Speed of Life (14 page)

I am the worst human being on the face of the planet.

When I get to the garage that night, David's grinning. He whistles when I walk in. “Look at you! You're the one who should be going to Stanford.”

I know he's humoring me, but I let it ride. “How'd you do?”

“Not as good as the last time I took them.”

“Were your parents pissed?”

“Not at all.”

“Really?”

He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a creamy piece of heavy stationery, and shows me his acceptance letter from Stanford.

“Hey, congratulations!”

I give him an awkward hug. Jeez, I'm becoming a hugger. First him last night, then Amber this afternoon, and now him again. What's wrong with me? I take two steps back real quick while he explains that he'd applied for early admission, but his parents were afraid his scores weren't good enough and he'd be put on the waiting list, which is why he took the test again.

“All that wasted time,” I say. “You could have been working on that weird-ass clunking sound your car makes when you shift.”

“My car purrs, baby,” he says. “Must be thinking of yours.”

“The Mustang's a sound piece of machinery. You wish you could have something so awesome.”

Jimmy comes in then and gives us an earful because we're standing around while we're on the clock, and so we get to work. The whole night, I'm grinning to myself. My scores are only average, but according to the McPherson site, that's all I really need. After work, David and I go to the Coffee Klatch with his laptop and finish up my application.

“You ready?” he asks.

I take a deep breath. “Go for it.”

“Don't you want to hit ‘submit' yourself?”

“Just do it, already. You're making me nervous.”

He laughs and taps his finger on the touchpad, sending my information off into cyberspace. “Good luck,” he says.

“I'll need it.” And I'm not only thinking about getting accepted to college.

The website says McPherson mails you a letter three to five days after you apply. I figure I've got to include time for it to get to the school, so I give it eight, and then go to Ms. Spellerman's office every afternoon. On day eleven, I can't wait and go by in the morning, but no one's around. Later, when I'm on lunch duty with Natalie, my stomach's so anxious that I can't eat. I end up sneaking out a couple of minutes early. If I hurry, I can get to the guidance office without being late for fifth period.

I come around the corner near the main entrance of the school and Ms. Spellerman's standing in the hallway with Amber. Shit. My sister's holding up a single sheet of paper in one hand, and in the other is an open envelope. I freeze. I watch her scan the contents, her expression changing from confusion to anger so fast—​exactly like Natalie's face when we take something away from her that she's determined to stick in her mouth.

Before I can say or do anything, Ms. Spellerman looks up and sees me. “Oh!”

As I step forward, Amber whirls on me. “You're a fucking traitor.”

She says it so low, it's scarier than if she'd screamed. She crumples up the letter and throws it at me. It bounces off my forehead.

“I . . . I . . . thought she was you,” Ms. Spellerman says.

“We're twins,” I tell her, stating the obvious.

Amber runs down the hallway and I go after her, catching her arm as she pushes through the front doors of the school, and drag her back inside. “Wait!”

“Don't touch me!”

“I want to explain. I was gonna tell you. Will you give me two fucking minutes?”

“No. I won't! Let me go, Crystal, or I'll scream.”

She tries to shake me off, but I'm holding on tight. A security guard stands up from his stool. “Ladies? Is there a problem?”

“Yes,” Amber says. “She's harassing me.”

“No, I'm not. I'm her sister.”

Amber wrenches her arm free and shoves her way through the double doors.

“Come here,” the guard says to me.

I ignore him and run after her. The bell rings and all the kids who left campus for lunch hurry up the outside stairs, laughing and pushing against us. Amber weaves through them and I try to keep up, but a bunch of jocks are between us like a solid wall of muscle, and I can't get through.

“Amber!” I yell. “Wait. Let me explain!” I duck between two guys, but I've lost sight of her. And then I see her crossing the street against the light. A couple of drivers honk at her, and she leaps out of the way of a Ford Escort. Great. She's gonna get killed and it'll be my fault.

