Maya stares at the floor.
Then there’s a soft knock, and Ms. Gonzalez comes in. “Sorry to break up the party, but it’s time for us to head out.”
“Ladies, my dance card is full.” Mr. Gonzalez’s voice wavers, but he gives us the same smile I remember from when I was little. Ms. Gonzalez holds out an arm and he takes it, slowly standing up and moving with careful steps to the door.
When they leave, there’s silence.
Maya shakes her head and picks at her shoelaces. When she finally looks at me, I can see in her face the weight of something she doesn’t want to say. I can feel the words coming, like snow starting overnight, thick and quiet in the dark.
“Wow,” I start. “It seems like—”
“I need to talk to you about something,” Maya says.
I close my mouth, startled. She never interrupts.
“You’ll be mad at first,” she says, her voice wavery. “But”—she takes a deep breath—“then I know you’ll understand.”
Sparrows soar through the windows, hover at my shoulders. I’m not supposed to get this feeling with Maya, but it’s unmistakable: the rustle of wings, the flutter in my chest.
“You know how my dad’s been really—hard to talk to lately. Like, hasn’t been interested in my project, goes into his office and shuts the door as soon as he gets home from work, has to go to the doctor.” Maya looks toward the door. “I mean, you saw it for yourself.”
“I know.” I don’t say anything else. I just want her to keep going so that whatever she’s going to say can be out there. Done. Ready to deal with. It’s so much worse when it’s hiding in the shadows.
“Well, the doctors say he has cardiomyopathy, which happens because of stress. Which my mom says he gets way too much of at work. He has so many tough cases.” Maya covers her eyes with one hand. The next thing she says is so quiet I can barely hear it. “Cases like Andy’s.”
The sparrows dive down in a single rush of heavy wings.
“Wait,” I say. “What? Why would Andy have to see your dad? He wasn’t a ‘case.’”
Maya takes a deep breath. “That’s the thing, Claire,” she says. “He actually was.”
“Why would Andy have to go to court?” I wonder if my voice sounds as shaky as I feel. “All he did was take too many pain pills. He was hurt, Maya. He needed them. It just…” I catch Maya’s eyes, holding mine steady. Not blinking. “It just went too far.”
“That’s not all he did, Claire,” Maya says, a little louder now. “He wasn’t just taking pills himself. He was selling them to other people.”
That hot, sharp feeling I got in Mr. Hamilton’s barn is coming back. It’s like a flame, and Maya’s words are little puffs of air making it grow.
I shake my head. “No, he wasn’t.” But images of the pill bottles in the closet, the cell phone with the strange numbers, swim in my mind. I shut my eyes to squeeze them out. “No!”
The sparrows’ wings are fluttering so loudly, I barely hear what Maya says next. “I’m sorry, Claire.”
“How do you even know this stuff?” I ask. “And why didn’t you tell me before?”
Maya’s eyes fill with tears. “I wanted to, at first. I overheard my parents talking about it one night when they thought I was asleep, and I made them tell me. But they said your parents should be the ones to discuss it with you, not me. Besides, I could see how upset you were about Andy and I just thought—it wasn’t the right time.”
“It would never be the right time.” My voice feels icy. But Maya does have a point—if this is even true, I have no idea why my parents didn’t tell me about it. They should have.
“Papi said it was one small example of hard things he has to deal with every day.” Maya takes a deep breath. “He said he always tries to do his best, but sometimes the choices are really difficult. Like, it’s also because of him that Andy went to the rehab center.”
I shake my head. This is so confusing. “Andy decided to go. Even he told me that.”
“Well, that’s sort of true,” Maya says. “Papi didn’t actually force Andy, but he basically made it the best option. Andy picked Starshine Center because if he hadn’t gone there, he would have had to go to jail.”
“Jail?” My voice sounds like someone else’s. Angry.
“Wait a second. The point here is that Andy had options.” Now Maya’s eyes seem to be on fire. “It was actually really nice of Papi to give a choice. Can’t you see that?”
