“But if you’d let them get to know you instead of keeping them at arm’s length, then I’m sure they’d come to love all of you.”
“I don’t care if they like me or not. They called me freak girl for years.”
“And I heard you call them the Barbie Brigade,” Mom retorted.
“I say that to Perry, not to their faces.”
“Is it really that much better?” She added the finished mailer to a pile on the floor. “They judged you, you judge them. Maybe it’s time to put an end to all that. They’re reaching out to you, Clare. Why not give it a try?”
A slow smile spread across my lips as an idea occurred to me. “I’ll make a deal with you. The next time the Barbie Brigade invites me to something, I’ll say yes.”
“Under what condition?” Mom asked suspiciously.
“The next time Phil Tisdell asks you out, you say yes. You give that a try.”
She sighed heavily and clasped her hands.
“Perry and I both want you to be happy, Mom.” I added in a soft voice. “No one would blame you for moving on.”
“Just one date?” she asked.
“That’s the deal.”
“Fine.”
“Yes!” I pumped my arm for this small yet giant victory. I pushed back my chair and stood up, stretching. “Now let’s take a break so you can teach me how to parallel park.”
She looked down at all the work she hadn’t finished. “I really don’t have the time, honey.”
“But I need the practice. My test is next month.”
“Periwinkle!” Mom’s yell echoed off the kitchen walls.
I winced. “Warn me the next time you’re going to do that.”
Perry trotted in a moment later. “Yeah?”
Mom, carefully wrapping a dress in tissue paper, said, “Could you take your sister out for a while? Let her practice driving?”
His eyes widened. “No, I’m too busy.”
“Doing what?” I asked.
“Um, I have to, ah, build Mom a new website to sell her dresses on. So she doesn’t have to go through eBay.”
Mom raised an eyebrow. “You said you couldn’t get started on that until I tell you what URL I want to purchase.”
“Well, yeah, but I was starting to, ah, conceptualize …”
Mom tilted her head slightly while Perry um’d and ah’d. He didn’t notice, but I knew she was taking a listen.
Finally, she slapped her hand on the table. “Stop this nonsense. You’re helping your sister and that’s that.”
His face darkened. “Fine.” He swiveled on his foot and stomped out of the kitchen.
Mom called out, “You’ll appreciate it after she has her license and doesn’t bug you to chauffeur her around anymore.”
I gave her a dirty look and whispered, “You listened to his thoughts.”
She shrugged. “I wanted to see what his problem was. He won’t tell me. I had no other choice. I had to make sure he was all right.”
“And?”
She waved her hand theatrically in the air. “He’s just being lazy. He was only thinking, ‘I don’t wanna go out. I don’t wanna go out.’ Over and over. Whining like a baby. I don’t know what to do about him.”
If she only knew what I knew: that Perry was considering skipping college altogether. She’d have a conniption.
I swiped Perry’s car keys off the hook and bolted past him on our way out. I scooted in behind the wheel, excitement pumping through my veins. Driving gave me a rush, a small taste of the freedom to come.
Perry cast one last wistful look at the house, then got in the passenger side.
“Oh, wipe the doom and gloom off your face,” I said. “It won’t be that bad.”
He grunted in response.
“I was thinking we could go down Hickory Lane.”
“Sure,” Perry muttered.
I took care backing out of the driveway, since we live on a main road. It would have been more difficult during the summer months, but now it took only a few moments for me to see the road was clear. I backed out, then shifted into drive. I pressed the accelerator too hard at first, then let up completely and the car jerked. I cringed, waiting for Perry to snap at me, but he stayed silent.
I kept the speed steady the rest of the way down Rigsdale and was starting to feel a bit proud of myself.
“You’re hugging the curb,” Perry said through gritted teeth.
“Sorry.” I saw that he was right. I was a bit nervous about the oncoming traffic and overcompensated by steering too close to the sidewalk instead of the dotted line. I corrected it.
