Dead to You

by Lisa McMann

  “You stay away from her,” he whispers.

  CHAPTER 34

  “Fuck off.” I leave Gracie’s room, closing the door, and Blake is already down the hallway ahead of me, disappearing into his room. I hesitate at his door, and then realize how not worth it that is. At eleven p.m., with Mama asleep and Dad having spent so much time helping me with my room, I figure avoiding controversy is best.

  When I wake up Saturday morning, I look out the slider door and see the sun for the first time since I’ve been here, I think. Above me, I hear the thunder of little feet, and it sounds like there’s a small herd of antelope up there. Either that or Gracie’s dancing to Saturday-morning TV shows. I drag my butt to the shower and get ready to move into my room.

  By the time I’m dressed, Dad and Blake are coming down the stairs with my bed. Blake must really want all traces of me out of his room if he’s willing to help, and I grin to myself. I pretend to be busy in the bathroom and let them haul it all down—my muscles are sore from painting.

  When I emerge, I can hear Dad putting the bed frame together, and Blake’s standing over by the pool table, looking at my collage of photos. I feel a sudden surge of protectiveness and I don’t want Blake touching them. I know it’s weird, but I don’t want his angry vibes around my stuff. Even though technically he’s in the pictures too, so I guess they aren’t mine, but still. I need them more than he does.

  Blake looks up and narrows his eyes when he sees me. “What’s this, your shrine to yourself?”

  “No,” I say.

  “Then what?”

  “They’re just pictures. I like looking at them. Why do you care?”

  Blake looks closer at them. “Do you remember any of these? I do.” It’s a challenge.

  My stomach hurts. “I remember the sno-cone machine. You drank the syrup straight from the little bottles.” It’s a terrible lie, I know, but I just need him to chill. I need him to chill, and I need to get as much distance between us as possible.

  He looks skeptical. “I did not.”

  “You did. You were really little, so maybe you don’t remember.” Ha.

  “All right, then, what else?”

  I’m tempted to make up more, but I have a feeling nothing will satisfy him. Besides, I have nothing to prove. “What’s your problem, anyway?”

  “You,” he says in a low voice. “There’s something about you that’s not quite right. Something sneaky.” He pauses, measuring me with his eyes, a little nervous, even. And then he says it. “You’re not Ethan.”

  Fuck. I can’t believe how much the accusation hurts, even though I knew it was coming. I can’t even argue against it because it doesn’t make any sense. “Blake,” I say in an even voice, “you were four. You’re not going to remember it the way it really was.” I can feel my face getting red, and I fight off the anger. “Whether you like it or not, I’m Ethan De Wilde. Brother to the biggest asshole on the planet.” I turn, walk to my room, and close the door quietly, although I want to slam it.

  Dad looks up from his spot on the floor, where he’s fighting with a wrench. “Almost done,” he says, grunting. “Then we can get your mattress on and get your dresser and desk down here.”

  I smile as brightly as I can manage, but I’m still pissed off. To tell the truth, I feel like shit. Dad doesn’t notice. He turns his attention back to the bed again. I sit down on the floor near him and pull my knees up. “Dad?” My throat starts to ache.

  He stops and looks up. “Yes?”

  My face twists and I choke the words out. “I know what’s up with Blake. He just said it to my face.”

  Dad frowns, concerned, and then his eyes soften and he sets the wrench down. He shuffles on his knees over to where I’m sitting and looks me in the eye. He shakes his head a little, sighs deeply, and puts his arm around my shoulders. “Oh, buddy,” he says. “I am so sorry.”

  And then I lose it. Dad comes closer and we’re hugging awkwardly on the floor, and I’m cough-sobbing stupidly into his shoulder, and he’s patting my back. And even though I think he wants to try to give excuses for Blake and his issues, he doesn’t. He just tries to comfort me in his own awkward way. That’s about the coolest thing he could do.

  I’m stretched out on my bed, sun streaming in through my window, trying to enjoy my privacy and trying not to think about what a prick Blake is, when I hear a knock on glass. I hop out of my room and there’s Cami, standing at the walk-out slider door, holding a sled. Her face is glowing and she’s hatless, her coat open at the neck. She’s like a model for a snow commercial or something.

