Girls Don't Fly (28 page)

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Authors: Kristen Chandler

BOOK: Girls Don't Fly
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He says, “You’re beautiful, you know that?” He doesn’t sound happy about it.
“Thanks,” I say, feeling the heat in my face. “What’s wrong?”
Pete looks away. “What’s wrong is what happened with Erik.”
I nod. “I don’t care. I had a great time anyway.”
“I’m not talking about tonight.”
“What do you mean?”
“How long did you two go out?”
“Too long, that’s for sure.”
“Why? I mean, why did you go out with him so long if he’s such a big jerk?”
“He wasn’t a jerk at first. At least I didn’t realize it. What difference does it make?” I don’t like where this is going.
“Stop it, Myra. I want you to talk to me.” Pete puts his face close to mine, still holding on to my hand. “What did he do to you? I wanted to kick his ass tonight. It would be nice if you gave me a solid reason.”
I pull away from him. That is the last thing I am going to talk about tonight, or ever. “I don’t think it’s your business. And besides, it’s over.”
“Is it? Because he’s applying and you aren’t.”
I try to catch up to what this is about. “You think I dropped out for Erik?”
“Maybe not for him, but maybe because he makes you feel like you didn’t have any business applying.”
“I dropped out to take care of my sister.”
“You could have found a way. You bailed.”
I don’t know where this is coming from, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t like being broadsided. I’m tired of guys who think they can bully me. “I didn’t
bail
. I made a choice.”
“But why that choice? I mean, come on, Myra. Look at you! You ought to be against the law in that dress and you’re smart as hell. Why would you quit when all you need is to get out of here?”
“Because my family needs me too.”
“But what about you? You’re learning to see, Myra. You see the amazing details of the world. You didn’t have to go to the Galápagos to learn that. You evolved right here in your own backyard. But that’s why you can’t stop now. And going to Ecuador, surrounded by other students and teachers, would be the beginning of everything for you.”
“I have to help Melyssa. Don’t you get that?”
“That’s bull. You are willing to fight for everyone who needs you, except yourself. I want to know why.”
Three minutes ago I was completely happy. Pete’s the one person I don’t want to fight with, and he’s completely pissing me off. I don’t want to talk about Erik. I don’t want to think about not applying. “You act like I have to go or my whole life will be ruined.”
“Did he hurt you? Is that why you’re scared?”
“I’m not scared.” I scramble up to get away from him. “I decided to help my sister. But you wouldn’t understand that. Everything is just a big adventure to you. You went off and left your family and never cared about anyone but yourself. You still don’t.”
Pete stays sitting. He lets air out of his lungs and then shakes his head. “That’s not true, Myra.” He looks at me, then looks away. I know I’ve hurt him, but I won’t let him do this to me. I’ve made my choice. No one is going to control me anymore.
“Just leave,” I say.
He stares at me. “Leave? Leave you here in the dark? In that dress? And those crazy little shoes?” He shakes his head. “Not a chance.”
“My family will come get me.”
“That’ll be the day,” says Pete.
I flip out my phone and start shimmying down the rocks.
Pete comes after me. “You’re being ridiculous.”
The phone rings five times before someone picks up.
“Hello?” says Melyssa. Her voice tells me she was sleeping.
“Mel, why are you answering the phone? Can you send Dad to get me?”
“I thought you went to the dance. Are you okay? Why are you breathing so hard?”
“I’m perfectly fine,” I say. I talk loud so Pete will hear. “I’ll be at the tollbooth entrance to Antelope State Park.”
“Antelope Island? Alone? What’s going on?”
“I’m fine. Really. I’ll be at the entrance. Thanks, Mel.” I hang up my phone. I turn to Pete, who is right behind me, “They’re on their way.”
“I’m not leaving you here in the dark.”
I still have Mel’s shoes in my hand. It’s a nice night. The moon is out. I start walking. I figure it will take about as long to get to the tollboth as it will for my dad to exceed the speed limit to get here. The blood is pumping so hard in my brain I nearly forget that Pete is still behind me.
He whistles to remind me.
I don’t turn around. “They’ll tow your van if you leave it here.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because I feel like it. I’m an adult now. I get to do things without a chaperone.”
I keep walking. Pete isn’t whistling. After a few minutes I turn around and he’s gone. When he passes me on the causeway I don’t look up.
40
 
Altricial:
 
Naked, blind, and helpless at hatching.
 
