“Me?" I frowned. “Why?”
“Why? You’re smarter than her, more popular, you have a great relationship with your mom, you have Seth. Had,” she corrected herself.
"Had" was the operative word. I pressed in a loose nail on the floor. “People never see beneath the surface.”
“Especially her," Leah said. “She’s so shallow, all she has beneath her surface is a, a cesspool.”
I widened my eyes at Leah. We both cracked up. I don’t know what was so funny. The truth?
Leah shook her head. “Kirsten's such a bitch. After I let her know we were officially ex-friends, I wanted to call you so bad.”
“Oh, Leah.”
She added quickly, “I just wish things would stay the same forever. Don't you?”
God, no. If the cosmos hadn’t shifted, if I hadn’t risked change, I might never have found Cece. Found myself. I would've lived a lie, created a life around other people’s expectations.
"My mom kicked me out of the house,” I said.
"What?” Leah gasped. “No.”
I told her everything that had transpired since Cece, deliberately leaving out the part about The Secret. That was a private matter between Cece and me, our own personal history. We were building on that and it felt sort of sacred.
My eyes drifted down to my watch. "Shit. I have to go." Cece was taking me to her Unity rehearsal tonight to introduce me to her friends. It was a big step for her. For us.
Leah and I descended the tree. At the bottom, I said, “Wait. We forgot the secret spy book." I started back up.
“Leave it.” She snagged my arm. “Maybe some other kids will find it and carry on the tradition." She gazed up at the crumbling clubhouse for a long moment, then looked at me. “The secret password was stewardess corp.”
"What?” I made a face.
“It’s an anagram for secret password.”
“How lame. Who came up with that?”
“You did. I always thought it was brilliant.” Leah smiled, sort of sad and nostalgic. Then she headed off through the woods.
A wave of grief washed over me. Leah would always be my friend, but she was right. Things had changed. Her world seemed very small to me, confined and limited, while mine had expanded, illuminated, grown. I saw everything now through different eyes. Wide awake and focused.
* * *
Chapter 25
There were decisions to make. My combined paychecks from Children’s Cottage and Hott ’N Tott didn't begin to cover my expenses: car payment, gas, insurance, cell phone, not to mention the bare necessities like food, clothing, shelter. Taggert House shouldn’t have to absorb all my living expenses, I felt. Even though Cece’s uncle had hired me for the morning shift four days a week, l needed a second job that paid better. So I quit Children's Cottage. It killed me to do it, but the pay sucked, and seeing the kids every day was like this constant reminder of loss in my life.
William suggested I go down to the Center and check out their employment resources. So I did, over spring break. They hooked me up with this local moving company owned by a couple of gay guys. The work was physically demanding, but it paid well and the hours were flexible. I could work around my school schedule, plus pick up extra hours on the weekends.
Next year loomed closer on the horizon. What was I going to do with my life? Tossing a futon into a moving van wasn’t exactly nuclear physics. Cece was right, I needed to think about my future. What were my options? I could work three or four jobs forever at minimum wage and scrape by. But was that all I wanted out of life, to scrape by?
There had to be more. Something was out there for me, a job, a career, a reason I was put on this earth. I hated to admit it, hut maybe Mom was right. College would open a lot of doors.
Unfortunately, by the time I figured this out, it was too late to apply. At least to any colleges or universities I could afford. Plus, my grades had plummeted this semester. I’d be lucky to pull C average.
At our Sunday gathering William broached the subject of long-range goals. He said it was important to have things to look for ward to, to believe we could achieve greatness. He must’ve been reading my mind.
We went around the table to share what we envisioned for our selves. I mentioned how I’d like to go to college next year, but couldn’t now. William said, “Why not, hon?”
“It’s too late to apply. I’ll have to wait until next semester.”
"You could go to Metro Urban," Ramon piped up, passing nice the croissants. “That’s where I go. I think you can apply up to a week before classes start.”
“You're kidding. How much is tuition, since I have, like, zero money?”
