Wake (6 page)

“Can we go yet?”

“Just be patient.”

“If I vomit, can we go?”

Willa: February 7 to 14

Friday

Paige asked Chris to winter formal. I couldn’t possibly care less, aside from the pleasant bonus of having an excuse not to see him before or after ‘visiting my grandma.’ Unfortunately, Chris has to ambush me by my locker at the end of lunch. He tries to talk me into joining a group to attend winter formal together. I guess he doesn’t want to be tied to Paige all evening. Can’t say I blame him. Paige can be a little needy.

“Yeeeah, Grandma’s birthday is sort of a non-negotiable date.”

“I get that. It’s just…maybe I’ll see you at an after-party? A bunch of us were going to go to Joey’s place and hang out.”

“I’ll think about it.” Maybe I can get Luke to come along as a friend-date. That might spare me from being hit on. Chris promises to send me an invite to the Facebook event, and I gladly slip away to go to class. Jem is already at the worktable when I slide into my seat. He’s staring out the window again, too absorbed in the view of the parking lot for a hello.

“You look different.”

“Do I?” He doesn’t care what I think, but to hell with it.

“Yeah, your clothes fit.” I can actually see where his shoulders are and his pants fit all the way down his leg, not just at the waist where his belt cinches. I can even see the line between his ribs and hipbone. He’s so thin, but it’s nice to see the real shape of him. Even emaciated and pale, he’s still sort of good looking.

Without thinking I touch the line between ribs and hip. Jem looks down at my hand and then gives me the strangest look.

Don’t touch me.

What are you doing?

Why are you touching me?

You’re touching me!

Piss off, Kirk.

You haven’t let go yet.

Don’t push your limits or I’ll push mine.

Please push your limits.

I let go and turn to my book. Man, that guy’s got penetrating eyes. I can still feel him staring at me with that weird look that makes me feel like a circus freak.

“Books away! Pop quiz!”

Thank God—I won’t have to talk to him.

Saturday

My brother has always been the helpful sort. That’s why he became a paramedic. Today, he decided to ‘help’ me make friends by accepting Paige’s invitation to go shopping on my behalf. Apparently he can’t just take a phone message like a normal person. This was not how I wanted to spend my Saturday, helping Paige and Hannah choose outfits for winter formal.

I leave the fitting room area to browse the cottons section. There’s a sale on cotton undershirts, and I know Frank could use some. I’m going through packs of Fruit of the Loom looking for Frank’s size when an annoyingly familiar voice appears at my shoulder.

“Boxers or briefs?” Even for Elwood that’s a lame pickup line.

“I don’t think much about what my brother keeps his bits in.” I grab a pack of medium undershirts from the back of the rack. Elwood is still smiling. He has a dress shirt in his hand. I guess he’s shopping for a formal outfit too.

“You’re here alone? I thought girls always shopped in groups.”

“Paige and Hannah are trying on dresses.” I gesture vaguely in the direction of ladies formalwear.

“What about you? Still thinking about coming after you visit with family?”

I deliberately didn’t respond to the Facebook invite. It would mean too much to Chris. “I’ll come to the after party at Joey’s.”

“Sweet.” Man, I hate that grin. There’s something so grasping and affected about Elwood that I can’t help but dislike him, even when he’s being friendly. Then I feel guilty because I know he doesn’t deserve to be disliked. He’s trying to be nice, and it’s not Chris’s fault that I can’t see him as anything other than the pudgy dork he used to be. He pats my shoulder and says he’ll see me at school.

It’s unfair of me to expect my old friends to have changed the same way I have, but it’s still disappointing.

Sunday

Frank’s house might look barren, but that doesn’t mean it’s clean, and that becomes my project for the day. I start with my room and when that’s done, I break for breakfast. Next on the agenda are the kitchen cupboards. I’m sure there are cans of soup in there that my brother bought when he first moved in. Frank notices my activity and takes a crack at the garage. When I go out there with sandwiches for lunch I can tell exactly where he got bored and quit to wash his car instead.

If Frank can take a break, I can too. I take my lunch in front of my computer and write an email to my mother between bites.