  “Come out!” she shouts through the glass.

  I unlock the door and open it. “Hey!”

  “It’s warm today—almost above freezing! Let’s go sledding over at the big hill.” Her eyes shine, and as much as I hate the cold, I can’t say no.

  “Do you have a sled for me?”

  “Don’t you have one?”

  “I have no idea—I’ll ask.” I still feel like such a visitor here sometimes. “Meet you in the driveway.”

  I take the stairs two at a time and find Mama at the table paying bills and Gracie flopped back dramatically in her chair, probably whining about something.

  “Do we have sleds, Mama?” I ask.

  She doesn’t look up. “Don’t you have homework?”

  “I can do it tonight or tomorrow. Can I go sledding with Cami? It’s nice out for once.”

  “Fine,” she says, distracted.

  “I want to go!” Gracie shouts. “Please please please, Efan.”

  I scowl. “No. You’re too little.”

  Mama looks up. “Oh, that would be a big help if you’d take her. I’m doing taxes.” She flips through her checkbook and writes something down. “Just make sure you stay with her at all times. Gracie, no wandering off, you promise?”

  I look at Gracie. She’s grinning.

  “All right,” I say, relenting, but I’m thinking there goes my chance at having some time alone with Cami. “Do we have a sled, Macie?”

  Gracie giggles. “It’s Gracie!”

  “Okay, Lacie.”

  “No no, it’s Facie!”

  “Whoever you are, get your coat on and let’s go.”

  Gracie marches to get her junk on, and I go dig around in the garage with Cami and find sleds.

  “Sorry, I got suckered into babysitting.”

  She grins. “Ah, well. Gracie’s not too bad for a little kid. Could be worse.”

  “Could be Blake,” I mutter.

  Cami laughs. “Has he gotten over his paranoia yet?”

  “No. It’s getting worse.”

  She shakes her head. “Poor guy.”

  “Who, me?” I ask.

  “No, him. He can’t seem to find the right way to get people to like him. Plus, being thirteen sucks.”

  “True.” I think about when I was thirteen. It was the first time Ellen left me alone for more than a few days. Thirteen was also the first time I stole a wallet and ate out of the garbage. And then there was Bree Ann. I suck in a sharp breath and let it out to clear my mind. I don’t want to think about them now.

  Gracie comes out in her snowsuit and stiffly walks over to us. We grab the sleds and Cami leads the way through the backyards. I drag Gracie along by the hand. Apparently there’s a big snow hill at the elementary school nearby.

  Confession: I’ve never been sledding. Not that I remember, anyway.

  It’s a freaking big hill. And we aren’t the only ones to think of doing this today. The place is overrun by little kids.

  I hop on one sled and situate Gracie in front of me.

  “Ready, guys?” Cami asks.

  “Ready,” Gracie and I say. Cami pushes on my back and gets us going, and then we’re flying down the hill. The wind rushes through my hair and past my ears, and I grip the edge of the sled with one hand, hanging on tightly to Gracie with the other, wondering a little too late how to steer. At the bottom, we hit a snowdrift and for a moment we�
�re airborne before we land and fall off. Gracie’s laughing and has snow all on her face, and my butt hurts.

  “Now what?” I ask her.

  “Now we climb back up and do it again.”

  I flop back in the snow and look at the sky. “Climb all the way back up?”

  “Yeah! It’s easy.”

  “Maybe for a little kid.”

  She laughs again and flops down on my chest. I pick her up and hold her up above me, then set her down on her feet. “Come on,” I say, reaching out my hand. “Pull me up.”

  She tugs my arm like she’s really trying. I roll to my side and get to my feet. We drag the sled up the hill. Cami’s nowhere to be seen—I can only guess that she went down a different way.

  And then I see her over to one side. Talking to Blake. Blake gestures with his hands like he’s agitated. I squint to get a better look. Cami points in our general direction, and Blake looks around, but he doesn’t see us. I glance down at Gracie, who’s sitting patiently on the sled again, ready to go. I hop on the sled and we scoot forward until gravity helps out, and then we’re flying once more. We almost get sideswiped, but I’m figuring out how to steer a little, and magically we avoid a total collision.

