The Chance You Won't Return Page 21

  I turned back to the TV. “It’s not my turn.”

  “I know,” he said, “but come with me anyway.”

  Outside, it was warmer than it had been for weeks. Even though it wasn’t raining, the ground was slick and muddy. Jackson trotted ahead, sniffing at every tree.

  I thought Dad was going to have a talk with me about something — yelling at Mom, not paying close enough attention to her, something — but instead he said, “Katy mentioned you passed your driver’s ed test.” He glanced at me from the corner of his eye. He didn’t look upset, just curious.

  “Oh, right,” I said, kicking a stone into the gutter. “I did.”

  “That’s great.” Jackson started barking at another dog in a yard across the street, impeded by an invisible fence. Dad tugged him along. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  For a second, I didn’t answer. I didn’t even want to glance over at him in case he had that disappointed look again. “I guess I forgot.”

  “That’s a pretty big thing to forget.”

  I wrapped my arms around myself even though it wasn’t that cold. “Not really. I still have to take the class next semester. This just means that I didn’t totally fail.”

  “I think it’s a big thing.”

  One of our neighbors, Mr. Daniels, was hauling bags of groceries into his house. Dad waved at him and I tried to smile but it looked more like a smirk. Jackson stopped to pee under a stop sign. We stood nearby, waiting for Jackson, and I thought Dad was going to let the driving test thing drop. But then he said, “Even though things are really busy with Mom right now, you can still tell me about this stuff.”

  It didn’t feel like it. He was tired and frustrated all the time. Whenever he and Mom came home from Dr. McGlynn’s, he’d try to share a piece of good news — Mom was being put on a new medication, or she talked about her feelings without mentioning Amelia — but more often he sounded drained. Dad and I had always had a good relationship; he cheered at my soccer games and taught me how to swim and didn’t make me feel stupid about failing driver’s ed. But it was like he was a different person now, too. We were all flying through a storm with the clouds pressing against the windows so we couldn’t tell which way was up. How could I tell him about normal things like a driver’s ed test when we were trying to figure out how to get back on the ground?

  “I know,” I said. “I just forgot.”

  Jackson tugged at the leash, in the direction of home. “Let’s go,” Dad said, and I wasn’t sure if it was to Jackson or to me. He put his arm around my shoulders as we walked. “I know it’s tough.”

  It was tough. And it wasn’t going to get better. “I know,” I said.

  “We just have to work through it a little longer,” he said, voice cracking. “I’m really trying, Alex. I wish I could make her better.” I turned to him, wondering if Dr. McGlynn had given him some good news or a medication was working. Something to make him hopeful, to give him a timeline of his own. But his eyes were on the house, and they were clouded, like he was looking into the storm.

  White Christmas lights wrapped around the Wileys’ house. Cars filled the driveway and lined both sides of the street. From the front lawn, I could hear glasses clinking and someone’s loud, howling laugh. It was a clear night, and I stood outside for a minute, identifying Orion.

  “Hello?” A silhouette appeared at the front door. Mrs. Wiley.

  “Hi, sorry,” I said, approaching the door. “I got distracted for a second. First clear sky we’ve had in weeks.”

  She smiled and held the storm door open for me. “It’s nice, isn’t it? We’re so glad you could come, Alex. Can I take your coat?” She was wearing a boxy dress with beads sewn into the collar. For a second, I felt a little stupid in my plaid skirt and black turtleneck, which Katy had called appropriate — “So you don’t look slutty in front of his parents” — but now seemed boarding-school bland.

  When Jim appeared in the front hall a second later, he was in a button-down shirt and tie. “Hey, Alex.” He gave his mom a meaningful look, and she told us to enjoy the party, then disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Thanks for coming,” he said. “My parents have this thing every year. Sometime tonight my uncle Allen will dress up like Santa for all the kids. When I was seven, I saw him getting ready and freaked out.”

  “Bet that killed Santa for you.”

  He shrugged. “My parents said Uncle Allen was just helping Santa out, but I didn’t exactly believe them.”

