The Chance You Won't Return Page 11

  “Katy!” I shouted up the stairs. “You want cereal?” After a second, I heard a distracted “No” come from our room, so I only poured one bowl.

  Dad handed me a spoon. “You probably shouldn’t call her Amelia.”

  I took a couple of bites, chewing slowly. “So what am I supposed to call her? Mom? I don’t want her freaking out or bolting outside or something.”

  He sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know, but that’s what Dr. Cowan said. Not to agree with her, but be gentle about it.”

  “Well, that’s really helpful,” I said. “Should be easy. Just like a high-wire act.” I held my arms out and mimicked balancing on a tightrope, using the lines of the tiled floor to guide me, and trilled a circusy tune as I walked. When we were little, Katy and I liked to try out different acrobatic moves — handstands in the yard, swinging around tree branches, balancing on the edge of the fence by the elementary school. Katy was always much better at it than I was. But I used to think that being a tightrope walker in the circus would be a good job. I could walk in a straight line, and I was good at not looking down. When I still took gymnastics, I would walk across the balance beam and imagine I was in a sparkly leotard, high above the crowd, and everyone was awed by my death-defying turns and steps. Sometimes — especially when I was failing something as lame as driver’s ed — it still seemed like a good career choice. I twirled around and spread my arms in a kind of triumph.

  Mom had torn her attention away from her maps and was looking at me. “That was very graceful,” she said.

  I wasn’t sure if it was Mom or Amelia Earhart talking. “Thanks.”

  “You could even do some stunt flying.”

  “Yeah. I bet.” I hated that she was right there, looking at me and talking to me, and yet she wasn’t there at all. She didn’t want to be there. Before this, my mom and I got into a lot of fights. I would have taken any of those instead of this compliment that meant nothing. “Sorry,” I said. “I don’t think I’d be a good stunt flyer after all.”

  I was pretending to do the homework I should have done for that morning when Theresa called. I’d already ignored a couple of her texts.

  “Where were you today?” she asked. “Are you sick?”

  “No,” I said. I was hiding under my covers because Katy refused to leave, and I didn’t want to try another room in case Dad or Mom was in there. “My mom was throwing up and stuff, and my dad wanted someone to stay with her while he was at work, so . . .”

  “Lucky. We had this heinous pop quiz in English, and I’m not supposed to tell you about it, but study chapters five through seven of Gatsby. And get this — Maddie and Josh want to go to the football game.”

  I sat up, making a little tent out of my covers. “Like where guys hit each other and get points for it?”

  “No good movies are out, and they think it’ll be funny to go and make obnoxious comments. Of course, Josh will probably get his ass kicked later, but what are you going to do? So can you think of something better to do tonight, or are we going to the game?”

  After everyone hated me for messing up the field, I wasn’t exactly crazy about the thought of showing up at the football game. Even though the grass was fine again and all the lines were repainted, it was still like I’d shot the football coach. “I don’t know, Theresa. Seriously?”

  “Well, think of other ideas and then call Josh and Maddie. Maybe you can talk them out of this.”

  I hadn’t even set the phone down when it chirped again. I expected Theresa, with an alternative idea for tonight, but an older woman’s voice came from the other end of the line. “Hi, this is Barbara Ellis. Is this Alex? Sorry, I must have gotten your number mixed up with your dad’s.”

  “Mrs. Ellis?” She was Mom’s friend. Even though I had seen her a bunch of times, since she had watched us when Mom was in the hospital, my stomach always tightened when I heard her voice. “You want to talk to Dad?”

  “If he’s available.”

  I crawled out from under the covers and went to find Dad, passing by Mom, who was still in the kitchen poring over the maps. He was in the living room, with Patsy Cline on the stereo and Jackson at his feet. I handed him my phone and sat beside Jackson, who was chewing on his favorite stuffed duck. Absently petting Jackson, I listened to Dad’s side of the conversation: “Uh-huh. . . . Any time you have. . . . That would be great. . . . For now, at least. . . . Uh-huh. Thanks so much, Barbara.”

  When he hung up, I frowned at him. “What did she want?”

