Three minutes later the microwave beeps but neither of them have texted back. I bring my food to my bedroom, stopping by the bathroom to grab my medicine, then flop onto my bed with the stereo blasting.
Some Friday night.
Chapter 9
A slamming door wakes me up. Faint sunlight streams through my curtains. What time is it?
I slowly sit up, flinching in anticipation of the daggers that are ready to pierce my brain, but they remain sheathed. I gingerly poke my chin and wince. Seems the daggers have relocated there.
"Biz?" Mom calls from downstairs.
"In my room." I reach for the glass of water on my nightstand and pause, my hand in midair. The plastic dish from last night's dinner is flipped upside-down on the floor, cheese and pasta oozing from beneath it, completely crusted to the carpet.
Mom sighs in the doorway.
"At least my headache's gone." I smile my best ‘aww-shucks' grin and rap my knuckles against my skull. Lightly. "Did they release Dad?"
She crosses her arm over her chest so her hand settles on her shoulder, as if she's holding herself together. "Not for a couple more hours. His doctor is doing rounds and will see him after that."
I'm surprised she left.
"I'm sorry I—" her eyes drift closed. The remorse plays out on her features before it leaves her mouth. Tightly clenched lips, crows feet deeper than usual, flexing her fist.
I save her the trouble. "I know Mom. You were worried about Dad. I was too."
"But that doesn't excuse me from looking out for you. It didn't occur to me until the middle of the night that I had no idea how you got home."
Sometimes I wish she'd keep these things to herself. It's how she copes, I know that, but it just reinforces the fact that I'm not the most important person to her.
"So?" She's watching me now.
"The ambulance driver drove me."
She raises an eyebrow. I can tell she wants to say more, but she's the one who put me in that position and prolonging this conversation will only make her feel worse.
"Well I'm glad you're feeling better. Will you be around today?"
That's a good question. My phone beckons, but I hold off. "I'm not sure. I'll stick around until Dad gets home. Maybe get started on some homework."
This seems to please her. "I'll go make breakfast." She eyes my spoiled dinner. "You must be hungry."
I wait until I hear pots banging before calling Amelia.
"How's your dad?"
"Still in the hospital, but supposedly coming home soon. What'd I miss last night?"
There's a rustle of fabric, followed by the squeak of bedsprings. "I ended up at the mall and saw Trace. We didn't talk or anything, but I'm pretty sure he looked at me."
I laugh. "Looked at you? What, did you run by screaming or something?" I wouldn't put it past her to create a scene just to get his attention. A minor scene, but a scene nonetheless.
She huffs. "I'm not that bad. I just made sure we crossed paths. Several—well, maybe a dozen times."
"Subtle."
"Hey, it made him look at me. Don't they say any publicity is good publicity?"
"Yeah, unless he thinks you're a freak. Just don't scare him off before the game on Tuesday, otherwise my plan won't work."
"Do you really think he'll go for it?"
"You know him better than me, but I think so. Especially if I take a bunch of pictures of him. I don't think we have to submit the project to the paper, but I can promise him I will."
"Biz, you rock."
"Yeah, yeah. I still haven't figured out what other game to go to."
"Too bad the swim team doesn't start until next semester. That could make for a hot spread." She bursts out laughing and I roll my eyes, smiling.
My phone vibrates in my hand and I check the display. A text from Cameron. "Speaking of hot…"
Amelia snorts.
"Give me a call if you decide to do anything."
"Tell Cam hello."
I read Cameron's text. "No games today. Wanna hang out?"
This text is no different from any other I've received from him, but my heart seems to think it's a sonnet from Shakespeare. I take a deep breath and text back. "Love to. Later today?" I meant what I said to Mom about staying here until Dad comes home. I need to see for myself that he's okay.
"Pick you up at four?"
That could almost be a date. Is it a date? Now I'm gonna have to call Amelia back. "See you then."
