by Seven Steps
Vanessa jumps out of the pool and snatches a towel from her friend’s hands.
“Give it up, Ariel,” she says. “You’ll never beat me. Even tying me was a fluke. Maybe one day you’ll be good enough. But not today.”
My hands ball into fists.
Vanessa’s an amazing swimmer, but her trash talk needs to stop, or else she might make it to the next Olympics with a few less teeth.
She walks over to her stepsister, Ursula Meyers, and they slap each other five. Ursula’s lost a ton of weight, and her hair’s black with purple tips. Dana Rich sits next to Ursula. She’s lounging in a beach chair with her legs crossed, looking generally uninterested in the proceedings. They’re both in bikinis and sunglasses, even though the lights are low and it’s past midnight.
Vanessa’s head jerks to the left, and she examines something happening on the far side of the warehouse. Then, she smiles back at me.
“Look who showed up. Tall, dark, and brooding. Maybe I’ll go over and talk to him tonight.”
What’s she talking about?
I follow her lusty stare.
Eric’s standing by the front door, talking to the bouncer.
What’s he doing here?
After a moment, Eric meets my eye and waves. I wave back at the same time Vanessa does.
I frown at her.
“Looks like I’m being summoned,” she says, sending another smile my way. “Why don’t you go take a lap or two? I’ll be back soon.”
My frown turns into a glare as Vanessa climbs down from the pool, saunters over to Eric, and strikes up a conversation.
Can blood boil? Because I think mine is hot enough to cook an egg in five seconds flat. I’m on the verge of pulling Vanessa back to the pool by her hair when Michael comes up behind me.
“Hey.”
Oh, right. I’m here with Michael.
“Hey.”
I turn toward him, trying to keep my mind off of Vanessa and Eric’s conversation.
What are they talking about? What are they doing? Did she put her hand on his shoulder? Does he like it? Where’s Purity and why isn’t she protecting her handsome, rich boyfriend from a harpy like Vanessa?
“That was some swim,” Michael says, his eyes wide in amazement. “You’re even faster than last time.”
“Not fast enough,” I snap.
I immediately regret it. I’m not angry at Michael. There are just so many things going on in my mind and that he suddenly feels so… so… in the way.
“Next time you’ll beat her. I know it.”
“And how do you know that?”
He shrugs. “Three time’s the charm, right?”
I don’t tell him this is the third time I’ve swum against Vanessa. I just nod, let out a breath, and towel off. I need to distract myself with something other than what Vanessa and Eric are talking about. If I don’t, I’m going to lose my mind.
“So. Did your mom leave yet?” I ask, even though I’m not particularly interested.
“Tomorrow. It sucks. I’m going to miss her cooking.”
“What’s your favorite dish?”
“Roast beef. She makes the best roast beef. I wish you could’ve tasted it.”
He realizes what he’s said the same time I do, and his face reddens. It’s kind of cute.
“Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to be so insensitive.”
I give him a smile to show I’m not offended. Actually, it’s kind of heartening that he remembers something about me. It shows that he isn’t a hundred percent self-involved.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I know it’s different.”
He lets out a relieved breath.
“Yeah.” He guides me back to the pool, even though I’ve just toweled off, and we climb in. He starts floating, and I follow suit. “She makes other stuff too. Sweet caramel carrots, fried zucchini. She even makes maize sometimes.”
“Maize?”
“Yeah. Before she met my dad, she worked on an Indian reservation as a midwife for a while. They taught her some stuff. She does these clay pots with beads baked into them. They’re way awesome.” He pauses. “Maybe you can come see them sometime?”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
His face lights up with his smile. He stops floating and, in a few strokes, he’s right next to me.
“Awesome. Maybe after Tri-State, you can have dinner with Dad and me.”
Dinner at Coach Fish’s house? He isn’t exactly my favorite person in the world.
I stop floating too.
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“Awesome. I’m going to grab a burger. Maybe we can dance when I get back, yeah?”
He climbs out without waiting for my reply.
He hasn’t asked me if I wanted anything.
Again.
31
It’s nearly three in the morning when Michael pulls up to front of my building.
He turns off the car and immediately the inside of his jeep starts to cool with the frigid outside air.
“Tonight was fun,” he says. “You’re a fun girl, Ariel.”
“And you’re a fun guy, Michael.”
He shifts in his seat, his eyes on my lips. I can tell he wants to move in for a kiss, and I lean back a little.
I’m not ready to kiss him just yet. Something about it feels wrong.
I give him a big smile, even though I feel like even that is dishonest.
“Well, good night.”
Disappointment settles on his face. It makes me feel even worse.
I climb out of the car and slip into my building, into my apartment, and finally into my bed.
I’ve never slept so hard in my life.
32
Sophia’s voice is going a mile a minute as she details a fight that broke out in the girl’s bathroom between Florence, one of Vanessa’s friends, and Claire, my friend. Apparently, at some point between first and second period, Florence said something about me being a slut, Claire stood up for me, and minutes later blows ensued.