  In the living room, the Wileys had set up a couple of card tables — one with platters of food, another as a makeshift bar. People balanced small plates and plastic cups as they talked. On one side of the room, the top of a Christmas tree brushed the ceiling. A stereo played pop versions of Christmas songs.

  Jim’s dad was behind the bar. I hadn’t seen him since that day in his front yard, with a chunk of their house missing. Now he was in a bright-red sweater. I wasn’t sure if it was the sweater or a few drinks that made his cheeks look flushed. He beckoned us over. “You must be Alex. What can I get for you?”

  “Coke?” I said, glancing between Jim and his dad, like I might have gotten it wrong. Jim asked for the same.

  Mr. Wiley scooped ice into plastic cups and poured, then waited for the fizz to subside. He extended his hand and the soda. I wasn’t sure which to take first. “Glad you could make it.”

  “Thanks for having me.”

  Mr. Wiley took a sip of his own drink, something on the rocks. He nodded at us. “I hear Jim’s been giving you driving lessons.”

  Beside me, I could feel Jim tense a little. “He’s been a huge help,” I said. “The driving teacher at school kind of hated me, so Jim stepped in and it’s been a lot better.”

  “I’m sure.” Mr. Wiley kept nodding, as if his head wasn’t secured to his neck. “A little tutoring goes a long way. Jim’s getting Bs in chemistry now — all it took was a little time after school. Of course, getting tutored by your boyfriend’s probably better than getting tutored by Mrs. Frasier.”

  I blinked at Mr. Wiley. Boyfriend? I made sure to keep my head straight in case Jim’s face was suddenly pale and terrified. “I actually just passed the written test.”

  “Good for you! As long as you know all the rules of the road, you’ll be set. Easiest thing in the world, driving.” He glimpsed at Jim. “Just make sure he doesn’t skip the lesson about stopping. Sometimes he forgets that part.” Mr. Wiley laughed so good-naturedly that I wasn’t sure if the Wileys had taken to joking about the whole car-slamming-into-a-house thing. Beside me, Jim’s laugh sounded more like a cough.

  “Well, we’re going to say hi to people,” Jim said, voice clipped. “Thanks for the drinks.” He took my hand and led me through the crowded room, into the kitchen.

  I didn’t know what to say. Mostly I was still wondering about the whole boyfriend thing, but it didn’t seem like an appropriate time to ask. Jim glanced around the room, as if he was looking for a distraction.

  “So that’s my dad,” he finally said.

  I tried to smile carelessly. “Parents are fun, huh?” I wanted to tell him that it was a comment my mom probably would have made back before her nervous breakdown, thinking she was being funny or even helpful — a nice reminder to not screw up — and maybe she wouldn’t have even realized that it was obnoxious. But now she was Amelia Earhart and thought I was an amazing female pilot, so I couldn’t exactly tell him it got better. Besides, no matter what people said to make you feel better about your parents, it didn’t work. You still had to come home to them.

  Jim grabbed an open party-size bag of chips. “Hungry?”

  We leaned against the counter and munched on chips until Jim’s mom shooed us away, saying there were plenty of chips in a bowl in the living room, along with lots of other great snacks, so we could go binge on them if we wanted. In the hall, we ran into Will McNamee.

  “Hey, dude, I was wondering where you were,” he said to Jim.

  “Just avoiding
people,” Jim said, and nodded at me. “You know Alex, right?”

  I’d seen Will in school before, but I’d never talked to him. Jim’s friends seemed nice enough, but I liked having Jim all to myself and didn’t want to share him yet with people who might know him better.

  Like Jim, Will was tall and had the build of a swimmer. His hair was dark and slicked with too much product. He wore a button-down shirt, untucked, and no tie.

  Will studied me for a second. I wondered if Jim had told Will I was his girlfriend. “You used to be on the girls’ soccer team,” Will said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Freshman and sophomore year.”

  “My girlfriend, Jess, was on the team with you.” He turned to Jim. “She’s coming tonight.”

  They listed a few other people who were supposed to show up — a handful of seniors Jim sometimes sat with at lunch. My stomach churned. I’d thought it would just be relatives and neighbors, not a bunch of people from school. Did they think I was Jim’s girlfriend? Or some idiot who couldn’t drive? Had they seen my mom at school that day?