I peel myself out of bed and cheese squishes between my toes. "Ew!" I jump in the air, landing on my trig book. "Well that seems fitting." I grab a random sock and wipe off my foot before heading downstairs in search of something to clean the carpet.
I must really like Cameron. No one's ever had me so distracted that I've stepped in my dinner.
*****
I'm passed out on the couch when my parents get home. My big plans to study gave way to a movie marathon, which gave way to a nap. I sit up as they come inside.
Dad's head is bandage-free and the two-inch gash on the back of his skull gives me a gnarly smile.
"Holy crap! That's just from hitting the floor?" I rush to his side and lightly touch the stitches, then give him a hug. He rubs my back, up and down, like he did when I was little. I turn to Mom. "There wasn't any blood on the floor."
She glances at her pants. "Most of it was on me."
Now I feel like a shit. I've been so pouty about being the poor neglected child that I failed to notice Dad's blood all over her.
Dad touches my chin and lifts my face so I'm looking at him. His brow furrows. "I hear I knocked you a good one." His thumb runs over the tip of my chin and I try not to flinch. What he's gone through is so much worse than getting kicked in the face.
I shrug. "I'll be okay. Everything happened so fast that I didn't have much time to think about it."
He doesn't say anything at first, just looks at me with a curious expression on his face.
Mom clears her throat. "I'll let you two catch up. Are sandwiches okay for lunch?"
We both nod, still looking at each other. He walks to the couch and lowers himself carefully, first gripping the back, then the armrest, then falling awkwardly onto the cushions.
"Why don't you let me help you?"
He ignores me. "What else happened?"
"What do you mean?"
"I can tell your mind's going a thousand miles a minute, and it's not about this latest case of child abuse."
I smile despite myself. When I was seven he clocked me in the side of the head during a seizure and an overly-protective substitute teacher alerted the school that she suspected I was being abused at home. It's happened countless times over the years—the accidental injuries, not the reports of abuse—and the joke helps lessen his anguish over hurting me.
"One kind of weird thing happened, but… I don't know." Why did I even bring that up? Dad's pretty cool about not insisting I see a doctor, but I may not be able to hold them off much longer.
He leans his head back, in no hurry. I think they teach that in advanced parenting classes, the ones I'm convinced my parents snuck off to when they said they were playing mah jongg. I can't stand for there to be silence between us. And he, of course, knows this.
I sigh dramatically and flop onto the couch next to him. "One of the ambulance drivers kinda weirded me out." Rick's intense gaze flashed through my mind.
Dad visibly tenses.
"Nothing like that. I tripped when we were going into the hospital and he went on and on about how he's into neurology." Shut up, Biz. "I think he was just trying to impress me." Or find a pet project.
"So he didn't do anything inappropriate? He just talked about… your headaches?"
"Pretty much." Maybe it's best I don't tell him that Rick drove me home and basically scared the bejeebers out of me.
His heavy sigh makes me turn to face him.
The sutures peek out from the couch cushion and my stomach clenches. Suddenly he
seems very fragile. Despite his illness, Dad's the rock in our family. We revolve around him and, in turn, he holds us together. I fear that without him Mom and I would flounder, aimlessly drifting though life in his absence.
His eyelids flutter. I hope it's just the drugs. "Will you promise me something?"
"Uh, sure?"
"If there's ever something… more, with your headaches. Even if it seems like I'd never understand. Will you tell me?"
All the times I've flickered streak by like a movie—the tingling, the heaviness, the sudden jerk when I come to—followed by the memory of the crushing pain afterwards. How could he ever understand that?
"Of course."
Chapter 10
It's quarter to four. I'm wearing my favorite sweater, my favorite shoes, and the jeans that make my ass look as good as it's going to get. Now I just need to figure out who or what's possessed me and I'll happily get on with my day.
I can't remember the last time I've acted this way over a boy.
My phone vibrates a couple minutes later. "I'm here."
