Under the Moon

by Deborah Kerbel

  “Y-yeah, of course I have.”

  “What about counting sheep?”

  I nod. “Fields of ’em.”

  He’s quiet for a minute. And then this:

  “Relaxing thoughts?”

  “Yup.”

  “Breathing exercises?”

  I let out an exhausted sigh. “Ben, believe me, I’ve tried everything humanly possible to get to sleep. But nothing works. It’s like I’m fighting a losing battle.”

  He doesn’t reply to that. We continue the rest of the way to Birch Street in silence. Ben walks me to Todd’s house, all the way to the top of the driveway. The Nelsons’ house is huge, which makes me think the garden and landscape business must be one of the only things thriving in this wrecked economy. The party has spilled outside. It’s a pretty messed-up scene. The front yard is littered with kids — some are smoking dope, some making out, some puking in the bushes, and a few are completely passed out on the grass. The entire house is pulsing with music. Lucky for Todd, his property is big. I know if there were any neighbours within earshot, the RCMP would be all over this place.

  “Sure you want to go in there?” Ben asks.

  Barely perceptible nod.

  “It looks pretty wild.” He points in the general direction of a guy staggering across the lawn and chugging back a bottle of beer. I notice Ben’s eyes go dark and his lips press together into a hard line. Whoa, if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was actually worried about me.

  “I’ll be fine. Someone’s waiting for me in there. I better go.”

  Ben sighs. “Okay, have fun. See you at school.” And with that, he turns and walks away.

  Why is my stomach suddenly hurting to see him leave? I follow him a couple of steps down the driveway. “Ben! Wait … Why don’t you come in for a minute? Have a drink or something?”

  He shakes his head and holds a hand up to stop me. “No, really, thanks. It’s not my scene.”

  That surprises me. A lot. I make a mental note to scratch Mafioso son of a drug dealer off the list too. If he really was a drug dealer, for sure he’d say yes to the party. I mean, isn’t that the best kind of place to hook new customers? I peer at him as he walks off down the driveway. This guy is turning out to be more of a mystery than I bargained for.

  “Okay … see you,” I call out. But I don’t think he hears me. I watch as he slowly fades into the darkness, following the path of the moon.

  TWELVE

  Pretty much everyone at Todd’s party is smashed. Believe you me. Even the dog looks stoned from all the second-hand pot smoke in the air. I push my way through the crowd. Where’s Emma? Not in the hallway. Not in the living room. How ’bout the kitchen? Someone hands me a glass as I walk through the doorway. I have no idea what it is, but it looks red and icy and it tastes sweet. I drink it down in a couple of gulps. And then someone hands me another. I drink that too. And then another.

  What the hell. Maybe this is what I need to fall asleep.

  Problem is, when you don’t even weigh a hundred pounds with your snow boots on, it doesn’t take more than one or two drinks to put you over the edge. After the third, Todd’s party loses any and all charm for me. After only ten minutes, the smell of smoke is turning my stomach. And the reek of alcohol is hanging in the air like a smelly damp cloud. Plus, the music is so loud I can feel my skull throb. Giving up on finding Emma, I slide open the screen door and wander outside to the backyard. Todd’s dog follows me outside, clearly happy to get into the fresh air. A few couples are in the swimming pool, fooling around in the water. I pretend they’re large fish and keep walking. Jeepers creepers, what is it about water that makes people so horny?

  The air is better out here. I take some deep breaths. My head is spinning in slow-moving circles. It’s kind of nice, actually. I drop down onto one of the lime green lounge chairs that surround the pool. I close my eyes and the spinning gets a bit faster. Like I’m riding one of those teacup rides Dad used to take me on at the annual Canada Day fair. I lean my head back on the lime green cushion, curl onto my side, and try my best to enjoy it. Maybe sleep is finally on the way. My thoughts drift back to Ben and the spinning goes faster still.

  Suddenly, I feel a tapping on my shoulder. My eyes open to a narrow squint. Bleary Emma is standing above me hugging a beer, her eyes glassy like lake water. Beside her is Bleary Todd — owner of this house of wrecked kids.