  Dad cleared his throat and started mumbling about how he’d have to get back to work soon, especially since Mom wasn’t going to be working for the foreseeable future, and therapy would be a lot, even with whatever insurance would kick in. Mrs. Ellis had offered to stay with Mom for most of the day, in case anything happened. But he was avoiding something.

  “Just say it,” I said.

  He pressed his palms together. “We’ve all got to give stuff up, Alex. I really need you to be here when you get out of school —”

  “You’re kidding me!” Jackson whimpered and moved away from me. “So, what, the bell rings and I’ve got to be here?”

  “She’s your mom, Alex.”

  “No, she’s not. She doesn’t think she is.” When I marched into the kitchen, Dad followed me. We stopped, seeing Mom at the table. “What’s your name again?” I asked.

  Mom waved a hand at me, like I was telling a joke. “You know very well I’m Amelia.”

  Dad’s frown deepened, and he positioned himself so Mom couldn’t see his face. “Don’t try to confuse her anymore, all right? She’s your mom, underneath all the maps, and that’s it. Now, I really need your help here if we’re going to get her any better. I don’t want to have to fight with you about this. Can I count on you or not?” The lines of his face sharpened in his seriousness, but I could barely look him in the eye because there was a sadness, too, and disappointment. As if I should have been the responsible older sister, rallying everyone in support of Mom. I didn’t want to have to deal with this, either, and the fact that Dad thought I should made it worse. From driver’s ed to the Mom situation, that’s mostly what I felt like — this huge disappointment to everyone. Except Mom, who thought I was some fantastic girl pilot.

  “Fine,” I mumbled. “I’ll be here. Except for driving practice. With Jim.”

  He nodded. “All right. As long as I’m home before you leave.”

  I tried to swallow the lump forming in my throat. “Should we put together a schedule? Like a chore wheel? Thursday: take out trash, hide maps from crazy Mom.”

  “Hey, if you want to take the trash out, too, be my guest.”

  He was trying to make me laugh, but I didn’t want to, especially with Mom right in front of me. I felt like I usually did in the driver’s seat, with the windows shut and the ceiling pressing down and all the air gone.

  I didn’t tell Dad when I left to meet Theresa and the others at the football game. Not that I told any of my friends I was coming, either. I just assumed that, without a better suggestion, that was where they’d be. Even if Theresa had convinced them to go somewhere else, I didn’t really care. I just wanted to be out of the house, and the football game was probably the last place Dad would look for me.

  Katy was the only one to see me go. When I pulled on a sweater, Katy looked up from her copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. It was practically the first time she’d acknowledged me since we got back from the hospital. She’d spent the afternoon tearing through her homework. She had probably gotten through everything due Monday and started working on stuff that wasn’t due for weeks. “Where are you going?”

  “Out.” I grabbed my cell and some money, just in case. I didn’t feel like coming back for a while. “And it’s Friday. Stop doing your English homework, already.”

  “Does Dad know?”

  “Does Dad know that you’re a total nerd? Yeah, probably.” I stopped at the door. “Don’t tell him, all right? I just need a minute out of this h
ouse.”

  She stared at me for a second, then sighed, holding her book up again. “Fine. Just don’t run away or anything.”

  I smiled at her. “If I decide to run away, I’ll bring you with me.”

  I felt like running all the way to the football game. It was brisk out, but the air felt good against my skin, like I’d been stifled under bulky coats and wool sweaters all day. I passed kids playing basketball in their driveways, moms unloading groceries from cars, people standing by their mailboxes and flipping through their mail. Outside, it was any other Friday. None of these people knew that, at my house, we’d just brought Mom home even though she wasn’t better yet. But I didn’t want to think about that anymore. I tried to wipe the image of Mom and her maps out of my mind before a lump formed in my throat. Instead, I started walking faster, then jogging, and then I was running on the side of the road. It wasn’t like running laps in gym. For a moment, I felt like I could run forever.