I tell Mom about school and my new/old friends, and about Luke and Doug and living peacefully with Frank. I tell her about my project partner, and about the term project and gardening.

Her reply email consists of one sentence:
This project partner, is he cute?
That’s a loaded question. She knows I’ve sworn off dating. Maybe she’s just trying to judge my level of temptation—there is none where Jem Harper is concerned.

After lunch I make a surprise visit to Oma Elsja’s house. She tells me how grown up I look. I tell her that she still looks good; for a sixty-eight-year-old smoker, she does. She lights up over coffee and doesn’t say anything when I join in the activity. That’s what I like best about Oma: she doesn’t ask questions. We don’t have to talk about family or school or my plans for the future. We chat about her garden (‘Always plant your seeds on Good Friday’), the cost of heating, and whether I’ll go to Ottawa for Winterlude.

Finally, she asks, “Is it easier, being back here?”

I shrug. “Not really, it’s just different.”

“You weren’t wrong,” Oma says levelly. I want to get off this topic. Every time it comes up I’m sure she’s going to ask me to make the same mistake twice.

“I should go. Homework and stuff.”

“Mmmm. Smart girl.” I’m really not. I wouldn’t make such bad decisions if I were.

Monday

I have to hide behind my textbook during at lunch. My friends are talking about pooling the cost of a limo or, failing that, carpooling to the dance and then to Joey’s. I scribble a memo-to-self on the back of my hand:
Call Luke—Sat. JM’s @ 11 pm.
I don’t think to hide it and Chris sees the note. I’m going to pay for that later.

With his supernatural annoying powers, Jem grabs my wrist the second I sit down in Soc and reads the memo on the back of my hand.

“Luke? You got a boyfriend, Kirk, or is that just to crush Elwood’s ego?”

I yank my wrist out of his grip. “None of your business, Harper.” He chuckles at me.

“He’s not going to give up easily, you know. If he thinks you’ve got a boyfriend he’ll only see it as a challenge and try harder.”

“I didn’t realize you were such an expert on the psychology of Chris Elwood.”

“He’s boring and predictable. That’s why you don’t like him, isn’t it?” I’m spared the trouble of answering by Mrs. Hudson, who tells us to come to the front to collect ingredients and worksheets for today’s practical.

Jem fills out the worksheet and I begin to set up the assignment with my porn star hands. “You didn’t answer my question,” he says quietly.

“Because it’s a stupid question.”

Jem turns to me with a strange look. His eyes seem more expressive for the fact that they don’t have lashes.

“Don’t give me that look.”

“What look?”

“You know the one.”

“Obviously not, or I wouldn’t have asked.”

“Just measure the damn ingredients, Harper.”

Tuesday

There’s still a faint outline of my note-to-self on my hand after my morning shower. Should I leave it? Should I bug Elwood and give him another opportunity to ask uncomfortable questions? Should I give Jem another opportunity to razz me?

So I scrub my hand raw. It doesn’t help much, because at lunch Paige asks me if I’ll be bringing anyone to the party after the dance. I guess word gets around—maybe Chris said something to her.

“Yep. His name’s Luke.”

Paige grins. “Are you guys a thing?” Whatever the hell that means. I just roll my eyes playfully and say, “Come on, Paige, you’re not gonna embarrass me, are you?”

She squeals with delight, but promises to be cool. She says she can’t wait to meet him. A few tables over, I see Jem arguing quietly with the little ice skater. I wonder how they know each other, because from here it doesn’t look like they have much in common. She’s flamboyantly dressed, with gelled hair that’s barely longer than a buzz cut. I don’t even know her name but I decide that I like her, because she seems to be holding her own against Harper. Maybe he’ll be too pissed off about that to harass me in class today.

“Hey, Paige?”

“Mmmh?”

“Who’s the girl with the short hair, talking to Harper?” Paige leans over to see who I’m talking about.

“Oh, that’s just Elise. She’s on the social planning committee. That’s her brother she’s talking to.” The way Paige’s voice pitches down at the end implies
the guy with cancer.

Wednesday

Doug comes over to visit Frank before dinner, and Luke tags along. It’s at this point that I realize I don’t have enough food left in the fridge to feed four, so a quick trip to the grocery store is in order. Luke offers to come with me, and we leave our brothers to watch the sportscast—or so they claim.

