Flyaway (16 page)

I run after her and throw my arms around her waist. "I want to be with you!"

I feel her hand in my hair. "Hush, baby. Calm down. You really want to come with me, huh?"

"Yes." Maybe if I can get her out of here, away from Aunt Mindy, things will be better.

"And you won't go talking to Mindy behind my back again?"

"No. I promise."

She peels my arms from around her waist. "Go to bed, then. I got to make a few calls. We'll talk in the morning."

I lie awake half the night, listening to Mom and Aunt Mindy argue in the living room. Finally I pull the pillow over my head, close my eyes, and try to find the dream about the blue-flowered blanket. But tonight the dream won't come.

In the morning Mom tells me we're moving out. Her friend Tina has an extra room in the basement, and I can sleep in her living room. I'm already packed, so I sit on the bed and wait while Mom takes a shower.

Sun streams through the window, blazing a rectangle onto the bedspread. I set my hand in the rectangle and let it lie there, like a lizard on a rock, soaking up the warmth. I stare out at the view of the mountains and breathe in the vanilla scent of the candle by the bed.

There's a knock at the door; Aunt Mindy pokes her head in. "Can I come in for a second?"

"I guess."

She sits beside me on the bed. "How are you feeling this morning?"

I shrug.

"I'm sorry about all that business last night. I hope you know it had nothing to do with you." She takes my hand, the one warm from the sun. "You don't have to leave, you know. You're more than welcome to stay with me."

"I want to be with Mom."

She looks at me for a long time. Then she looks away. "I understand. But I want you to know I'm here, anytime you need me." She puts her arms around me, and I have to bite my lip to keep from bawling. I don't know what's wrong with me; I've been waiting all summer for the chance to get away from her.

Then Mom calls from the bathroom: "I'll be ready in five minutes. You got some change for the bus?"

Aunt Mindy presses something into my hand. "Just in case," she says. Then her face crinkles up, and she rushes out of the room.

I open my hand and see a hundred-dollar bill.

 

Tina's house is on a side street, right off Aurora and Northgate Way, not too far from where I found the crow. She's got two other roommates: Dave, a skinny guy with a straggly blond ponytail, and a fat chick named Cory. Tina's not fat or skinny, but her skin is dark with light patches on it, like a tan that's peeling off.

I'm not used to living with so many people. There are sounds all the time: doors opening and closing, pots and pans clanging, toilets flushing. There are strange smells too. Dave is always making stir-fry with broccoli and garlic, and Cory stinks up the bathroom. Plus the house isn't that clean. Cobwebs cling to the ceiling, ants roam the kitchen counter, and a huge spider has set up shop in one corner of the shower. I'm hoping Mom's still got those business deals cooking, because it feels like our NTD House is fading into the
jar
-distant future.

I sleep on a futon on the living room floor. People wander in and out, which means I have to keep my stuff with Mom's in the basement and change down there. The only safe place to stow my heart-shaped box, with the hundred-dollar bill inside, is under Mom's bed.

I stick to Mom like the spider to its web. I'd even follow her into the bathroom if she'd let me. Sometimes she gets ticked and says, "Give me a little space, would you?" I was kind of hoping she'd find another place to work, but she seems happy to get back to her job at the nightclub. Tina works there too, so most nights they take off together in Tina's rusty Dodge Dart.

Me, I don't go anywhere. When Mom's awake I'm with her, when she's at the club I hang out on the futon and work on my drawings. I still jump if the phone rings and count the hours every time she leaves the house. She makes me promise again to stay away from Aunt Mindy, says we don't need her screwing things up just when we're getting them back together. Rick offers to come to the house to tutor me, but I can't stand the thought of him smelling Dave's stir-fry or seeing Cory's Tampax wrappers in the bathroom wastebasket. And even though I miss working at On the Wing, I call Valerie and tell her I need to take a break. Right now being with Mom is the only thing that matters.

One afternoon about three weeks after we move in, I let down my guard. It's near the end of July, and fall's on the way: The leaves are turning yellow, and people on the street stroll by in jeans and sweatshirts instead of shorts. Mom's asleep in the basement, and I figure it won't hurt if I go out, just for a little while.

