by J. M. Kelly
“I tried to make a chart like you always do for me,” she says, “but . . . oh, screw it. I’m a loser and we both know it. I never would’ve gotten this far without you.”
“That’s totally not true,” I say. It kind of is, but only the part about me helping her get organized. She’s not good at that. Also, unless it’s numbers or something physical, like this job or taking care of Nat, she can’t make herself care very much. I can see tears glistening in her eyes again, so I look away and rush on. “How long ago did you drop out?”
“Two weeks, I guess. It was right after you got your financial aid. But that’s not why. I was way behind already, and I couldn’t take it anymore, the looks from my teachers and stuff.”
“Did you officially quit, like go into the office and sign the papers, or did you just stop going to class?”
Amber looks up at me, surprise in her wet eyes. “You mean you have to sign papers to drop out?”
“I think so. Otherwise they just think you’re skipping.”
She shakes her head, a tiny smile tugging at her mouth. “God. I’m such a fuck-up. I can’t even drop out of high school right.” And then she starts laughing. Her shoulders are shaking, and it’s totally contagious and I crack up too. We laugh until we’re gasping for breath, tears streaming down our faces.
We’re standing there still shaking with laughter when Brad comes in with a pile of baking sheets and pots for Amber to wash. “Okay, you two. Break it up, you slackers.” He’s smiling at us, though.
“Bite me,” Amber says, laughing harder, and he shakes his hair-netted head and goes back to the kitchen.
We spend the next hour and a half working side by side like the old days. Instead of talking about our future and the apartment we’re going to get together, we plan a way for Amber to graduate. I’m going to go with her to talk to her teachers, and if that doesn’t work, we’ll get Ms. Spellerman on our side.
“We still have three weeks until finals,” I say. “You can do it.”
“Maybe if you help me.”
I squeeze her shoulder. “Promise.”
I know Amber thinks I’ve let her down by wanting to change our plans, but I’ve got her back this time. When I get my diploma, she’s gonna be right there beside me. And who knows what will happen after that?
Chapter 22
A man in a suit ducks between us. “Sorry,” he says, stepping out of the way.
Mom holds up the digital camera she borrowed from Aunt Pearl. “Now one with the baby.”
Nat seems less like a baby every day. Tomorrow’s her first birthday, but today’s our day, and Gil hands her to Amber. I adjust my sister’s graduation gown when it rides up under Natalie’s diapered butt, and then I put one arm around Amber and we lean our heads together, our caps meeting in the middle. Right when Mom snaps the picture, Nat grabs my tassel and yanks, and we all laugh as the cap flies off. I hope Mom got that shot.
I had the cap bobby-pinned on during the ceremony, but I pulled it loose right afterward so me and Amber could pretend to throw them in the air for pictures. There was no way we’d really toss them, though. It’s against school rules and they’re frickin’ Nazis about it. Apparently they’re afraid someone will get their eye poked out and there’ll be a lawsuit. They told us if we throw them, they’re holding our diplomas, which I don’t really think they can do, but at this point we aren’t taking any chances.
I rescue my cap from Natalie’s grip of steel, rest it on her head, and Mom takes some more pictures. Then she gets one of me and Amber with Han, and he takes some of us with Nat, Mom, and Gil.
Gil’s holding Natalie, and he says, “Say Papa! Pa-pa! Nat, say Papa!”
He’s been going on like this for days, claiming Natalie can talk and her first word was “Papa.” Apparently this happened when he was watching her and I was in the shower getting ready for work. No one else has heard her say it, though, and when I point out that he’s her grandpa, not her papa, he tells me the whole word’s too hard to say so they’re starting small.
“Okay, smile,” Han tells us.
“Pa-pa!” Nat says.
“I told you!” Gil crows.
He raises Nat in the air, and she yells, “Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa!”
He nuzzles the side of her neck, and she screeches with laughter. I hope Han gets some good pictures of them because I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so proud. I can’t believe Mom and Gil are here at a school function, but they are. Mom’s even wearing real shoes instead of slippers or dollar store flip-flops. And Gil has done something to what’s left of his hair with styling gel. At least, we hope that’s what he used. It could be Crisco.
