I shrugged. “Good, I guess.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“No.”
“You should try to sleep for a bit … before Emma gets home.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
After she left, I pushed the door with my crutch. A nap probably wasn’t a bad idea, but I doubted it would happen — I was too far past tired. Just about to lie back down, that’s when I heard it — the tick, tick, tick against my window. The top of Kasey’s head appeared over the window frame, followed by her eyeballs. I nodded, and she hauled herself up and through.
I raised my eyebrows. “I’m begging you. Please use the door.”
“Nah. You know your mom scares the crap out of me,” she said, sprawling across my bed.
“Kasey. You’re being insane.”
She rolled over on one side and leaned her head on her elbow. “Libby. I know she knows about me getting my stomach pumped after the spring semi. That’s strike one. And now I’m pretty sure she thinks all this is my fault … well, partly anyway. Not that I blame her.”
“No way. She doesn’t.”
“Yes way. I told you. I dragged you there … dressed you up … got the liquor. So yeah, that’s strike two, three, and four. I’m pretty much out.”
I shook my head. “You’re just being paranoid.” But deep down I knew she probably wasn’t.
“I wish.”
Lifting my cast up onto the bed, I stretched out beside her. She looked almost as miserable as I felt. “What did your parents say?” I asked. “Are you in very much trouble?”
“Totally up shit creek.”
“Oh.”
“‘Grounded for life’ was the last I heard. I’m barely allowed out of the house.”
“That kind of sucks.” I wasn’t surprised though. That was her sentence after the stomach pumping incident too.
She flipped onto her back and stared at the ceiling. “So what about you? What do you think they’ll do? Your parents I mean.”
“I’m sure there’ll be something … but I don’t plan on asking them about it.” I screwed up my face. “I don’t know what more they can do to me, not right now anyway.”
“I guess you sort of have a point,” Kasey answered, and then we both lay there for a while, not talking.
“What was it like at the police station?” she asked quietly.
I shuddered at the memory. “Like it was happening to someone else … and I was only watching.”
“Did they grill you? Pound their fists on the table? Do the good cop, bad cop thing?”
I almost laughed. She’d thought the exact same thing I had. “No. There wasn’t any of that.”
“I can’t believe you were really arrested. I would have been scared out of my mind.”
“I was,” I whispered.
“I thought you were going to try to sleep.” Mom was standing in the doorway. We hadn’t heard her open the door.
I sensed Kasey stiffen beside me. My instinct was to shield her, somehow protect her, but it was too late. “I couldn’t. I’m not tired, Mom, really I’m not.”
We waited for her to chew us out, send Kasey home, but she didn’t. In fact, she didn’t even acknowledge Kasey, which was way worse and my face flushed with embarrassment. Mom just sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “I was going to leave this on your dresser.” She held up a large envelope. “I forgot it was in my purse. It’s the jewellery you were wearing the night of the accident.” Her voice cracked on the last word.
“Can I have it?” I asked, sitting up.
She passed it to me. “Do you want me to stay while you go through it?”
I couldn’t help noticing how exhausted she looked, like she was hanging on by a thread. “No, Mom,” I said. “You should go lie down for a while. I’m fine.”
She gave me a brief smile, then turned and left without a word to either of us.
“I think she’s pissed that I’m here,” Kasey said.
“Don’t worry about it. You’re gonna be here. She knows that.” I tore open the envelope and slid the contents onto the bed. “My ring!” I slipped my silver friendship ring, a twin to Kasey’s, back on my finger. Next I inspected my earrings, my favourite silver hoops. They seemed to be okay. “What’s this?” I asked, picking up a necklace. It had two charms on it, a silver megaphone and the word cheer. I knew it wasn’t mine.
“Oh. That’s Monica’s,” Kasey explained. “It went with the costume.”
I stared at the pink enamel letters that spelled out cheer. Then I heard Cal’s voice.