“Thanks for the tip,” I added, wanting Perry to know I appreciated his taking me out like this. “Hey, I got Mom to agree to go on a date with Phil.”
I was expecting some form of “how the hell did you accomplish that?” but Perry only said, “That’s great.”
I risked a glance at him. He looked pale, almost sick, with beads of sweat gathering on his forehead. He gripped the door handle so hard, you’d think I was going a hundred miles an hour. I checked the speedometer, just in case. I was only going thirty. What was his problem?
I was so weirded out by his behavior that I didn’t see the light had turned red until we were almost upon it. I had to slam on the brakes.
Perry braced himself against the dashboard with both hands. “Clare! Red means stop, you know.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
The light turned green and I took a right onto quiet Hickory Lane, sometimes called Cottage Row by locals. It was a long road ending in a cul-de-sac, filled with cute little cottages. They were almost all vacation homes or summer rentals, now dark and empty in the fall. I let out a deep breath, feeling more comfortable.
“We should turn back,” Perry said, his voice catching.
“Don’t worry. This road is empty. I can’t run anyone over.”
“I’ve had enough.” His voice shook. “Let’s go home.”
I looked over at him and was startled. He’d seemed nervous before, but now he was terrified. His chest heaved in and out with each breath. Sweat stained his T-shirt. His hands were balled into bright white fists on his lap.
“What’s the matter with you?” I asked. “Are you sick?”
“Watch out!” he yelled, reaching for the wheel.
I turned back to the road just in time to see that while I was looking aghast at my brother, the car had swerved to the right. Directly at a man dragging a trash can down his driveway. A look of terror flashed on the man’s face as he flung himself backward. I jerked the wheel to the left, but Perry had reached out for it at the same time and accidentally pulled it to the right. I slammed on the brakes. The car fishtailed. And finally it stalled, after hitting something with a sickening crunch.
I OPENED MY EYES. IT TOOK A FEW SECONDS TO focus because I’d squeezed them shut so hard at the moment of impact. My hands still gripped the wheel, my arms stick-straight. I took a quick mental inventory to see if I was hurt, but I didn’t feel anything.
I brought my hands down to my lap in slow motion and turned to Perry. His eyes were open, but he looked like he was about to vomit. He brought his hands up to his face and pressed on his forehead.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He nodded quickly. “Let’s go.”
“We can’t go. I hit something.”
He ignored me and doubled over in his seat, face still covered.
My legs felt stiff as I got out and walked around to the back of the car, terrified of what I might find. A pickup truck sat in the driveway, its tailgate down. A rubber trash can lay on its side, but I didn’t think that was what I hit.
“What happened?” an angry voice asked.
I whirled around and saw a man getting up from the grass, wiping his pants off.
“I’m so sorry,” I pleaded as I rushed over to him. “I wasn’t paying attention. My brother looked sick and I was staring at him and the car swerved —”
I stopped as I re
cognized the man I’d just nearly killed. “Mr. Rylander?”
His mouth, too, opened in the surprise of recognition. “Clare Fern?” He frowned. “This kind of high jinks is the last thing I expected from someone like you.” He stepped closer and sniffed. “Have you been drinking?”
A teacher. I nearly ran over one of my teachers. I wished I could turn invisible. I glanced over my shoulder. Perry was still in the car, probably spraying puke all over the place, thanks to whatever bug he had. I turned back, my long hair covering half my face as I stared at the ground.
“I wasn’t drinking. I’m just apparently a bad driver. I’m very sorry.” Then I remembered the crunch. I gaped at him. “Did I hit you?”
“No, I launched myself backward just in time. You did, however, smash my fence.”
I walked over to my back bumper and there it was. One panel of a cute white picket fence on the ground under my tire. My hand flew up to my mouth. “I’m so sorry!”
“As you’ve said.” Rylander crossed his arms.