  “Hey, s’up?” I mumble. My words sound like they’re coming from the other side of the yard. Wild. “I’ve been looking for you, Emma.”

  She has a freckled arm wrapped around Todd’s shoulder. Just like a polka-dot scarf, I hear a little voice that doesn’t sound entirely unlike Aunt Su’s say in my head. Har-har.

  “Just here to cash in on a little bet,” Emma says, her words running into each other like a melting cherry slushie. “Todd didn’t believe me when I told him you were here. When I said you were out in the backyard, he thought I was yanking his chain. Bet me five bucks.”

  As soon as that last word is past her lips, she lets out a loud hiccup and a giggle. Todd laughs too. “Hey, Lily, did you bring any party favours from your aunt’s garden?” He’s smiling at me, probably too drunk to realize how hurtful that comment is. Pulling the bottle of beer out of Emma’s hands, he tilts his head back and drains it dry. My stomach lurches at the sight. All I want to do is close my eyes and get back to my spinny teacup ride.

  “So you see?” Emma turns and punches him in the ribs. “She’s here like I said she was. Now pay up, smartass!”

  I watch as Bleary Todd fishes a fiver out of his pocket and slaps it into Bleary Emma’s hand. My eyelids begin to feel like there are lead weights attached to them. Emma disentangles herself from Todd’s arm and holds up the bill in triumph.

  “Hey, Lily, I’ll treat you to some fries. Maybe at the drive-thru later tonight?”

  Her voice rises to a squeal on the words drive-thru. With a wink, she turns around and stumbles back towards the house. As soon as we’re alone, Todd sits down on the end of the lounge in the big empty space where my short legs can’t reach. He shoots me a sheepish, little-boy smile. “Sorry about that whole bet thing. I just didn’t believe it when she said you were here tonight. I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you out at any party before.”

  “Yeah, I usually try to avoid scenes like this.”

  Todd’s smile widens as he leans back on his elbows. Wow, he has nice teeth.

  “Why? Are you shy or something?”

  There’s that word again. “No,” I snap, maybe a little too harshly. “Not at all. Just highly selective about the company I keep.”

  Todd sits up straight and I can see his pale eyebrows scrunch together with hurt. “So why’d you bother coming here tonight if we’re all so beneath you?”

  I roll my eyes at my own stupidity. Now can you see why I avoid people? I always end up saying the wrong thing and coming off like a bitch. I feel bad. I reach for his hand to apologize. Problem is at that moment, Bleary Todd is sporting four hands (and two heads). Trying to focus my eyes as much as possible, I take a shot in the dark and somehow manage to choose the one of the hands that isn’t a drunken mirage.

  “No, that’s not what I meant. I’m actually glad I came here tonight. I’ve always been curious to, you know, see what these things are all about.”

  I can tell he likes my answer because the scrunch in his forehead smoothes right out. We stare at each other like that for a few seconds. Todd is actually pretty good looking. And I’m not just thinking that because I’m smashed. Why have I never noticed him before? Like, really noticed him? And, more to the point, why does he suddenly seem to be noticing me?

  That’s when one of the couples who were making out in the pool climb up the side and throw their dripping selves down onto the lime green lounge chair beside us. And then they start flopping around like two giant fish out of water. Suddenly the view is all sliding tongues, speeding hands, and twisting torsos. It’s like a scene right out of Aunt
Su’s romance novels — without the luxury of being able to close the book and toss it onto the floor. Yeah, holding Todd’s hand and watching these two make out right beside us is quite possibly one of the more awkward moments I’ve ever had to endure. Then the girl lets out a little moan and the whole thing officially takes the gold medal for cringe-worthiness.

  Forgetting all about Todd for a minute, I close my eyes so I don’t have to watch the X-rated scene going on beside me. But the slurpy sound of their lips sucking on each other is impossible to escape. I’m just about to get up and run away when I feel a hand gliding around the back of my neck. Todd must have taken my closed eyes as some kind of an invitation because the next thing I know, his mouth is on mine. My eyes pop open in shock. For a few seconds, I can’t even move. His lips are kind of chapped and his breath smells like beer and weed. After I get over my initial impulse to smack him away, I decide to let him push his tongue into my mouth. I mean, what the hell; I’m dying anyway, right?