“They have a gay and lesbian college fund,” Ramon said. “Thatʼs how I'm doing it."
My hopes shot through the roof. “Do you have to qualify, because my grades this year suck.”
Ramon shook his head. "GPA isn’t all that important. They let me go cuz I beautify the campus.”
William snorted. Dodging a strawberry one of the other guys threw across the table at him, Ramon added, “If you want, I could pick you up a catalog.”
“No, that’s okay. I can get one at school. Thanks.”
I didn’t dare get excited. What if they rejected me? I had nothing to fall back on – just in case.
I stalled around in the media center after school on Monday, watching the clock and waiting. When it got to feeling like a morgue, I decided now or never. The Metro catalogs would be among the state schools, stacked right outside the career center door. I could pick one up, make a run for it…
I turned the corner and there she was, tacking an index card onto the bulletin board. Shit.
“Um, hi, Mrs. Lucas,” I faked a cheery greeting. “Can I get a Metro catalog?”
She didn’t answer right away, just looked at me. Make that glared. Brrr.
“There they are." I pointed to the stack. “I’ll just get one and leave."
“I don’t believe you,” she said.
The hair on my neck stood up. I quickly snatched a catalog. "What about your acceptance at Stanford? Are you going to just throw that away?”
I straightened fast. “I got accepted at Stanford?”
“All the time and effort we've gone to for you, to offer you every opportunity available." She pursed her lips. “Do you know what this is doing to your mother?”
What it's doing to her? She’s the one – Oh, forget it. I turned and stalked off. What business was it of hers? Just let me get on with my life.
I spun my combination lock and flung open the locker. My eyes were drawn to the mirror and I screamed. The person behind me jumped back a foot. “Jesus,” she said, holding her heart.
“Faith?" I wheeled around. "I, uh, didn’t recognize you.”
She palmed her head – her shaved head. It wasn’t completely bald; she’d left an inch of stubble all over the scalp. I couldn’t help visualising a hedgehog.
“I’m shedding my inhibitions,” she said.
I laughed.
“No? Then how about it saves on shampoo?”
“Not even.” I had the strongest urge to feel her furry head, but squelched it. Too intimate a gesture. As I loaded my backpack, Faith said, “I brought your mail." She handed me a fistful of letters. Most were bills. The letter from Stanford. The envelope had been opened, of course. Stanford was so not in my future. There was one letter at the bottom that made my stomach knot. Shoving the stack into my backpack, I said to Faith, “Walk me out?”
On our way to the parking lot, she asked where I was living and how I was doing. I filled her in on Taggert House, told her about my jobs. “Maybe you could come stay with us some weekend?”
“Yeah?" Faith’s eyebrows arched. “How ’bout this weekend? How 'bout every weekend?”
I smiled at her. "I’ll ask Cece and let you know. But…” I hesitated. “What’ll your dad say?”
“When?”
“When you tell him where youʼre going.”
&nbs
p; ʻ“When?"
“Faith.” I widened my eyes at her.
“IʼlI deal with Dad. I’ve got him wrapped about my bloody little finger, in case you hadn’t noticed. Don’t worry about it.”
I did worry. Felt protective. Faith needed to hold on to her family. Our family. For her, for me. While we were on the subject…
“How is everyone?” I asked.
“About the same,” she answered. “A real laugh riot. Oh, Hannah started crawling.”
“Already?"
Faith nodded. "Your mom said, 'Holland ought be here to see this.’”
My body sagged. Faith opened her mouth to say something else, but must’ve changed her mind. She stuck her pinkie in her mouth instead.
I evil-eyed her.
She dropped her hand.
"What?” I demanded.
She swallowed hard. “She cries. I can hear her at night.”
I had to look away.
Faith added, “I just thought you should know.”
I wanted to hug Faith, but couldn’t. Didn’t dare. Would I always have to be careful now who I touched?
Faith didn’t hesitate. She threw her arms around me and drew me into her. Held me tight. How could she have known how much I needed that? I vowed to fill my life with people like Faith. People who were true to themselves.
