Wake

by Abria Mattina

  “I didn’t realize you were such an expert on the psychology of Chris Elwood.”

  “He’s boring and predictable. That’s why you don’t like him, isn’t it?” I’m spared the trouble of answering by Mrs. Hudson, who tells us to come to the front to collect ingredients and worksheets for today’s practical.

  Jem fills out the worksheet and I begin to set up the assignment with my porn star hands. “You didn’t answer my question,” he says quietly.

  “Because it’s a stupid question.”

  Jem turns to me with a strange look. His eyes seem more expressive for the fact that they don’t have lashes.

  “Don’t give me that look.”

  “What look?”

  “You know the one.”

  “Obviously not, or I wouldn’t have asked.”

  “Just measure the damn ingredients, Harper.”

  Tuesday

  There’s still a faint outline of my note-to-self on my hand after my morning shower. Should I leave it? Should I bug Elwood and give him another opportunity to ask uncomfortable questions? Should I give Jem another opportunity to razz me?

  So I scrub my hand raw. It doesn’t help much, because at lunch Paige asks me if I’ll be bringing anyone to the party after the dance. I guess word gets around—maybe Chris said something to her.

  “Yep. His name’s Luke.”

  Paige grins. “Are you guys a thing?” Whatever the hell that means. I just roll my eyes playfully and say, “Come on, Paige, you’re not gonna embarrass me, are you?”

  She squeals with delight, but promises to be cool. She says she can’t wait to meet him. A few tables over, I see Jem arguing quietly with the little ice skater. I wonder how they know each other, because from here it doesn’t look like they have much in common. She’s flamboyantly dressed, with gelled hair that’s barely longer than a buzz cut. I don’t even know her name but I decide that I like her, because she seems to be holding her own against Harper. Maybe he’ll be too pissed off about that to harass me in class today.

  “Hey, Paige?”

  “Mmmh?”

  “Who’s the girl with the short hair, talking to Harper?” Paige leans over to see who I’m talking about.

  “Oh, that’s just Elise. She’s on the social planning committee. That’s her brother she’s talking to.” The way Paige’s voice pitches down at the end implies the guy with cancer.

  Wednesday

  Doug comes over to visit Frank before dinner, and Luke tags along. It’s at this point that I realize I don’t have enough food left in the fridge to feed four, so a quick trip to the grocery store is in order. Luke offers to come with me, and we leave our brothers to watch the sportscast—or so they claim.

  Once we’re alone in the car Luke informs me that he told a few people about the party at Joey’s this Saturday.

  “Just two,” he says when he sees I’m concerned about this party getting out of hand. “Good friends of mine—Jake and Phil. All I had to do was mention girls.” That makes me laugh.

  “Only a few of them are single, you know.” This does nothing to dampen Luke’s enthusiasm. We don’t talk about Saturday again until he ambushes me with the subject in the condiments aisle. “So I was wondering, are we supposed to be going together or as friends?”

  “As friends. You’re free to chase the single girls.”

  “Aren’t you a single girl?”

  “Yeeeah…”

  Luke smiles like this isn’t at all uncomfortable. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from any guy who gets the wrong idea about you.”

  “Thanks. He’s tall and annoying and his voice goes high when he’s angry.”

  Luke snorts. “You’re a magnet for losers, aren’t you?”

  “Patent pending.”

  Thursday

  It’s a quiet day in Social Studies. Jem is absent. I enjoy the peace and quiet, but it’s actually sort of dull when he isn’t around to annoy me.

  As I walk to French for my last class of the day, I pass through the English department and notice Jem sitting in one of the classrooms. He has his head down on the desk, pillowed on skinny arms, and looks distinctly green. I bet he spent fourth period in the nurse’s office. Why he didn’t stay there is a mystery, because he looks like hell.

  I walk away to French, and Chris catches me up in the hall. All thought of my project partner drifts away in conversation with him. He wants me to bring my iPod to the after party; apparently he thinks I have good taste in music. I’m starting to think that he’s looking forward to the after party more than the dance, even though Joey hasn’t secured a source of alcohol yet, and there’s no guarantee that he will.