We take one more picture where me and Amber hold up our empty diploma covers—they’re going to mail us the real thing in a few weeks—and then we go with Han to wait in the cap-and-gown return line. I guess you have to buy them at most schools, but here they let us rent them, or else no one would come to graduation. The students at our school don’t have money for stuff you only wear once.
“How come you didn’t tell us you were getting an award?” Han asks me, smirking.
“I didn’t know,” I say. “If I did, I wouldn’t have come. That was so lame.”
Amber takes the framed certificate from me and examines it as we walk. “It is pretty geeky to miss less than fifty days in four whole years.”
I couldn’t believe it when they called my name. Me and two other dorks. When we were standing up there on the stage, my face probably as red as my hair, one of the guys told me that at other schools the award’s for missing less than five days in all four years, but at Sacajawea they have to add a zero to the five in order to find anyone to give the award to. I don’t know how this guy knew that, but he looked like the kind of nerd who would, so I totally believe him. I bet they don’t do stupid shit like this at college.
I try to shake off the thought of college, telling myself not to think about that now. We have a party to go to. Gil knows someone who works at the VFW hall as a cleaner, and since graduation’s on a Wednesday and not a weekend, he was able to get a discount on the rental. We’re the first girls in our whole family to graduate. All my aunts chipped in to throw us a bash. We’re making the room do double duty by having Natalie’s birthday party at the same time.
After we turn in our rented clothes, we all pile into the Mustang and head for the hall. Since we only got four tickets between us, none of our other family came for the ceremony, and the party’s already going strong when we get there. Inside the door is a table with a few gift bags for me and Amber on one end, but it’s mostly piled high with colorful packages for the birthday girl.
There’s a banner on one wall that says BABY’S FIRST BIRTHDAY! and another one below it with CONGRATS, GRADS! in rainbow colors. Someone’s used a Sharpie to add an s to the end of “grad” to make it plural. In the kitchen, our aunts put out tons of food from the bakery, and while we’re all checking out Natalie’s cake, Gil’s brother, Tom, comes in with a stack of pizzas. Gil’s right behind him with Jade’s boyfriend and a couple of other guys I don’t know, all carrying cases of beer and pop.
One of the advantages to the VFW hall is that it’s in our neighborhood. We don’t have to worry about anyone driving drunk because they can all stumble home. That and the fact that me, Aunt Ruby, and Jade’s boyfriend are the only ones with cars anyway.
A couple of hours later, Han shows up. He had to go do the whole family thing with his parents before they’d let him come over here. Natalie’s ripping paper off her presents—or more accurately, her cousins are “helping” her open the gifts while she chews on a bow. I can see that getting Nat’s new dolly away from Lapis is gonna be a big problem later when it’s time to go, but I decide not to worry about it now.
Han gives Natalie a pair of tiny silver starfish earrings for her birthday, which is really nice. She can keep them forever. They’re babyproof ones, too, so we don’t have to worry about her getting them out an
d choking or anything.
I considered inviting David, but then I chickened out. His mom and dad rented a banquet room at a hotel for his graduation party last weekend. Luckily, I had to work, so even though he sent me an engraved invitation, I didn’t have to go. I gave him a used book on hot rods last weekend, and he got me a brand-new one on the history of Mustangs, and that was our big celebration.
Around eight, Jimmy and Betty stop by, and Jimmy gives me two presents. The first one is a joke: a can of Bondo, the putty you use to fix dents. He tells me he got it to remind me I don’t need no “stinkin’ college education” because aside from him, I’m the best body guy he knows. Sometimes I think I’m the son he never had.
The second gift is super heavy, and I think I know what it is before I open it. I pull off the classifieds he used for wrapping paper and find a red toolbox full of some really top-notch tools. “Wow! Thanks.” I give him an awkward hug, maybe our first one ever, and I feel kinda teary, but then Betty chimes in with her usual chintziness.
