Learning Not to Drown (14 page)

“YOU QUIT MY JOB FOR ME?” I stand up.

“No shouting at the dinner table.” Dad stops munching on his salad to butt in. He needs to shut up. No one quit his job for him. No one is forcing him to go to Tennessee.

“What about work being important?” I point at Mom. “You said I couldn't go to tour colleges because work was so important, but I can be shipped off to Tennessee! I can't believe this!”

“Family is more important than anything. And this is best for the whole family. It's not always about you, Clare.” Mom is using her forced-calm voice, but I know I am wearing her down, because of the vein that is now popping out of her forehead.

“Why do
I
have to go? Why doesn't Dad or Peter have to go?”

“I've got to keep my job.” Peter shrugs. “You know how many people in this town would kill to work at Pizza Heaven.”

Smart-ass.

“I've already used my vacation time, Clare Bear.” Dad pierces a meatball with his fork. “Sit down and eat,” he orders.

But I can't sit down. I think of something else. “I thought you couldn't afford to even buy one ticket to go see Granny. Now suddenly you can afford three? Where are you getting the money from?” I am shouting.

“That's enough out of you, young lady.” Mom drops her fork midtwirl. “I am well aware of our financial situation. I do not need a child telling me how to manage our money. Granny needs our help. You are going. No ifs, ands, or buts.” She steadies her voice. “Sit down and calm down.”

“We'll do something fun, Squeakers. Promise.” Luke gives my arm a gentle tug, trying to get me to sit.

It's
Luke's
fault. It's
his
fault I have to go to Granny's. His fault because he's hanging around with Dan. His fault because he can't get a job. Mom set this up to help
him
out.

I yank my arm away from him.

“Aww, Squeaks, we'll work it out. Have some of Ma's spaghetti. It's fantastic.” The red mess of noodles hangs from Luke fork. All I can think of is raccoon intestines. What's wrong with this family?

My chest is tight.

“I'm not going.” I move away from the table. Toward the door. The kitchen is getting smaller, everything closer. Too close.

“Get back here and finish dinner now!” Mom shouts as I slam the back door hard.

Outside. Breathe the wet air in, feel my lungs expand. Run and grab Bike-a-saurus, pedal away as fast as I can, eyeing my battery-deprived car.

My heart falls. There's no way I'm not going to be severely grounded until the school year starts. Not that it matters. I'll be stuck in Tennessee anyway.

My summer is ruined.

Ruined. My room was ruined. Everything emptied out of drawers. Sheets torn off the bed, stained pink. The scent of Kool-Aid filling the room. My lamp crashed against the wall, shade sideways. Books pulled off shelves. My stuffed animals in naughty positions on the floor.

And a note.
April Fools!

Peter.

When Luke walked in, I was crying.

“Squeakers? What happened in here?” He wrapped his arms around me.

I handed him the note, Luke bellowed “PETER!” and the chase began.

They ran around the house, weaving through bathrooms, hopping over random shoes, knocking over Mom's miniature saint statues. Finally after racing through the living room, Peter exited through the back door.

“Lock the doors!” Luke yelled. And I did.

Peter was standing just outside the slider. Luke joined me, and we stood side by side, looking at Peter through the glass.

“How you gonna get in now?” Luke taunted. “If you apologize to Squeaks and promise to clean her room, we'll let you in.”

“Screw you,” Peter yelled. “I don't need to come in. Later.”

“Fine,” Luke yelled back. “Eye for an eye. I'll be in your room, fucking it up three times as bad as Clare's.”

That got Peter's attention.

“Unlock the door!” Peter suddenly started banging on the glass with both fists, his face turning from blotchy to full red. “Clare! Unlock the door! Unlock it now!”
BANG, BANG, BANG.

“Come on, Squeaks. We have work to do,” Luke said as he steered me toward Peter's room.

CRASH!

We turned. The glass had cracked, with two spiderwebs suspended where Peter's fists had just been.

He was frozen. Staring at the glass, frozen.

“Come on, Clare,” Luke said. “Let's trash his room.” He pulled at my arm. I shook him off. Didn't he realize what we had done?

“Mom's gonna kill us,” Peter moaned. He rubbed his fist, wincing in pain.

