by Jo Knowles
Just before we get to Ellie’s house, I glance over at her. She’s staring out the window, one hand resting on her flat stomach.
Caleb’s mom seems like a smart woman. I hope she’s right. I hope we do all make it through the winter.
MY MOTHER AND FATHER are downstairs watching TV. Luke is down the hall in his room, listening to the Dead with his girlfriend, Maya. I wonder if they have sex. Probably. I bet it’s the good kind — the loving, gentle kind. I can tell by the way they are together. When I watch Maya, I know she’s happy to be with him. When they’re together, they touch without even knowing it. Like their bodies are each other’s and their own at the same time. I wish I knew what that felt like.
I pull up my shirt and touch my stomach where the baby is. I push down with my finger. I don’t think it can feel me, but I push again anyway.
Hello? Is anybody there?
Caleb’s mom touches him all the time. So much he doesn’t seem to notice. Her fingers thrum across his arm as she passes by, her hand rubs his back when she stands next to him, telling him she’s there without using words. It must feel good, being touched like that. I can’t remember the last time my mom or dad touched me.
Liz seems like the kind of person who listens, too. Like she wants to hear what you have to say, instead of wanting you to say only what she wants to hear. I hardly know Liz, but there was this way she looked at me that made me feel as though she could see right inside me. I wish I could call her and talk to her about everything that’s happened. How the boys I was with made me feel so special at first. Like I was wanted. Me.
You’re beautiful. I have to have you. You feel too good. I can’t stop.
I wish I could tell her I know now how stupid I was. How I saw them all talking about me at the last party. How they tried to smell me on his hands and how I threw up behind the van, only nothing came out and it didn’t get rid of that nasty feeling.
I wish I could call her and tell her how when I got home, I used a whole roll of that sticky lint-remover to get the dog hair off my clothes. How I haven’t worn them since that night and won’t ever again, even though they were new and it took me five stores to find them — they fit me just right and were the perfect amount of faded in all the right places and even skinny Corinne was jealous.
I wish I could tell her how every time I see any of those boys in the hall now, I have to run to the bathroom to get sick. Only until now, until I ate her wonderful bread, I hadn’t eaten enough to throw up, so only slimy mucus came out and I had to spit hard to get it out of my mouth.
I wish I could tell her how I have to wait for everyone in the bathroom to leave before I can come out so no one will know it was me getting sick in there. How I just want to cry but I can’t, because if I start, I know that I will never stop.
I wish I could call and tell her what’s really wrong. That I need help.
But Luke knocks on my door and asks if he can have the phone. Maya’s cell died, and she needs to call her friend Sky about homework. He grins at me because we both know that Sky is who they get their stash from, and soon he’ll be high and everything will be better for him. He doesn’t notice that I’m not smiling back. He doesn’t know that inside me there’s this baby and that pretty soon I’m going to get rid of it. And no one besides Corinne will ever know the baby existed. He just happily takes the phone from me.
So I can’t call Liz. I can’t call and tell her what’s happening to me.
I can’t call and ask her what I should do.
I can’t.
“BANG ANYONE LATELY?” Kyle looks at me with a shit-eating grin. The locker room is hot and wet and smells like Dave’s feet, as usual.
“What’s it to you?” I say. I’m so tired of this routine.
Kyle shrugs. He’s still sweating, even though he already showered. He sprays some deodorant under his arms. I step back. I don’t know what brand it is, but it smells like one of those lame air fresheners my dad puts in the cars he works on to thank customers for giving him business.
“Well, if you’re interested, there’s a party at Ben’s this weekend.” He turns away from me and opens his locker. It’s totally organized. His regular clothes hang perfectly from the hooks, not all bunched in a heap like mine.
“Cool,” I say. But I know I won’t go.
Lately it’s like I’m living in some kind of dream. I’m walking down this hallway, and there are things happening behind the doors I pass. The people inside see me, but I only stop for a second to look in, then keep moving.
There’s my dad, talking on the phone with Mike, having the same conversation they’ve had every Saturday since I can remember. Even though he’s laughing, he looks sad. Like he’s given up on himself.
Then there’s Dave and the other guys in the locker room, pushing each other around, kidding about who they’ve felt up and fingered and who they still haven’t but wish they could.
And Caleb, giving me that I know the real you look.
There’s my mom in the kitchen, rushing to work every morning. She looks like she wants to say something to me, but instead she just turns away and hurries out the door.
And finally there’s the room I don’t look in at all. The one with Ellie in it. I rush right by that one.
“Don’t forget the party,” Kyle says as he slams his locker shut.
“Yeah,” I say. I pick up my stuff and wonder again if I should just quit soccer to avoid all this bullshit. I could take a study hall instead. I could use it to pick up my grades, because I am definitely getting out of this hellhole as soon as I graduate.
The instructor in my Intro to Architecture course told me I was good. Teachers never tell me that shit. So, who knows? Maybe I could actually go to college and escape.
