In the Middle of Nowhere (5 page)

“Damn it!” I screamed as I simultaneously hit
the talk button. Reflexively, I grabbed my head.

“Hello?” I managed. I plopped down on the
floor and leaned forward, feeling dizzy.

“Damn what?” the voice asked.

I winced in pain as I gently rubbed the
wound. “Owww,” I moaned. My head was killing me. “Who is this?”

“It’s Michael. You told me to call you, so I
thought now was as good a time as ‘whenever’.”

I couldn’t believe Michael was on the other
end and was suddenly overcome by a rush of adrenaline. I quickly
sat up. Miraculously, the throbbing in my skull subsided.

“You all right?” he asked, concern in his
voice.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” I convinced myself and
proceeded to stay on that dingy linoleum floor, surrounded by a sea
of smashed, chocolaty bits of cereal and had the first real
conversation with a boy I barely knew.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

Michael Cooper and I stayed on the phone for
over three hours that first night. We laughed a lot and discovered
that we had the same weird sense of humor. I managed to clean up
the cereal while talking to him and completely forgot that I had
ever been hungry or hurt. We finished talking right before I fell
asleep, as I lay all warm and cozy in my bed.

I learned quite a lot about Michael that
evening; how his family used to live full-time on the island, but
for some reason had to relocate in order to be closer to Portland.
They still owned their house on Pike’s Island and used it mainly on
the weekends during the summer.

Michael’s father was some hotshot attorney in
the city and his mom stayed home and took care of him and his
brother.

He loved his BMX bike and skateboarding and
his golden retriever, Scooby, which he named after his favorite
childhood show, Scooby Doo. He admitted he’d still watch an episode
from time to time if he was laid up and completely bored.

I wanted to ask him why he’d be laid up, but
I couldn’t bring myself. There were so many other questions I
wanted answered: why did he miss so much school and why had he been
in the hospital and almost died like Shawna had reported? He
obviously was ill, but with what?

Instead, I told him all about myself, how my
dad died when I was young and how my mom lost her job and we ended
up living at my uncle’s. I told him that I really missed
Massachusetts and all my friends back there, but that I was slowly
getting used to living on the island with my mom and brother and
glad to have a roof over our heads, even if it was covered in
hundred-year-old moss.

At one point I brought up the note that he
flew my way that first day and asked him what it meant.

“To be honest,” he chuckled, “I don’t
remember what it said.”

I reminded him as best I could, but wasn’t
one hundred percent sure either since I had been so quick to throw
it away.

“I’ll have to think about it and get back to
you.” I could tell he was smiling on the other end.

“So, are you gonna be there tomorrow?”

“Be where?”

“In school.” I couldn’t help but ask.

“For sure,” he said and proceeded to have a
coughing fit.

I was concerned. “Are you all right?”

He caught his breath. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Michael continued to cough, but in between
managed a, “See ya’ tomorrow.”

“Kay,” I said and we hung up.

I felt so badly for him. I wondered if his
coughing attack had something to do with his illness or if he just
had a cold. It seemed like everybody was walking around sneezing
and coughing. I guessed it was that time of year. Either way, I was
content and easily fell asleep knowing that I would definitely be
seeing Michael the very next day.

• • •

When the clock ticked and the minute hand
landed on the fifty-nine, it sounded, to me, as if someone beat
loudly on a steel drum. One more move and homeroom would be over.
And still no sign of Michael Cooper.

Maybe he’d be coming in late, I thought. I
felt so stupid because I had gotten up extra early that morning to
accessorize a cute, new outfit I had bought at the outlets on the
mainland earlier in the month; a pair of skinny jeans and a girly,
floral top. I also straightened my hair and even put on blue
eyeliner and mascara. I looked pretty, but was beginning to think
that I had gone to all that trouble for no reason.

The minute hand moved and the bell rang more
deafening than ever before. Homeroom was over. I grabbed my books
and headed out the door. Just as I entered the hallway, Tessa
Anderson sidled up beside me.

“What’s the special occasion?”

I turned toward her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean why are you all dolled up?”

“’Cause I want to be,” I answered meanly.

“Well, you look nice,” she answered and
scooted away.

I stopped in the middle of the hall and
shrugged. “Thanks,” I said out loud, to no one in particular, while
the others ambled all around me.

• • •

The rest of the day dragged on and I didn’t
pay attention during one single class. Instead, I stared out the
little glass windows that were built into the middle of all the
classroom doors, hoping to catch a glimpse of Michael walking by.
But I never did. If he wasn’t going to be in school, why didn’t he
call or text me? And why did he even say he was coming in at
all?

Lunch wasn’t much better either. Almost
immediately Erica and Taylor could tell that I was preoccupied.
Erica got right to the point.

“What the hell is wrong with you today?”

I was so deep in thought, I didn’t even hear
her question. She waved her hand in front of my face.

“Hello? Earth to Willow.”

I snapped out of it. “What?” I felt like I
was in a daze.

“What’s up with you? You’re acting so bizarre
today.”

“I don’t know. I’m just not feeling well,” I
lied. I didn’t have to consider it really lying, I reasoned, if my
heart was aching.

