by Ruth Houston
I knew it. My hunch was correct. "I'm not going," I stated flatly. There was no way in hell I was going to just pick everything up and leave for some dumb, prestigious private school. In Italy, no less. No way in hell.
"You will," my father replied. "We've paid your tuition and everything. You will come back with us so I can keep an eye on you. Quite frankly, you mother and I have let you live by yourself for far too long."
I scoffed. "I'm not living alone. I've got Victoria. And what makes you think I'm just going to pick up and leave? I'm not going with you. I've never even been to Italy, for Christ's sake."
"Do-not-use-such-language-with-me-young-man," my father said in one stern breath, eyes glittering dangerously.
"Why?" I asked rudely.
"Why shouldn't you use such language with me?" he replied, looking outraged.
"No," I said, rolling my eyes a little. "Why do I have to go with you?"
"We've been over this," he said through clenched teeth. "We've let you be for far too long. It's time you lived nearer to us. You can't spend the rest of your life living alone in a huge mansion with a middle-aged widow to housekeep for you. No, Zackary, it's time you started to think about your future."
I shook my head slowly, disbelieving. I had pretty much only heard one thing he just said: "Now you want me to live nearer to you? After all these years, now? I'm perfectly fine here in Branner, so thanks but no thanks."
"You are not," my father stated coolly.
"Yes, I am," I contradicted him angrily. "I'm getting an education, I've got friends, and a great girlfriend –"
" – who is absolute trash; why are you dating her has completely escaped me."
"Don't talk about Winter like that!" I roared, jumping up to my feet. "Don't you dare talk about her like that! You don't even know her!" I was livid. He could diss me all he wanted, but no way was I going to let him bad-mouth Winter, girlfriend or not.
My father sneered unpleasantly. "Winter," he said her name mockingly, like she was dirt, and I could feel a hot flush of rage burning in my neck, "is another factor that's helped along my decision. You're not to see her anymore."
"Don't you dare bring her into this," I spat out fiercely. "This isn't about her and you know it. I'm not going to submit to some petty request of yours."
"Do not tell me what I do and do not know!" he shouted. "You've become an insolent, disgraceful son and you aren't doing well at Branner High. Don't interrupt me young man, I've obtained your records from the school office. A 3.28 and a handful of detentions are hardly enough to get you into college." He sat back, a satisfied smirk painted all over his face. I wondered how I was related to this evil, evil man.
I paled, and narrowed my eyes. "That's what you think." In all honesty I did not know the first thing that had to do with college – as far as I was concerned, college was miles and miles away from me right now.
He ignored me, as always. "You are coming to Italy with us at the end of your fall semester," he stated again, coolly. "Sit down."
I glared at him in response. "All right," I said, sitting down, "Suppose I go with you back to Italy – which I am not going to do, by the way – just suppose. How long would I have to stay?"
"At least until the end of high school. Then you can come back to the States for college."
"I'm not going," I said tonelessly. "There is no way you can make me, and there is not a snowman's chance in freaking hell I'm leaving California." Until the end of high school? I scoffed. Think again, father dearest.
"You will be coming with us to Italy," my father said quietly, coldly. "It's not open for negotiation or bargaining. This discussion is over." He dismissed me with a wave of his hand and turned to his computer.
I stalked out of the room and back to the foyer. No more Liszt now. I wrenched my fat book of Beethoven Sonatas off the shelf and prepared myself for some heavy, angry music.
I almost laughed at the absurdity of what he was suggesting. How was he going to make me leave?
The answer was simple: he wasn't.
There was absolutely no way I was leaving the United States for some pathetic, pretentious American boarding school in Italy, just when life had begun to improve a little here. No fucking way.
xxxxx
My fingers were still sore on Monday afternoon when Eva and I ran into each other in the Sciences corridor.
"…Eva?" I said blankly, staring at her.
She started. "Zack," she acknowledged me, her face flushing a bit. "What are you doing here?" It was awkward for about a second, but the oddness of the situation left as we made small talk.
