An Unstill Life (14 page)

“Thanks, Bianca. You’re always rescuing me.” I studied her profile silhouetted against the window.

“Yeah, well, I’m a Girl Scout. I’ll get my community service badge for sure, now.” A snort of laughter escaped her.

Bianca pulled out and started navigating along the narrow, rutted track. I remembered the way Jesse had driven down here this evening, fast, with the car leaping and bucking over every bump.

I studied Bianca’s narrow white face in the reflected glare of the headlights. “Don’t take this wrong, but how come you’re here?” It didn’t seem like her scene. And as far as I knew, she didn’t have any friends at school that might have dragged her along the way Mel dragged me.

She wound down the window and lit another cigarette. “Curious, I guess. I don’t come to these things much. Seemed like maybe I was missing out on something essential to my high school experience.”

“And?” I raised my eyebrows.

She smiled, a wry, twisted smile. “Not so much.”

Chapter Fifteen

B
ianca pulled up in front of my house, which sat in darkness, not even the porch light on to guide me. I must be late. Mom always switched off the light at midnight, whether we were home or not, letting us know she was aware we’d missed curfew. I’d hear about it tomorrow. Or maybe not.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said. “And…thanks. Again. Like I said, you’re always rescuing me.”

“Maybe I think you’re worth saving.” Bianca wasn’t looking at me. Her eyes were turned to the open window. The words sounded simple, but they weren’t. They lay across the seat between us, pulsing in shades of pink and red.

“Thanks?” The word felt awkward in my mouth. Would she still think I was worth saving if she knew I was thinking of ways to kill my sister? I shoved the thought away as I climbed out of the car. “See you in school.”

“Yeah. See you.” Bianca turned, her eyes glittering under the streetlights. “Hey, Livvie?”

“Yeah?” I ducked my head back through the door.

“I really like your painting.”

I jerked back in surprise, knocking the back of my head on the door. “My painting? You mean the still life?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It’s really good. It’s like everyone else is painting the surface of the things, but you’re painting what’s underneath. The real apple. The real flowers. It’s got—” She stopped, searching around as if she’d find the word she was looking for hanging in the air, ripe for plucking. “Well, it sounds totally corny, but it’s got soul.”

My face grew warm. “Thanks,” I mumbled. “But yours is way better.”

She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “No. Mine’s clever. It’s thought out. But there’s no passion in it. Yours has that.”

I giggled. “Passion? For a bunch of fruit and flowers? I hope not.”

She smiled, too, the flicker of movement so small I could have missed it. “Well, yeah. It’s not the most exciting subject. But if you can inject that much life into something so stupid, just think what you could do with something you really care about. Like that thing you did with the song. That’s something special.”

I sank back into the seat, the springs wheezing beneath me. My ears blazed, and I knew my cheeks were just as red. No one had ever said anything like that to me before. Even Ms. DeWinter dismissed my music pictures as irrelevant swirls of color, while Mom considered all painting and drawing to be a frivolous waste of time.

“Thanks.” I stammered again.

“No, thank you.” Bianca lit another cigarette, the fiery end punching a hole in the darkness.

“What for?” Smoke burned my eyes, making them tear. At least, I thought it was the smoke. I couldn’t remember the last time someone complimented me or made me feel special. I brushed at a wet spot on my cheek.

She took a long drag and turned to her open window before exhaling into the night. “I’ve always been the best at art. I never had to work hard to be the best either. Now I have something to work for.”

“Oh.” I admired the ease with which she admitted to being the best. “Okay.”

Silence filled the car, but it was a warm, comforting silence.

“I have to go.” The reluctance in my voice surprised me, and I realized I didn’t want to leave. And not just because Bianca’s words flattered me. I recognized the truth in them. “I have a curfew. And I’m late.”

“Sure. Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.” She turned the key and let the engine struggle to life again.

I watched the way the light gleamed off her shiny red lips. Surprised, I realized I wanted to lean over and kiss them, wanted to see if she tasted of the raspberries I always tasted while in her presence. I scrambled out of the car, putting distance between us as fast as I could. My heart raced in my chest.

“See ya,” she called.

“See ya.” I closed the door behind me, the dull thunk as it closed a startling maroon color that tasted like chili and dark chocolate. What was up with me? Was I losing my mind?

I watched the taillights wink their way to the corner before climbing the porch steps and entering the house. My cell phone burred in my pocket. I pulled it out and stared at Mel’s name on the screen before thumbing it away to read the message.

where r u? We r SO l8. meet by car.

The vibration of my cell phone against the desk woke me before the tone did. I reached for it, dragging it under the covers with me.

you up yet? need to talk.

