I cut her a look. “Yeah, that’s what I’ve been doing. Primping in front of a mirror.”
She laughed her throaty laugh — already sounding like a life smoker at the age of sixteen.
I leaned against the rough bark and stretched out my legs. “It’s hell.”
“I figured.”
“Can I come live with you?” I grinned as I said it, but was surprised to realize I was serious.
“Oh, right. You and my mom could be best buds.” Serena flicked her ashes onto the ground, burying them in the sand and needles with the heel of her shoe.
“I could get along with your mom.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sure you could.”
I exhaled with a long sigh. “I never told him.”
She looked at me. “Never told who what?”
“My dad. About his neighbor. The attack.”
“He attacked you? You never said attacked.”
I rested my head against the tree and closed my eyes. The bark poked at the back of my head through my layered black hair.
Serena tugged on my sleeve. “You never said attacked.”
“So.”
“I don’t get it. Has your story changed since two years ago?”
Clouds moved over the edge of the sun, plunging the afternoon into a gray funk. Inside The Hang, it was like night.
“No. You think he should know?”
“Why? What good would it do now?” She smashed her cigarette into the ground and wiggled the butt deep into the sand.
“None,” I answered. She was right. Why should I tell him?
“When’s he coming?”
“A week.”
Serena shrugged. “Enjoy what time you have left.”
****
Courtney blasted me the minute I walked into the condo. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you tell me you were going?” She moved closer. “You stink. You been smoking again?”
“No.”
“Sure you weren’t. And you left Denny all by himself.” Her eyes were moist, but her face was rigid.
I shut the door. “You were upstairs so Denny was hardly alone. Geez. Lighten up. And in case you forgot, Denny’s not a baby anymore.”
She blinked and her nostrils flared, then she let out her breath and seemed to wilt before me. “Sorry. I’m just trying, well, I’m trying to help him.”
“He doesn’t need help.” I looked around the living room. “Where is he?”
“Upstairs.”
I pushed by her and went into the kitchen. My stomach was growling. I hadn’t eaten much since the funeral, and suddenly I felt like I could eat for a month and not get full. The fridge was stuffed with a mish-mash of food — most of it had been delivered by sad-faced people I didn’t know.
“We’re so sorry.” “Call if you need anything.” “She’s in a better place now.”
I wanted to punch each one of them to a better place.
During it all, Courtney had smiled through tears and carried each offering into the kitchen like a waitress. I rooted around in the jumble, pulled a cinnamon roll loose from a tin pan, and took a bite.
Courtney came into the kitchen and leaned on the counter, watching me. “Can we call a truce?”
“Are we at war?”
She put her hand on my arm. I stiffened and kept chewing, the cinnamon roll now tasting like a wad of rubber.
“Please, Tiffany.”
I swallowed. “What do you mean?”
“I know we haven’t gotten along very well the last few years. But now, with Mom gone, can’t we be on the same team?”
I eyed her, my mind searching for the real meaning behind her words. “The same team?”
She cleared her throat. “I thought that maybe, now, we could get along better. You know, for Denny’s sake.”
I tilted my head, continuing to stare. “For Denny’s sake?”
“There’ll be a lot of changes.”
“I’m aware.”
Her hand dropped from my arm. “So, is that a yes?”
I inhaled deeply. “Courtney, you’re not the mom. You’ve never been the mom even though you think you were. I happen to like Denny. We’ll be fine.”
I stepped around her and marched up to my room — the master bedroom. Once inside the door, I sank to my bed. It wasn’t true. What I’d said — it wasn’t true. Up until she’d left for college, Courtney had been our mom. I thrust the pile of dirty clothes off my bed and lay on the rumpled covers. My room stunk. Like always. A musty, choking odor that cried out for a good cleaning. I kept promising myself I’d do it, but I never did. The piles of crap grew bigger by the day.