“So here I am, trying to drag her to class before the teachers show up and expel her, and she’s literally cursing and farting the entire time. I was mort—”
Her manic voice suddenly stops, and her eyes settle on something over my shoulder.
I follow her stare.
Bella is standing behind me, her hands in her pockets, her cheeks pink.
My stomach twists anxiously. Why is she here?
I swallow a mouthful of salad and stand up to face her.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hello,” I reply.
“I just wanted to say hi and to see how you were.”
“Hi,” I reply shortly. “Fine.”
She inclines her head. “Good. Well, with me coming up to your apartment tomorrow and everything, I just didn’t want it to be awkward.”
“Too late.”
Her shoulders stiffen, and her tongue rolls along her left cheek. I’ve known her long enough to know this is her irritated face.
“If we make up, it will be a little less awkward.”
“What you did to me is unforgiveable,” I say quickly, but my words are soft. I’m surprised to find the hatred I’ve once felt toward her has gone from a steaming ocean to a tiny puddle.
I bite the inside of my cheek.
When did my heart give up this fight? No, I can’t give up. I have to hold onto my anger. I have to… have to… have to what? What exactly am I trying to do? I’ve been angry at her for weeks. Yes, she’s hurt me, but somehow, it’s harder and harder for me to convince myself that what she’s done is unforgiveable.
For the first time in a long time, I want to make up with my friend.
Crap on a stick!
My heart beats hard, and I swallow, trying to steady myself. Trying to find some even ground. Right now, it feels like I’m balancing on a see-saw.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she says, straightening her spine. “Tomorrow, I’ll stay out of your way.”
“Yup.”
She turns from me and walks away.
I want to call her back, but I can’t. Not after the way I’ve treated her. Instead, I sit down and take another long chew of my salad.
“You okay?” Sophia places a hand over mine.
I paste a plastic smile on my face.
No, I want to say. No, I’m not.
33
The girls have already gone to bed, their excitement for our father’s party the next day and their party the day after that tuckering them out.
I’m not tired.
In fact, I’m the opposite.
I’m furious.
Once again, Duckie has missed dinner, party planning, and everything else that she normally takes the lead in. Now, here I am, playing the role of a big sister.
Newsflash. I’m not the big sister. I’m the middle child. Well, at least as middle as I could be in this house. Worse, Duckie refused to answer any of my phone calls or text messages all day.
I’ve had enough.
When the front door opens and closes quietly, I stand in front of her room door, chin tipped up, eyes narrowed, legs apart, arms crossed over my chest.
When she sees me, she gasps and puts her hand over her heart.
“You scared me.”
I take a step forward.
“Did I? More than you’ve been scaring this family lately?”
Her eyes roll like a petulant teenager. “I don’t have time for this.”
She pushes past me, turns the knob to her room door, and barges in.
But she’s not getting away that easily.
Before she can shut me out again, I follow her into the bedroom.
I gasp in surprise.
The last time I’ve been in this room, the walls were a soft yellow, and the curtains and bed were multicolored stripes of blue, orange, and green.
Now, the bay window is outlined in sea shells. Above it is the face of a girl with pale blue skin. Her black hair flows around her in such a realistic way that I swear I see it move. Fish swim in and out of her hair. My eyes are drawn to this face. It looks so familiar.
I look at the wall behind Duckie’s four-poster bed.
It’s filled with pictures of fish, coral, sea stars, and turtles of every size and color. But the most beautiful part is the center, where the sun’s rays hit the water, and it shimmers.
The last wall is half finished, but no less gorgeous. It’s a painting of a mermaid dancing with a human man underwater. His hands are pressed to her back. Her hands wind around his shoulders, and her tail’s bent to one side as if they’re mid twirl at a ball. I examine the mermaid’s face and, once again, get the notion that I’ve seen this girl before.
I turn back to Duckie, who looks at me with a guilty expression, as if I’ve just read her diary.
“You did all this?” I ask.
She nods.
“When did you start painting again?”
The last thing I’ve seen her paint was Mama’s portrait, and that was years ago.
“Recently.”
My brows draw together, and I take my sister’s hands in mine. Her hands feel cold, as if they’ve been sitting in a vat of ice.
“Duckie, these paintings are amazing. Why didn’t you tell us about them?”
She shakes her head but doesn’t reply.
I press on.
“They’re beautiful. Why are you painting in your room all alone?”
Suddenly, it dawns on me.
“Is this why you look so tired all the time? Because you’re up all night painting?”
She avoids my eyes, which I take as a yes.
“You have your night time hobbies,” she says. “And I have mine.”
“My hobbies?”
“Sneaking out in the middle of the night only to come home smelling like you’ve been drinking in a pool.”
She finally looks at me, though her eyes are guarded.
“You know about that?”
“Yes. But I didn’t say anything. I saw Sophia’s car out front. I figured you were together and you’d be okay. Besides, you’re sixteen and I can’t stop you.”