"Detention," I grimaced. It was 3:45 and the hallway was deserted except for the two of us. "You?" I flexed my fingers slightly, cringing at the soreness.
"Project," she sighed. "How've you been?"
I considered for a moment, thinking of the sleeplessness that had tortured me like the plague since I'd learned of my parents' return and had not gone away since, and said, "I'm fine. You?" We set off down the hallway together.
"What? Oh, me?" she laughed distractedly. "Well… you were there at The Announcement." She said it bitterly, and just like that too: as if 'The Announcement' was capitalized. "I've been just peachy. Thanks for coming, by the way. Tristan and I appreciate it. Gee," she said dejectedly, "I even have to change schools and everything." She shook her head and looked up at the fluorescent lighting. "Life sucks."
"I know how you feel," I said gloomily.
"How can you? You don't have to move."
"Guess again."
She stopped in her tracks and stared at me. "What?! You, too? Oh, there is definitely no god. Unreal. Where?"
"Italy," I muttered, surprising myself. She was the first person I had told. "My whole family's going." It wasn't a lie, it just wasn't the full truth: I had never told her about the situation with my parental units, and didn't feel like telling her now. There had never been a reason to explain any of it to her, as she had never been to my house before. Some things were better left under the surface.
Her brief, stunned look at my announcement wasn't even satisfying. It was just plain, downright depressing. "Well, imagine that," she mumbled. "Life can be worse."
In spite of myself and my none too cheerful thoughts, I laughed. Eva gave me a slight smile, and we walked to the student parking lot together in companionable silence. When we emerged outside, the sun shined brightly in my eyes, making me squint, and I was surprised – somehow, I had thought that the weather would be gloomy and dark and windy and cold, to justify the way my life was going right now.
"So, got a ride home?" I asked her.
"Honestly? ...I have no idea," she laughed. "Tristan said he'd try to wait up for me, but at this point…" She checked her watch and shook her head. "He's probably taken off for work already."
"Work?" I echoed, interested, my ears perking up. "I didn't know he had a job."
"Me neither," she laughed again, and I marveled that she could still do it even though, as she said, her life sucked. "He didn't tell me until he got back at 7:30 on his first day and I was half out of my mind with worry. Said it 'slipped his mind,'" she rolled her eyes, grinning. I smiled too.
"Hey, look," I found myself saying, "If you need a ride, I can give you one."
She cocked her head a little. We had reached the parking lot by now, and it was quite empty of Tristan's car, I noted.
Eva turned to me with a serious expression on her face, then said out of the blue, "I'm sorry, Zack. I was a bitch to you."
I chuckled at her apology. "It's alright. I'm cool now. No hard feelings?"
We shook hands.
"No hard feelings," she agreed. "Now…about that ride…?"
"Of course."
It was a little weird having her sit in my passenger's seat again, and it was even weirder that we made conversation so easily. I was reminded just why I had liked Eva in the first place, though the attraction wasn't there anymore.
About two thirds of
the way to her house, Eva said, "So, I don't mean to pry, but when are you moving?"
"End of the semester," I muttered unhappily.
"This semester?"
I nodded, and Eva flinched and voiced what I had been worried about. "Winter…"
"God, I know," I said, "Don't make me feel worse."
Eva's eyes filled with tears. Oh, no. You know how they say that guys can't stand it when girls cry? Well, they're right. I'm no exception, either.
"She's going to be all alone," Eva whispered, swiping at her eyes. "I feel so bad. You know, before you'd told me that you were moving too, I knew she would be okay if you were there to look after her, but now…" She sniffed quietly. "I don't know what she's going to do without either of us. And I don't know if I'm more pissed that I'm moving or that I won't have the luxury of seeing her every day anymore."
The words of true friend, but I had missed them in my preoccupation. My heart was heavy. I didn't want to think about leaving California for this very reason.
It meant I'd be leaving Winter and she was – she was my friend. Perhaps something more, I didn't know. But if I left, we'd never get the chance to find out. The thought made my chest constrict painfully.
