Maybe One Day (19 page)

“Wow,” said Calvin, “when you put it that way, I can’t believe what an asshole I’m being.” He peeled my arms off his neck and stood up. The fake moonlight shone on his torso. He was like something chiseled out of marble. I reached for him, but he stepped back. “I think I should take you home.”

I stood up, which was really hard because my legs were suddenly difficult to find. “Oh, okay.
Dad
,” I said; then I started giggling again.

He bent over and picked up his shirt. “You’re hilarious,” he said, pulling it over his head.

“
That’s
right,” I sang, throwing my arms wide. “I’m the funny one.” I took a step toward him and placed my finger in the center of his chest. “Hey, here’s a joke. Why don’t you. Go. Fuck yourself?”

Still laughing, I turned and marched out the door.

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19

I didn’t so much wake up as I fell out of unconsciousness and into what can only be described as a vortex of agony. My stomach was raw and active; I pictured a swirling sea of acids just looking for an excuse to emerge from my mouth. My phone was ringing. That’s what had woken me. I crawled on all fours over to my bag, which was on my desk chair.

“Hello?” My tongue felt thick and furry.

“Zoe?”

“Oh my God, Livvie.” I curled into a ball on the floor, one arm wrapped protectively over my head.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” I assured her. “Wait! You’re calling me. You’re . . . you’re better?”

“Yeah,” she said, sounding tired but okay. “Wow. It must
have been some party.”

“Um, it was all right.” I heaved myself up into a sitting position. Something inside my head shifted dangerously before righting itself. “What time is it?”

Livvie laughed. “It’s eleven. Are you hungover or something?”

“I think I am. Maybe. A little.”

“Well, get over here and tell me all about it.”

The night came rushing over me in a tsunami of horribleness.
Oh God. Oh my God
.

What had I done?

“Are you . . .” I cleared my throat. “Are you sure it’s okay? Are you sure you’re up to it?”

Livvie snorted. “You sound like my mom. Yes, it’s okay. Yes, I’m up to it. The question is are
you
up to it?”

“I’m fine.” I forced myself to my feet. Something in my stomach rose up briefly, then dropped back down. “Really. I just need a shower and some coffee. Just . . . give me half an hour, okay?”

“Definitely.” Livvie laughed. “God, you really sound bad, Zoe. I can’t wait to hear all the juicy details.”

“Right,” I said. “Sure. I mean, of course I’ll tell you everything.”

“See you soon,” she said. “Love you.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Love you too.”

Of course I
had
to tell Olivia what had happened at the party last night.

That was how Livvie and I operated. Shit happened, we told each other about it. Full disclosure.

But this wasn’t just
any
shit. This was, like,
serious
shit.

Which was all the more reason to tell her.

Luke let me in. Livvie was upstairs in her room, and she looked fine, more like she had before the car wash than after it. She was wearing a yellow T-shirt, and she had a soft-looking, pale blue felt hat on instead of her wig.

“It itched,” she explained, even though I hadn’t asked. “So I’m taking a break from my wig.” She turned to her mom, who was putting some laundry away. “Why don’t
you
take a break, Mom?”

“I think you mean, why don’t I take a hint?” Her mom was like a different person than she’d been the day before. She kissed Olivia lightly on the cheek and left the room.

“Okay, spill it!” Livvie sat forward, eyes glowing with anticipation.

I sat in a chair someone had put next to the bed. “You didn’t have to go to the ER. That’s so great.” My enthusiasm sounded forced, but Olivia didn’t comment on it.

“Dr. Maxwell said it had to get really bad before they’d want me in the ER because the odds of my getting an infection were so much higher in the ER anyway.” Impatient with her own answer, she waved it away with her hand. “Tell me about
the party. How’d you get so drunk?”

“It was
totally
your brother’s fault,” I said quickly. “He was drinking this cherry vodka and he didn’t warn me about how deadly it was.”

Livvie laughed. “I heard him come home. He was
wasted
. My parents were so mad. You know he was supposed to be the designated driver.”

I was shocked. “He drove
home
? Livvie, that’s like . . . impossible. He could barely walk.”

She shook her head. “He only drove there. Calvin drove him home.”

I dropped my eyes and toyed with the edge of her comforter.

“Okay,” she continued eagerly, “so you got drunk. And . . .”

“Well, there was dancing.” I wrinkled my face as if trying to remember the exact sequence of events.
It was the funniest thing. One second I was dancing and the next I was trying to get Calvin Taylor to have sex with me in Mack Wilson’s pool house
.

“And what?” Livvie tossed a small throw pillow at me. “I’m
dying
here. Not literally,” she added quickly.

“Ha-ha.”

“Now, tell!”

I looked at her. With her blue cap and her wide green eyes, she looked like a Renaissance painting of an angel. She
was
an angel. If anyone would understand what I’d done, it would be Livvie.

But how could I ask that of her?
Livs, I know you have cancer and you’re losing a year of your life and you’re taking this medication that makes you really sick. So if it’s okay, I’d just like to ask you to deal with one more thing. . . 
.

“Come on,” said Olivia, mocking impatience but also clearly impatient. “Tell me. I have to live vicariously through you, so I hope you did something awesome.”

It was impossible. Maybe if she’d been healthy, I could have told her. But if she’d been healthy, I never would have been at the party alone last night. I never would have gotten drunk and fooled around with Calvin in the first place. In fact, if she’d been healthy, maybe
she
would have been the one fooling around with Calvin last night.