I can't get across the street without being flattened, so I have to wait. By the time the light turns, Amber's gone. I scan the streets in every direction, but it's like she's vanished. I sit on a bus bench, my face in my hands.
I won't cry. I won't cry. I won't cry.

After a few minutes, I realize I'm still holding the crumpled letter I picked up after Amber threw it at me and I smooth it out on my knee. The stationery's not as fancy as the one David got from Stanford, but the message is the same.

Congratulations! We're happy to inform you . . .

Like it fucking matters now. It might as well say:
We're happy to inform you that you're a liar and a traitor and you're getting exactly what you deserve.
Why didn't I ask Amber about college way back in October? Why was I so stupid? Why do I always mess up our lives?

I want to go home and crawl into bed. After my fight with Amber, my stomach hurts so bad that I'm practically doubled over for the rest of the day, but I can't just hide. I have to work four hours at the gas station, and then I have to take Nat to Forward Momentum because Amber is scheduled to work at the Glass Slipper. I sweet-talked David into covering the second half of my shift so I could leave work early.

I head straight to Jimmy's as soon as the last bell rings. David will be in to relieve me at seven. It's freezing cold outside, and the rain looks thick, like it wants to snow or maybe sleet. We're busy, and I blow on my hands between customers. I only have one glove because Bonehead found them in the car and chewed one to shreds, so my right hand's like a chunk of ice. Around five thirty, Rosa yells over the loudspeaker that I have a phone call. I finish up with a customer and jog inside.

I'm hoping it's Amber and she's calmed down. “Hello?”

“Crystal Robbins?” a voice asks.

“Yeah?” I say, my heart sinking into my shoes at the serious tone of the caller.

“This is Mei-Zhen Clark at daycare.”

Oh, shit. “What's happened? Is Natalie okay?”

“She's fine, but no one came to pick her up today, and we'd all like to go home.”

“Oh, God. I'm so sorry. I thought Amber was getting her. I'll be right there.”

“You can't leave,” Rosa says as I toss down the receiver.

“I have to get Natalie.”

“Who's gonna pump gas?”

“Dirk's still here.”

“Only for seventeen more minutes.”

“Ask him to stay late,” I say. “It's an emergency. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

“You know he won't,” she yells after me, but I keep going out the door, the bell tinkling behind me.

I dodge an incoming car and head around back to where the Mustang's parked. It'll take at least fifteen minutes to get to the high school at this time of night. The daycare closed at five, so we're gonna get fined, and maybe even put on probation. What the hell's Amber playing at?

I rev the engine and take off before it's really got a chance to warm up. Hopefully it won't die at the first stoplight. When I see Amber, she's gonna wish I didn't. I don't think for a minute anything's happened to her. She's trying to piss me off and screw up my day. What really makes me mad is that she didn't even give me a chance to explain about McPherson. I wasn't going to move to Kansas without her and Nat. What kind of a person does she think I am?

I seem to hit every red light, and in my head I hear the little
ka-ching
of our fine going up for every minute I'm late. When I finally get to school, I slide into a spot in the teachers' parking lot. It's closest to the daycare, and I pray I don't get towed. I race through an empty hallway to get to the group of classrooms that have been turned into the children's enrichment block.

“I'm so, so, so sorry,” I say as I burst into the dark room, breathless and sweaty. Mei-Zhen's already turned out the lights and has her purse over one shoulder. She's even put Nat in her hat and coat, and probably because the baby is so warm, her cheeks are pink and she's half asleep. While I scoop up our sleepy girl and all her stuff, Mei-Zhen's pen scratches on the citation she's filling out for me.

“This is your first violation,” she says, handing me my copy of the paper. “So I'm only giving you a warning, not putting you on probation. But I still have to fine you.”

I check it out. Fifty-eight dollars. One dollar for every minute we were late picking her up. “I'm sorry,” I say again.

“Let's go.”

Mei-Zhen's usually pretty nice, but it's her job to be a hard-ass at the daycare, and she takes it seriously. It's supposed to teach us responsibility. As we walk out, she says, “If you can't pay your fine in thirty days, one of you can work it off cleaning after school.”

