Authors: Ellen Hopkins
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Drugs; Alcohol; Substance Abuse, #Self-Esteem & Self-Reliance, #Dating & Sex
I’ve heard it before. She’s drummed it
into me. My looks are the key to the kingdom.
Still Two Hours West
Of Elko, the silence becomes stifling.
At least for Mom, who digs too hard
to come up with something.
Do you
want to talk about Conner?
She waits,
patient as one of the vultures I watch,
circling above some vile desert-claimed
corpse. “What about Conner?” The buzzard
wheel widens as more black wings link
to the cog.
Well, um… Do you think it
had anything to do with you breaking up?
What is she talking about? “Do I think
what
had to do with us breaking up?”
She huffs a little, like she thinks I’m
dense.
You know. The gun. The hospital…
Okay, she’s the one who’s dense. “Why
would Conner shooting himself have
anything to do with ‘us’? Accidents hap—
Wait. Are you saying it wasn’t an accident?”
Heat flowers at the back of my neck,
radiates toward my skull. “Well? Mom?”
She slows the car.
It was
not
an accident,
Kendra. Conner tried to kill himself.
Suicide? Conner? “No! He’d never!” Would
he? But even if he did, “How do
you
know?”
I was dealing with another Jenna issue
and was in the guidance counselor’s office.
I overheard him talking about where to send
Conner’s schoolwork—Aspen Springs.
Aspen Springs. Psych hospital. Residential
treatment center. Lockdown for druggies and…
I have to know for sure. I jerk my cell from
my bag, check for a signal. Two bars. Still,
a text might work. IS CONNER IN ASPEN
SPRINGS
? Hit the send. Wait for Cara
to answer. Mom watches me sideways,
out of the corner of her eye.
You all right?
“No. Yes. Wait…” What was she saying
about Conner and me breaking up? No! No way!
“Even if Conner
did
try to kill himself,
it wasn’t
my
fault! How can you think that?”
I cut off her denial. “Just drive, okay?”
I think about the last few times I saw him.
I could barely look at him through the smog
of my pain. And Conner was never easy to
read, anyway. But I only remember him
smiling. Laughing. Easygoing. All Conner.
My phone chimes suddenly. Incoming.
WHO TOLD YOU
?
No denial, so it must
be true.
DOESN’T MATTER. DID HE TRY
TO KILL HIMSELF
? I don’t expect a quick
answer, but it comes back right away.
NO ONE KNOWS. PLEASE DON’T TELL
.
Don’t tell? That’s what she’s worried
about? My eyes sting and my cheeks burn.
YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME. I HAD
THE RIGHT TO KNOW. Bitch. I THOUGHT
YOU WERE MY FRIEND
. Then I remember.
The Sykes family doesn’t keep friends.
But they do keep secrets.
I’M SORRY. MY MOM
WOULD HAVE WRECKED ME IF I TOLD YOU
.
Probably literally. Doesn’t make it right,
though. One last question. WHY DID HE DO IT?
We go into a tunnel. On the other side, Elko
comes into view, along with Cara’s last message:
WHO KNOWS?
Elko Is A Mining Town
And while the surrounding countryside
is stunning, the town itself has seen
better days. Parts of it are pretty. Others
are shabby. Run-down. Battered by time
and circumstance. Sort of like how I feel
right now. We were up before dawn to
hit the highway, but this soul-drooping
weariness comes from some absurd sense
of guilt. I didn’t make Conner pick up
that gun. But was there anything I might
have done to stop him? Why didn’t I see
warning signs? Was any of his hopelessness
because of me? Ridiculous, I know.
He
broke
up with
me.
But I still don’t know why.
Mom pulls into the Thunderbird Motel.
Checks us into a this-will-do kind of room.
“Why do we always stay here?
The Holiday Inn isn’t too far away.”
She’s busy hanging my dresses in a tiny
closet.
I don’t know. Memories, I guess.
“Memories of what?” Pretty sure Patrick
has never been here with her. “Daddy?”
Mom pulls her head out of the dank
cubicle.
Weird, huh? We stayed here
not too long after we met. Spent long
days hiking Lamoille Canyon. Gorgeous
up there…
She loses herself in some
recollection. Comes back again.
Anyway,
I’m starving. Let’s get some lunch.
We’ve got a couple of hours to kill.
Lunch? Don’t think so. “I’m more tired
than hungry. Think I’ll take a nap. You go.”
Her Eyes Say The Words
Her mouth refuses to—
I’m worried
about you. Why don’t you eat?
What
she does say is,
Are you sure? You have
to be hungry. You didn’t eat breakfast.
I never eat breakfast. But all that does
is prove her unspoken point. “I’m sure.
If I don’t get some sleep, I’ll look awful
tonight.” To make her happy, I ask her to
bring back a salad. Off she goes. I lie down
on the plywood-and-cotton-lumps mattress.
Oh, Conner. How could you try to die?
And why didn’t you? You hardly ever fail
to get the things you really want. Did
a switch flip inside your brain? If it did,
I think what flipped it was that little boy
who suddenly grew tired of being scared.
I’ve Only Known
One other person who ended up in Aspen
Springs. Tiffany took dance with me for
three or four years. Rumor had it her stepdad
liked her a little too much. She coped with
his “bad, bad touch” by binge-and-puking.
Bulimia is nasty. Hanging your head in
the toilet after every meal? Sticking your fingers
down your throat? All that stomach acid,
carving holes in your esophagus? And even
after all that, still wearing a size eight? Talk
about a waste of energy. Real control is
not putting in more than you can work off.
Knowing the exact count and keeping track.
Shaving off every extra caloric unit you can
without passing out. And the most important
thing of all—keeping everyone else in the dark.
Sean
Everyone Else
Seems to stumble through
life. Fall. Get up. Go
stumbling on again.
If
they happen into a really
good place, do they then
make plans how to stay there?
I
don’t understand how
people manage without
a well-drawn game plan.
Don’t
they want some promise
of success? Every good
novel requires a considered
plot.
Should a biography not
demand as much? How do
you function without structure?
I fail
to comprehend.
Plotting
Is important to me. How
do I manage to reach
Point B if I kick off
from Point A? Logic,
that’s what it takes. I hate
the illogical. And really
despise when it actually
pays off for somebody.
You know, right place,
right time, whoopee, you
win, without putting in
one damn lick of effort?
Bugs the shit out of me.
Especially considering
my life has been mostly
about wrong place, wrong
time, too damn bad for
you. Lost my mom that
way. Lost my dad that way.