Cracked Up to Be (14 page)

“Nothing I wouldn’t tell him myself.”

She heads back down the aisle and I stretch back out on the pew, holding the paper bag to my chest, the bottle of Jack heavy inside it. The door creaks as Becky opens it and I wait for the click, the noise that tells me it’s closed and I’m alone again, but it doesn’t come. And then, her voice:

“You know, it’s not any harder on you than it was for the rest of us.”

thirteen

“Uh . . . what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” I ask, settling into the seat beside Jake. The driver shifts gears, the bus shakes and our shoulders bump. “I’m sitting beside you.”

“No, you’re not. Your seat is at the front,” he says. They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. I’m so flattered. “Nice try, though.”

It’s weird sitting in the middle of the bus, but it’s my peace offering to Jake for flaking out on him since the kiss. By “flaking out” I mean I may or may not be avoiding him or pretending to be deaf when he talks to me, unless it’s something to do with our art project, and then I pretend to be hearing delayed and wait, like, five minutes before responding, which I decided last night wasn’t very nice of me.

“I’m not moving,” I tell him.

“Evan—” He clears his throat. “Evan is Chris’s best friend. He left before senior year because he had a breakdown or something. Chris told me.”

“Very good, Jake,” I say, nodding slowly. “And can you tell me why he had a nervous breakdown?”

“Nope.”

“Well, if you can’t tell me that, you can at least tell me what any of it has to do with me,” I say.

“Chris said he’d tell me what everybody already knows,” he says. There’s an ungodly pause because we both know what’s coming next. “You
did
try to kill yourself.”

“It was an accident.”

“Oh, right.” He doesn’t believe me. “That’s why you meet with Grey, isn’t it? And that’s why no one leaves you alone and you’re not popular anymore and Evan fits in there somehow. That’s your big secret, right?”

“Congratulations, you figured it out. So how ’bout them Mets?”

He blinks. “What?”

“Does every conversation between us have to be like this, with you prying into stuff that’s none of your business? So tell me: How ’bout them Mets? What do you think?”

“Oh, they’re just great,” he mutters. “So are you depressed—”

I groan. “Jake.”

“Okay, okay,” he says quickly. “Never mind.”

“Do you think I’m depressed?”

“I think it’d explain the bravado.”

“You think this is bravado?” I shake my head. “Actually, you know what? You’re right. I sit at the front.”

I grip the seat ahead of me and stand, but before I can step into the aisle, Jake reaches out and grabs my wrist. I give him a look that says, I don’t have time for this.

“You kissed me,” he says.

“So?”

“Would you please sit down? I want to talk to you.”

I do it.

“Look, I’m sorry that you—” He doesn’t finish and I’m glad because he’d only embarrass us both if he started apologizing for something he knows nothing about. “Why did you kiss me if you were just going to shut me out after?”

I shrug. “Had to fill the moment at the coffeeshop somehow.”

“Ouch.”

“You were expecting something more?”

“Yeah, I guess I was.”

“Why would you do a stupid thing like that?” I chew my lip. “The way you feel about me freaks me out. I’ve told you that.”

“Maybe the way
you
feel about
me
freaks
you
out.”

“But I don’t know how I feel about you. I try not to think about it. And I’ve told you
that.
”

I guess he knows I could run us in circles forever, so he leans in and gives me a kiss, all soft and hesitant, and I think it’s supposed to make my heart beat faster and my head feel lighter, but it doesn’t. It steals my breath and makes the tips of my fingers tingle and I start thinking I’ll have an anxiety thing again, here on the bus while his mouth is against mine, and how awful that would be. A funny thought occurs to me at the same time Jake brings his hand to my face: I couldn’t do this even if I wanted to do this.

“
Stop telling Jake
things about me.”

Chris slams his locker door shut. “You’re talking to me now?”

“Why did you tell Jake I tried to kill myself?”

He pretends to think about it. “Because you did?”

“I didn’t.” I rest against his locker. “That’s what you think I did.”