Erica and Taylor ignored me, ate their lunch
and gossiped as usual. My ears didn’t perk up like they normally
would have. As I sat there and picked at my salad, I wondered if
Michael was okay and angry with myself for even caring.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

Thanksgiving, and all the holiday craziness
that followed it, were upon us. Originally we were supposed to
drive to my grandparents’ condo in Massachusetts, but my mother
insisted on hosting it, calling it the first holiday in her new
home.

My Uncle Ron came, too, driving all the way
up from New York City the night before and picking up my
grandparents on the way. My uncle stayed overnight in James’s room
and James slept on the floor in my bedroom. My grandparents took
over my mom’s room and my mother slept in the family room on a
pullout couch. I offered to sleep on it, but she insisted she
wanted to. She was going to get up early anyway to stick the turkey
in the oven and didn’t want to wake any of us.

Even though we were all cramped, the meal was
delicious as we gathered around the small kitchen table. My mother
laid out a festive gold and green tablecloth and decorated the top
with honey-colored gourds and a miniature bouquet of burgundy
mums.

Beyond the kitchen doorway, a fire blazed in
the family room. Between that and the heat from the stove, we were
all toasty and warm on the cold and snowy day.

“Glad to see you using the fireplace,” my
uncle said. “Make sure you hire someone to clean out the chimney
and flue at the end of each year.”

“I will, Ron,” my mother promised as she
stood and carved some more of the turkey.

“I just installed an expensive, gas-burning
fireplace in my penthouse. It looks so amazing. I even placed fake
logs to the side to give it more of an authentic feel.”

My uncle was a wealthy restaurateur and made
his money as the owner of some of New York’s finest and trendiest
restaurants. He had even offered to bring the Thanksgiving dinner
along with him.

“I could have had my sous-chef, Luis, make
the turkey and all the sides, Laura,” he said as he sliced into a
juicy brown turkey leg. “His homemade cranberry sauce is to die for
and you wouldn’t have had to go to all this trouble.”

My mother smiled, proud as a peacock, as she
spooned steaming peas and carrots onto James’s plate. James plugged
his nose and looked at me. I giggled. My mom noticed.

“James! Stop it! And you, too, Willow.”

She turned her smile back to my uncle.

“It’s no trouble at all, Ron. I’ve always
enjoyed cooking a turkey and love how it makes the whole house
smell.”

My mother gave me veggies, too.

“Plus, I could never repay you for letting us
move in and live here rent free.”

My mother put her hand to her chest and got
choked up. “I really don’t know what I would have done without you,
brother.”

My uncle patted the top of her hand. “Don’t
worry, Laura. I did it because I can.”

Uncle Ron got all excited and animated.
“Plus, for some time now, I’ve had my eye on a bigger house here on
the island, over on Peck Road. I always wanted an excuse to buy it,
and now I have one!”

My mom smiled lovingly at her only
sibling.

Uncle Ron spoke softly. “Consider this place
all yours, sis.”

My mother was so moved by his gesture. She
tried to hold back her tears, but could not.

My grandfather, who seemed to be getting more
and more senile lately, yelled, “What’s all the blubbering about,
Laura? Is it because the food tastes so horrible?”

My grandmother rolled her eyes and gently
elbowed him in the side. “Quiet, Shamus! The food is
delightful.”

My mother looked at each one of us as we
feasted on her hard work. She frowned. “Is it that bad?”

“Not at all,” James answered as he plopped
another heap of mashed potatoes onto his plate.

“It’s delicious, Mom,” I swore and even took
another bite of my stuffing.

“I’ve got some bad news for you, sister,” my
Uncle Ron said in his most serious tone. “If you cook like this all
the time, I’m gonna have to steal you from Willow and James so you
can run one of my kitchens in New York.”

As my mom smiled with appreciation and dried
her eyes, the doorbell rang. We all turned toward the family room.
My mother, who was already standing, put down the carving knife and
fork. “I’ll get it,” she said and left the room.

My grandfather continued ranting about how
salty the food was and my grandmother kept trying to quiet him,
while James, my uncle and I ate as though it was our last meal.

My mother came back into the kitchen and
cleared her throat. We all looked at her. She addressed me.

“Willow, you have a visitor.”

“I do?”

She nodded.

“Who is it?”

She gestured toward the family room. “Go and
see.”

The others stared at me. I shrugged, got up
from the table and threw my napkin onto my chair. “Be right
back.”

Who the heck would stop by and visit today,
of all days, I wondered as I stepped into the family room? I stood
and looked around. No one was in there. I saw a blurred movement
coming from beyond the icy, frosted panes of the front door.
Cautiously, I walked toward it.

Slowly I turned the cold, metal doorknob,
faced the unexpected visitor and gasped.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” Michael beamed.

• • •

Never in my life had I seen anyone shiver as
much as Michael. I pulled him into the family room and led him
toward the hot, crackling fire. I was filled with questions, but
wanted him to defrost first.

Michael looked terrible. He was paler than
ever and his lips were a light shade of blue. His eyes were red as
if he’d been crying.

“What are you doing here and how did you find
my house?” I whispered, thankful that none of my family members
came to investigate, especially my nosy brother.