Once we’re alone in the car Luke informs me that he told a few people about the party at Joey’s this Saturday.

“Just two,” he says when he sees I’m concerned about this party getting out of hand. “Good friends of mine—Jake and Phil. All I had to do was mention girls.” That makes me laugh.

“Only a few of them are single, you know.” This does nothing to dampen Luke’s enthusiasm. We don’t talk about Saturday again until he ambushes me with the subject in the condiments aisle. “So I was wondering, are we supposed to be going
together
or as friends?”

“As friends. You’re free to chase the single girls.”

“Aren’t you a single girl?”

“Yeeeah…”

Luke smiles like this isn’t at all uncomfortable. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from any guy who gets the wrong idea about you.”

“Thanks. He’s tall and annoying and his voice goes high when he’s angry.”

Luke snorts. “You’re a magnet for losers, aren’t you?”

“Patent pending.”

Thursday

It’s a quiet day in Social Studies. Jem is absent. I enjoy the peace and quiet, but it’s actually sort of dull when he isn’t around to annoy me.

As I walk to French for my last class of the day, I pass through the English department and notice Jem sitting in one of the classrooms. He has his head down on the desk, pillowed on skinny arms, and looks distinctly green. I bet he spent fourth period in the nurse’s office. Why he didn’t stay there is a mystery, because he looks like hell.

I walk away to French, and Chris catches me up in the hall. All thought of my project partner drifts away in conversation with him. He wants me to bring my iPod to the after party; apparently he thinks I have good taste in music. I’m starting to think that he’s looking forward to the after party more than the dance, even though Joey hasn’t secured a source of alcohol yet, and there’s no guarantee that he will.

On my way out to the parking lot, bored and tired, I see Harper walking with his little sister. She has a hand on his back for support and they’re moving pretty slowly.

I guess my day wasn’t so bad.

Friday

It’s St. Valentine’s Day. A lot of people are wearing pink or red and the cafeteria food is themed today. Spaghetti and garlic bread, red Jell-O or chocolate cake for dessert, and fish sticks dyed with red food coloring. The latter turn everybody’s lips scarlet and Paige tries unsuccessfuly to cover hers with lip gloss.

In Social Studies, Mrs. Hudson has a pot of mini-roses on the front lab table. Jem tells me happy Valentine’s Day as I take my seat. That’s the first friendly thing he’s said all week.

“Nice hat.” It’s red, of course. I didn’t figure him as the type to dress according to holiday, especially a mushy holiday.

We’re copying overhead transparencies about the food pyramid today. It’s silent work and it doesn’t take long for note passing to start.

Who’s your imaginary boyfriend today?
Harper writes on the torn corner of his page. I can see him smirking out of the corner of my eye.

You’re in a good mood today,
I write back.

He hesitates before writing:
Who would be unhappy on a holiday that involves excessive amounts of sugar consumption?

Because junk food is what you need. Don’t you ever get tired of puking?

All the time,
he writes.

You’re in remission?

Yeah.

How long?

I see Jem tap his fingertips on the lab table one after the other. He’s counting.

Forty-nine days.

Damn. That’s barely longer than I’ve been back in Smiths Falls.

Jem: February 14 to 22

Friday

Basketball season is almost over, but the boys’ and girls’ varsity teams are holding an exhibition game in the gym as part of a fundraiser. I’m not sure what it’s for—I didn’t read the posters—but I guess the proceeds are going to whichever disease, natural disaster, or impoverished country they’ve chosen to take pity on.

During lunch period the basketball teams put on their uniforms and set up a ticket/donations table in the lunchroom. I get to the cafeteria just in time to see Elise being canvassed by one of the seniors she was openly ogling the other day. I hope it isn’t too late for her to avoid embarrassing herself.

I head over to the fundraiser table to save Elise from herself. I don’t know the guy she’s talking to, but he’s really tall, which makes her seem even shorter and me feel more protective of her. I watch them exchange money for game tickets and kick myself. If she doesn’t embarrass herself here, she will at that game.