew I was lying. Cady picked up a strip of clay and fitted it to the side of the mug to form the handle. “I’m glad you did,” she said. “I think this time I want you to paint it a little differently.”

  Kyle and I exchanged a look. “You already told me not to paint over the sun,” he said.

  Cady’s strong fingers gently smoothed the clay of the handle against the mug. “Yes, but I’ve thought of something else.”

  “While you were making mugs?” he asked.

  She smiled up at him. “Yes, why?”

  “I knew I shouldn’t have let you come out here to work.”

  Cady chuckled. “It wouldn’t matter, dear. Ideas come to me all the time.” She slid a tightly pulled string under the mug to loosen it from the bat, then lifted the bat and mug from the wheel and handed it to Kyle. She stretched, her hand on her lower back. “I may have overdone it a bit.”

  Kyle set the bat aside.

  “I was worried about that,” I said.

  She shook her head. “You two shouldn’t waste so much time clucking over me. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” She slid back her stool to get up.

  I moved to help, but Kyle was already there. Man. He flashed me a smile, and I knew he could tell I was momentarily irritated with him. Once Cady was standing, she pointed at me. “Crutches, please.”

  I retrieved the crutches she’d left resting against a work table and brought them to her. While she adjusted them under her arms, I raised an eyebrow at Kyle, who gave me a mock snarly face. A laugh bubbled up in my throat, so I cleared it. We were still competing, but weren’t outright fighting. It had begun to feel … comfortable. Like that’s what we did with each other. Maybe we were starting to become friends.

  “Now,” Cady said, exhaling loudly, “let’s go to the scene of the crime.”

  Kyle race walked to the door and held it open for her. Nice one.

  Cady let out a low chuckle. “Well. Thank you, Kyle.”

  “No problem,” he said.

  I shook my head at him behind Cady’s back, and we all made our way to the graffitied wall. The profanity painted across it made me want to pace. I knew it was weird, but I didn’t like looking at in mixed company.

  “So, this is what I’d like,” Cady began. “Paint the blue in swirls across the words, but don’t cover them completely. Just leave bits of the letters.”

  “This is gonna take a lot longer than if we just painted it straight,” Kyle said.

  Cady studied the wall. “Not necessarily. There will be less to paint. You can use a roller for some of it, but for other sections you’ll need to use a brush.”

  “Like I said—”

  “Why?” I asked. “Are you trying to make it into a mural or something?”

  “Let’s just say that I want to see if it challenges the tagger,” she said. “If he or she can’t stand what’s here, it might make them want to change it.”

  “Huh,” I said. “You’re trying to unsettle someone’s artistic sensibilities.”

  She smiled. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  Kyle put his hands on his hips. “This could take all afternoon. We’d better get started.”

  “Great,” Cady said. “I’m excited to see what you come up with.”

  I frowned. “You mean you don’t care exactly how we do it.”

  “That’s right.” She walked a few awkward steps with her crutches. “Oh, and when that’s done, we’ll come back with a navy blue paint.”

  “What!” Kyle stared at Cady as if she were an alien. “Are you kidding me? These taggers are probably never coming back. And you’ll be stuck with a weird-ass wall. I can’t stay all summer, you know.”

  “Let me worry about the wall. I’ll have some lunch ready in a couple of hours.”

  Tension jumped back and forth between Kyle and his aunt. Should I say anything? Do anything? “I’ll get the back door for you.”

  “All right,” she said.

  We walked toward the house at Cady’s pace, and right before she went inside, she paused. “Thank you for coming, Amanda. You’re good for him, I think.”

  Before I had time to process that comment, she left. I pulled the door closed. What the heck had that meant? Did Kyle need support from someone? He didn’t seem like he did.

  In the distance, he was shaking a gallon of paint between his hands. I wasn’t so sure I could be good for anybody, but maybe I could find out if he needed to talk. When I got back to the work area, Kyle said, “You ready for this?” He slid his bracelets off his wrist and shoved them into his pocket.

  “I guess. How should we start?”

  He stared at the wall, his mouth twisted to one side. “I’m thinking a broad curl right through the, um, first words. Maybe you can do something like that on the right side and then we can decide how to connect the two.”

  “Okay.”

  “Just don’t paint over the stupid sun.”

  I laughed. “Don’t worry. That’s my favorite sun ever. I wish I could put that sun on a T-shirt so I can wear it every day.”

&nb
sp; His face relaxed into a smile, which made me feel like I’d done something good. “I’ll have one made too,” he said. “Then we can twin it.”

  “Brilliant.”

  He picked up the roller with an extension pole. “Sorry, I don’t have another one of these. You’ll have to use the ladder for the upper part. Or we could switch if you don’t like heights.”

  “No problem. I’m practically an acrobat.”

  He grinned. “I doubt it. What you are is funny.”

  I froze. No one had ever called me funny before. That had always been reserved for Geoff. “Thanks. That may be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  He cocked his head, opened his mouth, but then apparently changed his mind. He stuck the roller in the paint tray. “You’re welcome.”

  Eleven

  Kyle and I painted in silence for ten minutes or so before I worked up the nerve to ask him personal stuff. He’d been smashing the roller against the wall like he was pissed, but he’d finally slowed and his movements became more rhythmic. I’d carefully painted a curve around the sun and was working my way upward.

  “So, um, what grade are you in?”

  He looked over like he’d forgotten I was there. “I’ll be a junior, just like you. And I’m sixteen, just like you.”

  “Cady’s been talking about me, huh?”

  “A little.” He put down his roller and poured more paint into the tray.

  “When did you turn sixteen?” I asked.

  He looked amused. “In January. Way earlier than you.”

  “You can’t blame me for wanting to beat you at something.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve never met such a competitive girl who wasn’t into sports. Are you into sports?”

  “Not really. I mean, my parents made me play soccer when I was a kid, but after I didn’t show anymore interest they let me quit. My brother and cousin are way into basketball, but thankfully no one suggested I should play too.”

  Kyle coated his roller in paint and returned to the wall. “My older sister played basketball for a while. Now she just watches it on TV and yells when the players screw up.”