"Here," I said mechanically, offering Eva a tissue box. "We still have a month and a half to figure something out."
Chapter 21: A River in Egypt
-Eva-
"Alright, Tristan," Winter said in her best no-nonsense voice, putting the finishing touches on a problem in her Pre-Cal homework. "Time to fess up." She was over at our house after school on Monday. It was nearing dinner time, which, at our house, was usually around 8 or so. Winter always told me that eating dinner at 8 o'clock was considered late, but she'd been saying it for so many years that I never heard it anymore. She and I were sitting at the dining table doing homework as Tristan, who had just gotten home from work, was leaning against the kitchen counter, thoughtfully eating a Fuji apple and flipping through an East Bay catalog. I didn't know what it was with him, but the only kind of apples he'd eat was the Fuji ones. He always said that they tasted better than "American apples", but Winter and I just thought he liked to pretend he was Asian.
My best friend ducked her head to hide her smile. I had to admit, it was nice being on speaking terms again with her. My older sibling gave me a weird look.
"Fess up to what?" he asked around a mouthful of fruit.
"You know," I said. "Tell us who you're so in love with." Winter snatched a tissue out of the Kleenex box so she could hide her sniggers behind it.
He froze, and after a moment narrowed his eyes. "I am so glad I swallowed right before you said that. Because I thought for a moment there that you were telling me I was," he squinted his eyes, "in love, which I am not. Not that I have anything against love, it's just, I'm not in it. Winter, I'm sure you find this all very amusing, but it'd hurt my ego less if you didn't hide behind the pretense of blowing your nose."
She removed the Kleenex from her face and broke out into full fledged laughter. "You," she said to Tristan, "are in denial."
Tristan looked at her, flabbergasted, mouth hanging open and clear blue eyes staring in disbelief. He couldn't seem to form a full sentence through his incredulity. "You – I – yeah, right – what – you thinking?!?? –"
Winter and I exchanged smug looks – oh yes, I never thought I'd see the day, but it was true: our little Tristan was in love alright. And in denial. Not always a great combination, but I guess we'll work with what we've got.
"Denial," he finally said scathingly, "is a river in Egypt."
"Oh ho ho," I said, rolling my eyes. "So funny, Tristan. Really, now. You don't have to worry. Winter and I won't tell anyone. Right Winter?" She nodded.
He was still staring at me like I had gone temporarily insane. Oh, wait. Did I say temporarily? I meant permanently. But then again, I get that expression from him on a daily basis, so I suppose it wasn't saying much. "I am NOT having this – this stupid conversation with you. Really," he said when Winter opened her mouth. "I am definitely not in love. I…appreciate your concern, but trust me on this one, okay?" He shook his head and went back to looking at the East Bay catalog.
There was quiet in the kitchen for a moment as we all went back to our respective activities.
"So is she pretty?" Winter asked casually, typing something in her graphing calculator.
"Very," Tristan said distractedly. "Hey Eva, think I should get the new Nikes? Basketball starts soon and my Reeboks are kind of beat up from last season. Dad said he'd pay for them."
"Ha!" I said triumphantly. "You admitted it!"
He glanced up at me, obviously puzzled. "Admitted what?"
"You slipped up," Winter crowed. "Let me refresh your memory. I said, 'So is she pretty?' And you responded with, 'Very.'"
Tristan didn't have a reply for that one. He just groaned and left the room, half eaten apple in hand.
Winter and I smirked, and she said, "Definitely a river in Egypt. Never fear, dear Eva, we will soon get to the bottom of this."
"I think a trip to Payne's Sports Store is in order."
She nodded in agreement and we resumed our homework.
"Hey Eva?" Winter said after a moment.
"Yeah."
"You know about The Announcement?"
"Yeah?"
She was uncharacteristically hesitant. "Do you have to change schools too?" she asked slowly, as if this had just dawned upon her.
I winced – this was a fact that I had yet to tell her. "Yeah," I said unhappily.
Winter swallowed, and said softly, "Okay. I see."