He does that lean guys do with their girls. I’m against his locker and he rests his hand just above my head and tilts forward so we’re close. He doesn’t even think before he does it; it’s second nature. We used to stand like this every day between classes and he’d give me a kiss when the bell went. Sex is one thing, but I always thought that stupid lean meant intimacy. Because I was dumb.

“You drank a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and downed a bottle of sleeping pills. I don’t think you tried to kill yourself, Parker; I know it.”

“You obviously know nothing and now Jake’s getting the wrong idea about me.”

“What do you care what Jake thinks about you?” He rolls his eyes. “Okay, you tell me what you think happened and if I think it has merit, I’ll find him and clear things up. Sound fair?”

“I got drunk first,” I explain. “And then I miscounted how many sleeping pills I needed to get through the night. It’s hard to count when you’re all fucked up.”

“Well of
course
!” He slaps his forehead in disbelief. “That explains
everything.
How could I have been so stupid?”

“I’m serious. Stop telling Jake things.”

“I don’t tell him anything everyone doesn’t already know. That’s fair game.” Chris finally becomes aware of the way he’s standing and how close we actually are. He straightens and rubs his hands on his shirt. “He really likes you, huh?”

“I guess. Why do you think that is?”

“Damned if I know. That’s not exactly the type of conversation you want to have with the ex. But I picked up on it, took pity on the guy and told him about that one time you tried to kill yourself.”

It starts making sense. “You wanted to scare him away.”

“No, I thought I’d let him take comfort in the fact that when you’re fucking with other people, you’re really just fucking with yourself. Becky and I had a talk about it and she threw that theory out there, and I gotta say it makes so much sense.”

“Becky is becoming a real pain in my ass.”

“Becoming?” Chris studies me. “You like him, don’t you?”

“Would that bother you?”

“Even if it did, I’ve resolved not to let it ruin a good time with Becks.”

“Becks?”
I shake my head, disgusted. “But you don’t love her.” He shrugs.

“You love me,” I say.

He shrugs again.

“Oh, come
on
—this from the same guy who blackmailed me into kissing him in the change room because he missed me so bad? You’ve never liked Becky—”

“I didn’t really know her before. And believe it or not, Parker, things happen around you that have nothing to do with you even if they start out that way. She’s not that bad. By the way, Evan’s back in two weeks. He has to get all his shit from his aunt’s and cut his hair, but you should prepare yourself.”

It throws me. I need a second.

“So he just cuts his hair and he’s back?” I ask. “Everything’s like it was?”

“Yeah, hopefully. Are you going to be okay? I worry—”

“Don’t.”

I head in the opposite direction, to my locker, open it and grab my English books. The bottle Becky gave me is sitting on the top shelf, face out, so everyone will see it, but no one sees it. I’d like Chris to see it. And I’d like him to ask me where I got it.

“Hey, Jake! Stop!”
I manage to catch him between third and fourth period heading to whatever class it is he heads to. He waits for me to jog over.

“What’s wrong?” he asks when I reach him.

I untie my ponytail and retie it. I’m not sure how to do this.

“I’m sorry,” I finally say.

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re sorry?”

“Yeah.” I untie my ponytail again. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t . . . know?”

“And even if I did, I wouldn’t know how to say it.”

“Parker, what are you talking about?”

My stomach twists. “I think you’re okay, but I know you deserve better.”

He looks totally confused now.

“You’re making my brain hurt—”

“So now you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He stares at me a long time. And then I see a light go on. Vaguely.

“Does that mean you—”

My stomach twists again.

“Don’t call it anything yet,” I say.

He nods slowly.

“I have to go.”

I leave him in the hall and run to the girls’ washroom, where I push through the closest stall door and throw up.

“You’re like Jake
in dog form,” I tell Bailey after I mark the day Evan is coming back on the calendar above my bed. I sit down beside him and pet him. “I wish we hadn’t gotten you.”

Bailey gives me this uncomprehending, painfully loyal look.

“You make me feel bad,” I clarify.

I reach for my math book, open it to the unit I never did and start reviewing. I have that test tomorrow and I need to pass it because I want to graduate, I guess.

I guess.

So I can get out. They can all leave me alone forever. Right. I stare at my calendar. At that big red
X.

“Wow.”