“Thanks. I'll let you know.”

I'll probably just pay it. I make more per hour at Jimmy's than she'd give me credit for. Or maybe Amber will feel guilty enough about it to do the cleaning. When we get outside, Mei-Zhen raises her eyebrows at both my parking job (two spots) and the fact that I'm in a staff lot, but she doesn't say anything. I don't really care what she thinks anyway—​my mind's already moved on to other things. What the hell am I gonna do with Natalie? I can't take her back to work with me, but David won't be there until seven to cover. If Dirk left at six, there isn't anyone there to pump gas, and if Jimmy finds out, he'll have to fire me.

It's not until I unlock the Mustang that I realize I don't have Nat's car seat. Shit. Amber walked her to school this morning because last night Natalie spit up all over the carrier. I cleaned it up in the tub, but the fabric was still wet when we had to leave for school.

I throw all the baby stuff in the trunk and start walking, carrying Natalie in my arms. I have to admit that for about ten seconds I considered wrapping her in a blanket and putting her down on the floorboards behind my seat. I mean, it's only seven blocks to our house. But what if something happened to her? Amber would never forgive me, and she already hates me as it is.

When we get home, my sister's on the couch with Gil watching
The Flintstones.
From the stench in the air and their red eyes, they've obviously been toking up. “What the hell?” I say. “I thought you must be dead.”

She doesn't answer.

“I'm supposed to be at work, remember?” Gil giggles at the TV. “It was your turn to pick up Natalie at daycare!”

Amber's eyes stay glued to the screen, but I can tell she's listening. I yank open the window.

“Hey, man,” Gil says. “It's freezing in here.”

“Do you want to get the baby high?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

“So what happened, Amber?” When she doesn't answer, I get right in her face and yell, “Hello? Anyone home?”

A door bangs and Mom comes lumbering down the hall, shouting, “What the hell's going on out here? I'm trying to sleep!”

Natalie bursts into tears in my arms. “Amber was supposed to pick up Nat at daycare because I had to work, but instead she's sitting here getting stoned with Gil! And now we've got a fifty-eight-dollar fine!” So far, Amber's face has been totally passive, but she flinches when I say how much we owe because of her stupid sulking. “Yeah, that's right. Fifty-eight bucks. And who's gonna pay it, Am? You?”

She still doesn't look at me.

“Because last time I checked, we pool our money, so even if you pay it, it still comes out of
our
savings. But you go ahead,” I say. “Sit there like you didn't do anything wrong. Don't worry about the fact that I'm supposed to be at work right now, which means I'm probably gonna get fired! Does that make you happy, Amber? Is this what you wanted? To get back at me by getting me fired? Because if Jimmy finds out—”

“For fuck's sake, Crys,” Mom says, grabbing my arm and making Natalie cry harder. “Will you calm down? Put the baby in the playpen and get out of here already.”

“
You
have to watch her,” I say. “They're too wrecked.”

“Yeah, yeah, just go and stop yelling. You're killing my head.”

“I mean it,” I tell Mom. “And don't let them shut that window until the smoke clears out of here.” I set Natalie in the playpen, and she blinks at me but stops crying. I kiss her cheek and head for the door. “I'll be back at seven fifteen to take her to Forward Momentum.”

“Fine,” Mom says. “Whatever.”

I run all the way back to the school parking lot, and luckily my car's still there and I don't have a ticket. That's the last thing I need right now. It's already 6:40 when I get back to the gas station, and as predicted, Dirk is long gone. Rosa has taped up signs on all the pumps saying they're temporarily out of order, and I can tell from the steam coming out of her ears that I better stay far away from her. I spend the next twenty minutes shivering outside. As soon as David shows up, I'm gone, heading for home.

When I get there, Mom's doing a crossword and my sister's passed out on the couch asleep.

“Amber's supposed to be at work,” I tell Mom.

“I think she called in sick.”