When I get home, the house is empty. There’s a message on the machine from my mom. She’s working late again and says there’s money on the table for takeout, only when I look, there’s nothing there, which means my dad took the money to buy beer for himself and a crappy pizza from the cheap place down the street instead of something I would want, like Chinese.
Before I decide if I should wait for him to get back or just take off, the phone rings.
“Josh?”
My mom’s voice sounds a little nervous. She’s probably wondering if I’m mad at her for blowing us off again.
“I’m sorry I can’t be home tonight, honey. Did you get the money I left?”
I don’t want to be mad at her. I can’t really blame her for not wanting to spend time in this cave of a house.
“Yeah,” I lie. “Thanks.”
“Honey, maybe we could go out for lunch on Sunday. Your dad and Mike will be watching the game together. Or . . .” Her voice trails off, but I know what she was going to say. He’d be too tired. “It could be just you and me. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Yeah. That would be nice. But it won’t happen. Sundays are her volunteer days. Which means she’ll want me to go to the soup kitchen with her first.
“You’re busy Sundays, Mom. Remember?”
“Well, yes. I thought we could go to the soup kitchen together and then go out after. Just like old times.”
I knew it. I knew she wouldn’t give up her routine for me. She has to save everyone.
“I kind of have plans with Caleb,” I lie.
“Oh. Well, just thought I’d try.” She attempts to sound cheerful but doesn’t pull it off. I squeeze the phone tighter.
“Sorry,” I say. “Maybe we could go next week.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Why not?” But we both know not to get our hopes up.
“OK, honey. Get something good to eat tonight, all right?”
“Sure, Mom.”
After we hang up, I sit at the dining-room table, looking out the window across the yard to the house on the other side of the street. There’s this little old couple that lives there. Whenever they leave their house, Mr. Kestler holds his wife’s elbow and leads her to the car. He opens the door for her and help
s her in before hobbling over to his side and slowly backing the car out of the driveway.
I try to imagine my own parents when they’re that age, my dad helping my mom into the car. But I just can’t see it. I just can’t see them together like that. I can’t even remember the last time I saw them touch each other. It’s hard to believe they ever did.
THE LIGHT AT ELLIE’S FRONT DOOR has a motion sensor, so it doesn’t turn on until you get a few yards away. It always freaks me out. Like I’m suddenly onstage for the whole neighborhood to see, when a second before I felt like a prowler going up to their dark house.
The door opens before I knock, and there’s Ellie’s mom ready to welcome her daughter’s savior.
“Corinne!” she says. “Ellie’s on her way down. It’s so good to see you.” But I swear what she really means is, Oh, thank God you’re here. Quick, take my troubled daughter and make her better. I know in normal circumstances I would hope for a more appropriate friend for her, but as things are a bit desperate, I’ll take you.
Ellie’s family is so messed up. It’s like they don’t even know how to talk to each other except to say robot family phrases. How was your day? How was work? Pass the peas. Dinner was delicious. I don’t know how Ellie can stand it. My parents are the total opposite, which can be kind of a pain, but at least it shows they care.
“Hi,” Ellie calls from the top of the stairs. She’s always coming from her bedroom. I wonder if she ever goes in any other rooms in the house. Once, when we were little, I convinced her to play in the living room while her mom was busy outside, and Ellie went nuts when she saw we’d left footprints in the carpet. She actually made me help her wipe them out with our hands as we crawled backward out of the room. The carpet in my house is so old and worn that until that day, I didn’t even know you could leave footprints on a rug.
Ellie puts on her coat and says good-bye to her mother, who tells me to drive carefully. Guess I’m Miss Ellie’s date again.
“Think we’ll get fresh bread tonight?” I ask as we pull out of the driveway.
“Hope so.”
I nod. This would be a good time to bring up Ellie’s problem. But I don’t know where to start. I looked some stuff up on the Web and found out that she needs to do something soon. Really soon.
“So,” I say. “We need to talk about stuff.”
She peeks through the crack in the open window and lets the cold air blow on her face.
“Ellie? I know it’s hard. But you need to talk about what you’re going to do.”
She closes her eyes against the breeze.
“I’ll go with you and everything. I’ll find out how to get there. Just say the word.”
She leans back into the seat and sighs.
“C’mon, Ellie. We’ve got to —”
“Not yet.”
“El, I really don’t think —”
“I said not yet.” She leans forward and puts her face to the window again.
“OK,” I say quietly. “Not yet.”
When we pull into Caleb’s driveway, Ellie doesn’t get out of the car. “I’m scared,” she says to the windshield. The colored lights from the porch cast a rainbowish glow on her face.
“Me, too,” I say.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“We’ll get through this. I’ll help you.”
She nods, turning her face toward the lights and the warm, glowing house.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s go in.”
We make our way to the front porch and ring the doorbell. Liz opens the door, and a waft of warm, cinnamon-smelling air wraps around us and pulls us inside like an invisible blanket, protecting us from the truth for one more day.
CORINNE, ELLIE, AND I SIT on the floor in the living room around the coffee table and do our homework while my mom reads.
“This is absolute crap!” she huffs from behind her paper. “Goddamn conservative.”
