Wicked Sense (17 page)

You’d think this ego boost
would make me more confident with girls, but I
feel
gloomy and conflicted. It seems my romantic life has already peaked, and it’s all downhill from here.

The
guilt about Skye
crushes me
. She’s gone forever, but after
the make-
out session with
Jane
I feel like I have
betrayed
Skye
. No, not her. I betrayed my feelings for her.

Boulder would tell me to think like a man.

Mona bangs on the door. “Wake up,
driver!” s
he yells.

***

My sister
always take
s
the bus, but today she
gets
i
n her head
that
I should drive her to school. Since it was part of the bargain with Dad, I have no option.

Sh
e settles in the passenger side
and
fiddles
with the radio.

“Hey,” I say, “never touch a man’s radio.”

Mona shoots me an angry look. “It’s not a man’s radio. It’s yours.”

Everybody I know is a smart
ass.

“Drop me off at Pain’s,” she mumbles.

“What?” That’s why she didn’t want to take the bus. “Are you skipping school?”

She lets out a deep sigh.
“Drake, don’t give me the ‘
tude
. It doesn’t suit you.”

Who is this devil possessing my little sister? Am I supposed to believe that
two
-year-old ball of cuddliness turned into this
girl
?

“So, we’re going to the House of Pain?” I ask.

She snorts. “You really believe you’re the first one to make that joke, right?”

Well, I thought it was a good one. “Do me a favor, will you? Don’t come back home with a
face
tattoo, okay? Or knocked up or something.”

She looks at me as if I’m made out of snot. “You don’t need to be a jerk about it.” Her voice, for the first time in years, betrays a little frailty.

Remembering what Skye said to me
, sitting i
n the same place, I wonder
:
why don’t we
talk
more? What is the big deal, anyway?

“Are you still mad about the car?”
I try
to break the ice.

“No. Not after I’ve seen the car,” she replies.

The conversation dies. This is going to be harder than I thought
.

“So,” I say, excising any contempt from my tone. “What’s the deal with Pain?”

“What now, Drake?”

“Does she go to school with you?”

“You
’ve
know
n
her since
forever. S
he’s being
going to school with
me since k
indergarten
!
Becca
? Hello?”

“
Becca
? Not
p
igtails
Becca
? Not
p
rincess
d
ress
-
u
p
Becca
?” I remember their play
dates.

“You’re such a moron!”
Mona
says,
searching for something in her purse.

I still can’t get over it. “Little
p
igtails
Becca
calls herself ‘Pain’ now?” I say, sounding like an eighty-year-old. “Why?”

“Why
do you care
, Drake
?
E
ew
.”

What? “N
o, no.” Double-
eew
myself. “I didn’t even kno
w w
ho we were talking about. I’m not into little girls.
”

“Why the interrogation, then?” She
gets
a purple
lipstick
out of her purse, swings down the sun visor
, and applies the Halloween
-
ish
ma
ke-up while looking at herself i
n the tiny mirror.

I don’t answer at first. I wait until a red light, then turn to her and say, “I thought we could, you know, talk.”

She stares back at me, confused. “About what?”

I
hesitate
. “About us? Our lives?”

She cocks her head and narrows her eyes. “Are you coming out?”

“W-What?!?”

“You’re coming out to your little sister! That’s so cute.” And there it is, the first smile I see on her face in weeks.

I raise
my hands in desperation. “I’m not coming out!”

“Aren’t you ready?”

“I’m
straight
! Where did
you get this
idea?”

Her smile fades a bit.
“
Don’t get all worked up. It sounds
homophobic
, you know?
”

“Why do I have to be homosexual or homophobic? Can’t I be neither?”

“But your reaction—”

I bang my fist on the dashboard.
“It’s because it’s already hard enough to
get
a
girl
. I don’t need these rumors.”

A horn honks behind us. I loo
k in the back mirror and see a four
-car line waiting for me. My hand
s
go back to the wheel
,
and we move.
Sneaking a peek at her, I see the lipstick is gone and she’s rummaging through her purse again. Her smile is
gone
. She doesn’t look at me.

“
Come on, Drake. W
hat did you expect? I never see you with a girl, you don’t play sports
—
”

“I swim!”

“Swimming is exercise, it’s not
a sport. Besides, the
speedo
—
”

“I don’t wear a
speedo
!
I wear tight swimming trunks! Manly trunks.
”

“That’s not the point. There’s this sensitive side of yours, your soft voice,
and you just said you’re not into girls—”

“
I said
little
g
irls. Like diaper-wearing
Becca
.
”

“A
nd
you are always hanging out with those two studs. I mean, you follow them like a puppy.”