I was relieved that I hadn’t hit him, but also nervous. I had no idea how much it cost to fix a fence, but however much it was, it was probably more than I had at the moment. I rubbed the back of my neck. “I’ll, um, call my mother, and …”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, dropping his arms.
“What?”
“I don’t want to get you in trouble. I’m pretty handy with stuff like this. I’ll have that fence fixed in no time.”
“Really?” Gratitude washed over me. For once, I was glad Rylander tried so hard to be Mr. Likable. If it was Mr. Frederick, I’d have been in handcuffs.
“You should take him to a doctor, though.” He pointed at the car, where Perry was hunched over.
“I will,” I said, nodding gratefully. “I’ll get him checked out right away.”
I slid back into the driver’s seat, then wondered if that was such a great idea. After all, my driving practice had just ended in a fail with a capital F.
“You should probably drive,” I said to my brother.
Perry shook his head vehemently. “Just go. Go now.” He covered his ears with his hands, like he was trying to block out my voice. But I wasn’t even talking.
“I think I should take you to the ER.”
He turned to me, his face distorted into something I didn’t recognize. “Take. Me. Home. Now!”
“Okay, okay.” I turned the ignition and the car started. Thankfully, it was all in one piece. The bumper was damaged, but it could have been a lot worse.
I felt a little bump as the back tires came down off the curb. I was paranoid now and kept the speed at twenty, my eyes staring straight ahead.
“Just stop!” Perry yelled. “I can’t listen right now!” He pulled his head down between his knees.
“I’m not talking,” I said, taking a peek at him. He was in the crash position and I wondered if he had hit his head after all. But I didn’t want a repeat of what had just happened, so I forced my eyes to stay on the road this time, ignoring his moaning and groaning.
When we were almost home, he brought his head up, leaned back, and started to take deep breaths. As soon as I pulled into the driveway, he bolted out of the car, leaving the door open. I closed both doors and looked up at the house with my jaw clenched. Perry had run inside. He was probably already blabbing to Mom about what I did.
I lumbered up the porch and gingerly shut the door behind me, hoping to sneak upstairs.
“Clare?” Mom called out.
My shoulders slumped. “Coming.” I walked into the kitchen like a prisoner to execution.
Mom was stacking up her packages. “I’m heading out to the post office to mail these. How did the driving go?”
My eyes darted back and forth. “Where’s Perry?”
She shrugged. “Back to his room, I suppose. He bolted up the stairs without a word.”
He didn’t tattle, which was nice, but Mom was sure to see the giant dent in the bumper when she went out to the driveway.
“It didn’t exactly go smoothly,” I admitted.
With a worried look, Mom unloaded the packages from her arms back onto the table. “What happened?”
“Perry looked really sick. I thought he was going to throw up. And I was watching him instead of the road and … long story short, there’s a dent in the back bumper.”
Mom’s hand flew up to her chest. “Did you hit another car?”
“No, a fence. But it’s fine. Everything’s fine. No thanks to Perry.”
“It’s sounds like you’re trying to blame your brother for your mistake,” she said, furrowing her brow.
“I’m not. I mean, if he wasn’t acting psychotic, I would have had my eyes on the road, but yeah, I know it’s my fault. I’ll pay Perry for the repair somehow.”
Mom let out a long exhale. “Perry’s not fixing that old beast. It probably has less than a year of life left in it. It can still run with a dent in the bumper.” She shook her finger at me. “But from now on, you’re only doing your driving with me.”
I never wanted to get in a car with Perry again, so that was fine. I helped Mom load the packages into her car. After she drove away, I inspected the damage to Perry’s bumper. It really wasn’t that bad, but I still didn’t truly understand what had happened. Perry had been on edge as soon as we left the house. It got increasingly worse the farther away we got. Then, after the accident, it was like he was a crazy person. What had happened in that car?
I looked slyly at the passenger side. I could try to find out.