 
When I get to the tollbooth the ranger is closing up for the night. He gives me a look like I’ve lost my mind. I ignore him and keep walking until I see Pete’s crummy old van parked on the other side of the road. For the ranger’s benefit I wave. He waves back. I don’t cross the street.
There is no sign of Dad. I pull out my phone. No signal. Perfect. I move over to the side of the road and lean against the fence. Even if I have to sit here until the sun comes up, I’m not getting in that van with Peter Tree.
After a painful ten minutes or so I see the Suburban. I can tell by the way Moby is coming toward me in the dark that it’s not my mother or my dad at the wheel. Only one person in my family drives that badly. And it makes me sick. How could she?
I wave and she flips the car around to the gravel shoulder. I go over to the driver’s side and open the door. “What are you doing?” I say. “Where’s Dad?”
“Are you okay?” she says. “Where’s Pete?”
“I’m fine. Why are you driving?”
Her face is ghostly, but she laughs softly as she slides over to the passenger side. Thank goodness for the bench seating. She says, “Right before you called, Mrs. Bridgestone discovered that Danny had turned on their hose and flooded their yard. Can you believe it? Dad had just left to do damage control. Mom’s at work. I didn’t want you stranded here. Some creep might grab you.”
“I would have waited until Dad got home.”
“You’re welcome, idiot.”
I look up in time to see Pete’s van driving away.
All the things I’ve read about preeclampsia fill my head at once. It can be deadly for the mom and the baby. It can cause birth defects. It can come on like a freight train and you can’t stop it. But she’s here, rude and laughing, so I try not to completely freak out. Maybe her case isn’t as bad as what they describe in the books. Maybe the doctors are just being cautious. Maybe the worst part of this is that my parents are going to kill me.
I step up on the running board to sit down in the driver’s seat. I look down at the seat. My stomach drops. Maybe it’s worse than I thought. “Melyssa,” I say.
“What?” She’s tipped over a little so I can’t see her face. “I’m fine,” she says, but her voice is brittle.
“Show me your backside.”
She doesn’t stop hunching over. “That’s pretty personal.”
“Look,” I say.
Without straightening up she twists to look at the red smear on the upholstery. “What’s that?”
Before I can answer she yells and jackknifes forward, hitting her head against the glove box.
“Melyssa!”
I jump into the car, willing myself to sit on top of the bloodstained seat.
Germs not important. Premature baby important.
I say, “There’s a hospital up the road. You can’t have the baby until we get you to the hospital. I’m serious.”
She lets out a high piercing cry, like an animal would make.
I put my face down where I can see hers. “What’s happening?”
She shouts into the floor of the car. “It feels like somebody’s stabbing me in the stomach, that’s what’s happening.”
I look behind me and pull out onto the road. Traffic is light but slow. I pull onto the soft shoulder and pass three cars on the right. A car honks. I pull back onto the pavement and have a clear road. “Just give me ten minutes. I’ll get you there.”
Melyssa shouts, “I’m not having this baby yet!”
“Fine with me. Just wait until we get to the hospital.”
I see the route to the hospital in my head. If I can get her inside, they’ll know how to stop the bleeding. Maybe they can even stop her from going into labor. “Does your head hurt?”
She breathes heavily. “I just smacked it into the dashboard.”
“Before. Did you have a headache before?”
She sits up but clamps back down with pain. “Three days.”
I speak calmly, even though I want to kill her myself. “You’ve had a headache for three days and you didn’t tell me?”
She groans. “
Do not
lecture me right now!”
A man pulls in front of me and I have to brake hard not to hit him. The last thing we need right now is an accident, especially since I don’t think I’m getting my writhing sister into a seat belt. I have to stay in the middle of this thing. Focus on what’s happening. Keep everything calm. Not think about the blood on the seats and the blood on my sister.
Melyssa says, “Oh, no way. I think I just peed all over myself.”
I look away from the road quickly and see red fluid on the floor, the seat, her clothes, and speckled on my arm. It’s like someone knocked over a Super Big Gulp of fruit punch, except it’s sticky and it smells like stale salt water.
I concentrate on my driving so the stench doesn’t drive me off the road. I think about finding the emergency room. When she’s in the hospital I can clean this all up. I can take Moby to a car wash and they’ll make it like it never happened.
“I’m dying,” says Melyssa. She doesn’t yell this, so I know she believes it.
“No, you aren’t,” I say. “Your water just broke. You’re going to be fine.” I don’t tell her that it’s her baby that’s in trouble now.
She breathes hard, probably because she’s having a contraction, then she sits up. “What does that mean? Is it bad if my water breaks?”
“It means you have to have the baby now.”
She groans and twists in her seat.
“We’re close. I can see the roof of the hospital.”
“What?” says Melyssa. She leans back and closes her eyes with her head against the door. I switch on the child safety locks. As if this is going to help. I turn into the parking lot. She jolts again and lets out a scream. Her eyes fly open. “Ah, ah,” she says. She grabs at the seat. “Myra?” She looks at me and grabs my arm so hard I nearly swerve. Everything in her face is pain. “Make it stop.”
I look around and realize I’m on the wrong side of the hospital. “We’re almost there. It’s going to stop. We’ll find someone. You’re going to make it. You and the baby are both going to make it. You were born to do this.”
“You’ll stay with me?” she says.
“You couldn’t pry me away.”
“People have babies early, right?” she says.
“Every day. You’re going to be just fine.” I don’t mention that at twenty-nine weeks the baby’s lungs aren’t developed fully and the chances for birth defects are still in the probable zone.
“Okay.”
“Breathe,” I say. “Come on. You can do this.”
“I can’t!” screams Melyssa.
“Breathe. In and out. Just like you practiced.”
“I can’t!”
“You have to,” I say back, sharp as a knife.
“I know!” she yells. Then she grunts loudly. I know she’s bearing down. There are three cars in front of me moving impossibly slow while they look for parking. What, is there like a discount for emergency room visits today? I honk and the man in front of me flips me off.
Melyssa grunts again, her eyes closed, lost in a tunnel of pain I can only imagine. Then she opens her eyes. “Are we there?”
“We’re close.”
She groans again. “Oh my holy hell, Myra, it’s coming. Right now. I can’t stop it. “
“Yes, you can.”
“Help me!” she yells.
We’re a hundred yards from the emergency entrance, but I have two cars in front of me. I turn off the engine in the middle of the parking lot and throw on the hazards. The car behind me honks. I jump out of Moby and yell at the woman behind me. “My sister’s having a baby! Get a doctor out here!”
Then I fly to the passenger side and throw open the door. Warm brackish air from Melyssa’s body covers me.
Germs not important. Sister important
. I climb up onto the running board and turn her to face me. “Slide back,” I say. She is pushing hard. I help her back against the seat and I climb in between her legs and wedge the door shut behind me. Good thing she’s wearing the hideous tent dress.

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