Wake (36 page)

“Not to eat tofu with my asshole project partner on a pretend date—a date which will , if the hypothetical proves an accurate model for reality, end with no action to make it worthwhile.”

“See, I would kiss you on this never-gonna-happen date, but that vitriol you keep in your mouth would probably burn my face off.”

“Chicken.”

“
What
?”

Willa begins to buk at me. For a few seconds I just stare at this girl doing a bird impression—flapping wings and all —and a thought sneaks into my head like a ninja with Tourettes:
Grab her tit. She’ll never

expect it.

Willa’s not wearing a bra under that shirt.

“Harper!” She slaps my hand away and glares at me.

“Uh, sorry.”

“Dude.”

“You said you wanted action.”

“You are such a shit.”

“Really, I’m sorry. It was a stupid impulse.”

“Fine, apology accepted,” she says stiffly. I still suspect she’ll kick me when I’m not looking.

“I’ll treat you better when I take you out for dinner.”

“We’re not going out for dinner.”

“We will even if I have to kidnap you.” I smile in the hope that she’ll relax a little and joke with me. I’m not joking about dinner, though—I’m taking her out.

“This isn’t a date.”

“So I can’t grab your tit again?”

She takes a swing at me and I dodge her little fist, laughing. “Hey, don’t hit the cancer patient.”

Willa lowers her fist. “You did
not
just play that card.”

“You weren’t really gonna hit me.” I wink at Willa and her eyes narrow.

“For all you know.” Willa mutters something that doesn’t sound kind and resumes her stroll with a wary eye trained in my direction.

“I won’t grab you again, I promise.”

She snorts incredulously and looks the other way. She’s going to hold this over me like she did when I messed with her phone.

“Hey.” I put a hand on her shoulder to turn her toward me. “Honestly, I’m sor—” Willa lunges at me unexpectedly. She doesn’t weigh much, but she catches me off guard and I step backwards. One of her arms winds around my waist, turning me away as I struggle for balance. And the other hand? It tickles me.
Everywhere.
I spazz and flail like a moron, trying to throw her off or grab hold of her hands.

She’s the first to fall on the slick grass of her neighbor’s lawn, and she pulls me down with her. I land on top and she makes the quietest little ‘oof!’ sound, like a kitten being squished.

“Are you okay?”

“Peachy.” She lets go of me and I roll off her. “You all right?”

“You
tickled
me.”

“Is there a rule against tickling cancer patients?” She laughs. It’s a sound I’ve never heard from her before—it’s childish and pleasure-filled, with no sarcasm or wryness.

I roll over and kneel over her legs, pinning her down on the damp lawn while I return the favor. She makes this strangled ‘gah!’ sound and thrashes like a fish out of water.

God, she’s soft.

This is the closest you’re ever going to get to really touching her.

I give her a break when she turns red in the face. She’s got grass on her hair and she’s panting from exertion and her loose shirt is twisted around her body. She looks at me with a smile that says, ‘You win.’

“You’re beautiful.”

Oh snap.

If she suddenly went temporarily deaf just now, there must be a God.

Dude,
think
before you talk!

Willa pauses for the space of two breaths. “So are you.”

I awkwardly climb off her and stand up. I extend a hand to help her to her feet, but Willa ignores it. Her back is wet from the grass and stray blades stick to her hair and clothes. She brushes them off forcefully and turns back toward the house at a brisk pace.

You screwed up, Harper.

I start after her. “Hey.” I reach out to take her arm and she throws my hand off.

“Don’t.” She holds a finger up in warning. I wouldn’t put it past her to rap me between the eyes with it. I hold my tongue, and after a few seconds she lowers her finger and marches away. I follow at a slower pace, and by the time I get back to the Kirk house Willa is parked in front of the TV, channel surfing.

“Do you want to talk?”

“Do I look like I’m in a talking mood?”

“Point taken.” I’m about to sit down in the easy chair across from the couch when Willa tells me to look in the freezer. “What?”

“Look in the freezer.”

I get up and go open the freezer. The cloud of condensation takes a second to dissipate, and
holy shit
yogurt pops!

“Did you just hop?”

“No.”