Who is this woman and what did she do with my sister? The old Duckie would have gone nuclear if she found out I’ve been sneaking out. This new, understanding Duckie is an entirely different creature.
Her face takes on a weird expression.
“But there will come a time when you can’t do that anymore. You’ll have to make sure the house is in order. Make sure Daddy and the girls are okay.” She squeezes my hands tight, her gaze burning into mine. “I won’t always be here.”
The more she speaks, the more I shiver.
“Duckie, are you going to kill yourself?”
The question has been burning on my mind for hours. Now that it’s finally out of my brain and in the open, it frightens me. My hands tighten on Duckie’s.
She shakes her head, and relief floods me.
“No, honey. I’m far, far from that.”
“But you’re leaving?”
“Yes,” she says sadly.
My eyes burn with tears.
“Soon?”
“Soon.”
My sister, the only mother I’ve known for the last six years, is leaving my life. I feel like my world is crashing around me, piece by piece.
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you that now,” she says. “But you’ll see soon enough.”
I take in a deep breath, trying to cool my burning throat.
“Will you be back?”
Her eyes are sad, but resolute. “Not for a long time, if at all.”
“Duckie, please,” I beg, a tear escaping my eye. “Please tell me what is going on. I can help you.”
She puts her hand up to my cheek and brushes it softly.
“I can’t now. But I want you to remember I’ll always love you. Will you remember that?”
I feel helpless, stupid, and weak.
Duckie’s going through something, and I’m powerless to stop her.
I release her hand and give her a tight hug.
“You know you can trust me,” I say. “I’ll always be here for you.”
“I know, Ariel.” She squeezes me tighter. “I know.”
34
By the time I leave Duckie’s room, all of the energy has gone out of me. Still, there’s one thing I need to do.
I pull on my bathing suit, walk to the pool room, and slide into the water, letting it wash all my worries away.
35
Michael called me early Saturday morning and invited me out for breakfast at Sugar Cubes, a little deli on the lower east side. I agreed and took the train over, even though my stomach was tied in knots.
Now, I’m sitting across from him, watching him scarf down a steak and cheese. He’s completely unaware that I’m about to define our relationship.
I feel awful. Michael’s a nice and decent guy. He deserves to find someone who can love him. Unfortunately, I can’t be that someone. It’s time to end it before he gets in too deep or tries to kiss me again.
My hands curl around my hot coffee cut. It’s a frigid, but dry day. We’ve found a small table in the dark dining area, away from the other patrons. The Greek owner keeps peeking at us as he makes the sandwiches. I’m not sure if he thinks we’re going to steal something or if he recognizes me from the newspapers. I’m hoping it’s the first one. I can deal with being thought of as a thief. I can’t deal with someone taking pictures of me and Michael and selling them to the tabloids.
I lean forward and look into Michael’s hazel, trusting eyes.
“We need to talk,” I say.
A little bit of the softness leaves his face, as if he’s heard this expression before. He puts down his sandwich and wipes his mouth with a white napkin with little flower imprints on it.
“Okay,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “What’s up?”
“I’m…”
This is harder than I thought it’d be. When I broke up with Er
ic it was mostly yelling and walking out. But Michael isn’t my boyfriend and, worse, he hasn’t done anything wrong. He hasn’t lied to me or treated me badly. I don’t want to hurt him. But I know I can’t be with him in that way. I’ve known it ever since Ronnie Garrison’s silent party. Maybe even before that. Maybe I was just fooling myself all along. But it’s time to stop fooling myself. My heart isn’t in this, and I don’t want to string him along.
“You are an amazing guy…”
At first, he takes the compliment with a smile. Then, he reads my eyes, and his expression turns guarded.
“I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.” My feet shuffle under the table, and I shift in my seat. “It’s just that, I really like you as a friend, and I don’t want to lose that.” I look deep into his eyes, hoping he gets the point. “I want to be friends with you, Michael. Nothing more.”
The color drains from his face. His brows lower, and his mouth turns down.
“Are you friend zoning me?” He seems shocked, as if this has never happened to him before.
It makes me feel even worse.
“I know. I’m sorry. I know I was sending you the wrong signals, but I was, I mean, I just can’t—”
“You can’t what?”
“I can’t be with you.”
“Why not?” He pauses, reading my eyes again.
I lower them, not wanting him to know my secret.
He figures it out anyway, and his voice fills with accusation.
“It’s that Eric guy, isn’t it?”
I’ve hurt him already, and I don’t want to lie on top of it, so I remain silent.
“Have you been with him while you’ve been with me?”
My eyes widen.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Eric and I have a… complicated relationship. But we haven’t been together in any way in months. I just… I realized I can’t be with you anymore because…”
I bite the inside of my cheek, afraid of saying the words out loud. That would make them real. That would mean I’d have to deal with them.
“Because what?”
I let out a breath. It’s time to stop hiding. Time to stop running. It’s time to face the truth.