I thought about my conversation earlier in the afternoon with Zack, and wondered if he had told her yet about his own situation with moving to Italy, of all places. I decided not to say anything – Zack would tell her when the time was right. I figured it was safe to tell her that we had pretty much patched things up though, and did so.
"That's good," Winter said after I finished talking, then her eyes sort of glazed over. "I'm glad Zack…and you... hmm…" She was gazing dreamily at my wall, but I knew she wasn't focusing on it.
Goodness, not again.
"Winter!" I snapped my fingers in her face and she jumped.
"What? Oh, sorry."
I groaned. "You've been doing that a lot lately. You did it during Spanish too. Señora Welsh asked you, 'Qué tiempo hacía ayer?' And you said, 'Estaba cansada ayer.' What is that? 'What was the weather like yesterday?' and you say, 'I was tired yesterday'?! Are you even paying attention anymore? Are you even listening to what I'm saying right now?! Don't space out on me again."
"Yeah, I'm listening," she said irritably, scribbling something on her graph paper. "I'm just trying to finish this Algebra stuff. Leave me alone. I never really understood the imperfect tense anyway."
"How did you get a 98 on the final last year then?" I asked, staring at her.
She shrugged. "I play it by ear. I just say it to myself, and if it sounds right, I put it down. I just get lucky because I always guess right."
I shook my head. "You don't get lucky. You're just a genius."
"A genius that gets a 3.8? I don't think so," Winter replied shortly. "I get lucky. Don't you have anything else better to do than just hounding me about my intelligence level? Finish your essay, young lady. You do know it's due tomorrow, right?" she mock lectured me.
"Yes, mom," I grinned.
Chapter 22: Barely Holding On
-Winter-
The next three weeks passed by in a busy blur. Everyone, myself included, was counting down the days to our blessed winter break. Eva and I were best friends again, and I was back to going to her house every other afternoon. Her younger siblings had all found ways to cope and take are of themselves better, and Eva, Tristan and I were glad that they had learned some independence – it made our lives easier. Now, they took turns with the chores without even being asked to. As for Tristan's love interest, Eva and I decided to wait it out until winter break to beg
in our investigation. It was way too intriguing to ignore.
In those three weeks leading up to winter vacation, I saw little of Zack – indeed, maybe I was imagining things, but it seemed he was almost avoiding me, and I couldn't understand why, unless he was truly mad about that dinner I had with his parents (which would be stupid a stupid thing to ignore someone for). Whenever I saw him in the halls, he was always by himself, and seemed more closed into himself. He only mustered up enough energy to acknowledge passing 'hey's with a nod. Something was definitely up. Now that the tennis season was over, I had more open time in the afternoons, and took it upon myself on the last Friday of school to confront him about it.
By the time he reached his car, I was there, waiting for him.
"Hey," I greeted him.
He blinked, and immediately looked away. "Hey," he muttered. He didn't look very much different, though I could tell he was very tired – his eyes were bleary and his posture was more slumped than usual.
I got right into it. "You've been avoiding me."
"I know," he said. I was taken aback. This was not the reply I had been expecting. Well, I couldn't say I didn't value honesty. He unlocked the doors and dropped his backpack in the backseat.
"Why?" I asked, furrowing my brow as he shut the door again.
Zack sighed, and when his golden eyes connected with mine, they seemed more bottomless, more infinite, more mysterious, more incomprehensible than ever before. It was like we were back to square one again. He offered me a slight smile tinged with sadness and wistfulness. "My dad blackmailed me, you know," he said, gazing off toward the direction of the football field, which was empty. The parking lot around us was emptying rapidly and good natured shouts and happy yells sounded – everyone was glad for a two week break. I ignored them.
"Answer the question, Zack," I said impatiently.
He laughed; I knew it as the short, bitter laugh he saved for ironic situations. "I can't," he replied, humorless smile still in place. "I really can't. I don't know how to."
I was getting angry. "Zack," I said. "Please tell me. Are you mad about that dinner I had at your house with your parents? Is that it?"