“I distinctly saw a hop—two of them, actually.”

“No you didn’t.” I grab a yogurt pop out of the fridge and unwrap it. Excited or not, I most certainly did
not
hop.

Willa smirks.

“I didn’t, damn it.”

She lets me sit next to her on the couch, and even though she isn’t in a talking mood, she rests her head on my shoulder while we watch cartoons. Her only remark is to tease me for the four yogurt pops I eat in the space of fifteen minutes.

“Do I need to explain how awesome these things are?”

“No. I’m just glad you’re eating.”

“Are you still going to care when my stomach gets better?”

Willa sighs. Her face changes as she mulls that one over. “Yeah,” she says. “I think I will .”

*

It’s approaching four o’clock when my phone rings. I check the caller ID while Willa flips through her recipe binder, considering what to make for dinner. It’s Ava.

“Hello?”

“Bitch, pack your shit. We’ll pick you up around six.”

“What?”

“I cleared it with your Mom. You’re coming to Ottawa tonight.”

I look over at Willa, brow furrowed and flipping pages with a shrewd eye. I didn’t actually say I was staying for dinner. Is it implied at this point? Should I tell her that I have plans with others? Should I invite her along?

She invited you out when no one else would.

But Ava did consider cracking her skull last week…

“Um…”

“Dude, you’re not backing down from this. We’re already on our way to your Podunk town.”

“We?”

“Emily and me.”

Do I want to spend two hours in a car with Emily? I could definitely do it with just Ava…but I want to see the others tonight, too.

“Alright, I’ll come.”

“Try not to sound so enthusiastic.”

“Shut up.”

“Slut.”

“Cocktease.” I hang up and Willa gives me a sideways look for the way that call ended. “That was, uh…”

“Let me guess—Eric.”

That makes me snort. “No, um, I’ve got company coming to the house tonight.”

“Cool.” She sounds like she doesn’t really care.

“I have to take off soon to meet them.”

“Sure.”

“And I probably won’t get a chance to call you tonight.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to see you tomorrow, either.”

“That’s fine.”

Is it so hard to
pretend
that she’s going to miss me?

“Sleep well , okay Kirk?” She accepts a one-armed hug and agrees that she will . Willa offers no similar wish in return.

As I leave the house I call back down the hall to her, “I’ll make that dinner reservation.”

Willa answers with a skeptical “Ha!”

I get the sense that she hasn’t been treated well before; at least not romantically, anyway. That can be remedied.

By you?

Shut up.

*

When I get home I find Elise in my bedroom, arranging clothes across my bed and folding them into an overnight bag.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, you’d just pack anything,” she says. “It’s nice when things match sometimes, you know. I’m putting together an outfit for—” She looks up and sees how dangerously close she is to having her neck wrung.

“Er…do you want to bring your blue shirt or the grey one?”

I point to the door and she drops my clothes with a huff.

“You’re
welcome
,” she says moodily.

“Thank you. But get the hell out.” I shut the door and she blows a raspberry at me from the hall .

I fold and place the change of clothes she gave me in my overnight bag, along with an extra shirt and a pair of pajamas. Then the real packing starts. I fill a smaller bag with medication bottles, clean syringes, swabs, tape, gauze, and hypoallergenic toiletries. The gear it takes to keep me alive weighs about as much as my normal luggage. I throw the bag of toiletries in with my clothes and zip it up.

When I go downstairs I find Eric in the kitchen with a packed bag of his own. He’s cramming snacks for the road into the last remaining spaces.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“Ava said she’d give me a ride to Ottawa.” Of course, he wants to see Celeste. I have no idea why he would want to do anything other than punch her in the face, ever, but everyone has their quirks.

It’s five-thirty by the time Ava and Emily get here. They’re driving Emily’s mom’s minivan, which is a lot comfier and smells better than Ava’s Gremlin. Not that I don’t appreciate the suspicious stains all over Ava’s car, or anything.

Eric and I throw our bags in the trunk and pile into the backseat. Ava drove here, so Emily is driving back while Ava plays DJ with the sound system.

“So we’re dropping you off at Celeste’s house?” Emily confirms with Eric as we head toward the 416.

“Much appreciated.”

