Текст книги "The Queen of Bright and Shiny Things"

Автор книги: Ann Aguirre

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

“You’re Sage, right?” Ms. Smith asks.

I nod, wondering what she wants.

“I saw your videos. Your boyfriend’s really good.” She fumbles, twisting her fingers together. “The secret … the one about me … is it what I think it is?”

Oh, shit.

“Probably,” I mumble. This is so awkward. I never wanted to hurt her. She seems like a sweet woman, if not the most discerning about men.

“And my son really did all those things to you? He followed you?” This is what’s bothering her, I guess, not that her secret affair might get out. I like her better for it.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I never intended to say anything. I just wanted Dylan to leave us alone.”

“I know he can be protective of me, but I swear I had no idea.” Ms. Smith bites into her lower lip, looking even younger. I feel like buying her ice cream. It must be hell to be her son. “What can I do to make this right?”

My answer doesn’t require much thought. “You could drop the charges against Shane. Unless Dylan’s eighteen, he can’t pursue this without your backing. That would be a start.”

“You can guarantee that Shane won’t go after Dylan again? He shouldn’t have done any of this, but he’s my son, and I love him. I won’t see him hurt.”

“I promise. I’ll make sure Shane knows it’s a condition of the deal.” It’s not a legal solution, but if Ms. Smith drops the charges, Shane could come home, right? Excitement surges through me.

“All right,” she says, her shoulders drooping. “I’ll go down to the station tonight. Dylan won’t like it, but I’m in no mood to care.”

“Thank you,” I say. “Dylan’s lucky to have a mom like you.”

“He doesn’t think so.”

There’s not much I can say to that. So I give her a half smile. “Anyway … I should get going.” My pass has a time written on it, and while I suspect teachers will cut me some slack, given the drama I’ve created with my videos, I can’t push it too far.

“You seem like a nice girl. I’m sorry about all of this. Dylan should’ve known better than to dredge up the past. Lord knows I’ve made my share of mistakes.”

I’m curious if she counts Principal Warick among them, but I only wave and hurry down to the hall to my classroom. Everyone looks up when I slip in, but the teacher doesn’t pause. I’m grateful for that. Since it’s chemistry, I join Ryan at our table, where the experiment’s already underway.

“How did it go?” he asks.

“I’m not sure. But … I’m hopeful.”

Three days later, Dylan is suspended from school for a week … and the most astonishing part? Mr. Warick is seen at a local hotel because he’s apparently moved out of the family home. I feel bad for his wife and kids, but I guess it’s better to have a clean break. But I’m not sure if clean is ever the right word for a situation like his.

I pester Aunt Gabby daily for updates on Shane’s situation. And the day after Dylan returns to school, she comes home wearing a frown. My stomach clenches.

“What happened?”

“I talked to Shane’s lawyer. Since Ms. Smith has dropped the charges, his offense no longer goes on his permanent record, and he can be released from Ingram.”

“But that’s good news, right?” I don’t understand why she looks so sad.

“His dad still isn’t around, Sage. Since he’s not willing to assume custody, the state has to send him into foster care until he turns eighteen.”

“That’s only four months away,” I protest, remembering he told me his birthday’s in July.

“It doesn’t change anything. Four months or four days, right now he’s a minor, and he can’t live on his own.”

“He could get … what’s it called … emancipated. Can’t his lawyer help him with the papers?”

“I’ll check into it,” my aunt promises, “but legal petitions take time. It may end up being faster for him to wait until he ages out of the system.”

“What does that even mean?”

“When he turns eighteen, the state will no longer assume responsibility for his care.”

What the hell. This seems incredibly messed up. Now, he’s facing the one situation he wanted to avoid—having to deal with a strange family. After taking care of his mom and managing his own life, he’ll have to follow their rules. I hate that it’s worked out this way; it seems so unfair. He deserves better.

“Where is he?” I demand.

“He’s with a family two hours away.”

Two hours by car, roughly 120 miles. There’s just no way I can bike to see him. I’m still recovering from the trip I took to see his dad. I curl my hand into a fist, taking comfort in how my nails bite into my palms because I’m sad and angry at the same time. But for Shane? For a happy reunion? Okay. Maybe I can ask Aunt Gabby to drive me. I still don’t approve of gas-guzzling vehicles, but Shane’s worth an exception.

“Do you have his address?”

Aunt Gabby shakes her head. “The social worker wouldn’t tell me since I’m not family.”

“Did they give his phone back when they released him from juvie?”

“I imagine so.”

Then why hasn’t he called me? How long has he been out? But maybe his battery’s dead—he probably didn’t have a charger with him—or he might be out of minutes, since it was a prepaid phone. With some effort, I calm down. Honestly, I can’t wait to get to my room, so I can try texting him. If he doesn’t reply, it might not mean anything bad.