“Nice of him? That’s not much of a choice at all!”
“Oh my gosh, Claire,” Maya says. “Hello! Dealing drugs is illegal, remember? Look, I know how much you miss Andy.” She holds up her hands. “But this is probably good, you know? Maybe he kind of needed—a wake-up call.”
“No!” My voice cuts the air. All my happy memories of Mr. Gonzalez—all the ice creams and trips to his office and barbecues on the beach—they scatter away. “That was really dumb of your dad, Maya. It screwed up our family.”
Maya’s eyes narrow. “My dad did not screw up your family. He works really hard for people like Andy,” she says, her voice cold as gusts of wind. “It makes him stressed, trying to figure out how to do the right thing all the time without hurting anyone. You think I’m happy about the fact that he couldn’t even go over my Edna Beard presentation because he was up so late in his office, working instead of sleeping?”
“Who cares about Edna Beard!” My face heats up. People like Andy? At this exact moment, I wonder if I actually know Maya at all.
“My project is just one tiny example of why work is a problem for him!” Maya yells. “Here’s another one! The doctor told my dad to take a medical leave because he’s worried he might have a heart attack. This isn’t a joke!”
Nari’s voice comes through clear. She said her sister was “the coolest person.”
So is Andy.
Nari’s sister also made big mistakes.
So did Andy.
Sparrows whirl in circles. I don’t know how to feel.
But I do know that even though Andy started acting different before he left home, being at Starshine has just made him even more different. Now he might not even want to come home. And now I also know why he had to leave.
“Papi was trying to help, Claire.” Maya’s voice is calm on the surface, but I hear a storm gathering underneath. “Because that’s what Andy needs. Help. There’s nothing wrong with that, you know. Everybody has problems. You can’t pretend Andy doesn’t, just like you can’t pretend my dad will definitely be okay. The truth is, you don’t know.”
Her eyes soften a bit, but the words gathering inside me pierce like sticks, and I throw them at her.
“Andy would have been fine!” I yell. “He would have figured it out. He didn’t need Starshine. And if he hadn’t gone there, Mom and Dad wouldn’t be paying so much money for it. Did you know that’s partly why they want to sell Sunny and Sam?”
I realize my hands are shaking. I don’t like thinking about whether Mom and Dad would still want to sell Sunny and Sam if Andy hadn’t gone to Starshine. I don’t want him to be the reason I lose them.
“You know I’m sad about the horses too.” Maya shakes her head. She’s quieter now. Calmness has come back into her voice and it only makes my sparrows fight harder. “But Andy messed up. I feel bad that he got a back injury; that wasn’t fair. But he got addicted to pain pills and then he started selling them. That means he was hurting other people too, not only himself.”
I stand up, pull my phone out. My hand trembles when I hit CONTACTS and I barely recognize my own voice when I finally speak. “Yeah, Mom, can you pick me up? Maya’s parents are busy… five minutes is perfect.”
“Ask your parents how Andy got the money for his pills,” she says. “Then maybe you’ll understand.”
I open the office door. The room around me feels like a ship, pitching and heaving in storms.
I stumble down the hall, taking big gulps of air to make the sparrows leave.
<
br /> But they stay. They’re whirling too fast for me to catch, their wings slapping my ribs.
No matter how hard I try to brush the sound of Maya’s voice away, it’s the only thing I can hear.
CHAPTER 19
Maya didn’t mean anything. That’s what I tell myself. She’s scared for her dad, and the flame inside her just grew too big and started burning everything else it touched—like me.
She’ll text me later and tell me it was nothing. All made up.
But the pills in the closet. The phone. Ask your parents how Andy got the money…
I push Maya’s front door open, and as soon as I make it outside, sink to the ground, knees up, fists pressed to my eyes, I put both hands on my chest. Breathe in, out.
It takes a long time, but finally the sparrows leave. There were so many more of them this time, more than I could count. Flocks and flocks, burrowing deep inside.
