The Art of Adapting (23 page)

“Communal carrots,” Matt said, and they both laughed. “You know, maybe . . . maybe sometimes you could even eat with me,” he offered. “If you want. Not on my tray, but maybe on your own. We could put them side by side. In the window. And we could be quiet? And just eat. Not a lot. Just enough.”

Abby sniffled and wiped her eyes and didn't say anything else, but after a moment she nodded into her wad of tissues. Matt crossed the hall to Byron's room and slipped his Vizsla sketch under the closed door. He went downstairs and told Lana that he needed a second tray in the living room.

“Oh,” Lana said. She was washing dishes and she dried her hands and started digging through the pantry closet. She pulled
one out, filthy and unused, and started cleaning it off. It was just like his: the same creaky bronze-colored legs with broken plastic caps at the end and a white-painted surface with a nature scene.

“Good?” she asked as the picture came through the grime.

“Good,” Matt said.

Abby sat across from Em in the cafeteria, watching her eat a greasy slice of pizza. It was disgusting, the sauce oozing through the web of separated cheese, the trail of thin brownish oil dripping down Em's fingers. Abby worked on her shiny red apple, taking small bites.

It was still hard, putting food in her mouth and chewing. At some point Abby's jaw got tired and the stuff on her tongue stopped being food. It became something foreign and repulsive, like sawdust or newspaper. It didn't feel like food, and it didn't taste like food. Then came the trouble of swallowing. Sometimes she just couldn't do it, and she'd spit the vile mouthful into her napkin. Not at school, where she usually skipped lunch, but at home with Uncle Matt, where she was trying to eat more.

With all of the things that upset Matt, you'd think he'd be bothered by seeing Abby spit chewed-up food into a napkin, but he just handed her a fresh napkin each time she did it. He never looked at Abby with any judgment. Actually, he never looked at her at all. She never worried how she looked around Matt. And even though he mostly ignored her, she felt less invisible next to him than she did at school. She was surprisingly happy next to someone who never looked at her for more than a second. The kids at school had
finally stopped teasing Abby about fainting, so that made school more tolerable. But she was back to being invisible, which wasn't much better.

Gabe was sitting in the back corner of the cafeteria that the popular crowd owned, with Caitlin at his side, stuck to his arm like a barnacle. Or maybe a parasite. Something Gabe might eventually remove. Even through the noisy, packed cafeteria, Caitlin's obnoxious cackle carried across the room and got into Abby's aching head. Usually most kids ate outside in the sun, basking on the lawns in front of the main building. But today the hot and brutal Santa Ana winds were blowing, teasing the girls' hair into a tangled mess, kicking debris through the air and getting it into people's eyes, blowing everyone's stuff away. So they were all crammed into the small cafeteria. The Santa Anas made everyone edgy and restless, and Abby felt exactly like that: static electricity filled her whole body and she couldn't sit still. She swiveled on the bench, turned her back to the Gabe-and-Caitlin show, but she could still picture Caitlin tossing her hair, leaning forward to give Gabe a good view down her shirt, and Gabe smiling and joking with all of his friends, oblivious to Abby's presence across the room.

Abby gave up on the apple, rolled it up in her paper lunch bag, and stowed it in her book bag. She couldn't look at Emily and the greasy pizza, and she couldn't watch Gabe, and she couldn't eat, and she couldn't run. Lunch had become thirty minutes of sheer torture.

“You aren't running today?” Em asked, wiping down her hands with the brown papery napkins that absorbed nothing, just smeared it everywhere. Em had this ability to flip instantaneously from oblivious to mind reader that Abby both loved and hated. Today it was more on the annoying side.

Abby gestured outside. “In these winds? All that crap in the air, getting blown around. I'd have an asthma attack.”

“Since when do you have asthma?” Emily asked, abandoning her worthless napkins and pulling a wet wipe from her backpack. Emily was always prepared for every scenario.

“Okay, so an allergy attack, then.” Abby didn't have allergies, either, but she wasn't sure Emily knew that.

“If it makes you feel better, he looks kind of annoyed with her right now. He's trying to talk to Mike and Caitlin keeps interrupting. Gabe and Mike are leaning around her trying to see each other without her jumbo-sized airhead in the way.”