“He won that at a car show a couple of weeks ago. I thought we should sell it on eBay, but the shipping would’ve been way too much for anyone to buy it.”
Jimmy scowls, and I rush to cover her rudeness. “I’m happy to have it. Thanks.”
“I knew you’d appreciate it,” Jimmy says, giving his wife the look of death. Mercifully, Gil stumbles over at that moment, holding out a beer to Jimmy, who takes it and downs half of it in one swig.
By the time Natalie pounds her fists into her cake and everyone gets more pictures than we’ll ever need, I’m beat. I find Amber washing frosting out of her hair in the kitchen. “Do you think everyone’s drunk enough that we can leave and they won’t notice?”
“Probably.”
We consider sneaking out, but that’s hard to do with an almost-one-year-old who’s hopped up on sugar, especially when we have a load of presents we need to pry out of her cousins’ hands. It takes an hour before we finally get out of there. By the time we do, I’m ready to drop.
Once Nat’s in her car seat, she zonks out before I’ve even gotten her all the way buckled in. I slide into the driver’s seat and we sit there in silence, letting the stillness wrap itself around us like a soothing blanket. I start to turn the key, and then I stop.
“Amber?”
“Yeah?”
“If I turn on this car and the radio’s blasting, I will have to kill you. High school graduate or not.”
She laughs and reaches for the knob, turning it all the way to the left until it clicks off.
“Good call,” I say.
Later, Natalie’s had a bath and is in her crib, and me and Amber are slumped on the couch, vegging out in front of the TV. A Hallmark commercial comes on, showing a bunch of “special graduation moments,” and Amber reaches over and grabs my hand.
“We did it. Thanks, Crys.”
“No problem.” Then I laugh. “Well, maybe a few problems. But we made it.”
The commercial ends, and in that split second of silence before the next one starts, Amber says, “If you promise we can come back in four years, I’ll go to Kansas with you.”
I wrap my arms around my sister and hug her hard. “I promise.”
This is officially the best day of my life.
Chapter 23
One of the things on the list of stuff to bring to college is a computer. I call Han and tell him I need his help.
“What kind do you want?”
“A laptop. Something cheap,” I say. “And new. I don’t want a used piece of shit. It has to last me for all of college.”
“Good luck with that.”
“Really?”
“No, I’m kidding. Kind of. I’ll find you something that’ll last at least a couple of years.”
“Cool.”
He talks me into a refurbished one instead of new, which is really why I asked him for help in the first place—he knows about stuff like that. If you want to buy a car, you should ask me, but for everything else, Han’s your guy.
A week later I’m the proud owner of a pre-owned shiny black laptop.
Now that school’s over, Amber starts working most nights at the Glass Slipper and weekdays at Big Apple Pizza so she can make as much money as possible for the move. David’s busy with a summer internship and I pick up a lot of his shifts at the station, plus it’s busier in the shop, so I get to work in there on the weekends. We can still take Nat to the daycare at the school for the summer. The idea is to give new graduates a chance to either work full-time or find jobs if they don’t have one.
We fall into a routine, but Nat still keeps us hopping. She wants to do everything herself. She won’t let us feed her and grabs the spoon every time. Things that used to take ten minutes now take thirty. And she gets better at scooting and pulling herself up, holding on to the edges of furniture and moving so fast that we’re always lunging after ballpoint pens and Gil’s pipe before she can grab them and stick them in her mouth.
“God,” Amber says one evening as she pries a lighter out of Natalie’s chubby little hands while she screeches. “I didn’t think we’d ever be as tired as we were right after she was born. But she’s killing me.”
I’m collapsed on the couch. “I know. Me too.”
I take Natalie outside as much as possible so she can get fresh air, and she loves Bonehead, which is good. He follows her around our little yard, getting between her and the sidewalk if she starts to go too far and herding her back to where it’s safe. Who knew he could actually be useful for something besides being a car alarm? While he watches her, I mess around with the engine of my car or take five-minute breathers in the sunshine.
