Ethereal (4 page)

In the afternoon when I finally manage to roll out of bed, I seek out my mother in the kitchen.

“You look like death warmed over.” She plucks at my hair as I walk past her on the way to the fridge.

“Gee thanks.” I pull out the O.J. and lean against the island. “You ever miss daddy?” It comes out childlike, simple.

Her eyes widen then retract as she glances back down at her game of Sudoku. I recognize the small book she purchased at the gas station before leaving L.A.

“Only like crazy.” Her voice drops to a guilty whisper. It’s usually an indication that Tad is somewhere in the vicinity. I hate the way my father’s become some dirty little secret ever since her engagement to Tad. It’s like a sin to acknowledge my father’s existence. My blood begins to boil, brewing itself into a perfect hormonal rage.

“It’s OK to talk about him, you know.” I say it a little louder than necessary. “I wasn’t exactly hatched from an egg. He put me here.” The idea of my parents copulating sprints through my mind, takes my appetite out along with it.

“Nobody said you were hatched from an egg.” She gives the slight hint of annoyance. “Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed?”

I pick up the glass carafe in disbelief and slam it back down on the granite counter with a controlled fury.

“Do I have to get up on the wrong side of the bed to be thinking about dad?”

“Skyla.” My mother’s eyes close heavy with regret.

Already we’ve started this train down the wrong track.

“
I
remember him.” My voice shakes as I deliver the words at the top of my lungs. Without thinking I walk over and clutch both of my hands over her forearm. “I miss him.” Tears stream down my cheeks as I wrench her arm in both directions at once.
Can you hear me? Tell me if you can hear me? Explain to me what this is, because he’s dead and he can’t tell me things anymore!

“Skyla!” She shrieks trying to break free from my hold. “Tad
…Tad
?” She’s losing her mind in an effort to wrangle away from me.
Tad’s right, she’s going off the deep end because I never took her into therapy. What if she’s doing drugs?

I let go of my grasp, panting for air. She nurses her arm, holds out her wrist tenderly as Tad the step monkey fast approaches.

“You’ve gone too far, Skyla.” He reprimands while inspecting my mother’s injuries.

My mother breaks down into heaving sobs in his arms. She’s murmuring something, and he shushes her, rocking her like she’s some fragile freaking baby.

I don’t hang out to watch the rest of the show.

I run out the front door and slam it shut. It goes off like a shotgun blast ricocheting through the virginal morning air. Birds jet out of the pine branches and fly away from the house. I watch them trek across the sky quick as a dart. I wish I could be that free.

                                                        
***

Barefoot, with messy hair and no make-up is hardly the first impression you want to make on the parents of your new best friend. Brielle lets me in while wiping the sleep from her eyes. She takes a good look at me in my full pre-shower glory.

The house is heavy with the sweet woodsy scent of bacon. I haven’t had real bacon since Tad came into our lives and declared pig-fried flesh something akin to an abomination.

A tall blonde with short-cropped hair and a friendly face peers over Brielle’s shoulder.

“You must be Skyla.” She puts out a thin slender hand and I shake it.

“Nice to meet you.” I say.

“Call me Darla. Have you eaten yet?”

“That’s OK.” I shake my head. Like it’s not bad enough I’ve come to their door disheveled, I need to eat their food too.

“I insist.” Brielle threads her arm through mine. “It’s not an official friendship until you break bread with me.” She winks over at her mom like it’s some unspoken joke.

Brielle’s home is decorator perfect, all done up in shabby chic. It’s covered with different toile fabrics, from curtains to the couches to throw pillows. It feels like every square inch has been gift wrapped in repeating patterns. And knick-knacks abound everywhere, yet it doesn’t feel cluttered. For my personal taste I love it. I’d be in heaven if my bedroom looked exactly like this right down to the blue crystal chandelier hanging over the center of the dining room table. I think Tad and Drake would definitely feel their manhood disintegrating at light speed in an atmosphere like this.

“Your dad at work?” I ask Bree while her mother dishes up breakfast.

“Probably. They’re divorced.” She pauses. “I have a sister at Washington State. It’s just me and my mom right now.”

“That’s right. Just us girls.” She sings back.

I wish my mother were secure enough to live on her own. I tried to talk her out of marrying Tad. Something about him sends a chill as sharp as razors beneath my skin, but I could never put my finger on it and thus have never built an adequate case against him. She would have married him anyway. I’m the last person on the planet my mother would consult on marriage, on anything for that matter.

“You have fun at the party last night?” Brielle knocks her knee into mine beneath the table.

“Logan drove me home. Showed me the overlook.” I shrug trying to ignore the fact I’m blushing ten shades of red.

“Overlook?” Darla takes a seat at the table across from us after distributing our plates. “Did he show you anything else?” She draws the words out suggestively.

My gaze drops to the table. What does she mean? Like body parts, or landscape? Maybe Brielle has one of those ‘special’ moms that talk to their daughters about sex like it’s natural as breathing when you’re sixteen. I’m pretty certain I’d never in a million years want a mom like that. The thought of my mother talking to me about sex makes me want to stab my eyes out with a fork, gouge even deeper and scramble my brains to prevent the conversation from ever happening.
 

“He showed me Ellis Harrison’s pool house. It looks like a barn.” It comes out unnatural as though I were lying.

Darla explodes into a fit of wild cackles. She picks up her plate and heads out of the room.

