“No, he said it was an accident,” Skylar shrugged.
“Spiked punch,” I supplied, taking another sip from the mug.
“Yeah,” Skylar grimaced, “word to the wise: don’t drink anything at a party you didn’t bring yourself and never let it out of your sight. It’s hard to say what you’ll end up drinking otherwise.”
“That would have been good advice before the party,” I muttered.
“You’ll know better next time,” she sighed. “Now you better get a move on it. I’m leaving in thirty minutes, and you’ll want to at least eat some toast after you finish that.” She nodded toward the mug.
Needless to say, I was dead on my feet all day at school. Tegan, who gently and reluctantly filled in some of the embarrassing blank spots in my memories of the night before, kept hovering around as if she feared I might fall over and not get back up. Somehow I managed to stay upright, but retaining any of the knowledge the teachers tried to bestow upon me was a lost cause.
Blinking was also a huge problem because more than once I nearly forgot to reopen my eyes. My thoughts, when not focused on staying awake and upright, were centered on going home and crawling into bed and possibly staying there for the next week.
I passed a few people in the hallway that shot me knowing looks. A few even possibly looked worse than I felt, but when I spotted Jesse Millet in the hallway, I wanted to melt into the wall. I was sure he probably had no idea who I was, but I felt terrible for vomiting on his mother’s plant. Of course, not nearly as bad as I felt about puking on Jackson’s shoe, but bad nonetheless.
I worried I might have ruined Jackson’s shoe, but I wasn’t brave enough to go and apologize. I thought I saw him once in the hallway, but I did my best to blend in with the crowd. My day had been hideous enough without facing my puked upon crush.
When I finally made it home, I went straight to bed. I slept through dinner, and I guessed that Skylar must have told our parents I wasn’t feeling well because Mom came up later to check on me.
“I’m just tired,” I assured her. I’d considered pretending to be asleep, but I thought doing so would only cause worry.
She smoothed my hair back away from my forehead, probably feeling for a fever. She looked better rested than she had over the last few days, but she seemed wary. It reminded me of my previous worry about the tension and arguments between her and Dad.
“Well, I saved you a plate of food,” she said, smiling softly. “I think you should eat. It might make you feel better.”
I had my doubts, but I acquiesced, promising to eat at some point in the evening. But, then again, I’d skipped lunch because my stomach still felt unsettled, so maybe Mom had a point.
After Mom left my room, I laid in bed for a while longer. I tried to go back to sleep, but my brain refused to cooperate. Finally, I drug myself out of bed and downstairs where I heated the food Mom had plated for me. Thankfully, it was spaghetti, which was one of Mom’s better dishes. After all, how much damage could a person do to pasta and sauce?
The food seemed to help a bit. Stomach settled, I went back to my room to tackle my homework. Since I’d been zoned out during most of the lectures, most of my assignments didn’t make much sense to me. Reluctantly, I had to ask Luke for help with an Algebra assignment.
He complained, making sure I was aware how much of a pain in the ass I was being by asking him for help, but he did it anyway. Thankfully, he was able to muddle through an explanation that sort of made sense. Otherwise, I would have had to ask Dad, who did not have the patience. I didn’t think Dad was very good at explaining stuff anyway. Mom probably could have explained, but I didn’t want to interrupt her viewing of The Amazing Race.
Over the next few days, I avoided Jackson in the hallways and managed to keep my lunch money out of Mark Moses’ greedy hands while the Cold War between my parents persisted at home.
Unless it was happening behind closed doors, the actual arguing had ceased, but the tension remained. Dinners were quiet with conversation stilted. Mom would ask Luke, Skylar and I about our days. Sometimes Dad would comment, but he and Mom didn’t spare the other a word or glance.
My worries that a divorce might be on the horizon reared their ugly head yet again. Even Luke and Skylar seemed to notice the strain. I’d caught their worried looks and shared glances on more than one occasion. The one time Luke noticed me watching, he smiled at me in what I could only guess was meant to be a reassuring way. It didn’t help.
Finally, after three days of tense meals, the point of contention came to light.
We had just sat down to eat, so Luke and Skylar had not yet had a chance to begin the typical under table texts or video games. Dad was stoically eating Rice-A-Roni (chicken and broccoli) when Mom cleared her throat. “Kids, there’s something your father and I wanted to talk to you about.”
From the look Dad shot Mom, it was clear this wasn’t entirely true.
Mom smiled, but I could tell she was nervous, and I felt my heart begin to pound. I glanced over at Luke, and his eye caught mine. He grimaced, and I knew he suspected the same thing I’d been worried about, but then Mom spoke. “I’ve decided to go back to work.”
I blinked blankly, but my heart slowed back down to a normal rate as Mom went on. “I’ve been hired to replace a third grade teacher at Franklin,” she explained.
A quick look at Dad made his opinion on the matter quite clear, but Luke and Skylar both seemed surprised and maybe a little shocked, like they’d forgot Mom was an actual person and capable of doing more than Mom stuff. I had to consider my opinion for a moment, but compared to what I’d been worried she might tell us, I decided this news was actually good.