“Squeaks, c'mon.” Luke pulled at my arm.

I shook my head. Looked down at his grip, felt his fingers dig in before releasing.

“I'll have all the fun, then.” Fun? He wasn't sorry that Peter had gotten hurt? He wasn't sorry that the glass was broken? He wasn't sorry that we were all going to be in big, big trouble?

I unlocked the door, brought an ice pack to Peter, the only ways I could think to help.

As punishment Luke and I had to dig holes for Mom's garden, ten hours each, to pay Mom and Dad for the new pane of glass.

While digging holes, I started thinking of my friends and their families. We never talked about it, but I assumed that all brothers fought like mine and everyone knew
someone
in jail. I said it over and over until I really believed it, even when Skeleton dropped his shovel and laughed at me.

Drea lives too far away. I need a friend fast.

I knock on the door. Praying for Omar to answer. Surprisingly, he does.

“Come on in,” Omar says as he opens the door, “newly non-grounded person.”

“I ran away,” I say. “Crap, I am such a little kid.” And then I'm crying. Omar looks horrified. I'm embarrassed. Maybe this wasn't the best place to go.

“Okay, um, here. Sit. You probably need some water or something. Or not. . . . Why are you soaked?”

“I had to bike over here because—because my car still doesn't have a battery.” I'm bawling now. Stop, stupid tears, stop.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot,” Omar says, patting my back like someone would pat a puppy. “Come on, smile. It sucks to be you, but if you think about it, from like a satellite away, it's pretty funny. Your dad took the battery out of your car and left it out for a whole month. Funny. Huh?”

“Oh, yeah, funny.” I hiccup. “My family is—is frickin' hilarious.” I try to let a wild fake laugh escape my lips,
but it sounds more like a dying animal. “Mom . . . She is making me go—” And I sob again. “Tennessee. For the rest of summer.” Omar is moving his mouth and looking at me like he's trying to translate. I cover my face with my hands. It's better to give in to the sobs and stop trying to talk.

“Let's call Chase and Skye and go over to Drea's. You're already going to be in major trouble for leaving the house. You might as well make it worth it.” Omar squeezes my hand. “It's gonna be okay, Clare.”

We tuck Bike-a-saurus into his backyard so Mom and Dad won't see it if they sweep the neighborhood. Then Omar's texting, pulling the make-Clare-feel-better troops together.

In his car I put my head back and close my eyes. I should go home, or at least call so my parents know I'm okay.

Or not. Screw them. Maybe they'll appreciate me a little more if they think I'm in a shallow grave in the middle of the woods.

Drea meets me at her door, enfolds me in a hug, steers me to her bedroom.

“Let's start with basic creature comforts. You're soaked. Put this on.” She hands me sweatpants and a T-shirt. “Do you need a hot shower first?”

“No, this is okay. It's great, even.” And I'm crying again.

She gives me another hug.

“How about food? Did you eat dinner?”

I shake my head.

“I have a box of mac'n' cheese with your name on it.” Drea's sweats are the kind of soft that feels like a warm hug. “Meet me in the kitchen.”

I didn't think I was hungry. I'm pretty surprised the noodles taste so good. Skeleton chews slowly and nods his head. What is he doing here? Why won't he stop following me?

“Alright, Clare.” Drea says. “What happened?”

“My mom just ruined the rest of my summer by announcing that I have to go to Tennessee with her.” I start out pretty calm. “You want to know why? Because Luke. He can't get a job. He can't. Because the only job he can get is construction and stuff like tarring roads and roofs. And our crappy town has only one construction site. Just one. So he's screwed. No one else will hire him. It doesn't matter that he works harder than anyone else I know. And he is trying. But no one wants to give him a chance. Then there's that Dan creep. He's got to be on meth. Just look at him. Fucking Dan shows up last night. And I know what's going to happen. I know . . .” I can't say it. I won't believe it. “Luke swears he's sorry and won't do anything to end up in jail again. He's screwed up before, but he's a good person. And you know what I don't get?” I can feel the sobs pushing the inside of my heart. I swallow them and keep going. “Mom loves him more than me. Luke walks through the door, and Mom is a different person. She's
happy
. She's welcoming him right back into the family. Like he's never done anything wrong. Like he was away fighting a war instead of in prison. Everyone in town hates him.
And they hate me, too, because of him. I know it. I'm not stupid. Even you can't stand being around him.” Drea winces.

