It's Only Temporary (4 page)

“No, this is perfect,” Hana replied, attempting to tug the hem down a little. “Don't you think? I am definitely getting this,” she said, narrowing her eyes and looking both determined and ready to fight. “You should tell your mom and dad you don't want to go,” she added, as if she were completing the last part of the same thought.

“They already bought my plane ticket,” Skye said softly, still looking in the mirror at her friend. “I leave in two more days. They want me to get all settled in with Gran in Sierra Madre before school starts. But it's only temporary, Hana. I'll be back soon.”

“How soon?” Hana asked, frowning.

“Thanksgiving vacation, for sure,” Skye said. “And Christmas, too. I'll be home for good by the time next semester starts. That's the plan, anyway.”

Hana steadied herself against Skye as she wriggled out of the skirt. “Too bad my mom's so strict about me using my cell, ever since that famous bill, or I'd call you at
least
every morning and every night,” she said, panting a little.

“We can always text,” Skye told her.

“Nope,” Hana said, shaking her head. “They've started charging, like, fifteen cents apiece for receiving or sending a text message, and my mom says that could add up to, like, a couple of dollars a day, easy, just for you and me. So that's out, too.”

“Well, what about e-mail?” Skye asked.

“We could do that, I guess,” Hana said, sounding a little gloomy, because she hated what she called “
normal writing
,” as opposed to texting.

“You have to promise, Hana,” Skye said, turning to face her. “I'm going to be stuck all alone in California while my real life is happening here, without me.”

“Okay,” Hana said, relenting. “I promise I'll write.”

“It sucks to say good-bye,” Skye said softly.

“It totally does,” Hana agreed.

But her friend's attention had already wandered, Skye saw with dismay, and Hana was caressing her new skirt, obviously imagining her first day at Taft – a day when Skye would be attempting to build some sort of life in an unreal alternate universe, in a completely different world.

“Thanks for nothing, Scott,” Skye whispered.

S
kye stifled a yawn as she sneaked a sideways look at her grandmother. In spite of living in Southern California her whole life, Gran hated freeway driving and didn't mind saying so. “Stay awake, darling,” Gran said, not taking her eyes off the road.

“Okay,” Skye said, trying to look alert.

Wow, she thought, pretending to keep an eye on the traffic whizzing past them on the left. This whole California thing was going to be weird–because having a nice, jolly grandmother come to visit in Albuquerque for a few days over Thanksgiving,
or meeting up with her at the Grand Canyon for a family vacation, was different from moving in with her all alone for an entire semester.

Gran was Skye's father's mother. She had faded brown hair that sprang from her head in determined curls, and blue eyes, and a big grandmotherly lap, in spite of her interest in both exercise and healthy eating. In fact, Skye thought, Gran might be the world's largest nutritional expert – which sounded like a put-down, but it wasn't. Skye thought pulling something like that off was awesome.

It was like being a teenage girl – Scott's ex-girlfriend Stacie, say – who wasn't really pretty but hypnotized everyone into thinking that she was. Or being the guy who wore ugly clothes that everyone thought were cool. Or being the kid at school who came up with a quirky trademark so off-the-wall that in normal life, people would think maybe they should cross the street to get away from him, but everyone just totally accepted it.

Skye, on the other hand, had formulated a plan during the two-hour
flight from Albuquerque, New Mexico, to Los Angeles, California: she would not draw attention to herself in any way, shape, or form during her stay. Her goal for this semester was either to blend in perfectly, or, better, to become invisible.

“Almost home,” her grandmother said. The houses seemed to crawl by in a slow-motion blur as the Toyota climbed the hill toward Sierra Madre, and Eucalyptus Terrace. “Can you spell ‘eucalyptus'?” Gran asked, relaxing her grip on the wheel just a little as she signaled to make a left-hand turn.

Skye smiled. “I live in Albuquerque, Gran,” she told her grandmother. “I can spell anything.”

“Oh, right,” Gran said, smiling. “Just making conversation, really. But you're so quiet, darling. Are you thinking about poor Scott?”

“No,” Skye said, turning her head and looking out of the window once more. There were enough people thinking about
“poor Scott”
to last a lifetime, weren't there? “We're here,” she said as her grandmother turned into what looked like a wide driveway, but was really a very-short dead-end street.

“Finally,” Gran said, her Toyota creeping to the end of the street. “Wave hello to Maddy, Skye. She lives across the street now, and she'll be in your grade at school.”

“Really?” Skye asked, giving the blond girl – Maddy, who was attempting to water some flowers with a tangled-up hose – a halfhearted wave. “She looks younger than me.”

“We'll talk about that some other time,” Gran said, pulling into her driveway. She clambered stiffly out of the car and stretched. “Now, let's get you settled in, darling. You can check your e-mail after you unpack.”

HI SKYE. U R MY K-BRDING 2 DAY + THEN I HAVE PT. MOM IS SLPNG + DAD IS AT WRK. THIS SUX SCOTT

“What does he have to say?” Gran asked, bustling into her tiny home office.

“He says hi,” Skye reported. “And that I'm his key-boarding assignment today. Then he has physical therapy. And my mom is sleeping, and my dad is still at work.”

“Well, that's good, isn't it?” Gran said, peering over her shoulder – which was something that was not going to fly
once Hana started writing, Skye thought, trying to hide her irritation. “You can almost understand what he's trying to say,” Gran added.

“It's a lot better than the way he was typing last month, anyway,” Skye told her.

“He'll improve in leaps and bounds, you'll see,” Gran said, patting Skye on the back. “Don't worry, Skye. He'll get better every single day.”

Skye frowned, not knowing how to reply – because that wasn't what the social worker told her a couple of weeks earlier, talking about Scott. She'd said,
“It'll be two steps forward, one step back. That's on a good day, Skye. And there's no knowing yet how far he'll be able to go.”

But there was no point in telling Gran that, Skye decided, signing off. At least one person in the family should be allowed to remain an optimist.