  Okay, confession time again. This is kind of my first kiss. Yup, that kiss you’re destined to remember forever because it’s the first real one. Except I’m not sure I want to be remembering it forever. Even if my forever is only a few more days. For starters, it’s a whole lot messier than I imagined it would be. When you watch people making out in the movies or on tv, it all seems so perfect and neat. And this is all wet and kind of squishy — like there’s an oversized goldfish swimming around in my mouth. Don’t get me wrong, I want to enjoy it. The aching hole inside me that Aunt Su left needs to be filled and this seems like a decent way to do it. So, I let Todd kiss me for a while. I even kiss him back. After a few minutes, he starts to pick up speed. I can hear his breath panting against my face and I know he’s getting way more excited about this than I am. As much as I want to like the whole first-kiss thing, it just isn’t happening for me. Cute as Todd is, he’s kind of slobbery and his tongue sweeping through my mouth is about as exciting as a dental cleaning. When I feel his hands climb up under my shirt and start fumbling with the back of my bra, I decide to put the brakes on. For God’s sake, a klutz like Todd could work for an hour with those tiny little clasps and not get anywhere. Just the thought of it smashes any infinitesimal chance at the romance I’m trying to force myself into feeling.

  I’m so over it.

  My first kiss, sealed forever in a flush of beer-flavoured spit. This is what all the fuss is about? Call me crazy, but I think dying alone while counting the tiny stucco bumps on my bedroom ceiling is better than this. See what a freak of nature I am? The only teenager in the world who doesn’t like to party, get wasted, and have casual sex.

  Pushing him off me with one hand, I drag the other over my mouth to wipe away the trail of his spit on my lips. “Stop, Todd,” I say, swinging my legs off the lounge. “I’m tired. I want to go home now.”

  He looks so disappointed — like a kid whose ice cream cone just fell over into the sand. “Why?” he whines. “I thought we were just getting started.”

  Sheesh! Is this how guys get their way with girls? By handing out guilt trips?

  “Sorry, I … I just gotta go.”

  “Wait!”

  Too late. I jump up and start walking away before he can say anything else. My head is still spinning, but I manage to get away without falling over.

  Walking home is a balancing act, but I make it in one piece. And the entire time, all I can think about is Ben. And the stack of secrets he seems to be working so hard to hide.

  And how goddamned much I wish it had been him kissing me tonight instead of Todd.

  THIRTEEN

  I know something is wrong the second I walk through the front door. All the lights are on and the house is practically humming with nervous expectation. And when I hear an all-too-familiar tapping noise coming from the kitchen, I brace myself for the inevitable confrontation.

  General MacArthur is awake. And, by the sound of it, none too happy.

  Just great.

  Trying my best to act as sober as possible, I walk slowly and steadily down the hall and into the fire. She’s waiting for me — sitting at the round, glass table, arms folded defensively over her chest and legs crossed so tightly I think she might actually be about to cut off the blood supply to her toes. Her red slipper is bouncing up and down restlessly, hitting the floor in a frantic drumbeat. And there’s a half-eaten, slowly soggifying bowl of Cheerios in front of her.

  Crap, how long has she been waiting up?

  “Where have you been, Lily?” Her voice is low — practically a growl.

  I take a deep breath, hoping the answer won’t come out all slurry and drunk. Take it easy, Lily. Short and simple and she’ll never know.

  “Out at a friend’s housh … house.”

  General MacArthur actually smiles at that. “But you don’t have any friends, my dear.”

  She has me there. I take another deep, sobering breath. “Well, I’m trying to change things up this year. Thought you’d be happy about that.”

  Now, as you can probably imagine, all those sobering breaths aren’t such a smart idea. Because it doesn’t take long for the smell of my sins to blow straight over to Mom’s nose and rat me out.

  “I can smell the alcohol on your breath from here,” she says, her thin nose wrinkling. “What have you been drinking?”

  Shrug.

  “I don’t know.”

