Of All the Stupid Things (28 page)

Daddy shakes his head. “No, Mousie, I’m going on the trip. And it’s okay. You know how much I loved Aurora, and she will always have a special place in my heart. I wish she was still with us, but it’s time to let go of her. I have to move on;
we
have to move on. She was a wonderful person, but she’s dead.”

I pick at the bits of lint stuck to my pajama pants. I think about that day so much, it’s like it could have happened yesterday. Yet I doubt I’ve ever told anyone about it before. “I remember I woke up from my nap and thought Mama was resting like normal when she didn’t answer. I thought it was best not to bother her. But the house was so quiet and that scared me. So I turned on the TV and soon forgot all about her. I didn’t even check up on her.”

Daddy takes me in his arms. I feel like I am four again as I climb into his lap and cry on his shoulder. He brushes the hair from my face and then I feel his chest shaking too. I wrap my arms around him and keep on crying.

“Sweetheart, it’s not your fault. Nothing could have been done.”

“But if I had called for help, maybe she would have lived longer,” I mumble through his shirt sleeve.

“No. It wouldn’t have made a difference. When she left, she was gone for good. The best doctors couldn’t have brought her back.”

“She wasn’t supposed to die that day, was she? She did her hungry hippo impression before putting me to bed. We were laughing and she didn’t seem sick at all.”

He shifts a shoulder to rub against his face. I hold him tighter. “No, I know she wasn’t supposed to die that day. She was fine when I left for work, that’s why I didn’t have a problem leaving you with her. We all thought she had months left. When I saw her there on the bed, it was the most awful moment of my life and I know it must have been the same for you too.”

Daddy holds me tighter as he tries to control his crying. “I couldn’t believe she was really gone. I was upset that I hadn’t been there. I hated that I left that morning not knowing I’d never talk to her again. It was horrible. I was so scared. And I was scared for you too.”

The tears slow down and I sniff. “Why? I wasn’t sick.”

“No, but you weren’t even four. I hated that you had to lose your mama so young. And I hated that I couldn’t keep you away from all the sickness and then her dying with you in the house. I hated thinking that you had to go through that. I was so scared. Anything could have happened to you being left unsupervised like that. You might have drowned, been poisoned, opened the front door and taken off—you could have done any number of things parents worry about. I realized how close I was to losing you too.”

I take his hand and hold it. “I just watched TV. I knew I wasn’t supposed to do anything dangerous.”

“I know, Mousie. You were born with more common sense than most grown-ups. But you were there. That was more than any child should have to go through.”

I straighten up bit, leaning against Daddy. “I’m glad I was there. I don’t think I would have understood if Mama had just disappeared. I’m glad I have that last memory of her doing a hungry hippo.”

“I’m sure she felt the same way.” Daddy rubs my back. “Maybe you don’t remember, but when your mama died, she had a smile on her face. She died happy. She always said she’d rather die at home than in a hospital. The doctors wanted her to start treatment again the following week, but she didn’t want to. She told me a few days before that it pleased her so much that she could look back on her life and see what a great one it had been. She didn’t feel like it had been a waste, short as it was. She loved you so much. She always talked about how lucky she was to have you, so smart, well behaved, and beautiful.”

“Daddy, I’m not beautiful.”

“But you are. You might not see it, but trust me, everyone else does.”

I playfully shove him for being so corny, but I don’t make any move toward leaving the security of his lap.

Tara

I’VE BEEN TRYING TO TALK TO WHITNEY BLAIRE FOR THE last few days. I’ve barely seen her in the halls, and when I’ve called out for her to stop, she hasn’t. At lunch I asked to speak with her, but she continued talking to her friends as if I wasn’t there. Pinkie sat at another table with David and her other geeky friends. I caught her watching us, but then she sighed and turned away as usual.

My only choice is to get Whitney Blaire alone. And to do that, I get to school early the next day and wait for Pinkie to show up. Fifteen minutes before the bell I hear her car rattling before I see it. It turns a corner slowly and very carefully parks between two small cars.

I trot over.

Whitney Blaire is closing the passenger door just as I get there.

“Whitney Blaire, hold on,” I call out to her.

She doesn’t turn around. Two strides, I’m at her side and I take her arm.

She shakes it off. “What?”

“I just want to talk to you for a second.”

She gives me her infamous look: a look that makes a person feel smaller than a two-year-old.

“No,” she says, and walks away.

I watch for a second.

I look back and see Pinkie biting her lip, staring at us. I need to talk to her too, but I can do that afterward. I don’t know when I can get Whitney Blaire alone again. I dash up to her. She ignores me completely. I take a deep breath and start talking anyway.