Oh, God, my little sister thinks that Boulder and Sean are studs. Will this nightmare ever end? I look at her, and I’m stunned further when I see a lighter
i
n her left hand, her other hand still inside the purse. I forget all about my supposed gayness.

“Mona! Are you smoking?”

She looks at me, startled. “No,” she says with a guilty voice. “This is for, like, incense and stuff
.
”

“Come on, Mona!” I say
aloud
. Then, my voice turns so
ft, just like she pointed out seconds
ago. “Smoking of all things?” I don’t know what comes over me. My eyes are suddenly humid. I keep staring at the road. I can feel she’s looking at me, but I don’t know what to say.

After a while, she breaks the silence. “Seriously, Drake. It’s not for smoking, or pot, or anything. It’s just a lighter. For candles—”

“—
a
nd ince
n
se. Right.”
My eyes are still on the traffic ahead.

I hear a deep sigh. We don’t say a word until we’re at Pain
’s. Or
p
igtails
Becca’s
. Or who
ever
’s
.
Mo
na doesn’t ask me to not rat
on
her
to Dad. She
leaves the car and closes the door,
and then
leans on the open window.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

I turn to her, at last. “It’s okay. It’s just the lighter—”

“N
o,” she interrupts me. “I’m sorry you’re not gay. We could go clubbing together, looking for guys.” She
blows me a kiss with her purple lips
and laughs
her way
to
the front porch of Pain’s house.

I take off. I smile a little bit, but it’s bittersweet. I realize that while I was living my life, my little sister became, you know, a person.

I’ve been dreading school, but so far it hasn’t been so bad. I guess the news
about
my mother
’s
heart attack
might have softened their luscious desire for mocking me. Maybe it got me a reprieve. Or maybe they weren’t so mean in the first place.

Five minutes after I arrive, I spot Drake. Here we go.

When Drake sees me, he freezes up. He stand
s
by his car, a couple of books
i
n
his l
eft hand, his car keys crushed in his right fist
.
I wave to him, looking pathetic even to myself.

He just stands there. He’s not making a statement
:
he
is
lost.

Well, welcome to the club.

Those two friends of his are walking in his direction. The
bulky one
glances at me. His eyes bulge. He
halts
and puts a hand on the
Sean’s chest, stopping him too.
They mumble something to each other and walk away. I turn to Drake. He’s still paralyzed, oblivious to his friends’ double-take.

I
’d
better make a m
ove. When I start
toward Drake, he come
s
out of his haze.
After a
few tentative steps
, he
meet
s
me in the middle
,
at the lot curbside.

“Hey,” I say, using our old greeting.

He doesn’t answer with our trademark “Hey, you.” Instead, he says, “Are you back?”

I nod.

“Why?” He
winces
. “I mean, how’s your mother? Is she with you?”

So
many things to ask, and he is concerned with Mum? Is he sweet or what?

“She’s much better. It was just a scare.”

His expression shows doubt.

“Her sister is with her,” I
add
, reassuring him. It’s just a half-lie.

“Good. And why are you here?”

Oh, Goddess.
Maybe h
e thinks I came back for him! His face is inscrutable. I can’t let him down, but I can’t tell him the truth. He’s right. To most people, my return won’t make a sliver of sense
,
unless you know I’m a Sister on a mission. I need a way out.

T
he muffler sound
hits me even
before I sense her magical energy. One does not need True Si
ght to realize Jane is arriving.

I t
urn to the parking lot entrance
and see
her
red machine slashing through the traffic, safety be damned. Drake follows my gaze.

After Jane parks, her head jerks up, and she stares straight at us. She doesn’t
look
pleased. Like, at all.

And Drake is visibly upset.

It gives me an idea for a
way out. It’s not pretty, but it’s the best I can do right now. Please don’t hate me, Drake.

“Why do you care?” I say, borrowing some acting talent from Mum.
“And why are you so worried, Drake?”

His voice is unsure. “Nothing. Just some crap I have to deal with.”

I nod in Jane’s direction. “Is she the crap you have to deal with?”

He looks at me startled. His expression is a mash
-
up of surprise and regret.
I so wish I could read his aura. Why can’t I?

I’m sorry, Drake. I’m sorry.