I stand up. Suddenly I realize my lips are dry, my tongue thick, my hands quivering like drifting leaves. I lick my lips, wish for a water bottle. Mom always has one in the car.
By the time she pulls up, my hands have stopped shaking. When I slide into the front seat and grab the water bottle from the cup holder, drinking long and slow, Mom glances my way.
“You’re awfully quiet,” she says.
Inside I’m blazing fire. Roaring. Mom just can’t hear it.
“How’s Maya?” she asks, her eyes flitting between the road and me.
If I open my mouth to speak, flames will surge out and burn both of us. But if I don’t, Mom will keep talking. And I need quiet.
“She’s fine,” I manage. Then I look out the window. The trees are so much barer now. Bouquets of leaves have browned and tumbled away, leaving skeletons behind. I breathe quietly, trying to steady the wings inside.
Watching the trees helps. I focus on each one as we slide past. By the time we reach the community center, the flutters are gone, but there’s an empty stillness inside me.
Once I’m at the meeting, I manage to say “Hey” to Nari as I sit next to her, and wave at Caleb and Anna across the room. Marcus comes in a little late, just as Sharon’s getting started, and I smile at him. But inside I’m still a shell. I try to turn the sounds in the room into words and the words into something I can understand.
Sharon’s voice finally pushes through my emptiness. Honesty. That’s what she’s talking about now.
“Addicts are asked to be honest with themselves,” she’s saying. “But we need to be honest with ourselves too. Seeing situations clearly isn’t easy, but it’s the only way to move forward. It’s the only way to grow.”
My eyes burn. I blink back tears.
When Sharon opens the meeting for sharing, I surprise myself.
“I don’t usually like talking, especially to a group of people,” I say. “But something happened.”
I feel Nari’s eyes on me. I see Anna nod, encouraging me to keep going.
“My brother Andy’s been in rehab because he got addicted to pain pills. He had a really bad injury. The pills took his pain away, you know? So I understand it, in a way. I mean, I know it’s not good, but it also makes some sense.” I take a deep, shaky breath, then explain about Nate and the textbook, and the pills and phone in Andy’s closet. “I knew it was weird, when Nate came by. I knew something was off. But I didn’t want to think about it.”
The more I talk, the stronger my voice sounds. For such a long time I didn’t want to tell anybody here my story. I didn’t think they’d understand. Now I want to say everything. I explain Maya’s secret, her dad’s illness, Andy’s case.
“I really didn’t want to believe her. I still don’t. How could my brother bring his problem to other people? None of you know Andy, but trust me, he’s an amazing person.” My throat swells. My eyes water. But nobody here looks surprised. They know exactly what I mean.
“I thought—‘This isn’t him,’” I say. “I mean, it is him. It’s part of him. But it can’t be all of him. That’s why it doesn’t make any sense.”
I stop talking, and silence fills the room. It’s not the bare, lonely kind of silence that makes you feel like nobody’s listening. It’s the full, warm kind that happens when everybody’s reaching out to you with their eyes and leaning forward in their chairs and they’re all thinking the same thing so hard that the words somehow find you and tell you: It’s okay. When you’re ready to say more, we’ll be here.
“None of our stories make sense,” I say. “Because none of these people deserve to have addiction. Anna’s mom loves her, and Nari’s sister is supercool, and Marcus’s dad is probably trying his best even though I think he needs to do a lot better at showing it. The stories don’t make sense, but they’re also real. I want things to be easier but they just aren’t. It doesn’t mean I can’t be strong anyway.”
I look at Nari, and she’s smiling, her eyes glimmering.
And then the truth blooms inside me, and even though it’s not what I want to see, just having it there feels right somehow.
“I think about those pills, and that phone, and I know my friend is right,” I say. “Trying to pretend she isn’t is pointless. What I really need to figure out is what to do now.”
I stop talking, but everyone still waits, giving me a chance to say anything else I might need. “That’s all,” I say quietly, and the chorus of “Thanks, Claire,” makes me feel better than I thought it would.
After the meeting, we hang out a little longer at the cookie table.