I hate it when she does her “I’m such a hip liberal” act. Ever since Ellie and Corinne started coming over, she seems to be trying way too hard to show them what a cool mom she is.
Ellie totally eats it up. She seems to get some sort of vitamin supply just from looking at my mom. And Corinne, who never seemed to care about anything but People and Entertainment Weekly, is suddenly snatching up my mom’s discarded Nation and Mother Jones magazines like they’re gold. I swear she has a spell over them. Since that night two weeks ago when they first came here, they’ve been over practically every other night. I’m not complaining about that. But I get the feeling that they’re here more for my mom than for me.
When the phone rings, my mom peers over her paper to let me know I should answer.
“Hello?”
“Dave and I are coming to get you, Bud,” Josh says. “Dave scored a bottle of vodka from his old man, and we’re going to the park.”
Ellie, Corinne, and my mom watch me with that Who is it? look.
I stand up and turn my back to them. “Um, this isn’t a good time.”
“What the hell? We’re, like, two streets away. Don’t be a wuss.”
“I don’t think so.” I take a few steps away from the three pairs of ears I know are listening.
“You don’t think so? Since when did you turn down a chance to get hammered?”
Their eyes burn into my back. I take the phone into the kitchen.
“My mom’s been on my case about going out on school nights,” I say quietly.
“Tell her you’re coming over to study.”
“Like she’d believe that one.” But it’s tempting. At least I know it’s me they want to hang out with.
“OK, well, your loss,” he says.
“Save some for me and we’ll go out Friday.”
“Yeah, right.” He hangs up.
I stay in the kitchen to escape the eyes. I open the fridge and try to find something to drink besides soy milk and ginger iced tea.
“Don’t fall in,” Corinne whispers behind me.
I jump and hit my head.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
I touch my head with my hand. “S’OK.”
“So, who was that on the phone?”
I shrug.
“Does that mean you don’t know? ’Cause I’m pretty sure you seemed to know who you were talking to.”
“Can we talk about this later?” I whisper, nudging my head toward the living room.
“I can’t believe you. How can you still be friends with him?” She says it loudly, like she wants Ellie to hear.
“Will you be quiet?” I whisper.
She glares at me and pulls her hair behind her ears.
“You don’t understand. You don’t know him.”
She squeezes her lips together and shakes her head. “Maybe I don’t know you.” She turns and walks back into the other room.
I stay there, wondering how that just happened.
“Caleb, would you mind putting the kettle back on?” my mom calls from the other room. “We need another round.”
Leave it to my mom to know I need some time to myself. She may be obnoxious sometimes, but she always seems to have my back.
I switch on the burner and watch it turn red.
There are footsteps behind me, and a clinking noise. I turn, expecting to see Corinne again. But it’s Ellie, trying to balance three teacups on their saucers.
“Uh, let me help you,” I say. I reach for the cups, and our fingers touch as I help her guide them to the counter. A few months ago, the thought of Ellie in the kitchen — with me — would have been a fantasy. But now it just makes me feel sad.
“Thanks,” she says. “Water almost ready?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
We watch the teapot as if it’s going to do something interesting. It has a little bird on the spout that whistles when the water boils. I always let the whistle go for a few seconds before I take the kettle off. But right when it really starts to sing, Ellie grabs a potholder and moves the kettle l
ike she’s putting the bird out of its misery.
“Sorry,” she says. “I can’t stand when it screams.”
“I never thought of it like that.”
She shrugs.
Together, we make the new cups of tea and carry them to the living room. Corinne raises her eyebrows at me. I flash her a grin to see if she’s really mad. She smiles back, just a little.
After they leave, I take the cups back to the kitchen and see the bird on its side, staring blankly from the kitchen counter. I pick it up and put it back in the spout. It’s still warm and feels almost alive.
“Thanks for helping pick up,” my mom says from behind me. “They’re such nice girls, aren’t they?”
“Yeah,” I say. But when I turn around, she has a worried look on her face. She opens her mouth to say something, but stops.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. See you in the morning,” she says. She ruffles my hair like she did when I was little, then heads off to bed.
I’M AT MY LOCKER when I open my backpack and see it there, on top of my books. A small envelope with my name written in blue capital letters. I turn it over in my hands and quickly look around before tucking it between two books and rushing to homeroom.
At my desk, I gently tear open the envelope. Slowly, carefully, I pull out the folded white paper inside. I check to see if anyone’s watching. They are all too busy doing their morning things. Studying last-minute and copying each other’s homework. Mr. Howard hides behind his newspaper instead of taking attendance.
I unfold the paper, excited and almost afraid. I hold it tight in both hands so it won’t shake. I don’t recognize the neat handwriting.
Dearest Ellie,
I think it’s time to talk about your situation. Come over tonight for some cinnamon bread and tea. Everything will be all right. You are a special girl.
Love,
Liz
The blue letters slant neatly to the right, as if they are trying to lean off the page.
I forget to cover the paper the way I had planned. I don’t move at all. I just stare at the leaning words.