  On my way out to the parking lot, bored and tired, I see Harper walking with his little sister. She has a hand on his back for support and they’re moving pretty slowly.

  I guess my day wasn’t so bad.

  Friday

  It’s St. Valentine’s Day. A lot of people are wearing pink or red and the cafeteria food is themed today. Spaghetti and garlic bread, red Jell-O or chocolate cake for dessert, and fish sticks dyed with red food coloring. The latter turn everybody’s lips scarlet and Paige tries unsuccessfully to cover hers with lip gloss.

  In Social Studies, Mrs. Hudson has a pot of mini-roses on the front lab table. Jem tells me happy Valentine’s Day as I take my seat. That’s the first friendly thing he’s said all week.

  “Nice hat.” It’s red, of course. I didn’t figure him as the type to dress according to holiday, especially a mushy holiday.

  We’re copying overhead transparencies about the food pyramid today. It’s silent work and it doesn’t take long for note passing to start.

  Who’s your imaginary boyfriend today? Harper writes on the torn corner of his page. I can see him smirking out of the corner of my eye.

  You’re in a good mood today, I write back.

  He hesitates before writing: Who would be unhappy on a holiday that involves excessive amounts of sugar consumption?

  Because junk food is what you need. Don’t you ever get tired of puking?

  All the time, he writes.

  You’re in remission?

  Yeah.

  How long?

  I see Jem tap his fingertips on the lab table one after the other. He’s counting.

  Forty-nine days.

  Damn. That’s barely longer than I’ve been back in Smiths Falls.

  Jem: February 14 to 22

  Friday

  Basketball season is almost over, but the boys’ and girls’ varsity teams are holding an exhibition game in the gym as part of a fundraiser. I’m not sure what it’s for—I didn’t read the posters—but I guess the proceeds are going to whichever disease, natural disaster, or impoverished country they’ve chosen to take pity on.

  During lunch period the basketball teams put on their uniforms and set up a ticket/donations table in the lunchroom. I get to the cafeteria just in time to see Elise being canvassed by one of the seniors she was openly ogling the other day. I hope it isn’t too late for her to avoid embarrassing herself.

  I head over to the fundraiser table to save Elise from herself. I don’t know the guy she’s talking to, but he’s really tall, which makes her seem even shorter and me feel more protective of her. I watch them exchange money for game tickets and kick myself. If she doesn’t embarrass herself here, she will at that game.

  “Hang onto the stubs, ‘cause the girls’ team is holding a draw for door prizes. Doors open at six-thirty, game starts at seven.” Elise nods along with wide-eyed wonder like he’s telling her the secrets of the universe. He politely pretends not to notice her stare. “Yeah, so, we’re selling tickets at the door, too, so bring your family, friends… girlfriend?”

  Elise’s intense smile disappears. I push past Chris shit-for-brains Elwood and try to grab Elise’s arm, but she darts away before I can. The basketball player looks a little horrified, watching her run away in tears.

  “Dude,” is all I can say to him. I turn to
follow Elise. She has a good head start, and I hope she hasn’t gone into the girls’ bathroom or some other place where I can’t get to her.

  Her ego is going to be bruised for weeks. If that guy she likes thinks she’s gay, there’s no way he’s interested in her, and Elise isn’t going to take that well. And that stereotyping jerk had to blurt out his assumption in front of a group of people—I can already hear what uncreative taunts they’ll have for her by Monday morning, and it’s not like her hair will grow to out by then. I’m sure that’s why he thought she was a lesbian. Why else would a girl have such short hair, right?

  I feel even worse because it’s my fault her hair is short to begin with. She collected sponsorships to shave her head last fall and donated the money to cancer research projects. Girly little Elise wouldn’t have done anything like that unless someone close to her had cancer—me.

  I find her curled up on the backseat of Eric’s car, holding her knees and crying. She’s locked all the doors.