When no one else spoke, I decided to break the silence because Mom’s smile started to waver into a frown. “When do you start?”
Her smile brightened again, obviously pleased by my interest. “Monday morning,” she answered. Her tone was cheerful but stern as she went on. “I know it’s going to be an adjustment, but this means everyone is going to have to start pulling more of their own weight around here.”
Dad made some unintelligible—but, obviously, unhappy—noises, and Skylar and Luke’s surprise wilted into sour expressions at the thought of taking on more responsibility around the house. Mom took their lack of enthusiasm in stride. She merely smiled and dug into her plate of food. I followed suit while mentally patting her on the back.
After dinner I decided to go for a walk to escape the tension for a while. After a few days of hiding out in my room to avoid the heavy silences and unhappy glances between my parents, I needed the fresh air.
While it was clear now that my parents had been arguing about Mom going back to work, I wasn’t exactly sure why this would cause a dispute. In fact, I wasn’t really sure why Mom hadn’t gone back to work before now. She’d stayed home to raise Skylar, Luke and I, but we were plenty old enough to take care of ourselves, and, despite my family’s beliefs, I’d been capable of taking care of myself, for the most part, since I was around eleven.
But, on the other hand, even though we didn’t always acknowledge it, there was no denying Mom was the one who kept the house running. She did all of the cooking and cleaning and made sure things ran like clockwork. Perhaps this was Dad’s problem with Mom going back to work. Without her at home to keep things on track, what would happen?
It was kind of scary to think about coming home and not finding Mom there, but I wasn’t afraid of the changes. It was high time we stopped depending on Mom for so many things we were capable of doing ourselves. I suspected Dad, Skylar and Luke probably wouldn’t be so enthused by the idea of it, but Mom deserved to have a life too. After all, she’d studied to be a teacher and only had a chance to pursue her career for a short time before she gave it up for motherhood. That seemed like a pretty big sacrifice in my opinion, and I intended to show my appreciation by supporting Mom’s career now; even if no one else in the house was wiling to do the same.
With my mind
made up about Mom, I decided to walk over to the Tylers’. I thought I could fill Tegan in on what was up. I’d told her about the cold front between my parents, and, because she could tell I was worried, she’d tried to reassure me that it was probably nothing. As it turned out, it was something, but apparently, not anything major enough to end in divorce—or so I hoped anyway.
Tegan only lived a few blocks away, and even though the air was chilled, the fresh air really did feel nice. However, the family van was missing from the driveway when I got to the Tylers’. Tierney’s car was there, so I rung the doorbell, but when no one answered after a minute, I figured they must have gone out for the evening.
Instead of heading back home, I kept walking. The wind rushed over my face, sending a shiver down my spine. There were more trees in the Tylers’ area of the subdivision we lived in, and all of the leaves had fallen from the trees after turning from green to warm hues of brown, orange and gold. They crunched under my feet as I walked along the sidewalk and filled my nostrils with that heavy, earthy scent that reminded me of playing in the leaves when I was younger.
As I passed all of the familiar houses, my thoughts wondered to the past. Tegan and I had gone door-to-door to sell Girl Scout cookies when we were in elementary school. Mom would accompany us during our selling endeavors, but she stayed at the sidewalk while we went up to each door.
Even though we’d quit Girl Scouts after the fifth grade because we thought we were too old for them by the time we started junior high, I could still remember the houses that belonged to the people who would buy cookies from us faithfully year after year. I wondered who they bought cookies from now.
The longer I walked the less familiar the houses became. The sun was also settling into twilight, and I’d just decided it was time to turn back around and head home when I spotted a familiar cobalt blue Camaro.
Naturally, my thoughts immediately went to Jackson. I knew it had to belong to him because it even had the same racing stripes, and it seemed unlikely that more than one person in Skies Hollow would have the exact same classic car.
Without thinking, I crossed the street to where the car was sitting and looked around curiously. I glanced up at the house, which was a cozy looking bungalow with earth-toned shingles and white trim. I didn’t think it was Jackson’s house because I was sure I would have seen him around before if he lived that close to the Tylers. And I most definitely had not seen him around. I’d have remembered; Jackson’s face wasn’t easily forgotten. Hotness like that just stuck to a girl’s brain.
Thinking of Jackson, though, reminded me of our last encounter on Halloween, which I mentally referred to as Shpelant-gate ‘06; shpelant being a combination of shoe, spew and plant. Of course, making up weird words like that was probably part of the reason my classmates thought I was odd, but I digress.
Even though very few people were even aware of my little puking scene, my humiliation had not diminished. Tegan had assured me many times over that it really wasn’t that bad, and Tierney had also chimed in that Jesse Millet wasn’t upset about his mom’s plant either. (He’d asked her out a couple of days after Halloween.) I still cringed every time I thought about it, and I knew, more than anything else, it was because Jackson had witnessed my inebriated stupidity.