  “And is that smoke I smell on you?”

  I have no choice but to full-out confess. Trust me, you’d have done the same thing in my shoes. Let’s face it, hiding the truth is just going to make it worse. Control freaks like my mother don’t handle lies very well — throws their perfect world way off axis.

  “Okay, yeah, smoke and alcohol. It was a party. You’ve heard of those, right?”

  She lets out a loud, gusty sigh. “Lily, you’re fifteen! Drinking and smoking are illegal at your age! Did you know that?”

  “Yeah.”

  Another sigh. At this rate, she’s going to hyperventilate. With any luck, maybe she’ll pass out. My left hand rises up behind my back and I secretly cross my fingers.

  “In this condition, I just hope you weren’t anywhere near the water tonight.”

  I shake my head, pushing the images of the lake and the pool out of my thoughts. She doesn’t have to know the whole truth, does she?

  “So, what exactly were you thinking, young lady?”

  I shrug to let her know I don’t care. To tell you the truth, for the first time in history I’m not really that scared of her. Guess when you’re facing imminent death by exhaustion, a yelling mother isn’t such a big deal. I mean, really — what can she possibly do to make my life any worse than it is? Demerit points?

  “I just knew something was up when you got that phone message from that girl Emma. You know, some parents out there would call the police and let them press charges for a stunt like this. Maybe that would be the best way for you to learn a lesson about responsibility.”

  WTF? Okay, so prison, on the other hand, is kinda scary. I stare at her closely, trying to figure out if she’s serious or not. She stares back at me, her eyes like stones.

  “Come on, Mom.” My voice is pleading now. “Don’t tell me you waited until you were legal to have your first drink.”

  She doesn’t even blink at that. Man! How is it possible that she and Aunt Su were even remotely related?

  “Merde, Mom —”

  “I understand French too, and there’s no call for swearing, young lady.” She pushes her half-eaten bowl of cereal at me. “Here, eat something.”

  My stomach flops over at the sight of it.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Eat! It’ll help you metabolize that alcohol and save me the trouble of having to clean up the mess of vomit that’s surely coming.”

  I’m about to refuse again when I remember what Dad said about her worrying. Something about how she only pushes food at me when she’s freaking out. My thoughts fly back to all those weekend days at
the Docks when I was a little kid. She used to follow me into the ocean with food in her hands, pushing me to eat something when all I wanted to do was play in the waves. And all those days when she’d show up after my swimming lessons with a gallon of cookies in her purse. With a sigh, I sink into the nearest chair.

  “Can I at least have something that’s not soggy?”

  She stands up and walks slowly to the cupboards. When she comes back, she’s carrying a clean bowl, a spoon, and a Pyrex container filled with strawberries. I pop one in my mouth while General MacArthur fills my bowl with fresh Cheerios.

  “I know it’s not the first time you’ve snuck out at night,” she says quietly, dropping into the seat beside me. I scoop a spoonful of cereal into my mouth and crunch. Right now, that’s the only answer she’s gonna get out of me.

  “This behaviour isn’t at all like you, Lily,” she presses. “You haven’t been yourself since Su died.”

  Hey, give the lady a prize! I shovel another spoonful into my mouth.

  Her hand lands ever so gently on my back. “How’s your sleeping?”

  Shrug. “Beachy keen.”

  Exasperated mom sigh #3.

  “So, want to tell me what’s going on?”

  I shake my head so hard it almost throws the rest of me off balance. If Mom finds out I’m dying a slow death by exhaustion, she’ll come up with a drastic way to try and fix it. Like taking me to the hospital and demanding a medically induced coma or something insane like that. No, asking for her help is just asking for more trouble.

  She stands up slowly, hands slipping into the pockets of her robe. Her lips are pressed together in a thin pink line. Just watch, this is the part where she loses it. My mother needs control and I’m flat out refusing to pass over the reins. Her nostrils flare with outrage. Okay, here it comes …

  “I don’t think you’re leaving me much choice here, Lily. My job as your mother is to keep you safe. So I’m grounding you until further notice. There’ll be no more sneaking out at night.”