  By the time I reached the school, the game had already started. The stands were pretty crowded — our team must have continued their winning streak. Everyone was a blur of maroon-and-gray sweatshirts. Girls huddled together like it was colder out than it actually was. On the sidelines, cheerleaders with sparkly makeup bounced around and chanted, “Let’s go, Oak Ridge,” over and over. I could see Caroline Lavale with the other color-guard kids. Even the marching band was waiting by the field. I didn’t know we kept them around for anything other than the lame costumes and funny hats.

  So far, no one had scored. I didn’t really know the rules, so it was hard to tell who wasn’t doing well and who might actually score at some point. But people kept getting excited whenever a player managed to catch the ball.

  Near the stands, the Key Club had set up a card table with baked goods and hot chocolate and cider. I bought a cup of cider and stood beside the stands with it, sipping as I watched guys line up and run into each other.

  “Alex!” I heard Theresa shout from overhead. When I looked up, she was leaning out of the stands. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

  I wished she hadn’t shouted my name. Other people turned to look as well. It was like I was a spy for the other team. What did they think I’d do? Get a Mack truck and run over the whole defensive line?

  “Come on. Sit up here,” Theresa said.

  I climbed my way through the crowd to get to my friends, smelling alcohol from most kids I passed. With the surprisingly good season, people celebrated harder. My friends squeezed together to make room for me. Everyone else glared like I was bad luck, and I started to think that coming to the game wasn’t such a great idea. I hoped the players hadn’t noticed. Dealing with them was bad enough already.

  “So,” I said, “are you having fun? Is it everything you dreamed it would be?”

  Theresa rolled her eyes. “Oh, more.”

  “Psh, whatever,” Josh said. “We got to see Nick Gillan get sacked. That was pretty satisfying.”

  “Too bad I missed that one,” I said.

  “Don’t worry,” Maddie said. “It’s not even halftime yet. There are still plenty of chances for him to get his ass handed to him.”

  Even without the possibility of Nick Gillan getting his face mangled, I liked the brutality of it all. After feeling so awkward and helpless at home and in the hospital, it was kind of nice to see people slam into each other and throw one another to the ground. If I’d been a guy, that’s what I would have signed up for. I even found myself cheering a few times. Theresa looked at me like I’d lost my mind — not such a stretch these days — but Josh and Maddie got into it, too.

  By the second half, Franklin had scored two touchdowns, while we were still stuck at zero. The Franklin cheerleaders were mocking our players, and the Oak Ridge cheerleaders were making obnoxious rhymed comments back.

  “Now, this is the Oak Ridge team I know,” Josh said. “No skills to back up their asshole behavior.”

  “Might as well stick with what you’re good at,” Maddie said.

  Behind me, I thought I heard someone say my name. I almost turned around, but then I heard it again: “It’s because Winchester’s here.” I sipped the rest of my cider, pretending I didn’t notice. The voice came again. “You’re killing us, Winchester!” I glanced over my shoulder to see a group of JV football players at the top of the stands, some jerk sophomore in the middle looking right at me. He had acne and a squarish head. I couldn’t remember his name.

  “Fuck off. You didn’t even make the team,” Theresa said.

  “Go drive away, Winchester,” the sophomore said. “Drive off a cliff.”

  At that moment, if my dad had suggested that I homeschool myself so I could stay with Mom full-time, I would have taken him up on it. “I’m gonna go,” I told Theresa. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Theresa frowned. “Come on. Don’t listen to him.”

  “It’s not just him.” I said, standing up. Behind me, the sophomore and his friends started hooting. “I don’t care. It’s fine. I should get home anyway.” Before Theresa could persuade me to stay, I shoved my way back through the crowd, down to the ground again. The sophomores applauded as I left.

  I crumpled the empty cider cup and tossed it into the trash. One lousy moment — that was all I wanted. One moment that didn’t make me worry about anything, and some dumbass sophomore had to attack me. His parents were probably sane and knew his name. Couldn’t he go torture them and leave me alone?

  I was bending down to tie my shoelace tighter, so I could run the whole way home again, when I heard footsteps behind me. It was Jim Wiley. He smiled, which made all my limbs soften. Then I remembered how frazzled I must have looked.