  The rest of Jim’s friends showed up not long after Will. By the time everyone was there, Jim’s dad had drifted away from the card-table bar, giving Everett Brown the opportunity to swipe a bottle of vodka. Jim took a two-liter bottle of Diet Coke and a handful of cups, and we escaped into the basement.

  We were an even number of guys and girls. Thankfully, Everett and Cameron Colby weren’t together; it was weird being around his friends in a dating capacity. I wondered if any of his friends knew about the room off the basement, where Jim had his artwork.

  Jess sat next to me on one of the old couches. She was small and used to have long hair, but had recently cropped it. When we were on the soccer team together, she had been pretty cool — really focused on the field, and sometimes made playlists to pump us up before games.

  “You were so right to not try out this season,” she told me. “The new coach, Ms. Bryan, knows nothing about soccer. Plus, a bunch of girls got hurt, so we lost basically every game. Suckiest season ever.”

  I’d heard about that. But I also remembered running down the field on a clear, crisp day, being part of a group united in this single, simple purpose, and I missed it.

  “And it was so annoying that it was our last year. Great way to go out, right?” She cocked her head. “But you’re a junior, right? You should try next year.”

  Will passed Jess a cup. She took a sip and wrinkled her nose. “This much vodka is seriously going to soak into me. You are going to be able to light my hair on fire.”

  Jim held the bottle of vodka and looked up at me.

  “A little,” I said. “Not hair-fire amounts.”

  He handed me a cup, and he started to fill his with Diet Coke and vodka as well. Remembering his epilepsy medication, my stomach dropped a little. “Is that okay?” I asked.

  He stopped mid pour. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “But what about — ?”

  “Seriously, it’s cool.”

  Will slid onto the couch beside Jess. “Of course it’s cool, dude. You don’t even have to drive home this time.” He laughed, and Jim avoided making eye contact with me.

  After setting up speakers on Jim’s iPod, Everett suggested Never Have I Ever. I was kind of relieved — it meant I wouldn’t have to make small talk with Jim’s friends. Jim and Will pulled over a couple more chairs to form a kind of circle.

  Cameron started. She was really skinny; I wondered how long she’d last in the game before getting absolutely wasted. “Never have I ever . . . smoked up in the guys’ locker room.” Her eyes rested on Will.

  He took a sip. “Oh, fine, that’s how you want to play? Never have —”

  Jess whacked him. “Not your turn. Never have I ever . . . hooked up on school property.”

  Jim and I glanced at each other and sipped. At first I wasn’t sure if anyone had noticed, but Everett laughed. “What’d you do, sneak out during gym class?”

  “Behind the library,” Jim said.

  “Classy.”

  Giggling, Jess nudged me, like I was part of their group. Now it was my turn. I didn’t know anybody well enough to call them out on anything, so I kept things general. “Never have I ever . . . stolen anything.”

  Everyone except Cameron drank, including me. Everett rolled his eyes at Cameron. “Oh, come on, you’re such a liar.”

  She shook her head. “Unless I stole a pack of gum when I was like three, no. I’m paranoid about being caught.”

  Jim looked at me. “What about you?”

  “Oh,” I said. “In middle school, Maddie Richards and I would go to the pharmacy and sometimes we’d dare each other to take lip glosses or nail polish or whatever. Maddie was always really good at it. I got caught once and they threatened to call my mom, but I cried, so they didn’t. We kind of stopped after that.”

  “Maddie Richards?” Will said. “Is she the one who always draws on her hands?”

  He made it sound like Maddie was kind of stupid. Even though I wasn’t really talking to Maddie these days, I bristled. “Yeah. I’ve known her forever.”

  “My turn,” Everett said. “Never have I ever . . . started a fight. An actual brawl, not just people being bitchy to each other.”

  The game went on for a while. Never have I ever been on a plane; never have I ever cheated on a test; never have I ever been cheated on; never have I ever been arrested; never have I ever . . . on and on and on. Even though I was sipping my drink, I started to feel loose and heavy, like a wilting flower. Beside me, Jess kept giggling. At one point, she turned to me and said, almost shouting, “Now you’re going to know all our secrets!”