After she left I locked myself in the Jeep. Maybe now, finally. I ripped open the envelope.
A picture fell into my lap. Hannah, in a red velvet dress, a studio shot. So cute. “Hello, Sissy." I traced her face with my index finger. "I miss you so much." Propping the picture on my dash, I unfolded the letter.
“Dear Holland,” she’d written on the flowered stationery I’d given her for her birthday. "We need to talk. Why don’t you call me to arrange a convenient time.”
A convenient time? I lunged for my phone and started punching in numbers. I hung up before finishing the sequence. Instead, I called work and told them I’d be late.
***
It felt weird having to ring the doorbell at my own house. In the background, I could hear the TV blaring. The whoosh of the front door startled me.
Mom stood framed in the threshold, balancing Hannah on her hip. I smiled. "Hi." She didn’t move to unlock the storm door. I wondered if she was going to make me stay out on the porch, or shut the door in my face.
She twisted the latch and stepped back.
I let myself in. "I got your letter. It was sort of on my way so I didn’t call first. Are you busy? Am I interrupting something? I could come back another time. Tomorrow. Or later tonight. A more convenient time." Was I babbling? Why didn’t she answer? Why were her eyes tearing up?
Oh, Mom. I reached for her.
She shoved Hannah into my arms. "Would you like something to eat or drink? I need a drink.”
“No, I'm fine.”
She headed for the kitchen.
“Hannie. Hey, Sissy.” I held my baby sister close and breathed her in. The fragrance of baby powder, shampoo, laundry detergent. The ginger snap all down her onesie. “God, I've missed you." l kissed her silky head.
I carried Hannah to the kitchen, where Mom was leaning over the sink, downing a tall glass of water. I wanted to open the fridge and check out the leftovers, see if there was any fried chicken. I’d been craving Mom’s fried chicken.
"How are you?" she asked, wheeling around. “Your hair’s getting long."
“Yeah, I’m thinking of letting it grow." Since I can’t afford to get it cut, I didn't add.
“I always liked it better long.” She set her glass in the sink and brushed by me, returning to the living room. I trailed with Hannah. Mom lowered herself to the sofa and remoted down the sound on the TV. I knelt on the carpet and propped Hannah in front of me, hoping she’d crawl. As if on cue, she motored across the floor like a tiny tank.
Mom and I laughed.
Good, that was good. Broke the tension.
"Where are you living?” she asked. “With that girl, I presume.”
I bristled. “Her name is Cece Goddard. And no, I'm not living with Cece. I have my own placed.”
“How can you afford that?" Mom sniped.
Made me mad, like she knew I couldn’t. Like she expected me to be living on the street, begging for handouts, bemoaning the day I disappointed her. “I manage,"I said evenly.
Mom's head dropped. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
My anger dissipated.
"I promised myself Iʼd never do to you what my parents did to me. That I’d love you no matter what. But this –” Mom raised her head and met my eyes. “I won’t let you throw your life away on that girl.”
A burning sensation streaked through my gut. "Her name is Cece. And what makes you think –”
“Let me finnish,” Mom interrupted. "You have so much talent. So much potential. Iʼd like to believe I had something to do with that. You can do anything you want, Holland. You have your whole life ahead of you.”
“Yeah, I do," I said. “With Cece in it."
Mom exhaled irritation. She stood and hustled across the room to retrieve Hannah from the corner, where a fuzzy pacifier was finding its way into her mouth. "I don’t understand this. I don’t understand you. I thought you had more sense.”
My insides smoldered.
Mom flipped Hannah around and headed her in the other direction. "I suppose it’s some kind of phase you’re going through, or an identity crisis. I don’t know. It never happened to me.”
“That's because you're not me. It isn't a phase.”
Mom straightened. “I know you, Holland. You’re not…thatway.”
Say it, I thought. Stop denying the truth. “Yes, Mother, I am. I'm gay.”