Mrs. Jones looks up from my test, all startled. I insisted she mark it as soon as I scribbled down the answer to the last question and watched her eyes grow wider with every red checkmark. I’m not nearly so surprised; I stayed up all night studying like I used to. Sometime after midnight it became imperative to me that I show everyone I still possess those wonderful qualities that helped separate me from everyone else.

Because it makes the way I am now that much more frustrating for them.

Jones shakes her head in total disbelief as she scribbles a bright red
100%
in the upper right-hand corner of the paper.

“Congratulations, Parker.”

“This demands celebration,”
Chris says, holding up the test and waving it around. Jake laughs and Becky gives a tight-lipped smile.

I rip it from Chris’s hand. “It does not demand a celebration.”

Suddenly, we’re a group. Jake caught me outside of math, saw the test score and told Chris, who was with Becky, as we passed them in the hall. And here we are.

“You’re right,” Chris agrees. “I’m just looking for an excuse to party.”

“Party?”

“Hang out.” He chews his lower lip. It’s what he does when he’s thinking. He doesn’t do it very often. “Why don’t we all go to my house after school and rent a movie or whatever? My parents won’t be home.”

“Sounds good,” Jake says.

“Because I got a perfect score on my math test?”

“If there’s got to be a reason, that can be it,” Chris says.

“Can’t. My parents wouldn’t like that.” And for the first time in my life I’m happy to say this: “You know, because of my curfew and all. And it’s a school night.”

“Well, let’s try them,” Chris says. He wanders over to the pay phone, sticks a quarter in, dials my house and hands me the phone.

“Oh, fuck you,” I say, pushing it away.

He brings it up to his ear.

“Hi, Mrs. Fadley? This is Chris. . . .” He pauses and winks at me. “I
know,
it’s been way too long. . . . Yeah! I’m great. Yourself? . . . That’s great. . . . Uh-huh—oh no, it’s nothing like that. Parker’s fine.”

Becky and Jake stare at me. I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“I’m calling because a few of us are getting together at my house after school. We’re going to rent a movie, that sort of thing. . . . Yeah. I was wondering if Parker could join us. She mentioned a curfew and it might be a little late by the time we’re done, but I’d drive her home and—yeah, my parents will be home. . . . Uh-huh, yeah. Just a sec. . . .”

He hands the phone to me. I give him a death glare.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Why couldn’t you ask me that yourself?” she demands.

“I don’t know. But I got a hundred percent on my math test.”

“Are you being serious or are you joking?”

“I’m not joking. I can show you the test later tonight.”

“You’re not going to be drinking over there or anything, are you?”

“No, Mom. Chris said his parents will be there.”

“Well, you know the Ellorys. They may be
there,
but they’re not—”

“Okay, forget it. I’ll see you after school.” Yes.

“No, no, no,” she says quickly. “Go and have a good time. I’m proud of you, Parker—for the test. And I didn’t know you and Chris were still on speaking terms. That’s good—these are good things. Go have fun. Your father and I love you.”

I close my eyes. “Bye.”

fourteen

I can’t figure out what’s stopping me from just ditching Chris, Becky and Jake
and going home while they stand in front of the shelf full of new releases, trying to decide what movie to rent. Suddenly, we’re a group. It makes me sick. I head over to the horror section and try to remember how to breathe and that’s where Jake finds me ten minutes later, my eyes closed, snapping my fingers.

Breathe in.

“We’ve picked the movie,” he says. Out. “Chris is paying now.”

“Okay.” In. I open my eyes.

He extends his hand, like for me to take, and when I don’t, he drops it and it’s awkward. That’s what happens when you sort of tell someone it’s okay if they’ve kissed you and it’s okay if it happens again, but you don’t tell them if it’s okay to do couply things like hold hands and, I guess, care.

“Okay,” I repeat. “Let’s go.”

“Wait.”

“Stop following me.”
Slam.
“I said get away from me!”

I turn my head in the direction of the noise. It takes such an effort, I think I must be dying. I feel like it. I blink slowly, several times, until I can sort of focus on a pair of people silhouetted by the moonlight filtering in through the window blinds.