Ava makes a disgusted noise in her throat as she flips through a CD wallet. “I don’t understand that bitch,” she says. Ava would think nothing of referring to someone as a bitch in casual conversation with the person’s best friend.

“What are you talking about?” Eric demands. He knows to take Ava with a grain of salt (lime and tequila optional), but he’s loyal enough not to let a remark about Celeste slide past.

“Al the attention she gets. I guess she’s hot and all, but girls that prissy never know what to do with a guy.” Ava turns around in the front seat and flicks her tongue past her lips suggestively, showing off her new stud. The piercing sits forward on her tongue—she didn’t get that with Phil in mind.

Eric laughs at Ava. “Is somebody bitter? You know she’d turn you down if you ever asked.”

“I wouldn’t ask.” Ava turns around in the front seat and chooses a CD. She slides Rammstein into the CD player and Emily makes a little sound of displeasure. She’s more of an R&B girl; any kind of metal doesn’t do it for her.

“Oh come on, what did the Germans ever do to you?”

Ava smiles so sweetly in the face of Emily’s glare.

*

Morgan, Kyle and Caitlin are already at Ava’s house when we get there. When we come in the front door Ava’s brother bell ows from across the house, “Where the fuck did you put the Pop-Tarts?”

Ava screams back: “Up your ass, you stunned twat!” which is pretty much the normal way these two hold a civilized conversation. Kyle takes the box of Pop-Tarts off the coffee table and hides it under one of the throw pillows in the couch.

Caitlin gets up to give me a hug. She’s dressed to go out: short skirt, low cut top, too much makeup, and ridiculously high heels. “Geez, you’re thin,” she says as she lets go the hug.

“It’s the chemo diet.”

She laughs and says she has to tell her fat bitch boss about that one. Caitlin isn’t exactly the sensitive type. She over subscribes to the idea that whatever doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.

Ava disappears into her bedroom with Emily, and I take a seat on the chair across from the others.

They’re all dressed for a night out. I’m not.

“Plans for tonight?”

“Ava got us tickets to a gig,” Kyle says. It’s been forever since I’ve felt up to going out on a weekend, never mind the way we six used to. I’m not exactly prepared for it, but I want to do it anyway. I miss the sense of normalcy I get from hanging out with these people.

Ava’s brother comes in, eating out of the box of Cap’n Crunch, and flops down on the couch next to Caitlin. He doesn’t say a word to anyone, but turns on the TV and changes the channel to Spike.

Then he notices me. “Who are you?”

“Jem Harper. We’ve met.” Hundreds of times.

Both his eyebrows go up. “Oh. Shit. Didn’t recognize you, dude.”

Ava (sort of) spares me from the awkward moment by returning to the living room in an obscenely revealing blue dress. “Is this merely slutty or full -on whorish?” she asks. Her brother doesn’t even look up from the TV. If Elise tried that shit, Eric and I wouldn’t let her out the door.

“You know what would go well with that?” Kyle says. “A pearl necklace.”

Ava takes her shoe off and whips it at him.

“Easy, you’ll scare away your customers.” Everyone but Ava laughs—including her brother. She gives Kyle the finger and retrieves her shoe from the living room floor.

“To hell with you all, I’m wearing it.” As she slips her spike heel back on she turns to me and asks if that’s what I’m wearing tonight. I have on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved cotton tee. It’s a ‘sit at home and do nothing’ outfit, not a ‘go out and get wasted’ ensemble.

“Uh, yeah.”

“I’m lending him one of your shirts,” Ava says to her brother, who grunts at her through a mouthful of Cap’n Crunch. The shirt Ava finds in his room is too big, but it’ll work for one night.

“Where are we going, anyway?” The usual haunts are dive concert hall s. Live music is essential to a good night out for us.

“The Plains. Biocide is playing.”

I have a feeling that Ava has a
special
relationship with the band’s drummer, but I don’t want to ask.

*

We’re all underage in Ontario, but four of us are legal in Quebec, so we’ll be going to Hul tonight.

Caitlin and Morgan will have to rely on fake IDs. As is traditional, we pre-drink at Ava’s house because it would piss her dad off if he ever found out.