  “Open up.” I tap on the window and she gives me the finger.

  “Come on, open up. We’ll go get food somewhere—I’ll take you for ice cream or something.” That’s the universal comfort food for girls, right?

  “Go away!”

  I give her some time and space to calm down, but when I return to the car after fourth period, she’s still sitting in the back seat. She only opens the door when I suggest that we cut classes for the rest of the day and go home early. When Mom and Dad come home they find us on the couch in the den, watching Harry Potter. They take one look at Elise—full Hogwarts uniform, round glasses, wand in hand—and say, “Bad day, sweetie?”

  Saturday

  I wake up to find Elise in my room, standing in front of my closet mirror with one of my hats on.

  “What are you doing?”

  She tugs the toque off and her hair sticks up in all directions. We both inherited that unfortunate genetic trait. “Do you think it would look good if I dyed my hair blonde?”

  “No. You’d get called a blonde ditz all the time and your Harry Pothead costume would look even dumber.”

  “Only if I kept wearing Gryffindor colors.” She twists a short lock of her hair around her finger, frowning. “Maybe I’ll dye it red like yours.”

  “What the hell do you mean, like mine?”

  Elise huffs. “You’re so sensitive.”

  “Put my hat back where it belongs.” I roll over and drop the pillow over my head to broadcast ‘go away.’ It doesn’t work. A few seconds later I feel the mattress dip as Elise climbs on.

  “Forget dyeing it,” she says. “Maybe I should go with extensions.”

  “Elise, you seem to be laboring under the delusion that I am your sister. If you want to talk about girly shit like your hair, go to Mom.”

  “But Jemmy,” she whines, and flops down on the pillows next to me. “Mom’s busy. And you’re honest.”

  I hold the pillow tighter over my face to muffle my groan. “Don’t get extensions. Your hair’s too short; it’ll look like shit.”

  I shouldn’t have encouraged her. She snuggles up to me and asks more of my opinion. “Maybe I’ll just dye the front part? I could do something edgy like blue.”

  “Or you could act your age and get a boyfriend.” She makes injured puppy sounds at that. Elise has mastered the art of being the spoiled youngest child. She can play us all like violins.

  “Sorry.”

  “But while we’re on the subject, you could use a girlfriend.”

  I yawn. “Yeah, right. Know anyone interested in emaciated bald guys?”

  “Your personality is the bigger turn-off,” she says, and pats my head. Fucker.

  *

  I get up and take a shower as an excuse to make Elise leave me alone. A big fat day of nothing stretches in front of me. The school dance is tonight, but hell if I’m going. It’ll be a quiet evening without Elise for once.

  By the time I get out of the shower I can hear Harry Potter playing downstairs, and decide I need to get out of here. I get dressed and ask to borrow Mom’s car.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Visiting some friends.” I can see what friends? written on her face before Eric tactfully blurts it out.

  “School friends.”

  “Did you grow this friend in a petri dish in Bio?” I take off my shoe and throw it at him.

  “Eric, that’s enough.”

  “He threw a shoe at me!”

  Mom gives me a disapproving look, but she’s been prone to letting my shenanigans slide since I got sick. I get off with just an apology to Eric, but I just know he’s going to mess with my stuff while I’m gone as payback.

  Mom sighs and tells me to have the car back by seven. It’s loaned to me on the condition that I drive Elise and her friends to the dance.

  At first I just drive around Smiths Falls with no destination in mind. I stop at the store for a cup of yogurt, and then carry on driving around aimlessly. I end up sitting in the school parking lot, eating strawberry yogurt and watching the streamers for tonight’s dance flap in the wind.

  I really need to work on making some friends. I had a good group of friends back in Ottawa, before we moved. I haven’t heard from Emily in awhile. Her emails have been sparse since Christmas. I guess I’ve fallen a few places on her priority list now that she has a boyfriend, whatever the hell his name is.

  A girlfriend might be a good idea too. Not that Elise was right, or anything. It’s just a thought.

