Never Enough (30 page)

And then it was quiet. Too quiet.

After what felt like a lifetime of silence, I couldn’t stand it any longer. “So if you don’t want to go to college, Ray, what do you want to do?”

“You don’t want to go to college?” Mom stiffened, sitting up straighter and looking over at Claire’s down-turned head.

“I want to travel,” he said, not reacting to any tension. “See the world while I’m young, then I’ll decide if I want a career of some kind.” He took a bite of his broccoli salad and
looked over at me as he chewed. “You seem pretty sure you’re going to college. What’s your big
dream job
?” He accentuated the words, as if anything I said would be ridiculous.

With the challenge in his voice, I felt a little unsure about being honest. I wasn’t ready for anyone to smash my dream of being a photographer. “Hmm. I don’t know. I guess whatever it takes to work as a comedienne for NBC.”

Ray sniffed out a laugh. I caught Claire’s eye, just for a second. The way she squinted at me made me feel like I’d done something wrong.

I immediately thought of Josh. Did she think I was trying to
flirt
with Ray?

I clamped my mouth shut through the rest of dinner, heading straight to my room after. A part of me felt guilty all over again—about Josh, about Ray, I didn’t know. But then the more I thought about it, the more I realized I
hadn’t
done anything wrong tonight. I’d only made conversation with Ray because nobody else would.

*   *   *

Claire stormed into the kitchen the next morning. She glared at me as I poured my cereal. At first I was stunned by her out-of-character actions, but then I thought she must be kidding around. Her steely eyes drilled into me, though. She grabbed a banana and spun to head into the living room. I followed her, trying to come to terms that she was serious.

“Okay, Claire, it’s obvious you’re mad at me. Why, I have no idea, but you’re not hiding it very well.”

“You have no idea?” she asked, in the meanest tone I’d ever heard from her. Like sandpaper against a cheese grater. “You really don’t know, Loann?”

“No, I don’t, unless this is about Josh.” It nearly made my lungs collapse to even say his name. “Believe me, I wish more than anything else in the world that none of that had happened—”

“This is
not
about Josh!”

Was she seriously this angry over last night?
“I was just trying to help with the conversation,” I said. “I would never . . .” I trailed off, not able to say the words about what Josh and I had done.

“I would’ve talked if you had just shut up, even for a minute!” she yelled.

Okay, now she was talking crazy. “I could see you were just itching to get a word in edgewise, Claire.” I shook my head as I turned away to head back to the kitchen.

From behind me, she said, “I just . . .”

The room became so quiet I could hear the refrigerator’s buzz through the door. Then came her quiet sobbing, and she whispered, “I wish I could be funny or smart, or say something worthwhile.”

She was jealous . . . of me?
I’d never had a guy really like
me for me. Aside from Marcus, I’d never really had
friends
who liked me. Claire seemed to make friends or boyfriends everywhere she went. And yeah, I’d screwed up with Josh. Big-time. But seriously, I was the one who would never be the same, who was afraid to even be touched, and who was still trying to repair my tattered self-esteem.

For someone she thought had so many worthwhile things to say, I couldn’t think of a single one.

I’d spent so much of my life admiring everything about Claire, I didn’t know how to grasp the concept of any of this.

This was the new rule: Mom would divvy up specific portions for Claire at
mealtimes and Claire would eat it all without nitpicking or complaining. Dad made it home more often for dinner, too, which must have also been part of the New Rochester Mealtime Manifesto.

Claire wouldn’t meet my eyes all through dinner. She didn’t talk to Mom or Dad, either. I’d tried all day at school to convince myself that she’d been having a bad day, but her words about Ray and how easily I talked with him, I just couldn’t get them out of my mind. But when I really thought about it, when was the last time I’d seen her acting chatty with anyone other than me? She seemed happy enough heading off to work each day, and I’d assumed she was making
friends there, but maybe not. Maybe Ray was her only glimmer of socialization at the moment.

Mom set the timer after dinner—another new rule. Claire had to stay out of the bathroom or leave the door open for at least an hour. She headed for the kitchen with her plate, while I sat and listened to Mom and Dad banter back and forth about the phone bill.

“Oh, save your breath,” Mom said. “I’ve heard that one before. You work so much harder than the rest of us. Meanwhile our daughter is incapable of getting back to a normal life, because she doesn’t have a father!”

So maybe Mom had noticed something was still wrong with Claire.

“Doesn’t have a father?” Dad huffed loudly. “Yes, that’s right. This is all my fault.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been home every night this week, and with no appreciation, I might add. I don’t have to take this.” He stood up, grabbed his overcoat, and headed out the door, letting it slam hard behind him.

I quickly stacked the remaining plates and headed for the kitchen.

Claire ignored me completely, not even taking a plate as I passed it to her to put into the dishwasher.
Did she hear our parents fighting about her?

I put the plate on the counter. “I’m worried about you, Claire.” There, I said it. If Mom and Dad were too consumed
to do anything about the fact that Claire came back from the clinic more insecure than when she’d left, I had to say something about it.

“I’m fine,” she said with raised eyebrows, like it was a challenge.

“You’re not fine,” I said. “You’re not doing anything to make your life better. You’re not trying to get a better job or seeing your friends, you think I—”

“I’m fine,” she said again, so loudly it shocked me. She pasted a smile on her face, as if to validate her point.

*   *   *

At school, I spoke with Marcus about it.

“My sister, I just don’t know how to talk to her. I feel like she spends her whole time at home just hating herself. It’s like the only time she’s happy is when she goes to work at a gas station.” I knew it was more about Ray than the gas station, but I felt like making a point.