I stared at my ceiling. In my old bedroom across the hall, I’d glued florescent stars on the ceiling when I was about nine years old. Some of them were coming loose, hanging by one or two points. I used to dream they’d break free and rain down on me like plastic spears, poking my eyes out. Then I would lie on the bed bleeding out from all the tiny holes where millions of stars had pierced me. The image made me laugh. It started as a chuckle, then a snicker, then a full-blown howl. It was absurd, not even funny, but I couldn’t stop myself. I laughed till my lungs fought for air and my laughter turned into gasping, choking sobs. I sputtered as tears flooded my eyes.
I looked over at my open door, and Denny stood there staring at me with hollow brown eyes. Neither of us said a word.
Chapter Two
Courtney’s boyfriend Keegan came for dinner. Of course. He’d been hanging on like a burr ever since Mom died. They warmed up a bunch of leftovers, and all four of us sat at the dining table. Courtney was in Mom’s chair and Keegan was in Courtney’s. The two of them fussed over serving us, making sure we had water, playing house like we were all five years old in the backyard.
Sick.
“Tiff, you want some bread?” Keegan asked.
“Why yes, I would surely love some bread.”
Courtney cut me a look, and her lips tightened around her fork. Keegan glanced at her then handed me the basket of bread. I took a piece and gave the basket to Denny.
“I have to go back to college tomorrow,” Keegan told Courtney. “I can’t miss any more classes.”
“I know. I’m staying the week, but when Dad comes, I’m heading back, too. I emailed all my professors this afternoon.”
Keegan looked at Denny. “Hey, you want to toss a ball tomorrow morning before I take off?”
Denny had barely said more than a handful of words since Mom died, and he didn’t seem inclined to break his streak now. He shrugged and took a bite of bread. Keegan looked at Court with lifted eyebrows.
“I’m sure Denny would love to play catch.” Courtney reached over and ran her hand over Denny’s head.
“It doesn’t look like he wants to play ball to me,” I said. “He doesn’t need you talking for him, either.”
“Then why are you talking for him right now?”
I swallowed some water. She had me there.
She leaned close to Denny, her face all sappy nice. “Denny, would you like to play catch?”
Again, he shrugged his thin shoulders.
“No biggie. He can decide tomorrow,” Keegan said. He helped himself to more bean casserole. “Who brought this? It’s good.”
Courtney smiled, obviously relieved to change the subject. “It is good, isn’t it? I think it was Mabel, one of Mom’s co-workers.”
I’d had enough, plus my stomach was in no mood to digest. “I’ll be upstairs.” I took my dishes, scraped the food into the disposal, and dropped my plate onto the counter.
Was this day ever going to end? It had already lasted a year.
Lately, every day was a year. I’d be a hundred before I survived tenth grade.
****
The bus stopped at the front steps of Longacre High. I was the last one off, having sat in my usual spot in the back corner. No one messed with my spot. It was waiting for me every day when I climbed on the bus.
Serena drove herself, and sh
e was rarely, if ever, on time. Thus, my lack of hurry. I pushed open the school’s front doors and skirted around the groups of kids to my locker. I hadn’t done my homework, but who was going to yell at a kid whose mom just died? I figured I was safe for a good week or two.
I banged my locker shut and heard two junior girls yapping. “His name is Jason,” said a blonde — Marcy, I thought.
“It’s Jacob.”
“You’re so wrong. I was standing right there when he was in the office.” Marcy gathered her hair into a high ponytail.
“Jason, huh? You sure?” They giggled for some stupid reason and walked off.
So, Longacre High had a new kid. Newsworthy stuff. Usually it was the same old, same old forevermore. And a junior. Serena and I would have to size him up. See if he was material for The Hang.
“Hey, girl.” Serena swooped in and slugged my arm.
“Hey, yourself.”
“Did you hear? Fresh meat. A junior.” She hoisted her backpack higher onto her shoulder.
“I heard. And calling him fresh meat makes you sound like a cannibal.”
“Your point?” She punched me again and laughed.
“Come on. Let’s go to your locker. The first bell already rang.”