Abby sighed. She didn't really want a play-by-play on Gabe, but she also didn't want to keep talking about why she couldn't run in this weather when she'd be playing soccer in the same winds in two hours. She nodded. “Thanks.”

Byron came over and sat down next to Emily. She blushed so red that Abby was embarrassed for her.

“Can you do me a favor?” he asked Emily.

“Byron, go away,” Abby said.

“What?” Em practically whispered.

“Can your mom maybe give Abby a ride to our dad's place after practice today? Just as a backup. I think I have her covered, but in case that doesn't work out?”

“Why?” Abby asked. “Why can't Dad get me?”

“Dad has to work late, and we're supposed to take the bus to his place. But I have plans, and he said as long as I've got you covered that's fine,” Byron said, as if sharing this with Abby violated some plan of his.

“And if I call Dad to check on that, he'll confirm?”

“Don't do that,” Byron said. “Please.” He turned back to Emily. “So?” Emily smiled and nodded at Byron.

“Awesome. You're an angel,” Byron said. He patted Em's shoulder as he got up and walked away.

“That was strange,” Em said, still blushing.

“Yeah,” Abby said. “Wonder what he's up to now.” Just as she was formulating a plan, choosing between stalking Byron to find out what he was really up to and turning him in for the sheer satisfaction of doing so, Gabe settled down beside her and her brain froze in the faint cloud of lavender mixed with a boyish smell.

“Hey,” Gabe said.

“Hi,” Abby said. She did her best not to look at him. Tried not
to blush to match Emily. She still had his sweatshirt in her room, folded neatly under her pillow. She needed to give it back.

“Sorry about the science fair project,” he said.

They hadn't been chosen as finalists, the ones that got to go on to the district science fair. Abby had been relieved, because Mr. Franks was going to be working with the three students who had been selected. “It's fine,” she said. “No big deal.”

“Byron said you might need a ride home after practice today?” Gabe said.

“Oh, are you the backup ride?” Em asked. Abby glared at her. “I mean, I think I'm the backup ride, if you can't do it.”

Gabe smiled. “I'd be happy to give you a lift.” His white teeth gleamed in the dull cafeteria.

Abby, always skeptical, worried about getting her hopes up. “Byron probably didn't mention that I'm going to my dad's tonight.”

“He did,” Gabe said. “Del Mar. No problem.” He stood up, checked his cell phone, and sighed. Abby turned to see Caitlin holding her cell, beaming death rays in their direction. No doubt she'd just texted some command to Gabe.

“Thanks, Gabe,” Abby said. “My brother's up to no good, I'm sure. I'd rather stay out of it if I can.”

Gabe laughed. “He's definitely got a twinkle in his eye. Maybe we can follow him and find out what he's up to.”

At this, Abby couldn't help but smile. “I was actually thinking the same thing.”

Gabe smiled at her, so openly that her stomach flipped. Why did he have to keep doing that? “Great minds,” he said. “I'll see you at practice. We'll figure out our plan of attack then.”

She nodded, unable to speak. He walked away, not back to his friends and the parasite Caitlin, but outside into the gusty winds. Through the glass she watched him make a call. Then her phone rang. Her hands were shaking as she answered it.

“Am I crazy or are things weird with us?” Gabe asked. The wind over the speaker made it hard to hear, but she was sure it was him.

“I hope not,” Abby said. “I don't want them to be.” Em cocked her head like a dog asking a silent question.

“Me, either,” Gabe said. “You're the only drama-free girl I know.” Abby's heart skipped at his words.

“Speaking of drama,” Abby said, “I'm a little scared of you-know-who. I think she hates me. And the more we talk, the worse it gets.” It was easier to say on the phone, when she didn't have to see his face. But she was facing Em and got to see her mouth fall open as she figured out who was calling. Abby turned away so she wouldn't be distracted.

Gabe laughed. “Yeah, she loves her drama. And hates everyone, at least a little. Even me half the time.”

“So why are you with her, then?” Abby asked. She was very brave with the wall of the cafeteria between them.

“I'm not. Not really. It's all some big game to her. Half the time I think she likes me and half the time I think she's just using me to make other guys jealous.”