Well at least he's early too.
I run upstairs to tell Mom and Dad I'm leaving and find them curled around each other on the bed, Mom's hands cradling Dad's head to her chest, his leg is thrown over hers. I hurry downstairs and leave a note on the kitchen counter letting them know I'm going out for the night. They know I always have my phone so they're pretty cool about letting me do my own thing. As long as I'm home on time, of course.
I step onto the front porch and lock the door behind me. When I face the street a brilliant light makes me shield my eyes so I don't see Cameron right away.
He's standing next to his car, seeming uncertain about whether or not to approach.
"What's up?"
"I was gonna come to the door, but then it seemed weird so I wasn't sure if I should just wait in the car."
My chest swells. I've known Cameron for too long for either of us to try to pretend to be something we're not. If one of us is nervous, the other one knows. I walk to the passenger side and open the door.
He catches my eye over the roof and my hands start to sweat. "I figured we'd meet up with everyone at the boat ramp later, but is there something you want to do right now?"
Do not say what just came to mind. I'm sure I'm blushing, but I hope the afternoon sun is giving me a healthy glow instead of the mottled flush that's probably covering my face.
"Biz?" He pauses, his arm resting on the open door.
I cock my head.
His face droops. "You haven't said a word since you came outside. Are you sure you want to hang out?"
"Oh god, yes! I'm sorry, I guess I'm just a little nervous."
He dips his head so his hair falls in his face and I can't see his eyes. "Okay, good."
We climb in and he backs out of my driveway, his hand wrapped firmly around the gearshift. It's probably best if we don't try to hold hands again, but my body aches to feel his touch.
"So where to?"
I lean my head on the seat. "Anywhere." The stress from the past day seeps out of me and a feeling of euphoria settles into my bones. Yes, I get this feeling every time a migraine goes away, but my proximity to Cameron has set off some kind of chemical reaction that's making it hard to worry about anything else.
"How about the zoo? I think it's open for a couple more hours."
I flinch, remembering that time years ago with Dad.
The first time I remember Dad having a seizure I was three years old. The three of us were at the zoo and halfway through the monkey house when he collapsed. I remember Mom standing over him, screaming. And the monkeys screaming back at her. Me—I couldn't tear my eyes away from the way the sunlight poured through an oblong skylight at the very top of the high ceiling and blanketed my father's twitching body. His arms flopped at his side. His legs kicked at nothing. And his eyes… that was the weirdest part. His eyes rolled around in his head until the color was gone and all I could see was white.
I never told Cameron about it and he doesn't notice my reaction. "That's cool." As long as we stay away from the monkey house.
Cam turns up the stereo and we ride through town, comfortable enough with each other to not need to ask a million questions or worry that they would rather be someplace else.
My eyes drift closed. Without the distraction of everything around us, I can hear him breathing. A flood of emotions overwhelm me at the thought of being this close to another person, even without touching, and I allow myself a moment to let my heart go crazy and wish for things I don't deserve.
Twenty minutes later, the car bumps over a curb and the engine cuts off. "We're here."
I open my eyes and jump. The largest tree I've ever seen is less than a foot in front of the car, its large branches shading us from the suns slanting rays. This isn't the zoo. "Where's here?"
Cameron stretches his arm across the space between the seats and lightly runs his fingers through my hair. A purr builds in my throat, but I control myself. He nods at a fence beyond the tree. "The zoo."
"I've lived here my entire life but I didn't know you could drive up to the back. Isn't there a big wall or something that keeps people from climbing the fence?"
"This isn't the edge of a cage. I think it's an outer perimeter that marks the edge of the property. I come here sometimes when I'm feeling trapped, like I can't find a way out of my bullshit life, you know?"
I peer at the wall. "That makes sense. Seeing creatures that really don't have any way out can make you feel better."
A sad smile touches his lips. "Exactly."