“So what,” she said, and we both headed down the hall.
****
Fresh Meat was in my art class. Everybody’s eyes were glued to him as he sauntered in and handed his schedule to Mr. Hansen. The guy sure caught my attention. Hot, tall, built, and with that drool-worthy, need-to-shave look. Tough, aloof. His eyes were either green or gray, hard to tell from my vantage point. He moved with ease and confidence, no small thing with the whole world staring. I could almost hear saliva dripping from every girl’s lips.
Fresh Meat wouldn’t be single for long.
Mr. Hansen cleared his throat. “Okay everyone, we have a new student. His name is…” he double-checked Fresh Meat’s schedule, “Jason. Jason Connor.”
Fresh M. wandered through the tables, planting himself in the chair butted up beside mine.
Whoa, an early Christmas.
He nodded at me then stretched out his legs, revealing scuffed leather boots under frayed jeans. He shifted in his seat and looked at me. I stared back. I gave no smile — no hint of invitation. He held my stare, raised his eyebrows, and laughed.
Out loud.
Mr. Hansen’s head jerked up from where he was adjusting the latest photo display on his computer. He frowned and plugged his computer into the projector.
Fresh M. tipped his head at me, turned away, and focused on the screen. His smile held.
Every girl watched, most of them from beneath their lashes as if no one would notice. I had the distinct impression Fresh M. knew exactly what interest he’d stirred up and was purposely ignoring it.
I didn’t plan on being one of his many admirers. I gave Mr. Hansen my avid attention throughout his entire lecture — something I hadn’t done since school started.
When the bell rang, everyone jumped up and hurried out the door. I’m skinny, so I slipped through the throngs without a problem, emerging into the hallway before the real congestion started. I headed straight for the bathroom. Civics was next, and I wasn’t in the mood. I went into the last stall, sat on the toilet, and pulled my legs up. There. Safe for the next fifty minutes.
A bunch of ignorant freshman met in the bathroom before the last bell rang.
“He’s gorgeous.” I recognized Jared’s sister’s voice. I never could figure how a football jock like Jared could have a sister who was such a twerp.
“He’s mine,” said someone with orange tennis shoes. Really, orange?
“I hardly think so.” Jared’s sister again.
“He’s in trouble with the law. That’s why he moved.” This came from someone wearing tan wedges.
I almost lost my balance and fell off the toilet. The law?
“How do you know that?” Orange Shoes asked.
“My dad. He knows everything.”
“What are we, in kindergarten?” asked Jared’s sister. “My dad is better than your dad?”
Whoa, the sister did snarky. Nice.
“I’m just saying. You can believe it or not, but it’s true.”
The bell rang.
“Crap! Now we’re late,” said Orange Shoes.
Loud scuffling, and the door was flung open. The hush of momentary silence after a bell settled around me. I pulled my cell from my pocket and plugged Jason’s name into a search. Running from the law? My interest level jumped. This could be interesting.
I spent the entire class period trying to find something on Jason. It seemed impossible that nothing turned up. What had he done? Erased every profile from every site? Even at that, I should’ve found dirt on him from other people’s pages. It would help if I knew where he’d come from. Forty-five minutes wasted.
I emerged from the stall and tried to wiggle the kink out of my back. I’d continue my search at home. It’d be easier on a computer anyway.
The thought of home made my gut feel like a bad case of food poisoning. Never liked home much anyway, but now it was worse. Way worse. Like someone had draped a huge black tarp over our condo, cutting off all air.
I wondered how Denny was doing back in school right then. Better than me, I hoped.
At least Keegan wouldn’t be around tonight. He was usually tolerable, but watching him and Courtney all gooey-eyed for each other made me sick.
I pushed my way out into the hall and nearly smacked into Serena. She narrowed her eyes and looked from me to the bathroom door and back.
“Skipping again?”
I grabbed her arm. “Shh. And, yes. Couldn’t stomach civics.”