“Oh,” Abby said. “So why do you let her hang on you so much?” The wind gusted across the line, filling the short distance that separated them.

Gabe laughed. “I guess I'm a little scared of her, too.”

The line grew quiet and Abby wondered if they'd been disconnected. Then the wind gusted again. “Look, she'll freak when she sees I'm giving you a ride. And I'm going to have to be either sneaky or an asshole to keep her from getting into my car after practice. You okay with that?”

“I am if you are,” Abby said.

He laughed. “All right, then. Our first mission together. I'm looking forward to it.”

He hung up and Abby stared at Em.

“What?” Em begged. “You have to tell me everything.” Abby shook her head, unable to remember a single word they'd exchanged. Instead she just rested her hand on her racing heart. Em squealed.

Practice was miserable. The hot winds had gotten even worse. Freshly mown grass blew all around them, leaves and twigs
kept lodging in Abby's hair, and no matter how many times she smoothed out her ponytail, the Medusa-like wisps just spread bigger. And Gabe was nowhere to be seen.

“Maybe he forgot?” Em asked when she caught Abby checking the sidelines. “You know my mom can still give you a ride.”

“Maybe he chickened out,” Abby said, trying to sound like she didn't care. She redid her ponytail. She should've worn a braid instead. And a headband.

“Hair spray,” Caitlin said over her shoulder as she sauntered by, gyrating her hips like any of the girls around cared about her swinging butt.

“What?” Em asked.

“Your train wreck of a hairstyle,” Caitlin said, mimicking a huge afro with her hands. “Spray it down next time, and the wind won't make you look like you just ran into an electric fence.”

Caitlin smirked and Abby gave her the same mocking smile back. Caitlin didn't look amused, and Abby felt a little pride in standing up to her, however tiny her rebellion had been.

Practice ended and there was still no sign of Gabe. Abby fetched her things without bothering to change out of her uniform, cramming her disappointment into her duffel bag along with her dirty cleats and shin guards. She followed Em to the parking lot and was about to get into Emily's mom's station wagon when she saw the familiar old blue Honda Civic idling a few cars down. Gabe was in the driver's seat, waving her over like he was the getaway driver and they were in the middle of a criminal act.

“Um, Em,” she said, pointing.

“He came!” Emily squealed. “Hurry, before Caitlin sees.” Em shoved Abby toward him so abruptly that Abby nearly tripped over the curb. She scurried between the cars and slid into Gabe's passenger seat, forgetting that she looked like a windblown disaster. She waved at Em as they sped past, then caught a glimpse of Caitlin watching Gabe's car gun out of the parking lot. Caitlin was shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand, and her mouth was hanging open.

“Should I duck?” Abby asked.

“Too late, I'm afraid,” Gabe said, taking a corner a little too fast. As the tires squealed, Abby worried that if her mother ever found out she let a seventeen-year-old boy drive her home, she'd be in serious trouble. But then she remembered that she wasn't going home, she was going to her dad's apartment, where they lived by a totally different set of rules. It was the first moment she'd ever been happy her parents were separated. “Ready for our adventure?” Gabe asked.

Abby caught a glimpse of her reflection and gasped. She pulled out her ponytail, dug a hairbrush out of her book bag, and got to work on her tangled mess of hair.

“Sorry I look so horrible,” she said.

“You look great,” Gabe said without looking at her. “You look like an athlete. I hate these girls that laze around the field the whole game and come away looking like they just came out of a salon.”

He definitely meant Caitlin with that remark. Abby smiled. “So, my dad's apartment is just off Carmel Valley Road.”

“Yeah, I know. But we have a stop to make first. Our mission, remember?”

“Right,” Abby said, although she had no idea what he meant. No matter, she was sitting in the front seat of Gabe's car while Caitlin was back on the hot, windy field alone and fuming. Abby felt giddy, almost dizzy. This had been Byron's doing, which was unbelievable. Maybe he wasn't such a lousy brother after all.

“I know where Byron went,” Gabe said. “Trent blabbed. Should we check it out?”

“Sure,” Abby said. She'd be in huge trouble if her mom found out Gabe had not only driven her at all, but driven her in a detour to track down Byron for no particular reason. But of course the side trip meant extra alone time with Gabe.