  Really? And how much would you pay her to pretend to be attracted to you?

  Maybe I’ll get lucky and find a blind asexual girl to go out with. Or maybe a chick with dementia that can’t compare me to other guys and realize I’m rather inadequate.

  When I get sick of my own thoughts I turn on the radio to fill the silence. “Ruby Tuesday” by the Stones is playing, and I’m reminded of Willa. Maybe I’ll drop by unannounced to bother her again. I could make it a Saturday tradition, since I have nothing else to do with my weekends.

  *

  When I get to the Kirk house, Willa is shoveling the driveway. She asks me what the hell I’m doing there and I ask her if she wants help clearing snow off the cars. She hands me a brush.

  “You’re not getting ready to drive to the dance, are you?”

  “I don’t do stuff like that.”

  “So what are you doing tonight?”

  “Your mom.” I didn’t know anyone over the age of ten still made ‘your mom’ jokes.

  “No, really.”

  Willa shrugs. “Hanging out. Going down to Joe Moore’s house tonight.”

  “What’s at his house?” I thought Elwood was trying to get into her pants. Did I miss that dunce Moore’s attempts to do the same? Does she keep turning down Elwood because she’s into Moore?

  “A small after party with people from school, and some of my friends from Port Elmsley.”

  “So you don’t dance, but you’ll go to an after party with the jackasses from school?”

  “You visit a classmate you can’t stand on a Saturday. You don’t have anything better to do, do you?”

  I toss the brush back to her and turn to leave.

  “Harper.”

  “Piss off, Kirk.”

  “Do you want to come to the party tonight?”

  I half-turn to look at her incredulously. That was one hell of a mood swing. One minute she’s insulting me and the next she’s inviting me out with her friends.

  “What time?” Shut up, I’m lonely.

  “Eleven.”

  “I’ll meet you here and follow you.”

  “Fine.”

  When Mom hears that I made plans tonight, she offers to drive me. I think she just wants to spy and see if I imagined the whole thing or if I’m telling the truth.

  Three of Elise’s friends are over. I can hear them giggling and chattering in her room as they get ready for the dance. Maybe it’s not too late to convince Elise to wear a more modest dress. Or a tar
p. And a chastity belt. And blinders so she can’t ogle the seniors.

  She comes downstairs with glitter in her spiked hair—seriously, glitter—and asks Mom to borrow some lipstick.

  “What do you need lipstick for? It’s just a school dance.” Both Mom and Elise roll their eyes at me and neglect to answer my question. Damn it all. I remember making mud pies with Elise and pulling her pigtails. Now she’s getting all slutted up to go to a dance, and I’m chauffeuring her there. I should have bought a ticket so I could chaperone her, too.

  “She’s really growing up, isn’t she?” Dad says when he sees the look on my face.

  “Yeah. Is there a drug that can stop that?”

  He laughs at me. “I know, it’s hard. But she’s lucky she’s got two older brothers to look out for her.”

  Not that she makes it easy.

  “How come you’re not going to the dance?”

  “Because it’s dumb.”

  “You might try to have a little more fun, Jem,” he tells me. “You’re so serious. You’ll get old before your time.”

  Too late.

  *

  I arrive to pick Elise up half an hour before the end of the dance and send a text to let her know I’m here. She doesn’t answer, and I fidget impatiently. She’d better not make me late to meet Willa. Elise stays until the last possible second and then skips out to the car, sweaty and smiling. I drop her off at home and then head back into town to go to Willa’s house. By the time I get there she’s already in her car, waiting for me. We exchange waves and then I follow her out of the neighborhood.

  It’s about a forty-minute drive to Joe Moore’s house, adding the time spent on a detour. Willa heads toward Port Elmsley first and stops to pick up three teenage boys at a little white house nestled against the woods. I wonder if one of them is Luke.

  It’s eleven-thirty by the time we get to Moores’ house. A few people are already there, sitting around the woodstove in the enclosed porch. Elwood waves to Willa through the wide porch window before either of us is even parked.