Ever since Amber decided we could go to Kansas, things have been great between us. We haven’t been able to find an apartment in McPherson yet, but we talk about moving all the time. It’s like our old plan, except better, because after four years, we’re gonna come back to Portland and I’ll be able to make a real living. I haven’t told anyone this, but I’ve come up with an even better idea than buying Jimmy’s shop when he retires. I’m thinking the two of us should go into business together—sell the gas station and open a real full-service restoration shop. With his connections and the skills I’ll learn, me and Jimmy’d be a great team.
I’m working at the station almost every day, and I can’t help but see the price of gas going up, up, up. It’s seventeen hundred miles to McPherson, and the Mustang isn’t exactly known for its good gas mileage. This trip’s going to cost us a lot. To help us cut down on travel expenses, Han finds us some secondhand camping gear so we don’t have to stay in a motel every night. Amber’s not sure a tent is a great idea with a baby, but I keep telling her it’ll be an adventure.
The problem is, Amber’s not acting like she wants an adventure. In fact, she’s freaking me out a little. “If we can find a two-bedroom apartment,” I tell her, “it’ll be like a mansion. Especially after the tent. Can you imagine Natalie having her own room?”
Amber looks at me and I’m surprised by the alarm on her face. “I don’t want her to have her own room! I want to keep sharing with both of you. Promise me we’ll get a studio.”
“I doubt anyone will rent us a studio for three people. But we can get a one-bedroom if you want and all share.”
“I do, Crys. I’m going to be alone enough as it is.”
School doesn’t start until the twenty-first of August, but as July flies by, we’re getting pretty worried about finding a place to live. As usual, Han comes through for us. He drops by the station and follows me around while I’m pumping gas.
“It’s a one-bedroom, the top floor of a house, right in town. You can walk to campus. I talked to the landlord on the phone,” he says, “and she’s okay with having a baby in the apartment, but you have to rent the place from the first of August.”
“I was hoping someone would let us do half the month.”
“I know, but she told me she’s got a big waiting list of people who wa
nt the place, so you better take it.”
I scrub the windshield of a 1999 Ford pickup while the guy goes inside to pay. “Okay. We’re in. Thanks, Han.”
Once the apartment’s rented, we make a firm plan to leave on July twenty-eighth. I want to take it slow on the road. When Natalie was younger, she would’ve slept the whole way, but now we worry she’s gonna be restless. Also, I’ve never driven so far, and I’m not sure how tired I’ll get. We’re also thinking that if we get to town ahead of most of the students, Amber can find a part-time job before all the good ones are taken.
I thought she’d be thrilled to hear Han found us such a nice place to live, but instead she gets all teary about leaving everyone behind.
“The heat’s included in the rent,” I tell her. “And an air conditioner, too.”
“Yeah, I know . . . It’s just . . .”
“Just what?”
“I don’t know. Ignore me. I’m being stupid.”
I try to stay excited about going, but Amber seems so sad all the time that I spend a lot of energy trying to think of ways to make the move easier for her. One day when Mom and Gil are out, I get Han to come over and help us set up Skype on my new computer. “So you can talk to Jade and Aunt Ruby whenever you want,” I tell Amber.
Instead of cheering her up, that makes her look sadder, her face all worry lines and glistening eyes. “Mom doesn’t have Skype.”
Mom’s the last person I thought Amber would miss. Aunt Ruby and Jade, yeah, but Mom? They get along okay, but they’re definitely not close. “We’ll get a phone,” I tell her, hoping that’ll make her feel better. “And I was thinking, maybe we could fly home for spring break.”
She sighs, her chin drooping, and I look at Han for help. He shrugs.
“Amber? What’s wrong?” My heart clenches when I say it. If she’s backing out on me now, only ten days before we leave, I’m going to have a stroke.
She shakes her head and gives me a fake smile. “Nothing. Everything’s fine.”
Natalie yells to be picked up, and Han goes over and gets her out of the swing he found at a garage sale for ten bucks. “I’m gonna miss you, baby,” he says.