I glanced up at the house windows to make sure Perry wasn’t watching, then jumped into the passenger seat.
When we first started out, he’d been gripping the door handle, so I gripped it tightly with my right hand. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate.
The image flickered around the edges for a moment and then came into full view. Perry’s eyes were on the road, nowhere else. He never looked at me. Never looked out the window. Just straight ahead. I heard myself chattering to him, but tried to tune that out and focus on Perry’s inner thoughts.
Oh man, I don’t feel good.
It’s happening again.
I should have found a way to stay home.
Okay, try to stay calm. Take deep breaths. That website said you can talk yourself through this. Ugh. How can I talk myself through a heart attack?!
Then the car stopped short and the vision ended. That must have been when I slammed on the brakes at the light. I thought back to where Perry’s hands went then: the dashboard.
I placed my palms on the dash, where I would if I were bracing myself. Nothing came at first, so I spaced them out a little wider. The vision came quickly. An intense flash.
“Clare! Red means stop, you know.”
I heard myself apologizing, then the car took a right onto Hickory, and the vision ended. Perry must have returned his hands to his lap. I felt around a bit more: on the seat, the belt, but no visions surfaced. I was pretty sure Perry had his hands either balled up on his lap or gripping his head the rest of the way.
Two things concerned me. One, Perry had obviously been hiding a secret. He wasn’t just grumpy all the time. He’d been battling anxiety. And laziness wasn’t keeping him stuck in the house like a recluse. Panic attacks were.
My other concern was that I still hadn’t found out what changed after the accident. Perry had obviously been hearing a voice. But I had no way to find out what was going on in his head on the way home because he hadn’t touched anything.
I looked up at his window again. I guess I could try asking.
I went upstairs to Perry’s room. It was messy, as usual. His bed was unmade. His desk was covered in papers and books. His walls hadn’t changed since he was nine years old. They still had the same faded pennants: Red Sox, Bruins, Patriots, Celtics.
Perry, though, had changed.
He sat at his desk, staring down at his hands.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go
to the doctor?”
“I’m fine now,” he said.
“What happened back there?” I asked softly.
He moved to his bed and sat down. “I didn’t feel well.”
“I did a reading on the passenger side,” I confessed. “I know about the anxiety.”
I expected him to yell at me about invading his privacy, but instead he looked relieved. “Something changed inside me after everything happened this summer. I started to have these horrible feelings when I left home. Sweating, ragged breathing, chest pain, nausea.”
I sank down beside him. “Panic attacks.”
“Yeah.” He blinked back tears. “The first time it happened, I didn’t understand. I thought I was dying. Having a heart attack or something. But as soon as I was safely back home, it stopped. It started to happen more and more, and then I was scared to leave the house because I feared the panic attack that I knew would come.” He shook his head. “I know this probably makes no sense to you.”
“It makes perfect sense,” I said. “I saw a show about this once. You have agoraphobia.” I paused. “And I’m a huge jerk. I complained when you didn’t want to drive me places. When you deferred college.” I raked my hands through my hair. “Why didn’t I see what was really going on?”
Perry smiled sadly. “You don’t get it, do you? You’re the strong one, not me. Yeah, I know the right things to say to people, but there’s a big difference between charisma and strength. You’ve got strength. That’s why you didn’t see it. It wouldn’t even occur to you that I’d become afraid to leave the house.”
I wanted to tell him he was wrong. My whole life, I’d thought of Perry as the strong one and me as the meek one. He was extroverted and charismatic. He could calm Mom down quicker than a glass of wine. But here he was, saying I had the strength in the family. Despite how much I disagreed, he didn’t need me to be contrary right now.
Tears stung my eyes. I felt guilty for every time I’d snapped at him. For seeing him as moody instead of seeing someone who needed help. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more supportive.”
He shrugged. “You would have been if I’d just been honest. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. I was embarrassed, I guess.” He stared down at the floor.
Perception Page 9