Hannah. I’d texted her and Mel last night, just to let them know I was home, but hadn’t responded to their follow-up texts. The ones asking for details.

wasnt. am now.

I hesitated a second before pressing send.

cool. rosies? in an hour?

I sighed and rolled out of bed. My clothes lay puddled on the floor where I’d left them last night. I circled around them, not even wanting to touch them with my foot. Until they’d been washed, I wouldn’t wear them. Even after that I couldn’t be sure.

b there soon.

I tossed the phone into the tangled bedclothes and headed for the bathroom. I’d spent almost forty minutes in the shower last night, but it wasn’t enough. A layer of imagined filth still clung to my skin. I wondered how long it would be before I felt clean again. If I ever would. I wasn’t even sure what I was washing away, if it was Jesse’s pawing or my own strange thoughts. I couldn’t keep Bianca out of my mind. Her low, husky voice surrounded my consciousness.

Still pink from the scalding shower, I ran downstairs. The bag slung over my shoulder bounced against my thigh.

“And where are you going?” Mom sat at the kitchen table, a steaming mug of coffee before her.

“Uh… To meet Hannah.” My hand gripped the doorframe.

My eyes roved over the kitchen, resting on the stack of dirty plates in the sink, the overflowing garbage can in the corner.

Mom nodded in my general direction. “Sit down, Livvie. I need to talk to you.”

Oh, now she needed to talk to me? After, what, three weeks of silence? “I don’t have a lot of time. I have to meet Hannah.”

“She’ll wait.” Mom’s tone had steel edge I couldn’t argue with. I sat.

Mom sipped at her coffee again, fingers drumming against the side of the cup. “Dr. Singh has found a possible donor for Jules.”

I didn’t know what to say. The hope in Mom’s voice made it vibrate in brilliant ochre. But what about what Jules wanted? Had Mom even thought to ask?

“That’s…great.” I fiddled with a crumpled napkin I found on the table, folding it into smaller and smaller triangles before letting it drop. “But what about Jules?”

“Jules? She’s sick, Olivia. She’s on so much medication she doesn’t know what she’s thinking. She can’t make a decision like this right now, because she can’t know what’s best for her.”

Jules hadn’t seemed so enfeebled to me. She’d sounded lucid and very certain of what she wanted. Too certain. I hadn’t found the strength to think about what she’d asked of me. Every time I came close to it, my mind shut down, an iron gate imprisoned the idea in a dark corner where it festered and grew. I studied Mom, noticing the way her hand quivered when she picked up her cup, the new lines etched into her face, anguish oozing from every pore.

I sighed and reached into my pocket for my phone.

sorry. cant make it. mom.

I hit send. I didn’t need to go into any more detail. If anyone could get it, Hannah would. Seconds later the table burred as my phone vibrated.

ok. call when ur done.

I pocketed the phone again and looked up at Mom. “So, what do you want me to do?”

Before she could answer, Jules shuffled into the room. Mom jumped to her feet and pulled out a chair, straightening the cushion on it. A ghastly smile contorted her face.

Jules eased into the chair, the movement so slow and painful I had to look away. “Hi, Livvie. You’re here.”

I tightened my mouth into a smile I was sure looked as fake as Mom’s. “Yeah. I’m here. How’re you feeling today?”

She shrugged, bony shoulders popping up beneath the thin fabric of her pajamas.

“I have some good news.” Mom dropped back into her own chair. “Dr. Singh has found a potential donor.”

“Awesome.” Jules slumped, the word dull and heavy as lead. I tried to catch her eye, but she kept her face turned away.

Mom ignored her tone and kept going. “If we’re lucky, you’ll be able to have the transplant soon.”

Jules closed her eyes, her head shaking just a tiny bit, but she stayed quiet. The whole room fell silent, the steady ticking of the clock above the sink suddenly very loud and sapphire blue.

I cleared my throat. “I think I need some coffee. Anyone else want some?”

“Yes, please.” Mom didn’t look at me as I got up and started moving around the kitchen.

Jules spoke, eyes still closed against us. “I’m not having another transplant.”

“Don’t you want to get well?” Mom’s shrill voice cracked, shards of broken words tumbling to the floor. “Do you want to die?”

“I don’t want to die,” Jules whispered. “But if I have to, I want it to be my way.”

Mom stood up, the chair rocking back against the wall with the force of her movement. “You’re not going to die. You’re not. You’re going to have the transplant, and you’ll be fine again. Just like last time.”

“But it’s not like last time,” Jules said, her voice so weary it sounded as if each syllable took marathon effort. “You heard Dr. Singh. The cancer’s different this time. I can feel it, too.”