“Thanks,” I say quietly. “It means a lot to me that you’ve been calling around.”

“No problem. I like Shane, too. And I don’t want you running off again.”

A wry laugh escapes me. “I won’t. My thighs were sore for a week.”

“You had it coming.”

“I know. I’ll be in my room until dinner, okay?”

“Sure, honey.”

Once I get in there, I shut the door behind me and lean on it for a few seconds, eyes closed. I wish I’d memorized every moment with him, so they’d be sharp as crystal instead of dream-fogged. Lonely, I pull out my phone and type:

You there?

No reply.

I fling myself on my bed and lie there on my face. Ten minutes later, my phone vibrates. I snatch it up and swipe the screen to unlock it. I don’t recognize the number, but the message clues me in. This is Cassie. I know it’s short notice, but I wondered if you had time for coffee.

I text back, sure. OMW. It’s better than sitting here, worrying about Shane. So I put my shoes on and call to my aunt, “I’m meeting a friend at the Coffee Shop. Is that all right?”

“Who?”

“Her name’s Cassie.”

She brightens at hearing a new name. “Okay. Be home before dark.”

The days are a little longer as we roll toward spring, so I think I can manage. After putting on a jacket, I get my bike out of the shed and head into town. Cassie’s already waiting when I arrive, but she stands up when she sees me. For a minute I think she’s going to hug me like we’re old friends instead two girls who were briefly infatuated with Ryan McKenna. He’d die if he saw us together.

“You look like you’ve lost weight,” she says.

Do I? I have no idea. But I guess riding your bike a hundred miles in the cold burns a lot of calories. I decide to pretend it’s a compliment. “Thanks. You look good, too.”

She’s got some highlights and new glasses, and she’s wearing jeans and a cute sparkly top instead of her work uniform. “I got a coffee already. Hope you don’t mind, but I could use an actual caffeine transfusion.”

“Still working both jobs?”

“Yeah. I don’t see an end to that for another two years.”

“I admire your dedication.”

She shrugs. “If you want something bad enough, you do what it takes to make it happen.”

Her words take root inside me as I’m standing in line for my chai latte, but the problem is, I don’t know what more I can do for Shane. I can’t magically emancipate him or roll time forward so that he turns eighteen faster. What else can I do?

“You look thoughtful,” Cassie says as I sit down across from her.

I don’t know what comes over me then, but I dump the whole story in her lap. Her eyes widen as I unburden myself. Finally, I pause to draw breath and she holds up a hand. “So what’s your ultimate goal here?”

“To bring Shane home.”

“And you can only achieve that through emancipation or his father’s cooperation, correct?”

“Sounds about right.”

“So go after Cavendish again. I’m not suggesting you ride out to visit him,” she adds hastily. “But call him. Call him every damned day until he can’t take anymore. Pressure him into doing the right thing.”

“You think that would work?”

Cassie shrugs. “It can’t hurt. Isn’t it better than sitting around for four months?”

“Yeah.”

“This isn’t how I imagined this conversation would go,” she admits, taking a sip of her coffee. She drinks it black, no cream or sugar to dilute the caffeine.

“What did you picture?”

“I figured we’d talk about Ryan. This was better, I think.”

“Did you want to ask about him?” I don’t blame her if she still cares about him. They were together, so to speak, for a while. There are bound to be residual feelings. It’s impossible to turn them off and on. All around me, I see relationships in stages of coming together and falling apart. Sometimes it feels like it’s happening at the same time, like a cascade of fireworks that sets a house on fire.

“Maybe. Is he seeing anyone?”

I shake my head. “I’m not sure what’s going on with him, romance-wise.”

“It’s immature, but I’m glad he hasn’t moved on. I haven’t. Not that I have time.”

“I get it. You loved the guy you thought he was. And it’s hard to let go.”

“You’re pretty wise,” she says.

“I’m still figuring things out. For the first time, though, I think maybe I have a clue.”

She laughs. “Just one?”

Before she leaves, we take a duck-face photo together with my camera and I promptly post it on my Facebook wall, along with a tag for Ryan. My caption reads, Cassie and me, girl talk. Yep.

Ryan responds immediately. OMG. WTH! More acronyms! Cassie’s laughing so hard she can hardly stand to leave. Soon, she has to run because she hasn’t had any sleep in two days. Time for me to imitate her determination.

Like Cassie advised, I call Mr. Cavendish daily. The first time, I’m polite. “Did you know Shane’s out of juvie? He’s in foster care now. But you could save him.”

He hangs up on me.

Day after day, I’m relentless. He keeps slamming the phone down. Finally, I say, “Look, do the right thing. Shane gave his mother how many years? You can give him a few months.”