I pick at the edge of my seat. I can almost feel Katie sitting here with us. "Do you want to talk about her?"
He shifts forward so his forearms are crossed on the steering wheel, then rests his chin on his arms. "I don't know what to say. Nothing's changed. It's like we're back four years ago when she first disappeared. Wondering what if…"
Cameron had been the last one to see Katie. I'll never forget the crack in his voice when he told me. They'd been playing in the backyard while their mom was doing laundry and Katie ran around to the front to get her bike. He was so wrapped up in testing his new bike ramp that he just didn't realize how much time had passed. That she was still gone. By the time he went to see what was taking her so long, she'd vanished. Her bike lay at the end of the driveway, the pink tassels torn loose from the handlebars.
He called me first, desperate, not knowing what to do. I rode my bike to his house as fast as I could and got there minutes before the police arrived. They assumed I’d been there all along and neither of us corrected them—at least not until the questions started. The police eventually believed that Cam had nothing to do with her disappearance, but people have never looked at him the same.
A blue plastic barrette was found in the gutter and he still carries it with him as a reminder of that day.
I touch his arm.
He turns his head so his cheek is resting on his wrist, and our eyes meet.
"It's not your fault. There's no way—"
"I was supposed to be watching her. I was thirteen years old for fuck's sake, not some little kid." He sits upright and slams the heel of his hand into the steering wheel. The horn blasts and we both jump. "Sorry."
"Do you want to walk around? Get some air?"
"Sure."
We climb out and walk towards the fence, but I don't see a way in. He seems to know where he's going but if he's planning to climb the fence… I glance at my cute, but-not-very-practical-for-climbing-a-fence, shoes. "I don't know if I can climb—"
He grabs my hand. "We're not climbing the fence. There's a gate over here that isn't always locked." I reel back and he squeezes my hand. "It lets in behind a maintenance building and goes to the main part where people walk around. No tigers." He lifts my hand and brushes his lips over my knuckles.
Who am I kidding? I'd follow him through the lion's den if he asked.
The gate is unlocked, but very loud. I cringe as
he pries it open. We stop next to the low cinderblock building. "Are you sure we won't get in trouble?"
A mischievous grin chases away the pain that was there moments earlier. "Not really." He closes the gate and we peek around the corner. Families with strollers walk beneath the shady trees, and an elderly couple sits on a bench near the duck pond. "Ready?"
I squeeze his hand and he tugs me around the corner of the building. We swing our joined arms, not a care in the world, when a shout makes us both turn.
"Hey!"
We look at each other, eyes wide, then break into a run.
He leads me past a fountain, where I narrowly avoid slamming into a girl toddling behind a wagon. "Sorry!" I shout over my shoulder.
Cameron grabs my hand and tugs me off the path and behind a clump of bushes. We fall to the ground, elbows and knees colliding, and burst out laughing.
"Do you think he's still after us?" I didn't look back while we were running but our escape was hardly well thought out.
He sits up and pulls apart the branches. "Doesn't look like it."
I swat his arm. "You can't even see."
"True, but if he was looking for us he'd already be here." He turns to face me. "I think we're safe."
My adrenaline slows, but my senses are still humming.
Cameron slides closer.
Our eyes meet, and everything else fades away. The kids screaming for the ducks, the gravel crunching beneath the strollers—the only thing in my universe is him.
"Come here," he whispers as he lowers his head towards mine.
My stomach backflips. I tear my eyes away from his lips to search his eyes, see the same excitement that I feel. I take an unsteady breath and lean into his kiss.
Any concern I had about ruining our friendship vanishes as his strong arms wrap around me. His lips are firmer than I expected, and more insistent. My hands slide up his back and into the soft hair at the base of his neck.
A small sigh escapes him and his lips part, his warm tongue gently touching mine.
I move still closer, until I'm tucked against him, safe from everything around us. No light, no tests, just the warmth of him and this kiss that I never want to end.
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