My plan is to grab myself a Coke at the convenience store on Aurora and then head right back. The breeze has a bite to it, so I walk fast, keeping my eyes on the ground.

The
beep, beep, beep
of the bus across the street lowering its wheelchair ramp makes me look up. Pictures of kids in knit sweaters, lugging stacks of books, smile at me from the side of the bus.
Macy's Back to School Blowout,
the giant ad says.

I hug myselftight; goose bumps cover my arms. I've hardly thought about school at all since I left Aunt Mindy's. Mom hasn't asked me about it either. In fact, now that I think of it, she hasn't asked me about anything.

Aunt Mindy was always full of questions: When are you going to talk to your counselor again? What are your plans for next year? What about college? I picture her in her purple workout gear, leaning against the kitchen counter with that intense look she gets, telling me I need to start thinking about the future before it leaves me behind.

A hole opens up inside me that only seeing Aunt Mindy can fill. I hate to admit it, but I miss the smell of her coffee, her stupid notes. I even miss her nagging. So when the number 75 bus rumbles past, I scrap my plan to get a Coke and race to catch it. I've never taken it before, but I'm pretty sure it goes through Wedgewood.

"Wait up!" I yell. I wave my arms, but the driver doesn't see me. I make it to the bus stop, pissed and out of breath, just as he's pulling away.

I've made up my mind to head back to Tina's when a silver Honda that looks just like Valerie's drives up next to me.

"Need a ride ?"

The second I hear Alan's voice, my heart goes into overdrive. It's been at least a month since the day I ran away from him, and I was sure he'd written me off by now. I haven't written him off, though. Actually, he's been on my mind a lot lately. I wonder if he keeps going over that day in the aviary the way I do.

"You want a lift or what ?" he says.

"Sure." I tug open the passenger door and climb in.

"So, where you headed?" Alan asks.

"My aunt's house. In Wedgewood, right off Seventy-fifth."

"I'm doing a few errands for Valerie, but they're no big deal. I can run you over there."

He pulls into traffic, and we don't say anything for a few minutes. While he drives, I study his profile. It's weird how all the things I used to hate about him—the way his dark hair falls into his eyes, his army jacket, even his stupid sunglasses—are making my insides go into serious meltdown.

"Sorry I haven't been around in a while," I say.

He hangs a left on 80th. "Yeah, what's up with that?"

"Well, for one thing, my mom came back."

"Cool." He reaches for the dashboard like he's about to turn on the radio. If I don't say it now, I never will.

"But I guess the main thing is, I was nervous about seeing you again."

He puts his hand back on the wheel and stares straight ahead.

"Well, aren't you going to say anything?" I ask.

"What do you want me to say? You're the one that took off."

"I can explain—"

"You don't have to explain anything. I got the message loud and clear."

His voice has that clamped-down sound that makes me want to get out of the car and forget the whole thing. But I'm not going to do that. Not this time.

"No, you don't get it. I didn't take off because of you. There was this other guy, sort of, and I wasn't sure ... But that's over now."

"Whatever."

I can't really think of anything else to say. He turns on the radio, and we listen to the DJ on 107.7 yammer about the summer concert we can't afford to miss.

"Make a left here," I say when we get to Aunt Mindy's street.

I can tell right off she's not home—the blinds are closed, and her car's not in the driveway—but I get out anyway.

"Thanks," I say. "See you around."

He drives off without a word.

I stand on Aunt Mindy's front porch, trying to peek through the blinds. I was looking forward to telling her about Tina and Cory and Dave and maybe having her make me a cup of coffee, nice and strong. I knock just in case, but of course there's no answer. I could use my key, but what's the point of going in? I tell myself I'm being stupid, that if I spent more than five minutes with her I'd go nuts. But when I see Mom's plant standing full and leafy in her flowerbed, the clusters of blue flowers just starting to fade from the autumn chill, I have to fight away the tears.

 

When the bus gets me home forty-five minutes later, Mom's not in her bedroom. She's not in the bathroom, either. Dave's in the kitchen chopping garlic, but when I ask him if he's seen her, he shakes his head. I could kick myself for being out so long.