“Clare, I'm sorry—”

“No, I get it.” I cut her off and continue to babble. “And—and—and at dinner.” I pause, trying to catch my words. “Dinner was a mess. I don't understand. I'm so good. I've got good grades. And I
had
a good job. And maybe I break their rules once in a while, but I never hurt anyone. I don't get it.” I'm sobbing. I don't know what I'm saying and where it's all coming from. Stop talking. Stop talking.

Drea grabs my hands. “Your parents are crazy.” She forces me to look her in the eyes. “I mean it, Clare. They are crazy. Do you know how many times my mom says she wishes she could adopt you?”

My chest is heaving. Through my tear-blurred eyes photos splattered in Drea's kitchen start to come into focus. Drea, her Mom, and me camping. Me and Drea dressed up for homecoming. Photos of us from elementary school, holding up awards for attendance.

Drea's mom is the best. I wish she were home tonight.

“You got it all out?” Drea says as she hands me a tissue. I nod, wiping my face; it's not all out, but I'm going to pretend it is. “C'mon. It's your night, Miss Clare. Everyone's waiting in the living room for you. What do you want to do?”

Skeleton is leaning toward the pictures. He's sipping his brandy and looking nostalgic. He turns to me and points to his almost empty glass.

“I think I want to drink,” I say.

“Are you sure?” she asks. Skeleton gives an overexaggerated nod.

“Positive.”

“Promise you'll be a happy drunk?” Drea says.

“Promise.”

She opens the never-locked liquor cabinet.

“What would you like?”

“Brandy,” I say. Skeleton raises his glass, winks an eye socket.

“Brandy?”

“It's a friend of mine's favorite drink.” I smile. My face still feels puffy, but the urge to cry has passed. Drea is right. It's my night out. I'm going to have a great time.

•  •  •

“Clare,” Omar says. He bounces the quarter off the coffee table. It lands perfectly in my drink. I take a swallow and feel the brandy slowly traveling down my esophagus, leaving a hot trail.

“Clare!” Drea says, bouncing the quarter. It lands in my drink.

“Baby doll, Clare!” Lala bounces the quarter and misses. “Aw, well.” She shrugs.

“Clare!” Skye misses, too, pulling the brim of her newsboy hat over her eyes in mock embarrassment.

“No wonder our girls' basketball team did so lousy this year,” Chase teases, then quickly gives her a kiss on the cheek.

“Clare!” Chase misses.

“And now we know who the weak link is on the guys' team!” Skye teases back, then hands me the quarter.

“If I make it, you all have to drink.” Bounce. Splash.

“Cheers!”

Somehow that ends the game, and now we're sitting around, drinking, and talking loudly. Lounging on the couch, Skeleton lights his cigar. The smoke fills his mouth, leaking from his nose, ears, and eyes. I try everyone's drinks.

“What's in this? I like it.” Chase is drinking a screwdriver, with lots and lots of vodka. Omar's margarita is so tasty, I drink half of it. I like Drea's rum and coke, but not nearly as much as Lala's apple martini. I'm getting a real education tonight.

“Baby doll,” Lala says, playing with the star charm on her necklace, “you feeling better?”

“Yes, I am, thank you very much.” Wow. Look at me, sounding all formal. I'm like a dignitary. I stand up and bow.

“You sound like you're doing a lot better.” Lala chuckles. “But seriously, Clare, you can tell me about your problems anytime. I'm full of good advice.”

“Oh, thanks, but I don't think you'd understand my family.” I almost turn to Skeleton for confirmation, but I decide I don't want to look crazy.

“What? You don't think my family's got issues? Just because my closet isn't wide open like yours doesn't mean we don't have a skeleton or two locked away.”

“You do? What kind? Wait. Did you know mine drinks BRANDY?” I gulp my drink now, wondering
if it's getting weaker. I announce, “There's not enough brandy in my brandy.”