I stared at her. She could feel it? I hadn’t thought about that. I wondered what the sensation was like, the poison coursing through her veins, her body struggling against it in vain. Did it devour her? Nibble at her? Or was it just a dull, underlying sense of wrongness?

“We have to explore every possible avenue, Julie.” Mom sounded frantic now, like begging. I couldn’t bear to listen. I wished I’d left, that I was at Rosie’s with Hannah, a plate of waffles in front of me. “We have to. I won’t let you give up. Livvie won’t let you give up, will you Livvie?”

Oh great. Drag me into your argument. “Uh… No.”

“You see? Livvie wants you to do this, too, Julie.” Mom paced the floor, fingers tearing through her hair.

“It won’t work.” Jules’s eyes were fixed on the tabletop, her jaw clamped down like she was chewing each word before spitting it out.

“You don’t know that! You can’t give up. I won’t let you refuse treatment.”

“I’m not refusing treatment,” Jules said through gritted teeth, the words oozing through in thin jade strands. “I’m refusing
a
treatment. I haven’t said no to anything else. I let them pump that poison into me, didn’t I?” She ran a hand over her balding head. “I’m not having another transplant.”

“Why not?” Mom’s voice shot up in pitch, her frustration so palpable I could taste it.

“I don’t want it. It won’t work, and I won’t go through that again.”

I was suffocating. Drawing breath was a chore. The air was too heavy, too thick to breathe. Jules’s determination clashed against Mom’s the way warm air hits cold to create a thunderstorm. I couldn’t stay in there, the various pressures prickling my skin.

“I gotta go.” I leaned across and kissed Jules’s papery cheek. “See you soon, okay?”

“Sure.” She smiled, and then reached for me, pulling me close enough I could smell the strange, bitter scent of her disease. “Don’t forget.”

As if I could. My promise to her was a permanent ache in my skull, a knife blade turning in my heart. “I won’t.”

“Be home for dinner,” Mom ordered.

Chapter Sixteen

H
annah was at a table toward the back of the diner. She looked as perky as ever, her glorious cinnamon hair tied into a high ponytail that bounced over her shoulders as she waved. I bit back the irritation that clawed my skin and forced a smile.

“So, what happened to you?” she asked, even before I sat down. “We found Jesse passed out drunk under a picnic table, but no sign of you.”

“I got a ride home with a friend.”

“Who? Mel was going out of her mind.”

For some reason, I didn’t want to explain. I hadn’t told anyone about my friendship with Bianca, and it felt wrong to start now.

Hannah waited out my silence far longer than I expected, then shrugged. “Well, at least you got home. Did you have fun? I had such an awesome time. But, I guess it’s not gonna happen with you and Jesse, huh?”

“I don’t think so.” I gave her a wry smile. Not in this lifetime.

“Oh, well. There’s other guys out there, right?” Hannah dumped the contents of a sugar packet on the table and drew patterns through the white crystals with her finger. The soft scraping sound wrapped broad apricot colored bands across my vision. “I’m sure we can find someone better for you.”

“Maybe.” I shrugged. At the moment I had bigger things on my mind than finding a boyfriend. Life and death things. “Hannah, if someone you care about a lot asked you to do something you know is really wrong, would you do it?”

She frowned. “Wrong how? Like shoplifting or something?”

“Maybe… But like, worse than that.” I wanted her to understand what I was asking, but I couldn’t say the words. I couldn’t betray Jules. Wrong wasn’t the right word anyway. I had no moral objection to what she’d asked me to do; I understood her motives. I just couldn’t imagine doing it.

“Well—” She looked thoughtful for a moment, her eyes drifting over my shoulder. Then she brightened and jumped up, waving at someone behind me. Sam walked toward us, another guy following in his wake. Great. The one chance I had to talk to Hannah alone, and he had to show up. I clamped my lips together and tried to smile as he slid into the booth next to her.

“Hey, babe,” he murmured, brushing her lips with his. “Missed you. Hi, Livvie. You know Luke?”

The other guy sat next to me, the bench seat dipping a little under his weight. “You’re Livvie, right? We’re in the same history class.”

“Hi.” I threw Hannah a desperate look. This was our time. When were these clowns leaving?

The boys showed no sign of being in a hurry to go. They ordered burgers and milkshakes, which they wolfed down in about the same time it took for my coffee to cool off enough to drink. I tried to catch Hannah’s eye, but she was glued to Sam’s side by the arm he had draped over her shoulders.

“So, were you at the party last night?” Luke’s voice startled me, its bass rumble setting off a charcoal colored avalanche.