  Back up the hill, and Blake finally sees us and comes stomping through the snow. Cami shrugs helplessly at me.

  “Uh-oh,” I mutter. I don’t have a good feeling about this.

  Blake looks furious. “What are you doing?”

  “We’re sledding. Obviously.”

  He glances at Gracie, sitting again in the sled, waiting. “I was going to take her sledding.”

  “Well, we’re already here. So.”

  “So, leave.”

  “No,” I say through my teeth. “You leave.”

  “Forget it.” And then he shoves me.

  Fuck.

  Why’d he have to go and shove me?

  CHAPTER 35

  I pound him. I do. With a rush of anger I shove him back, and when he falls, I jump on him, and then before I can even believe I’m doing it, I’m pounding him. His face, his chest, his stomach . . . everything. It’s like I’m outside my body, watching myself, completely out of control.

  Granted, with me wearing gloves, and him wearing a coat, the damage could have been worse. And if Cami hadn’t been there to scream some sense into me and pull me back, it could have been a lot worse. But God. Why does he keep doing things like this? What the hell is wrong with him?

  So there he is, his nose bleeding and his lip swelling up, the snow all on one side of him red . . . it reminds me of a cherry sno-cone. And for about ten seconds, it feels good that he’s lying there sniveling, because he fucking deserves it.

  But I don’t know what will happen now.

  And there’s Gracie, bawling. A crowd gathers around to see what happened.

  I’m such a fucking loser.

  I get down on my knees in the snow next to Blake. And I offer him my hand. “Come on, man. Get up.”

  “Go to hell,” he says.

  “Look, I’m sorry I hit you, but you need to stop starting this shit. Let’s get you home. Here, put a snowball on your lip. Come on. Gracie’s crying. Everybody’s looking.”

  “Good. Let ’em look. It’s good to have witnesses.” He narrows his eyes and shoves himself up on his elbows, ignoring my outstretched arm. He rolls to his side and pushes to his feet, and then spits on the ground. “Come on, Gracie,” he says, leaning down and grabbing the sled’s rope. “Mama won’t want you anywhere near him after she hears about this.”

  My gut twists at the satisfaction in his voice, and suddenly I realize what the bastard is doing. “You planned this?” I ask, incredulous.

  Cami’s eyes go wide and her lips part. She turns to look at me.

  Blake doesn’t answer. He pulls Gracie in the sled toward home, and the crowd of onlookers breaks up when there’s nothing more to see.

  After a minute, I grab the other sled. “Can you come home with me?” I ask. “I might need a witness.”

  “Sure,” Cami says. “I just can’t believe this. You really think he did it on purpose?”

  I nod. I’m sure he did. We hurry to catch up so Blake doesn’t have much time to corrupt Mama and Dad before I’m there to defend myself. But I know I’m in for it. Big-time.

  “Just stay calm,” Cami says. “He’s trying to get you to do something, and he’ll keep trying. If you stay calm and don’t let him get his satisfaction that way, you win.”

  “I have no chance at winning here. Did you see what I did to his face?”

  “Yeah, I know,” she says. She runs her hand through her hair and looks at me, worried. “But don’t make it worse.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Okay.”

  “I mean it. Stay calm. Be the rational one. You’ll look better.”

  I know she’s right. I suck in a breath and let it out slowly to keep the panic buried as we reach the driveway right behind Blake and Gracie. Gracie hops off the sled and runs to the door. She looks back at me like she’s scared of me, and that pretty much just makes me want to shoot myself in the head.

  “You’re so dead,” Blake says to me as he goes inside.

  I turn away, and now I don’t want to go in at all. I’m scared. I don’t want to hear it—Mama all upset about Blake’s face, Dad furious at me, all the yelling. “I can’t go in there,” I say.

  “Let’s just sit out here on the step. It’s nice out.”

  But I’m not thinking, not feeling the temperature, not feeling anything. “I think maybe I should go.” I sit down on the step and whip off my bloody gloves. Pinch the bridge of my nose, where a headache is starting.

  “Where?”