  “Hey, keep it down,” Jim said. “My parents are right upstairs.”

  “And I’m not exactly on their good list,” Will said.

  Jess leaned against me. “What about you? You’ve met Jim’s parents, right? Are you on their good list?”

  “More than Will,” Jim said. “And they still let him come over.”

  “What about her parents?” Jess wanted to know. “Do they like you? Do they know you almost destroyed your house? I bet they loved that.”

  Jim rubbed the back of his head. “The first time we were going driving, Alex’s dad asked me about it and gave me the whole intense-dad look.” He paused. “I only met Alex’s mom once, really quick.” For a second, I thought he was going to tell everyone about Halloween and I held my breath. Then he continued, “So maybe Alex’s dad came back with bad news and now they’re getting the shotguns ready.”

  I laughed a little too loud. “Yeah, that’s it. My mom’s got all these maps and she’s planning an attack. Watch out.” Before I could say anything else, I took another sip. That was one secret I didn’t feel like expounding on. At least until someone said, Never have I ever had a parent go crazy. My cheeks were red.

  “Uh-oh,” Will said. “Looks like you’re going to have to do a parent intro soon, Wiley.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I said.

  Just for a second, Jim blinked at me. His face didn’t really change, but I suddenly felt like all my organs were rotting. Mr. Wiley had called Jim my boyfriend. Boyfriends were supposed to come over and put on a movie as a pretense for making out and deal with meeting the parents. So far I’d met Jim’s parents and friends, seen his secret art room, gone through his old photo albums, and learned about his epilepsy medication. He’d only seen my kitchen.

  But I didn’t know what I could talk about: How my mom was crazy? How it was hard talking to my dad nowadays? How my friends weren’t really talking to me anymore? That’d be super attractive.

  “Kids?” Mrs. Wiley was at the top of the stairs. Everett shoved the bottle of vodka under an armchair. “We’re all taking a picture in front of the tree.”

  Cameron handed out mints, each of us taking four. The chalky tablets burned my mouth as they melted. We trotted up the stairs, where the chatter had grown noisier. Empty cups and plates were strewn around
the kitchen. In the other room, Jim’s uncle Allen was dressed up as Santa and laughing heartily. I felt a little dizzy and disoriented by the commotion as people gathered in front of the tree. I wanted to make things up to Jim but didn’t know how. When I tried to reach for his hand, Mrs. Wiley told me to stand by Cameron and Jess instead. Jim didn’t object.

  The camera was set up on a tripod. Mr. Wiley squinted through the lens. “All right, everybody, squeeze together. Got to get the ends in.”

  On either side, Jess and Cameron pressed against me. We all smiled, trying not to breathe.

  “Looks good.” Mr. Wiley pressed the timer and dashed to a spot by his wife. We held our smiles as the camera’s red light blinked at us — once, twice, three times, then five quick pulses and a bright flash.

  In the back row, someone said, “I think I blinked!”

  Mr. Wiley jogged back to the camera. “All right, one more time, just to be sure. Eyes open this time, Bill!” We huddled together tighter and kept smiling, eyes getting blurry. As the red light blinked, I wondered if I would be in next year’s Christmas party picture or if I would be another face in a photo album, shoved away in a basement. I couldn’t turn to Jim to see if he was thinking the same thing. The red light pulsed and then the camera flashed and we were all captured forever.

  In my life I had come to realize that when things were going very well indeed it was just the time to anticipate trouble. And, conversely, I learned from pleasant experience that at the most despairing crisis, when all looked sour beyond words, some delightful “break” was apt to lurk just around the corner.

  — Amelia Earhart

  I started watching Mom more closely, trying to follow her personal timeline. If I could figure out exactly when Amelia Earhart’s final flight would be, maybe I could stop anything bad from happening to Mom.

  One afternoon in January, I was helping Teddy make a poster board about Saturn when I heard the faint, crinkling sound of static. For a second, I thought it might be Katy watching television, but then I remembered that she was at Amy White’s that afternoon. I tried to ignore it, but it got progressively louder. I wondered where Mom was.