“Honesty is a huge step, Claire,” Sharon says. “I’m proud of you for taking it. And for sharing. We love having your voice in the circle.”
“It wasn’t actually that bad,” I say.
“Yeah, I guess we aren’t totally scary,” Anna says, punching me lightly on the arm. “When you said something about those pills before, I kind of realized what might be going on.”
“So did I,” Marcus says. “But it seemed like you would figure it out for yourself.”
“Yeah.” Nari nods. “And you did.”
Hearing Nari’s voice makes a question that’s been bubbling inside since I talked to Mom and Dad spill over. “Nari, I don’t understand why your sister had to go to jail,” I say. “Andy had a choice.”
Hurt passes over Nari’s face, a skittering cloud. “I know,” she says. “Pia didn’t, even though she ended up going to rehab too. It’s not fair.”
“The system often isn’t fair,” Sharon says, her voice soft but firm. “It usually skews against people of color, who often face jail time in cases where a white person wouldn’t.”
Heat rushes to my face. “But Andy’s judge—he wouldn’t have been like that,” I say.
“It’s not about one judge,” Sharon says. “Nari’s in a different district and her sister probably didn’t see the same one. But either way, this is a widespread social issue—bigger than a single case.”
Sharon’s words expand inside me, pushing against the edges of what I thought I knew. They’re uncomfortable, but I know they need to be there.
“It’s true,” Nari says. “I really like what you shared, though, Claire. Because I do feel like I’m strong. I feel like we all are.”
“Kind of seems impossible some days,” Caleb says, frowning.
“But then sometimes it just gets better too,” Nari says quietly. “When you’re least expecting it.”
“Having a thing that’s yours helps,” Sharon says. “Remember when we talked about that? Giving yourself what you need is also the best way to help someone else. Keep that in mind this week, okay?”
We all nod and grab extra cookies, then start heading out.
“Hey, Claire,” Anna says. “We should exchange numbers.”
“Yeah,” says Marcus, and Caleb takes out his phone too.
We send texts and pretty soon I have three more contacts, not counting Nari. I have to bite the insides of my cheeks to keep my smile from spreading across my whole face.
Before Nari heads do
wntown, she turns to me. “Thanks again for having me over,” she says. “Working with your horse ended up being a lot more fun than I thought it would be. And honestly? It helped me think about my sister differently too.”
“Really?” I ask. “Like how?”
“I don’t exactly know. Maybe part of it was doing something she had done, and realizing that when she first started working with horses, she probably felt a lot of the same feelings I did,” Nari says. “I just thought—well, she’s still herself. And knowing she likes the horses so much now even though she was probably scared before… it made me think she can change in good ways too. Other people have, so why not her?”
I swallow hard. Knowing more about Andy has turned my feelings about him upside down, but what Nari says makes a lot of sense.
“I know my parents are right,” Nari continues. “We are still a family and we can support each other. I can be there for my sister and still do the kinds of things Sharon talks about, like letting go and stuff.”
“Sharon’s definitely got her checklist going,” I say. “But it seems not so bad.”
Nari laughs. “As checklists go. Anyway, I would love to come over again and learn more about horses, if that works for you.”
“That would be so cool.” My mind starts racing forward, filling with future rides in the woods. But then the race stops short, and I remember: I don’t know how much longer I’ll have horses. The equine therapy plan depends on Andy, and I don’t know what he’ll say. Or what I even want him to say.
Nari must see my face change. “It would be fun to just hang out too, though,” she says. “With or without Sam.”
“Definitely.” Mom’s car pulls up, and I wave goodbye before sliding in, still thinking about the new numbers in my phone and plans with Nari.
“Good meeting?” Mom asks.
“Actually, yeah.” But I turn away from her, look out the window. Part of me doesn’t want to talk to Mom, but the rest of me wants to hurl enough words at her and Dad to bury them knee-deep, until they can explain why they hid the truth about Andy from me.
“That’s great,” Mom says. “You seem to be enjoying them more.”
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