Marcus snickered. “Not exactly the kind of place most girls go for a good time.”

The more we talked, the more I wanted to see if the old Claire was still around at work, when she didn’t think any of her family could see her. If I was doing something to hurt her self-esteem, I had to find out how to fix that. Besides, I didn’t trust the idea of her having secrets, I wanted her to be happy. Maybe I was prying too much, but I didn’t really care.

“I need to see what’s going on,” I said to Marcus. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

I turned to go, ready to tell Marcus I’d see him later, but he was already walking in front of me toward the school doors. I knew I should tell Marcus to stay at school. That he couldn’t afford to miss any more classes. But I was just so glad not to be alone, I didn’t say a word all the way to my house.

As expected, Claire was just leaving. Marcus and I stayed down the street, behind a tree so she wouldn’t see us. “I can’t believe I’m spying on my own sister,” I whispered.

Claire walked in the opposite direction of our hideout, with her backpack bouncing against her.

Marcus and I held back and stayed at least half a block behind her, but when we got close to downtown, rather than turning for the outskirts, where the gas station was, Claire turned the other way.

“Where is she going?” I whispered more to myself than to Marcus.

We kept following her until we were in downtown Alder Grove, and she went through the double doors into the brand-new fitness center. There were signs plastered on all the windows about a free two-week trial.

But what about her job?
I knew for a fact she was scheduled for Monday through Friday hours. I was sure my parents had
no idea, and the last thing I wanted was to have to go back, especially when they were already so stressed, and tell them Claire was hiding stuff again. I had to talk to her myself.

“I’m going in,” I said to Marcus. “You should head back to school.” He started to interrupt, but I wouldn’t let him. “If there are two of us, she’ll think we’re ganging up on her. Besides, it’s senior year. No need for both of us to put our grades in jeopardy.”

Marcus paused, thinking things over. “I’ll stop in at the office and tell them you’re really sick. Whenever you make it in, just make sure you look . . .” A hint of a smirk crossed his face as he looked me over. “Never mind. You look the part.”

I reached out to swat him, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me into a hug.

“Let me know how it goes,” he murmured into my hair.

I wanted to melt into him. I wanted him to tell me this was a bad idea and drag me back to school. Because really? I had no idea how many secrets Claire was keeping but I had the feeling this was just the first of many.

Before I could resign myself to any of those thoughts, Marcus pulled away and turned me toward the front doors of the fitness center, as though he knew I needed the push.

*   *   *

I had to speak to two trainers and fill out paperwork galore in order to get my free trial membership. If I were really in the
market for a gym, I think the paperwork alone would have turned me off. Since I was skipping school, I lied about my birthdate on the form, pretending I was a very-young-looking eighteen. They didn’t question it, and soon the female trainer described the layout and led me toward the changing rooms.

The gym staff must have assumed my backpack was filled with gym gear and not school textbooks. I dropped the heavy bag in the locker room and stared down at my jeans. Oh well. It’s not like I had any other options.

I hadn’t seen Claire, but I had a pretty good idea of where I’d find her: On an elliptical machine.

I walked into the gym and scanned the cardio area, feeling immediately out of place. Not only was I wearing inappropriate workout gear, but everyone went about their business on their own piece of equipment and seemed to know exactly what they were doing.

There was my sister, among the seasoned gym rats, looking like Malibu Barbie in her matching hoodie, running shoes, and headband. Her loose sweatpants were the only thing that didn’t quite look the part.

Moving along the side wall, I tried to stay invisible. But Claire’s attention wasn’t on me, anyway. Most of the gym patrons were average-looking, but one girl stood out, walking back and forth in a sports bra and short shorts. Her abs were so chiseled, I wondered if they’d been painted on. She didn’t
seem to be working out, just strolling back and forth through the gym as if she was offering a fashion show.

Claire’s legs moved in circles faster and faster, seemingly transfixed by the fashion-show girl. Claire’s towel hung over the handrail in front of her, and she kept mopping her face with it. I wondered why she didn’t take off her hoodie if she was so warm.

As I got closer, I could see Claire speeding up her machine. Sweat dripped down her face and she took a long, hard gulp of water.

I’d just reached the back of the empty elliptical machine beside hers when she unzipped her hoodie. She took it off and hung it with her towel.

I nearly tripped over my own feet doing a double-take at her wiry arms. Her elbows jutted out like big, knobby meat-balls on single strings of spaghetti.

I averted my eyes and blinked hard to clear the image.
How had she dropped the weight so quickly? And more important, did she think she looked okay?

She hadn’t looked my way yet, so I hopped up and started pedaling my feet.

Claire’s eyes remained on the model-like girl in front of us as she ran harder and harder. I couldn’t help remembering what Claire had said about the girls in San Diego trying to outdo each other.

How could I talk to her? What could I possibly say that could make a difference?

“I . . . why are you doing this, Claire?”

Claire’s eyes bulged, startled, and she quickly looked down at her hoodie, then away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But I could hear in her voice—she did know. “The fitness center’s pretty nice, huh? A good way to stay healthy,” she added, her voice too light. “I’m going to see if Mom and Dad will get me a year membership while they’re on sale.” She looked over at me for the first time, a pleading in her eyes—
Please just let this go
. “You should ask for one too,” she said. “We could come together!”

A tug-of-war started in my gut. My whole life I’d wanted to be included in my sister’s life. To be wanted by her and feel important. But I knew that doing this, agreeing to this, would be helping her cover up her problem.