She probably walked down to the store for cigarettes, or maybe she went to McDonald's for a burger. I spread my drawing stuff out on the living room floor and take deep breaths to calm myself, but I can't concentrate. It's like the ants from the kitchen are crawling all over my legs, making me run to the window every few minutes.

Finally I give up trying to work on my drawing. I count the seconds in my head to make them go by faster; every one seems a million years long. I stare at the door as if wishing hard enough could make Mom walk through it. That's when I notice the blinking red light on Tina's caller ID.

I tell myself it's probably for Tina or Dave. But of course I have to look. I push the little button and the name comes up, the one I've been dreading:
Uttley, Drake.

I grab the caller ID box and slam it against the wall with a loud
crack.
Chips of paint fall to the floor, leaving a ragged scar. I try to stick the paint chips back onto the wall, but they fall off again.
Nice, Stevie. Tina gives us a place to stay, and you go and wreck her stuff.

When Mom finally strolls through the door twenty minutes later, I rush to meet her. "Where were you?"

"I went to get some cigs." She takes one look at my face. "Jesus, baby, what's eating you?"

"I've been waiting half an hour. It doesn't take that long to get cigarettes." Of course I know she's been gone longer than that, but I'm not about to bring up the time I spent getting to and from Aunt Mindy's.

She looks at me like I've gone insane. "It's a nice day. I went for a walk. Is there a problem?"

"He called you, didn't he?"

"Who called me ?" She glances at the phone, then her gaze travels to the dent in the wall. "What happened here ?"

"Drake. You can't lie to me. I saw his name on the caller ID."

She gets close to the dent and runs her finger across it. Then she picks up the busted caller ID and shoves it in my face. "I hope you've got the money to pay for this, 'cause I sure as hell don't."

"Why won't you answer me ?"

She holds up her hands. "Okay, okay. You want to know what happened? Drake heard I was in town, so he called me. He asked if I wanted to meet for a beer. I said no, I was done with him and his crap."

I search her face, trying to figure out if she's telling the truth.

"Then I went to the store to buy myself a pack of cigarettes. End of story. You satisfied?"

My legs feel so weak, I have to lean against the wall. "Sorry. It's just—"

"I know, honey pie. Believe me, I know. But you got to trust me this time. Give me a chance to show you I've changed."

I can't stop the tears that are welling in my eyes. I'm the one who can't be trusted, running off to Aunt Mindy's like that.

"Of course I trust you," I say.

She puts her arms around me, and the world feels whole again.

Then she laughs and gives me a little shake. "Get yourself a life, would you?"

She smiles at me to let me know she's joking.

I smile back.

Mom's right: I can't keep hanging around, watching over her every second. Besides, my world feels like it's shrinking; the water-stained walls of Tina's house are all I ever see. And even though it's great to be with Mom, I keep going back in my mind to the day Alan kissed me in the aviary. Okay, the day we kissed each other. The more I think about it, the more I know I can't leave things weird and unfinished between us. The more I think about it, the more I know I want to kiss him again.

The next afternoon, once Mom goes to bed, I squeeze myself into a pair of jeans, throw on a shirt and a fringed vest, and bus over to On the Wing. I take a deep breath, then let myself in the cage-room door.

The rustle of wings greets me. I wander from cage to cage, peeking to see who's inside. I look around for the crow with the broken wing but don't see it anywhere. It must have graduated to the aviary by now.

Thinking Alan might be in the other part of the house, I tiptoe through the kitchen, into the living room. I can smell Valerie's perfume, and Alan's jacket hangs on the back of a chair, but no one seems to be around.

Then I hear running water in the bathroom, and over that the sound of someone singing the
Sesame Street
theme song. The voice is high and squeaky, but there's no doubt in my mind it's Alan's. I just about lose it. Alan Parker, Mr. I'm-Too-Cool-to-Crack-a-Smile, is singing in the shower.

I creep right up to the bathroom door and listen. Once he finishes the
Sesame Street
song, he moves on to opera. "Fee-ga-ro. Feegaro feegaro feegaro feegaro FEE-ga-ro," he belts in a booming voice.