“Here, let me fix that for you.” He fiddled with my necklace. It seemed to take him a long time. His fingers felt like fire on my skin. “The charms were all tangled up,” he explained.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Please tell me you’re a cheerleader for real, that this isn’t just for Halloween.”
Something came over me, something I couldn’t explain. “Captain,” I lied. “I’m squad captain.”
A shiver ran through me. I put down the necklace and reached for my watch. The crystal was clouded and cracked in a starburst pattern. I held it to my ear, hoping to hear ticking. Nothing. “It’s toast,” I said sadly. It had been a gift from my parents after I’d graduated from junior high. Tears collected behind my eyes.
“Let me see.” Kasey peered over my shoulder. “Looks terminal,” she confirmed.
I rubbed my thumb over the roughness of the watch face. My stomach twisted into a knot and I dropped the broken watch back into the envelope. Then I pulled the ring off my finger, scooped up the earrings and the necklace, and added them to the envelope. “It would feel creepy … wearing them … I can’t explain it.”
“You don’t have to … Explain it, I mean.”
“Wait. Monica’s necklace. Shouldn’t you take it?”
She shook her head. “No. She’s not going to want it back.”
We fell quiet again, and despite my best efforts to hide it, a huge yawn slipped out of my mouth.
“You should make your mom happy and have a nap,” Kasey said.
“No. I’d rather —”
“I’ll stay with you ’til you fall asleep.”
I smiled as my lids drooped shut. “What would I do without you, Kase?”
WHEN I WOKE, IT took a few moments to register that I was in my own bed. I snuggled down into my duvet, breathed in the smell of my sheets, and enveloped myself in the feeling of home. I even managed to briefly block out all the bad stuff lurking close by in the shadows.
The room was dark. Kasey was gone. I checked my clock radio: 5:48. That’s when I noticed a folded piece of paper. It was tucked partly under my clock.
I pulled it out and turned on my lamp. It was a torn page from a newspaper. Kasey must have left it — it wasn’t here before I fell asleep. When I opened it up there was a giant picture of Cal staring back at me. I realized it wasn’t from the newspaper, it was from Frank Magazine — Halifax’s own gossip rag.
The headline read Local University Student Hailed as Hero. I took a deep breath and began. Just after midnight on October 30th, police and paramedics were called to the scene of an accident on Dunbrack Street, involving a single car and a pedestrian. I was almost afraid to read on. On arrival they found an eighteen-year-old male pulling a sixteen-year-old female from the driver side of a burning car. I stopped and swallowed. The car was burning? Did I know that? Though the case is still under investigation and no names have been released, Frank has discovered that the heroic eighteen-year-old is Caleb McInnis, son of prominent Halifax lawyer Gerald McInnis.
I scanned the rest of the page, searching for something, anything that might jiggle loose a memory, but the next part mostly seemed to be about Cal and his family, and all the good things they did for the community. And then the article just ended, continued on page 6. I flipped the page over. The rest wasn’t there. Dad had a subscription. Maybe he still had this issue. But I couldn’t imagine asking. The thought that he and Mom had re
ad this … Even if my name wasn’t in it, Halifax was small. Everyone would know it was me.
“You’re finally awake!” a voice shrieked.
Startled, I jammed the paper in my side table drawer. “Emma!”
She ran across the room and threw her arms around me. It took every ounce of willpower for me not to cry out in pain. I hugged her back.
“I’m so-o-o-o glad you’re home!” she cried. “Me too.”
“I came in and checked on you like five times, but you wouldn’t wake up!”
“I guess I was tired.”
“And you snore,” she said, wrinkling up her nose.
I poked her in the ribs. “I do not.”
She curled up on the bed beside me, keeping one arm draped across my waist. “I really missed you, Libby.” Her tone was full of accusation.
“I missed you too. Sorry I was gone so long.”
“That’s okay. Now that you’re home, everything can go back to normal.”