  “Hey. I didn’t know you were into this kind of thing,” I said before he had the chance to ask me about why I was leaving.

  “You either,” he said. “Will and Everett talked me into coming.”

  “Same here,” I said. “Not your friends, I mean. My friends.” Shit. Couldn’t I talk right? I felt like every inch of me was an exposed nerve.

  “Yeah.” He brushed his hand by his head, like he meant to push it through his hair but remembered too late that he’d cut most of it off. “You shouldn’t let those assholes get to you,” he said.

  I tried to smile, but my face felt too tight. “Oh, right. I don’t care about them. I just didn’t feel like staying anymore.”

  “That’s cool. Are you just headed home?”

  On the field, the marching band took its place, along with the color guard. Over a loudspeaker, someone — it sounded like Simon Kelly, obnoxious honor student — said they were playing “I Feel Good” by James Brown. Horns blared and everyone cheered. Drums buzzed like the engine of a plane.

  I’d just gotten out of my house; I didn’t want to head back now, but what else was there? My friends were still here, clapping for Caroline Lavale as she swung a maroon flag around the field. In town, there were just useless little gift stores and restaurants, nowhere I’d want to hang out alone. Even hiding in the movie theater was out — the Cineplex was out by the strip malls, too far to walk. And, of course, I didn’t have a car.

  “What’s with you, Jim?” I said suddenly. “We weren’t friends before this year. Why are you teaching me how to drive, anyway? It’s kind of hopeless, right?”

  His eyebrows rose, and he looked like he wasn’t sure if he should apologize or back away and let me rant by myself. “No, you’re doing okay —”

  “I’m like this freak who can’t drive and messes up the football field. Why are you hanging out with me, anyway? What is it, pity? I’ve got enough of that, thanks, so I don’t need you to do me any great favors.”

  “It’s not pity,” Jim said, a little harsher, like I’d offended him. “I like hanging out with you.”

  “Because we both broke stuff with cars?” A little voice in the back of my head kept screaming at me to just shut up already. Did I want to alienate the one guy who was actually being nice to me? The one guy who made me forget
the current mess that was my life? But the anger fizzing in my veins kept me going. Dimly, I wondered if this was what it was like for Mom — a glimmer of logic overwhelmed by the sharp and buzzing frustration. And instead of stopping, I took a step toward Jim so we were almost touching. “Before this year, you never even said hello to me, and now you’re giving me driving lessons and standing up for me in Spanish class. What’s your deal?”

  He didn’t move away from me. Instead, he seemed to get closer. My heart pounded.

  “Remember that time in the woods, when you saw me trying to graffiti the rock?” he asked. “You liked it. You said it looked kind of like a phoenix, which was really cool, and nobody else in this school would’ve gotten that, not even my friends.”

  I stopped. Inside, the buzzing frustration started to dim. I was glad I hadn’t listened to Mom and decided to cut through the woods that day.

  “In case you missed it,” Jim said, “most of the people in our school suck. So it’s nice when somebody comes along that you can just talk to and not feel weird around. Especially after driving into a house. So if you want to get mad at me some more, go ahead, but you wanted to know, and that’s my deal.”

  For a second, I just stared at Jim. I still felt a kind of buzzing, but it was different now. On the field, the marching band started playing “I Heard It Through the Grapevine,” and they were a little off the beat. The cheerleaders were encouraging the people in the stands to clap.

  And I before I knew it, I was kissing Jim Wiley.

  Before now, most of my kissing experience consisted of spin the bottle and being cornered by guys at parties. I didn’t even really know what I was doing when I started kissing Jim. I hadn’t exactly thought past that point, but then he started kissing me back and we were pressed together and his arms were around me, and I never wanted to stop kissing him. Suddenly everything was charged. I felt like all the atoms in my body were spinning and zipping through space.

  Spinning and zipping were exactly what I was looking for.

  The football game was over and most cars had disappeared from the parking lot by the time Jim and I stopped kissing. For the last hour or two, we’d been lying on a grassy hill behind the library, well hidden from everyone at the game. When car horns started blaring in the distance, I looked up.