  “Away. Maybe back to the south. To find Ellen . . . nor.” I can feel Cami staring at me, but I can’t look at her. I don’t want to think about leaving her behind. Not now, when I’m just getting her to like me, maybe. A little. But I can’t keep living like this, I really can’t. Constant tension in the house . . . and Blake . . .

  And then I think about Gracie and how she looked at me. Like I betrayed her. I don’t know if I can look her in the eye again. Such a little sweet kid—she doesn’t need to grow up and see this kind of crap.

  “Ethan,” Cami says softly. Finally. “Eleanor’s not the right answer. Don’t you think that would be even harder to go back to? Plus, isn’t she, like, wanted by the police?”

  I squinch my eyes shut and I don’t want to think about that. I had good times with Ellen. She really liked me, too. I know she did. She chose me, for fuck’s sake. Out of all the kids in the world, Ellen chose me. And she hired those guys, or whatever, to kidnap me. Me, not Blake. Not Cami. Not some other kid down this street, or any street in Belleville or St. Paul or New York or Hollywood. She chose me. She wanted me. Somebody fucking wanted me.

  How could she stop wanting me?

  I know something must have happened to her for her to not come back for me in Nebraska. Because she always came back. Always. And now I wonder if I’ve made a terrible mistake. I abandoned her by not going out to find her. What if she needed me and came back to the youth home, and I wasn’t there? What if she did actually see news of my return to my real family, and she’s so sad now?

  The sickness is roiling inside of me—the panic and the laughter. That’s what it is, I think. It’s a sickness. I didn’t have it when I was a little kid, I know that by the look of horror on Mama’s face when she watched me spin out of control at Dr. Frost’s. And I feel it there now, heavy, like I swallowed a boot—yeah, like I swallowed a goddamn boot and it’s trying to hike its way up my ribs, trying to get out. And I don’t want to let it, because Cami’s here and she’ll think I’m a total freak if it happens, but it’s so strong I don’t think I can stop it. I don’t have any control. I push my head between my knees and try to suck in some air.

  “Ethan, are you okay?”

  I nod and flash her the okay sign, but she still looks worried. I want to get away from her so she doesn’t see
it. I want to run, but I know what’ll happen. Same thing that happened at the basketball game. I need every ounce of air I can get so I don’t pass out and fall down. How would that look, huh? Pretty fucking worse than if I sit here and let the sickness run its course.

  And it does.

  It sounds like I’m dry heaving, but then the hysterical laughter spews out.

  Cami, fidgeting and anxious, stands up. “Ethan, do you need help? I’ll get your mom!”

  I grab her wrist. Shake my head and cover my face, so she doesn’t see it all ugly and distorted. I hold her arm and she sits down next to me, looking helpless, and then she puts her arm around my shoulders and holds on. I hold up my forefinger to let her know I’m almost through it. But I know, once I’m through, Cami’s not going to want to be anywhere near a freak like me.

  I can’t help it now, though. I can’t hide it. I need her.

  When I can finally speak, all I can say between gasps is, “I’m sorry. I’m really not as fucked-up as I seem.”

  “Man.” Cami shakes her head. “What was that all about?” She’s not leaving.

  “It’s just a problem I have. Some sort of nervous reaction to stress after all the crap I’ve been through, I guess. Doctor says I’ll probably grow out of it.”

  “Uh, it might help if you could cut down on the drama,” she says.

  “You think?”

  She grins. God, I love her. I do.

  We sit there together, growing cold on the steps, waiting.

  CHAPTER 36

  And it’s not good. It’s really not. It goes something like this.

  Dad: You’re grounded for life. I have a thousand chores for you to do, including kissing Blake’s ass. No friends over. Cami, go home forever.

  Me: But, Dad, he started it.

  Dad: Family meeting tonight after everybody calms down. For now, you are dead to me.

  At least that’s how it feels. I lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling. I have never been grounded before. Ellen always just let me do whatever, and I didn’t get into much trouble. Here, with all these rules . . . it’s like a trap I can’t stay away from. After a while I pick up my pile of clothes. They’re still in a tangled mess on the floor where I put them after Blake tossed my stuff out of his room. I sort through them, fold them, and put them all away.