Chapter 12
I heard Dad come in the door and toss his keys on the hall table. He stopped at my bedroom. “Who wants pizza for supper?”
“You know we do!” Emma exclaimed. “If you’re going to Toulany’s, I’m coming!” She turned to me. “Bash always gives me a little pile of donair meat while we wait.”
I smiled. “Yeah, he used to do that for me too.”
“You should come,” she said, eyeing my cast. “He’d probably give you a humongous pile.”
“You go. I’ll keep Mom company.”
She nodded, scooched off the bed, and left with Dad.
My leg was starting to throb. I grabbed my crutches and went out to the kitchen. Mom was sitting at the table, her head resting in her hands. I limped past her to the medicine cupboard above the sink and opened the door.
She looked up. “What are you looking for?”
“Advil.”
“You should have called me.”
“You don’t have to wait on me.”
“Don’t be silly. Sit.”
“Mom.”
“Sit.”
I eased myself into a chair and leaned my crutches against the table. Mom put two pills and a glass of water in front of me. I rolled the pills around under my finger. “Mom?”
“Yes?”
“How did you find out about the accident?”
She cleared her throat and sat back down. “The police called.”
Not able to look her in the eye, I popped the pills in my mouth and took a sip of water.
“I knew something must have happened … even before the call,” she continued, tearing tiny pieces off a paper napkin. “You’re never late.”
“Sorry …”
“We tried your cell, but it rang here. You’d left it, forgotten it I guess, on your dresser.” She kept tearing off pieces. “Your father was giving you until one o’clock, and then he was going out to find you. He said you’d just lost track of time, probably had to walk because it was past the driving curfew. But I knew …” She used what was left of the shredded napkin to wipe her eyes.
I reached over and placed my hand on top of hers. We didn’t move or speak for a long time.
The grandfather clock sounded from the dining room. When it finished its song, I counted the chimes — seven.
“We’re back!” Emma hollered from the hallway.
Dad came into the kitchen carrying a huge flat box. “Get some plates and napkins, girls.”
I started to get up.
“It’s okay,” Dad said. “You’ve got a pass for the next little while.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
An attempt at normality, we sat down as a family and ate our pizza. Emma spilled her milk in the first two seconds. Nobody seemed very bothered by it. Mom barely reacted. I watched the milk pool on the floor by her chair and tried to mop it up with some napkins. “Leave it,” Mom said. “I’ll get it later.”
Emma’s constant chatter helped fill the stretches of silence. She was oblivious to the lack of conversation. I would have given anything to be eight again. I tried to follow what she was saying but I was too distracted. Picking at my crust, I thought about the Frank article. I wished it had been more detailed, had some actual facts.
“Dad?”
“Hmm?” He wiped some sauce from his chin.
“How can I find out about the accident?”
His eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean? Like an accident report? Something like that?”
Of course! “Yes. That’s exactly what I mean.”
“Well … do we have to talk about this over dinner?” He looked sideways at Emma.
“I know about the accident,” Emma said. “I’m not a kid anymore.”
“What exactly is it you’re looking for?” he asked me.
“I dunno. I thought maybe if I could read about it, see it all in black and white, it might help me remember.”
“The doctor said your memory might take a while,” Mom said. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”
“Diane might have something like what you’re looking for,” Dad said.
“Jason.” Mom shot him a weird look.
“I uh … don’t know how much she’s allowed to show us though. I mean, she might have to wait until all the reports are in, that kind of thing.”
“But could you ask her?” I pressed. “Maybe tomorrow?”
Mom had been refilling his drink. She stopped in mid-pour.
He glanced up at her, then to me. “I’ll try to remember, but we’ve got a lot going on tomorrow. We have to go to court to set a date.”
“What?” The pizza suddenly felt like a brick in my stomach. It was happening so soon, too soon. “Tomorrow when?”
Dad pulled out his Blackberry. “9:30.”