“Look, Whitney Blaire, I know you’re pissed at me and you should be, but I’m really sorry. I should’ve known you would never hook up with Brent. I was really stupid to think that. If I were you, I wouldn’t forgive me either. But it was all a horrible misunderstanding on my part and I should have never said the things I did. I’m so sorry.”

I pause for second. She doesn’t say anything. She’s still walking. I continue. “It’s been hard not being your friend these last few weeks. I miss you.”

I breathe. She’s got to know how hard this is for me. I never express my feelings like that.

Finally Whitney Blaire stops. She folds her arms across her chest and turns to look at me. “So, do you finally believe me that Riley is a backstabbing bitch?”

“That’s cold, I can’t—”

“Then I can’t.” She goes over to a group of people, smiles wide, and starts chatting with them as if everything were perfect.

I bury my face in my hands and pull my hair. I stay like that for a few seconds, even though I know at least one person is watching me. I take two deep breaths that come out more like two big sighs. I raise my head, but my eyes stay closed for a second longer.

“Pinkie?”

“Yeah?” she says from behind me. I turn and walk over to her. I want her to give me one of her famous hugs, but I can’t move my arms to tell her that’s what I want. For a second I think her hugging instinct will take over, but her hands just end up clutching the straps of her backpack.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been treating you bad too. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was just me being, I don’t know what. Stupid, I guess. I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” she agrees. “I know I’ve always been the odd girl out of the three of us—”

I look down. “That’s not true.”

She runs her hands up and down her straps, not really looking at me. “It is. And that’s okay. But I never thought that if you and Whitney Blaire fell out, that you would dismiss me too.”

I shift my backpack to my other shoulder. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“I know, but it still hurt. You know how much I worry.” She now starts fidgeting with her phone.

I close my eyes again for a second. “Sorry. I’ve missed you too, you know. It’s weird coming home and the answering machine being empty because you haven’t left any messages.” I try to make a joke.

Pinkie doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. She presses a few buttons and shows me a screen on her phone. “I did call a couple times but didn’t leave a message.”

I relax just a bit. As long as Pinkie is still making calls, I know there’s hope. “Do you think we can all go back to how things used to be, but with Riley in our group too?”

This time Pinkie really does take forever to reply. The bell rings and we start walking to class. “It’s not that easy,” she finally says. “I think we all need some time to get used to your new lifestyle.”

Whitney Blaire

THE NERVE OF TARA. I DON’T KNOW WHAT SHE’S TALKing about. Saying she forgives me, but she still doesn’t see Riley for what she is. Pink says we don’t need to like Riley to be friends with Tara. But she isn’t any better. I don’t see Pink rushing over to hug Riley. And I thought Pink would hug anyone.

Maybe I should go after Brent. Then she’d really have something to feel bad about. He’s not off-limits now, seeing that Tara isn’t my friend anymore. But there’s still that thing that maybe I’m not
his
type. If I am, I’m not sure I would want to be with him seriously or for very long. And if I’m not his type, I don’t want to know about it.

I should have pretended to be sick longer. Part of me had wanted to, but Carmen forced me out of the house. Thank goodness it’s a short week.

When I get home, there’s a note on the counter along with the usual twenty. I don’t want to read it. But I do anyway. And then I wish I hadn’t.

Darling,

I’m going to the city to get an early start on Christmas shopping and I might end up spending the night there. Don’t worry, I’ll be home in time for our Thanksgiving dinner at Le Bon Fromage tomorrow. Your father will be in late tonight. No need to wait up for him, but better not invite your friends over. I’ll bring you back a little something.

Yours,

Mother

I scream. It echoes through the empty house. She promised she’d take me shopping in the city next time she went. She promised one day we would stay in a nice hotel just for the fun of it.

So much for promises.

So much for effective parenting.

I take a knife from the block and stab it through the note. It makes a mark on the countertop. I pull it out and thrust the knife in much harder. I leave it sticking out from the counter. I take the twenty and head upstairs.

In one of the spare bedrooms there’s a closet with all our suitcases. I grab a small one with wheels. I throw in a few sweaters and shirts, a couple pairs of jeans, a short skirt, my knee-high boots, a hairbrush, my curling iron, my makeup bag with my contacts, some underwear, and the two remaining condoms I stole from the nurse’s office.

From the top of my closet, I pull out my secret stash. Years of saving pizza money, birthday money, and every penny I found on the streets has paid off. I have over three grand. I can go anywhere, do anything. And I know my passport is in Mother’s office, not locked up in Father’s.

I call Pink up. I know how she is and I know if I don’t, she’ll have the whole Secret Service, or whatever those high-end detectives are called, out looking for me. I’m glad to get her voice mail. I tell her we’re going away for the holidays, but will drop a line when I get a chance.