“Um… Yeah. For a while.” I picked up my coffee cup and blew on it, even though it wasn’t hot anymore. “Were you?”

“Nah. Had to work. But I hear it was epic. The next time, I’m totally ditching work.”

“Where do you work?” I didn’t care, but if I was going to be stuck in this booth with him, I figured I should carry on a conversation. And Hannah and Sam weren’t going to be much help in that department. They were locked together, their faces attached. As I watched, Hannah climbed into Sam’s lap, her lips never leaving his as she straddled him. I watched his hands crawl across her butt before turning away.

“My parents’ restaurant,” Luke was saying. “I wait tables. They’re usually pretty good about letting me off when I have something else to do, but my sister and her husband are at a wedding this weekend, so we’re short staffed.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Neither could he, apparently. The silence stretched on between us, taut enough I could have bounced a dime off it. The sloppy sound of Hannah and Sam’s kisses wreathed it in palest pink.

“Um.” Luke shifted in the seat, making it groan. “You like jokes?”

“Sure.” I shrugged. Who didn’t?

“Cool. How do you get a hundred babies into a bucket?” He grinned, his obvious delight in the joke almost contagious.

“Use a really big bucket?”

“No. With a blender.” He paused and waited for me to laugh. “And how do you get them out again?”

“Ewww!” I wrinkled my nose.

“No, seriously. How do you get them out?”

“I don’t know. With a spoon?”

“With tortilla chips,” he howled, the laughter almost doubling him over. He slammed his hand into the table a couple of times for added emphasis. Sam and Hannah separated briefly and glanced over at us, before continuing their clinch.

“And here’s another one.” Luke sobered a little, gasping for breath. “Why do you put a baby into a blender feet first?”

“I don’t.”

He ignored the exasperation in my voice. “So you can see the expression on its face.” He fell apart again, his laughter so loud people at other tables turned to look at us. I slouched lower in the seat, not wanting to be seen with him. Did he really think those jokes were funny? I thought we’d all outgrown them in about the fifth grade. And they weren’t all that funny then.

“Hannah?” I raised my voice. “Shouldn’t we go?”

Whatever Hannah said was so mumbled I couldn’t hear it, the words absorbed into Sam’s tongue. She didn’t move though, so I had to assume she wasn’t ready go yet. I took a deep breath and leaned back into the booth.

“So, you don’t like dead baby jokes,” Luke smiled. “Okay. I get that. Um… What do fat girls and mopeds have in common?”

I stared at him. Did he have a never-ending supply of these things? “I don’t know.” I didn’t care.

“They’re both fun to ride until your friends find out.” He laughed again, the sound exploding out of him in a spray of cobalt blue.

This time, I couldn’t even smile. I kicked under the table, hoping to catch Hannah. This guy was unbelievable. Did he really think he could impress a girl with jokes like that? “Excuse me,” I said when my third booting elicited no response. “I’ll be back in a second.”

I hurried to the bathrooms at the back of the diner. They were by the kitchen and filled with the smell of frying food. I locked myself into one of the two stalls and just sat there, thinking. I knew I couldn’t stay all day, but even being locked in a toilet was better than spending any more time with Luke and his asinine jokes. Where was Bianca? She always seemed to show up at these moments, just in time to drag me away like some kind of gothic super hero. I smiled at the thought, then frowned, remembering the urge I’d had to kiss her last night. What was that all about? It wasn’t anything, I told myself. You were upset about Jesse. Anyone one else would look attractive after him.

“Livvie?” Hannah’s voice startled me out of my thoughts. “Are you okay? You’ve been in here ten minutes.”

I slid out of the stall. “I’m fine,” I told her. “Can we go now? I need to talk to you.”

“Sure.” She smiled. “Sam’s car is out front. We can talk on the way home.”

I rolled my eyes.

Of course we couldn’t talk on the way home. Hannah rode up front with Sam, squeezing herself so close to him it was a wonder he could move enough to shift gears. I ended up in the backseat with Luke who tried so hard to get an arm around me, he could have been a contortionist. I hugged my door and ignored his clumsy attempts. Guys were so dumb. Couldn’t he see how uninterested I was?

“Here you go.” Sam pulled up in front of my house.

I looked over at Hannah, expecting her to be moving too, but she stayed where she was, one hand tangled in the hair at the back of Sam’s head. “You coming in?”

She shook her head. “I’m going to Sam’s to study. You can come too if you want.”

“No thanks.” I dropped my eyes to floor. “Have fun.”

“Nice hanging out with you.” Luke leaned across me and opened the door. “We should do it again sometime, huh?”