“She did this to you!" Momʼs voice shrilled. "I don't know what she did, but I told her mother to keep her sick daughter away from you. She's perverted, and she’s preying on innocent girls –”
“You told Kate that?” Oh, my God. “How could you?" I scrambled to my feet. I had to get over there, apologize to Kate. Oh, my God.
"Where are you going?” Mom said at my back. “Holland, I want you to come home.”
That stopped me. How many times had I longed to hear those words? How many nights had I cried myself to sleep, holding the phone to my heart, praying it would ring?
“Please, listen to me," Mom’s voice softened. “You don’t know what you're doing, honey. You haven’t thought about the consequences, what you’re throwing away. Your future. Your self-respect. I'm your mother. I know you better than you know yourself.”
I might’ve laughed. “You donʼt know me at all, Mom.” I turned around. “All you see is this person you want me to be. And I can’t be her. I’m not her. I can't live my life for you.”
She spread her hands at her sides. “Please. Come home.”
My eyes pooled with tears. Did I want to come home? Yes, more than anything. Not to the physical walls and floors and unlocked doors. Not to move back. But to the comfort, the security in knowing I'd always have a home. Everyone needs a home.
“And Cece?" I asked. “Is she welcome here?”
Mom’s eyes slit. “She has a home.”
So that's it, I thought. A parents unconditional love – what a myth. Hannah crawled over to my feet and hoisted herself up right, clutching my leg in her strong little hands. I lifted her high into the air and captured a mental image to draw before handing her over to Mom. “Bye,” I said.
“You’re not getting a penny of that college money. None of it. It'll all go to Hannah.” Mom snapped. “In fact, I may give it to Faith.”
I shook my head at her. She didn’t get it. She didn’t understand at all. I loved Hannah. Faith, too. I’d be happy for them to have that money, have anything of mine.
I closed the door behind me, feeling sad for my mother. Sorry for her. Yeah, I’d made sacrifices; I’d experienced loss. But she had no idea what this was costing her. Because she was losing me.
Chapter 26
&nb
sp; “How much docs it cost to rent a tux?" I asked.
Cece blinked up at me. “Are you serious?”
“I am. I think we should go to the prom.”
Her eyes lit up. “l’ve always wanted to. I’ve dreamed about it.”
It had been preying on my mind. I didn’t know why I should have to give up my senior prom. I shouldn’t have to give up everything.
I touched her face. Her gentle, golden face. “What would you wear?”
Cece bit her lip. “That green dress. It is sooo gorgeous.”
I smiled. "You’d look awesome in it.” She would, too.
Her expression grew serious. “But Holland, at Southglenn? I don’t know. We could go as a group maybe. Safety in numbers. Brandi sort of likes this girl –”
“No,” I said. “If we go, I’d want it to be just you and me. Our special night together.”
Cece held my eyes for a moment, then flung her arms around my neck. “I love you," she said.
“I love you too. You and only you." I kissed her.
Our dance mix CD skipped and we both cursed. It was getting a little worn from overuse. Cece jumped off the bed to restart it.
“What is Leisure Arts?" I called to her.
"Is that a major?” She slid out the CD and put on this Norah Jones we both liked. “Sign me up.”
I flipped a page in my Metro catalog. I was propped against the wall where we'd shoved Cece’s bed so we'd have more floor space to dance. Since I spent so much time here lately, Kate had relaxed the house rules a bit, allowing us to hang out in Cece’s room as long as the door was open. Now the battle raged over the definition of “open.”
Cece sprawled backward on the bed, settling her head in my lap again. “Wow, they have an aviation technology major," I said, my fingers trailing absently through her hair. "I could learn to fly."
She slid her hand up my shirt. "I could teach you that.”
I slapped her away.“You already have.”
Cece grinned. Reaching up, she removed my glasses and slid them onto her face, then stuck her hands under her head, watching me. Making it extremely difficult to concentrate. I set the Metro catalog aside.
Keeping You a Secret Page 19