The thought made my blood run cold.

I shrugged and gave a little laugh, then looked back down at the blanket scrunched up in my hand. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Oh.” She looked disappointed.

“It was just because you weren’t there,” I promised, finally making eye contact with her. “The next time we go to a party, it will be way more exciting.”

The look she gave me was definitely puzzled, but whatever answers she was seeking in my face, she didn’t find them. “Yeah,” she said finally. “Okay.”

“Okay,” I echoed. “Great. Now.” I slapped my hands on my thighs. “Enough about the stupid party. Tell me about
you
. When did your fever break?”

“Well,” Olivia began, “it was crazy, really, because my mom was totally freaking out. . . .”

The whole time she talked, I kept almost interrupting her, almost telling her the truth about what had happened with Calvin. But each time, instead of saying something, I just squeezed my lips together until the urge passed. Even when every cell in my body screamed,
Now! Tell her now!, I
didn’t.

I couldn’t.

Somehow, it felt as if my decision to stick with it was as inevitable as the choice I’d made to lie.

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20

Mind over matter.

That is something you learn when you study dance. Your feet are cracked and bleeding and your legs ache and you’re so tired you feel you can’t take another step, and then the curtain goes up and the music starts and you
dance
. You put a smile on your face and you dance.

I danced around what had happened all day, and by Sunday evening I found I wasn’t working nearly as hard as I had been not to think about Calvin. The party took on a vague quality, something I might have imagined or dreamed or made up.

Besides, there were more important things to think about. Dr. Maxwell had said that if Olivia’s fever didn’t come back, she could still go to school Monday. The only conditions were that she had to stay away from people who were sick and she
had to agree to wear a surgical mask indoors at all times. Livvie said she wasn’t even sure she wanted to go to school at all since she’d look like such a freak in her wig and surgical mask. This, of course, thrilled her mom, who was adamantly against the whole plan and would have been happy to have her daughter in isolation until she started chemo again next week. But I kept promising Livvie it was going to be okay, that nobody would care, that everybody just wanted her to be there with them, and Sunday night, as we picked out clothes for her to wear, Livvie started getting excited.

“You realize you’re getting excited to go to Wamasset, right? I mean, it’s not like you’re spending the week in Paris.”

Livvie laughed. She’d been laughing all evening. The tiniest, stupidest joke could make her crack up.

“This is the dark side of cancer,” she said, making her voice serious and taking me by the shoulders. “Even the dullest existence feels fantastic by contrast.”

When Jake and Olivia pulled up in front of my house Monday morning, my mom and my dad were actually standing with me on the front porch, as if the day were as big a deal for me as it was for Olivia, and I hugged them both, then dashed down the steps to the driveway. Livvie cracked up when she saw me.

“What?” I asked, pressing my face with its surgical mask on it up against the car window.

She shook her head, still laughing, and when I slipped into
the backseat, she got on her knees, turned around, and hugged me hard. “I love you, Zoe,” she said. “I just love you.”

When we pulled up to the school, the first thing Livvie saw was five cheerleaders standing on the front steps wearing surgical masks.

“Oh. My. God,” she said. She studied the scene for a long minute, then turned to Jake. “Did you organize this?”

Jake raised his hands to show he was innocent—“Don’t look at me!”—but then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a surgical mask of his own. “I just do what I’m told.”

Slowly, Olivia turned to face me. “This was your idea, wasn’t it?”

I shrugged. “I might have mentioned it to Stacy. But, I mean, who can ever know
what’s
registering in that cotton-candy brain of hers.”

She didn’t say anything. I leaned forward. “Are you crying?”

“Only a tiny bit,” she said, sniffling.

I hugged her, my arms embracing the seat as well as her body. “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m crying a little bit too.”

The entire school wasn’t wearing surgical masks, but a
lot
of people were. It was so crazy. These people didn’t even know Olivia, not really.

“This is the power of the cheer squad,” I announced.

“Underestimate it at your own risk,” Mia agreed.

We were walking to lunch together. I’d tried to get out of
history early to meet Olivia at her class on the other side of the building from mine and walk to lunch with her, but Ms. George was having exactly none of that.

“I know people came to the car wash, but everyone looked
hot
at the car wash, you know?” I said. “People don’t mind doing things if they look hot. People look dumb in surgical masks.” Talking to Mia in her surgical mask as we walked down the hallway together made me feel a little like a doctor on some medical show.

We turned the final corner before the cafeteria. Standing by their lockers were Jake and Delford.

And Calvin.

I stopped so abruptly that Mia walked into me. “Hey,” she objected.

It is one thing to pretend something didn’t happen when there is no evidence that it happened. It is another thing to pretend something didn’t happen when the person it happened with is staring you in the face. Calvin and I made eye contact, but neither of us spoke, and then the current of people flowing through the hallway carried me and Mia away from the guys and toward the cafeteria.

Mia gave a brief whistle. “O-
kay
. You want to tell me what that was all about?”

“What
what
was all about?” My heart was beating extremely fast. I sounded breathless.

Mia glanced back over her shoulder, then looked at me.
“That Olympic stare you and resident hottie Calvin Taylor just exchanged.”

I forced a laugh. “Wow, Mia, way to have a vivid imagination.”

“Oh my God, you are so
totally
gaslighting me!” Mia cried, putting her hand on my arm.

“I don’t even know what that is,” I told her. I used my hip to open the cafeteria door. “Come on. Let’s find Olivia.”

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