In time, he stops answering his phone, so I leave messages with the front desk. I don’t care how he feels about the office workers knowing his private business. Like Cassie said, you have to be willing to fight.

School is … normal, I guess. My geometry grades slip a little without Shane tutoring me, but Ryan and Lila take up the slack. We’re like the Three Musketeers, but I miss the fourth side of our quadrangle. Shane still hasn’t texted me.

And I haven’t received any new mail from him, either. It’s been a month since he left juvie.

Where the hell are you, Shane?

It seems like he could find some way to get in touch with me. I told him my e-mail when he was sending that message to Mike, his former guardian. If he remembers.

If he remembers me.

Pain overwhelms me. Maybe he just wants to forget everything. Start over. And it would be selfish of me to drag him back here, back to that crappy trailer, if he’s happier where he is.

And I want Shane to be happy. I do.

I just thought he was happiest with me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

So I’m planting the garden without Shane.

It’s a warm day. Sunny. Green World is hard at work. Both Lila and Ryan are here, our usual members, and even the four sophomores who deserted me. They’ve all apologized. Mel told me that she reported seeing Dylan bully people, so that’s something. She’s partially responsible for his social downfall, and it’s scary how fast people turn when you’re booted off the football team. Now Dylan Smith’s a pretty face with no crew, and payback is a bitch.

So I’m absolutely stunned when he shows up here. Everyone freezes.

I’ve got my fingers in the dirt, planting the seeds according to Gwen’s directions. I don’t know that much about gardening, but I like how it looks already. This lot looks like somebody cares. We care. And I would’ve sworn Dylan Smith doesn’t—about anything except his mom, that is—so nobody knows what to say.

I push to my feet. “What’re you doing here?”

“Can we talk for a minute?”

“I guess.” I move away far enough that the others can’t overhear, but they can still see us.

“It’s weird that you said yes,” he mutters. “Nobody else is talking to me.”

There are two ways I can handle this. I can be bitter and say he deserves it, but that’s not how Aunt Gabby has taught me to behave, even to my enemies. She’s kind even to cranky old Mr. Addams, who’s forever holding up the grocery lines. And she’s the kind of woman I want to be. So I don’t tell Dylan what an asshole he is. I figure he knows.

“What’s this about?” I ask instead.

“My mom’s got me in therapy. She’s worried that I’ll turn into a serial killer with mommy issues or something.”

“I hope it helps,” I say quietly.

“God, this is screwed up. You know so much about me, and we’re not even friends.” He goes on, “Anyway, that’s why I’m here. I’m supposed to make things right, if I can. So I’m offering to help.”

He wants to plant a seed? Okay.

“No problem.” I point at the pile of supplies. “Conrad can get you started. He’s kind of the site foreman.”

“Really? That’s it?”

The others are frozen, watching how this goes down. They seem to be letting me set the tone. And I’ve learned the most important thing from my aunt: Forgiveness is freedom.

“My personal feelings don’t matter, dude. This is an important project. It’s good for the town and the environment.”

“Okay. Then I’ll get to work.”

With Dylan’s help, Conrad creates stone paths between the seedlings and he’s so zen about everything that I feel like I’d like to get to know him better. Dylan doesn’t complain or slack; he’s quiet and polite, speaking only when spoken to. I could feel sorry for him if he wasn’t the reason I lost Shane.

Work takes all day but by the time we finish, there are three sections. Near the front, we’ve planted flowers and Gwen’s dad has donated a simple wooden bench where people can sit and enjoy them. The back of the lot is divided into rows of vegetables, and we’ll send what we grow to the aid center that received the canned goods from our food drive at Christmas. And to the left, there’s a small herb patch. I can’t wait to see these plants thrive and bloom.

After we finish, Gwen prevents us from running off. “This was our big project for the year … and it’s finished now. I move we work out a care schedule for the garden and let that stand in lieu of regular meetings for the rest of the school year.”

“Works for me,” Kenny says.

“We need to weed, water, and fertilize regularly,” Conrad adds.

In time, they come up with a fair division of labor, so nobody’s working more than an hour a week, exactly the time we’d spend at the meeting, and the garden should be in great shape by the end of the summer.

“Wait,” Tara says. “So we keep this up through the summer, too?”

Lila laughs. “The garden can’t tend itself.”

“If you go on vacation, call someone to cover for you. Don’t let the garden die, okay?” Gwen looks particularly concerned with this point.

“We got it,” Mel says.

The club starts to break up, but Gwen yells, “Not yet! I have something else to say.”

“When don’t you?” Kenny mumbles. Tara frowns at him, but he’s over his crush, and he ignores her. I’m glad he didn’t quit the group since I think she’s why he joined in the first place.