“A barn! Is that what they’re calling it?” She cries through laughter.

“She’s gone.” Brielle shakes her head in disgust. Maybe she doesn’t appreciate a ‘cool’ mom either.

“So anyway. That’s what happened. How was your night?”

“Freaking awesome.” She takes a sip of her drink while batting her eyes.

“I hope it was
freaking
awesome because you had a good time for reasons other than count Drakeula.” It’s not my fault he’s comes equip with sharp pointy teeth, that and the fact I’m not above name-calling.

“Count
Drakeula
can suck my blood anytime he wishes.” She bats her lashes faster than before. Even with her crumbling mascara from the night before, her eyes still look disturbingly perfect.

“You know I’m more than grossed out by this. You should go for Gage. He’s like a Greek god or something.”

She shrugs. “Been there done that. Besides, he was talking about
you
last night. It doesn’t faze him at all that Logan practically claimed his stake.”

“Me?” Something deep inside me purrs at the thought of Gage the claim jumper interested in me. I’ve never been the center of attention before, and for sure not from boys of this caliber. “It’s hard to believe they don’t already have girlfriends.”

“They really haven’t gone out with anyone since Chloe. They took her death pretty hard. We all did.” The smile bleeds off her face. She traces the rim of her glass with her fingertip in a slow circular motion as tears wobble inside her lids.

There’s so much I want to know about Chloe.
   

“Tell me all about her. I really want to know.”
 

Chapter Seven

Eulogy

Brielle bleeds words as fast as she can speak them. We head up to her room, done up in a fit of pink toile. It becomes embarrassingly apparent they have safely exceeded their legal limit of both pink and toile in this household. They’re taking this whole,
we are women, see our décor
thing a bit too far. I’ll have to bring Mia and Melissa up here sometime and watch them swoon. I’m sure as soon as Taddy dearest hears of their newfound lust for a replica bedroom he’ll be on it in a pinky twisted minute. Not only is Melissa a daddy’s girl, but he’s taken Mia under his wing by proxy. I won’t deny the fact I’m insanely jealous. I used to be a daddy’s girl myself, but now there’s no more daddy.

A fat lone tear rolls down my cheek as I listen to Brielle ramble on about how great Chloe was. Only my tears aren’t for Chloe and her so called perfect life, in fact, I’m detesting her more by the minute even though it’s totally not cool to detest dead people. My tears are solely for my father—my father who’s been allocated to a mere whisper at Tad Landon’s glass castle. My father who used to take me to far off places to gaze out at the open night sky and point to stars saying that’s where we came from, where we really belong.

Brielle chats incessantly about her dead BFF as we get ready for cheer, and as we face my parents and I spill an apology about my behavior earlier—lying like spilling oil. She talks as I shower, while I change for practice and on the way over in the car.

“Anyway, one day I’ll have to show you all the scrapbooks. We used to sit around and piece them together every night. Pretty lame, right?”

Right, I want to say.

“No, I think that’s great you have all those memories laid out like that to look at. I wish I had something like that of my dad. All our pictures are still floating around on my hard drive.” For so long I could barely think of him. Seeing his pictures in the hall of our old house used to kill me. I wished my mother would cover them up—
burn
them. And now there aren’t any around. Tad came in and hijacked our lives. We moved, and those are the only things my mother has yet to unpack.

I consider for a moment turning my room into a shrine for my father. At least it would ensure the fact neither my mother nor Tad would ever set foot in it. Then again, neither would I.

We pull into the school parking lot covered by the pall of another grey day.

“I like the weather here.” I say, letting the moist film adhere to my face, my open palms, as I drink it in.

“No one likes the weather here, except maybe the vampires.” She knocks into me with her shoulder and laughs.

Natalie and Kate catch up with us. Natalie has her kinky red hair pulled back into a severely bumpy ponytail. Kate looks fresh out of the shower with dripping wet hair, long blonde strands thick as spaghetti. We lament the fact practice is so early even though it’s nearly two in the afternoon. One thing’s for sure, Ellis Harrison knows how to throw a party.

I see Logan from across the field with his hands on his hips. He’s the only frozen body as the rest of them run around in some well-orchestrated play.

I wave over to him wildly. Just then a brick wall of a body lunges at him and he lands flat on the ground. Several players pile on top and I let out an audible groan at the sight.

“Ouch. Looks like your hands are lethal weapons.” Kate mimics my wave.

“Very funny.” It feels good to have friends. It feels more than good to have the prospect of a boyfriend even though he’s not officially my anything. It’s especially good that he shares my secret, that we can do it together. It brings a whole new meaning to
meeting of the minds.

“Alright bitches! Ready begin!” Michelle starts blaring music from her boom box without waiting for us to get into position. I try and keep up, copying the moves a step behind everyone else in the process.

I bump into Lexy Bakova as I try a running kick and end up knocking her to the ground by way of my foot implanting itself into her stomach.

“Oh
shit
.” I cover my mouth.

The music stops abruptly as the triune goddesses quickly descend upon her.
        

“I’m so sorry.” I crouch down between Emily and Michelle trying to catch a glimpse of the unintended victim of my clumsiness. “It was an accident, I swear.”

A hard knock lands directly into my mouth, tipping me backwards onto the grass. It takes a second for me to realize it was Emily’s elbow that so violently decided to connect with my upper lip.