“Yeah.” I started sliding from the car, but Luke hadn’t moved after opening the door, and his weight across my thighs held me in place. I tried worming my way out, but before I did, he grabbed me and planted a heavy, wet kiss on my mouth.

I pulled away, or tried to. He had me pinned to the seat, unable to squirm. I jerked my head back, keeping my lips clamped tightly shut. His breath reeked of the hamburger he’d just eaten, of onions and meat. I tried to tear myself out from under him but ended up just bashing my head against the doorframe. With my hands in fists, I pushed against his chest and managed to clear a little air between us.

“Get off me!” I spat.

He shuffled over a little, enough that I could tear my legs free. “Ooh. A feisty one.” He reached for me again, but I was too quick for him, leaping from the car before he could sling his ham-like arm across me for another go.

“You sure you’re not coming with me?” I leaned in the passenger side window and turned beseeching eyes on Hannah. Couldn’t she see how much I needed her?

I guessed not. She shook her head. “See you tomorrow, okay Livvie?”

“Okay…” I gave up, anger knotting my insides with fiery cords. “See you.” I slammed the car door, enjoying the flashes of violet and jade that followed me up the path and away from it. I didn’t wait for them to pull away, just stormed into the house. Boys. They were such pigs. What made someone like Luke think that just because I sat and listened to a few crude jokes, I’d want to kiss him? I was tired of feeling like a piece of meat in their hands. I wasn’t so naive I expected boys to treat me like the heroine of a romance novel, but it would be nice if they actually talked to me before sticking their hands up my shirt.

No more high school boys, I decided. If it meant I’d be celibate until college, so be it.

Mom was in the kitchen, her back to me as I stamped through the hallway. Good. Maybe I could snatch a few minutes with Jules. I choked back my anger, not wanting to burden my sister with it, and hurried up the stairs.

Jules’s door was open, and I could see her walking around inside, head wrapped in a paisley silk scarf.

“Hi,” I said, sliding inside and closing the door behind me.

“Oh!” She jumped and clutched at her chest. “You frightened me, Livvie.”

“Sorry.” I climbed onto her sour smelling bed and watched her pull open drawers, pulling out odd things and tossing them into a messy pile on the floor. “What are you doing?”

“Packing.” Her voice was dull, a pallid, lifeless brown that sank to the floor and just lay there, limp and unmoving. “Next round of chemo starts tomorrow. Hooray.”

“You need a hand?” I glanced around, searching out things that might make her hospital stay more bearable: her battered copy of Jane Eyre, a pair of lime-green bunny slippers Zach gave her as a joke last Christmas, the silk kimono I’d saved six weeks of babysitting money to buy her for her seventeenth birthday, her iPod, and the set of speakers it played through on her desk.

“Sure. If you want.” She sat down on the floor, fingers combing through the fringed edges of the rug. “I don’t want to go back. It’ll be easier for Mom to force the transplant on me there.”

“Just keep saying no,” I told her. “They can’t make you do it.”

“I’m not eighteen yet. I’m scared maybe they can.” Jules turned her eyes on me, huge, blue, and frightened. She really was scared, and that scared me.

“I won’t let them,” I said with more bravery than I felt. “I’ll… I’ll…” I trailed off. What could I do?

Jules smiled and climbed to her feet. “Thanks, Livvie.” She crawled onto the bed next to me and gave me a hug. “Sometimes I feel like you’re the only one on my side.”

I let my head rest on her shoulder for a moment, absorbing whatever strength I could from her.

“Are you okay, Livvie?” Jules pushed me away, searching my face.

I hesitated. I’d always been able to talk to Jules about anything, but now, I wasn’t sure. I dropped my eyes, staring down at the crumpled sheets, finger tracing the crisscross pattern on the blanket. “Have you…um…ever felt, like, maybe…romantic about…about someone you shouldn’t?” I closed my eyes for a second. Could I have been any less specific?

She frowned as she studied me. “Like who? A teacher or something?”

A teacher? I wish. I didn’t know if there was one girl in the whole school who hadn’t had a little bit of a crush on Mr. Lemieux, the French teacher. I shook my head. “Not a teacher.”

“Well, who?” She tapped her feet on the floor. “A cousin? An older man? An older woman?” She giggled and raised her eyebrows.

“Well…” I felt my cheeks redden as blood flooded them. “Like…”

Mom walked in, her face closing up when she saw me. “Julie? Did you get what you need? Dr. Singh wants you there tonight.”

“Yeah, I know, Mom.” Jules sighed as slid off the bed again. “I just need a few more things.”

I got up and crossed the room. I’d missed my opportunity.

“Later,” Jules mouthed.