“I just want to tell you all that I think you did a great job on this project. As most of you know, I’m graduating, so I won’t be around to lead next year. So I’m nominating Sage to take my place. All in favor?”

Unanimously, despite the crap that went down at school, despite my past and Shane going away. They picked me. This might not seem like a big deal to anyone else, but to me, they might as well have written me a Post-it and stuck it on my locker that reads: Hey, we know who you are, and it’s okay. The feeling is like riding down a hill on my bike with my arms up. At this moment, I feel like I might be able to touch the sky.

“Thanks,” I say softly. “I’ll try to do a good job.”

I have a future. I love Shane and I miss him. But I’m okay. I’ve lived through much worse than this. I came out broken, but Aunt Gabby helped me put the pieces back together. They say that a broken thing is never as strong again where it fractured, but I don’t know if I believe that. In this moment, I feel powerful. I feel free.

After that, Ryan and Lila leave with me. I watch Dylan, watching Lila, and he doesn’t realize that I am. There’s so much naked longing in his look that I have to turn my head. He balls up a fist as Ryan opens the door for her, and then he strides away. My friends take Ryan’s ride, so they get there faster, and when I pedal up, they’re staring at the car parked in my driveway. It’s an old beater, rusted, and there’s a man sitting inside it.

“Do you know him?” Lila asks.

Ryan steps in front of us protectively. “Should I call the cops?”

My heart’s beating so hard, I can barely hear them. “I’m pretty sure that’s Shane’s dad.”

“Oh, holy shit.” Lila’s mouth is practically hanging open. “What’re you gonna do?”

I’ve left my phone number and address with the front desk a hundred times. I just never thought I’d see Henry Cavendish again. Trembling, I crunch my way up the gravel drive to the driver’s side door and tap on the window. He jumps. A picture tumbles from his hands. From that I know he’s been out to the trailer because it’s the one that reads Jude and Henry, together forever on the back.

For the first time, I imagine myself in his shoes. I’ve been with Shane for years, and then I learn he’s dying. He’s my whole world; I love him more than life itself. I mean, thinking about how I feel now … and I’m just not with him, but at least I know he’s out there, somewhere. How would I react to a world without Shane? I like to think I’d be brave enough to stay with him until the end. But I don’t know. I don’t. There are no guarantees, and sometimes you don’t know how you’ll jump until your feet are in the fire. Now I see a weak and lonely man in Henry Cavendish, not an evil one. Sorrow has eroded him until there’s only a dry channel left that once flowed with a river of love.

He climbs out of the car, moving like the Tin Man with rusted joints. “Stop calling me. Please.”

“Never,” I answer. “If you think asking me to go away will work when Shane needs me, then you don’t know me very well.”

“No, I mean … you don’t need to. I’m not at the motel anymore.” He digs into his pocket, producing the business card of the social worker Aunt Gabby has spoken to more than once. “I’m working on this. I’m trying to do the right thing.”

This is the lesson I learned from Cassie. Don’t give up. Don’t let people tell you no. She looks so quiet and timid, but deep down, she’s fierce. I understand why Ryan fell in love with her and not me. Because last year, before Shane, I was afraid of everything.

Even myself.

Especially myself.

When I hug Henry Cavendish, he goes rigid, like this is unspeakable, kind of like Shane did that first time. And I wonder if it’s been since Jude died for Mr. Cavendish, too. Jude must’ve been a wonderland of music and magic to leave such a hole in her men when she went. Eventually, he hugs me back, and I can feel his hands shaking. He’s so thin.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He draws back, eyes dark and weary. His face is a mask of grief, new lines written on the ones that came from smiling. “I can’t promise anything. Shane probably hates me, and he’s right to. I don’t know if he’ll agree to live with me, even to come back here. But … I’m trying.”

“That’s all anyone can do.”

Before I can get myself together enough to ask for Shane’s contact info, his dad’s gone, driving his sputtering car away and down the road. Lila and Ryan surround me then, both talking at once. I’m kicking myself; that was so sudden, so fast, that I didn’t find out anything I really need to know. I wonder if he’s staying at the trailer? Probably not, Shane’s two hours away. I fill the others in on the latest while I make popcorn.

Lila seems excited. “That’s great news. Shane could be home soon!”

But honestly, I feel better about this for Shane than for me, because it means his dad’s finally waking up from a long sleep. He cares enough to fight. I believe Shane will be back, maybe not until July, but I don’t think he’d leave me forever without saying good-bye. Whatever it is, there’s a reason for his silence. I remember how he said that while he can’t promise we’ll be always together, he wants me in his life. He promised me silly texts and video chats, and I believe in him.

I believe.

And so while Ryan is goofing with Lila, I picture Shane’s face and smile.