“And then I’ll have to go back again, right? For the actual trial?”
“Yes.”
“How long until I go back that time?” I needed to know how much time I had before … I couldn’t let myself even go there.
“I’m not sure. A few weeks maybe?”
“Is Libby going to jail?” Emma blurted.
Pizza doesn’t require cutlery, so there was no clatter of utensils, just the soft thud of pizza bones hitting the plates.
“No,” Mom said. “No, she’s not.”
Emma looked relieved. “Good. And don’t worry, Libby. After the judge tells you when he wants you to come back, you tell me and I’ll put a sticker on my calendar so I can remind you. I know you don’t remember things very good.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Thanks, Emma.” Continuing to pick at my crust, I tried not to think about tomorrow. Must focus on one thing at a time. “I can talk to Cal too about the accident. He’ll know some stuff.”
Mom and Dad didn’t say anything.
“Or did anyone else see anything?” I asked.
Mom shook her head. “The car went over the bank, into the ditch.”
I tried to imagine what it would have looked like, the car veering off the road, the sound of it crashing, the fire … Goosebumps prickled up all over my arms.
At that moment the doorbell rang.
Emma jumped from her seat. “I’ll get it!”
There was the sound of muffled voices, then, “Libby! Your boyfriend’s here!”
Dad, Mom, and I looked at each other. My boyfriend? Well, I knew it wasn’t Nate. And any of my “boy” friends would find all this too awkward and would have to arrive in a pack for support. “Do you think she means Cal?” That was the only possibility.
Mom shrugged and gave me a perplexed look.
“She doesn’t know who he is, though,” I said.
Dad rolled his eyes. “Emma would call any boy standing at the door a boyfriend. According to her she has six and a half — whatever that means.”
I reached for my crutches. “I’ll tell him we’re eating supper. And he’s not my boyfriend,” I added quickly.
“He just keeps showing up, doesn’t he?” Dad said to his s
lice of pizza.
It was obvious Dad felt the same towards Cal as Mom. I guess I couldn’t blame them. I yelled to Emma, “Coming!”
Stopping in the hall, I smoothed my hair and tucked it behind my ears. Then I continued towards the door.
But it wasn’t Cal. “Hey Libby.”
My breath caught in my throat. It was Nate.
Chapter 13
And Julia.
My jaw dropped. Are you kidding me?
Nate looked flushed. “We heard you were home. Probably should have called first. I — I mean we — wanted to see how you were doing.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond. Should I act like I was touched they were here? I figured it was best to say nothing.
“We came to the hospital,” Nate said awkwardly. “But they wouldn’t let us visit.”
“We were both so worried,” Julia said softly. “Here. We bought you a card.” She held it out to me.
“Uh … thanks?”
“I picked it out myself,” she smiled. “Do you want me to help you open it?”
I could only shake my head. She sounded totally sincere and it was throwing me off. Maybe she felt guilty about the whole Nate thing, the horrible stuff she said to me, and was trying to make up for it.
Gently touching my arm she said, “I’ll just put it here then.” And she sat the card on the hall table.
I motioned to the living room with my head. “Would you guys like to come —”
“No thanks. We don’t want to interrupt your dinner.” Julia fished a pair of gloves out of her pocket and started putting them on.
“Crap.” Nate smacked his forehead with his hand. “Mom made you brownies but I left them in the car.” He turned to Julia. “Stay here, be right back.”
“Sure,” she said.
Once Nate was out of earshot, Julia narrowed her eyes and took a step towards me. “I told Cal he’d regret hooking up with you, but he wouldn’t listen.”
There goes my theory. “Gosh Julia, go ahead, tell me what you really think.”
She made a noise, almost like a snort. “Well, I’ll tell you one thing. You might want to learn how to hold your liquor before you drink again. Oh, and getting behind the wheel probably isn’t such a great idea. I mean, how stupid was that?”
Live to Tell Page 7