“You’re gonna get in trouble.”
“No, I won’t.”
My civics teacher, Mr. Mustoner, came bearing down the hall to our left.
“Uh oh,” Serena said under her breath.
“Miss Phillips,” Mustoner called. “Miss Phillips!”
I slowed.
“A word.” He stood before me, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his scrawny throat. “You weren’t in class.”
I widened my eyes and didn’t blink until I felt moisture gather. “I’m sorry, Mr. Mustoner. I couldn’t face everyone.”
His expression softened. “Oh, yes, well, your mother. I’d forgotten. How are things at home?”
I shook my head, blinking now so a tear rolled down my cheek. “We’re okay, I guess.”
He put his bony hand on my shoulder. “Just check the blog, will you? The assignment is posted.”
I nodded, sniffling, feeling the tears roll freely now. “I will. And thanks, Mr. Mustoner. I’ll be there tomorrow.”
He shuffled his feet, obviously uncomfortable with this new grieving Tiffany. Kids pushed around us, a few gawking at me. “Fine, then,” he said, and I had to strain to hear him over the chatter. “See you tomorrow.”
He left and Serena slapped my arm. “You deserve an Oscar.”
We fell in step on our way to Spanish II. Serena was wrong. I didn’t deserve an Oscar. I’d forced the tears at first, but to my horror, they’d turned real.
I’d stood in the middle of the hall, crying for everyone to see.
Serena blathered on about something, but I couldn’t focus. As long as I could keep fooling her and everyone else that it was only acting, I was safe. Dead mother or not, Tiffany Phillips didn’t cry.
****
Serena and I both had second lunch. By the time we’d settled in our regular spot at the back table, my temporary emotional lapse was over. I felt like myself again.
“You think Fresh Meat has our lunch?” Serena asked, craning her neck as if taking a survey.
“Wouldn’t know.” But I hoped she was right.
“There he is! Five o’clock! Don’t look.”
But I did look. He carried his tray with one hand and walked through the tables like he knew where he was going. I held my breath, hoping he
’d come to our table, which of course was stupid.
He set his tray on the table two over from ours. A few other junior guys were already there, eating. When he slid onto the bench, they acknowledged him with nods and then went back to their conversations.
Some welcome.
“Should I invite him to eat with us?” Serena asked.
“Oh, right, like he’d want to.”
“You never know.”
“He’s running from the law. That’s why he’s here.”
Serena turned to me with shining eyes. “Are you kidding? You made that up.”
“No, I didn’t. I overheard some freshmen talking about it.”
Serena gazed at Fresh Meat with renewed respect on her face. “Well, well, well. Maybe he’s got possibilities.”
I took a bite of the bologna sandwich Courtney had made for me. I usually made the lunches, but that morning when I’d gone downstairs, there they were: two lunch sacks sitting on the counter, one for me and one for Denny. I never made bologna sandwiches. Just peanut butter and jelly. Every day. Maybe Courtney had felt guilty for yelling at me the night before.
Whatever. Saved me the bother.
“Are you even listening?” Serena was glaring at me.
“What? Sorry. What’d you say?”
“I’m going to invite him to The Hang this weekend. You okay with that?”
“Suit yourself,” I said and shrugged. I studied her face. I was very okay with it, but I couldn’t help but wonder just how okay she was.
****
The bus picked up the high school kids first, so I was already on when Denny climbed aboard. He looked like crap. Dark circles under his eyes and shoulders slumped so low, he was bent in half. I patted the spot beside me. He walked to the back of the bus and sank down.
“Tough day, huh?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“No.”
“Okay. But if you change your mind, feel free.”
He stared straight ahead, his eyes glazed. Then he opened his mouth, and it came pouring out. “Everybody asked about Mom. They were all teary and putting their arms around me and acting like they knew her. In class, all the kids stared like they were waiting for me to bust out crying or something.”
The Return: Death, Runaways, and Romance (Ocean Mist Book 3) Page 2