Every time I caught glimpses of Jackson in the hallway, I had to fight the urge to run and hide while praying he wouldn’t see me and then count my blessings when he didn’t spot me in a crowd. I was convinced that if he didn’t consider me spastic before Shpelant-gate ‘06, then he most certainly did now. I also felt like I was obligated to apologize for puking on his shoe, but since I hadn’t yet worked up the courage to face him, that had yet to happen.
For a brief moment I considered knocking on the door to the bungalow and asking to speak to Jackson, but then I realized that would be totally awkward and make me look like a stalker if this wasn’t—and I was sure that was the case—his house.
Besides, he probably didn’t even care that much about the shoe, and he probably hadn’t noticed that I was avoiding him in the hallways. After all, we’d really only had a total of three—sober—conversations: the day we met, the day he gave me a ride home and the day he lent me his John Green books, which I still needed to return.
Put in that context, though, it gave more credence to being more than mere strangers. Maybe the better label for our relationship—if you could call it that—was acquaintances. Although, he did give me a birthday card, which might suggest friendship, but that could also just be wishful thinking on my part.
Realizing I’d been standing in front of a random house by possibly/probably Jackson’s car for an unnatural time, I decided it was time for me to go before someone caught me and thought I was up to something untoward.
Shaking the crazy thoughts from my mind, I stuffed my now frozen fingers into my pockets and sucked in a deep breath of icy air and headed for home.
CHAPTER NINE
The day Mom started her new teaching job began with a rude awakening. Normally, Mom had breakfast sitting ready for Skylar, Luke and I on school days, but instead of finding the usual spread on the table when I came downstairs, I found toasted bread sitting on the table along with peanut butter, butter, and a variety of jelly flavors.
Luke, Skylar and Dad were already seated at the table while Mom was moving around the kitchen, apparently preparing her lunch for the day. They didn’t look that enthused as they nibbled at their toast, which was surprising because Skylar usually begged off whatever Mom made for breakfast in favor of toast.
When she looked up from the sandwich she was compiling, Mom noticed me. “Oh, good morning, Silly,” she smiled. It wasn’t her usual smile. This smile was somewhat frantic and forced and seemed to scream, “What the hell am I doing?”
“Morning, Mom,” I answered as I slid into my usual seat at the table beside Skylar and across from Luke.
“I didn’t have time to fiddle with breakfast this morning,” Mom explained, “so it’s just toast unless you want to make something else for yourself.”
From her tone I could tell that there had already been complaints about the toast. I grabbed one of the empty plates that was also on the table and grabbed a couple slices of toast.
“This is fine, Mom,” I assured her as I grabbed the butter and slathered a layer of it on each slice of bread before adding some strawberry jelly to each one.
Just as I finished prepping my toast, Dad shoved his empty plate away and stood up. He folded the paper and stuck it under his arm and started to leave the room, but Mom cleared her throat.
“Yes, dear?” Dad retorted. It was impossible to miss his sardonic tone.
Rather than let Dad’s tone bother her, Mom smiled brightly as she said, “That plate isn’t going to walk itself over to the sink.”
For a moment, I thought Dad was going to make a snide remark and stomp off, but after a glance at my siblings and myself, he sighed heavily, grabbed the plate and walked it over and sat it in the sink. Instead of giving Mom a quick peck on the cheek, like he usually did pre-Cold War, he said, “I’ll see you tonight. Good luck at work.”
Then he left for work even though it was about twenty minutes earlier than his usual departure time. I suspected the “good luck” was more for show than anything else. Dad hadn’t been shy about showing his distaste for the change in the family dynamic.
Once Luke and Skylar got over the initial surprise, they had gone about their business as if totally unconcerned about the upcoming changes around the house. It had been a relief for a few days, but I could see that today’s breakfast had brought their worries back to the surface. I couldn’t say I was thrilled by the idea of toast for breakfast every morning, but Mom was right; if I wanted something else, I was fully capable of making it myself.
Although it hadn’t gone unnoticed that while I was buttering and jellying my toast, Mom had been watching, probably with baited breath, as if waiting for me to make a huge mess. I spilled jelly all over the floor
one time while making a PB and J, and it seemed I was considered untrustworthy with the condiments for life. Hopefully, by preparing my toast without any major catastrophe, I had redeemed myself in Mom’s eyes and the ban on self- made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches would be removed.
Once Mom had her lunch ready to take with her, she said, “Well, I think I’m going to head out.”
She smoothed her long golden brown hair back away from her face, and even though she looked really smart and professional in her pencil skirt and silk blouse, I could tell she was really nervous.
“Good luck, Mom,” I said, pushing my chair back away from the table, as I stood. She looked curious as I crossed the room and pulled her into a hug. “I know you’ll do great.”
Mom hugged me back, lightly at first but after I was finished speaking, she gave me a big squeeze. “Thank you, sweetheart,” she murmured into my hair. When I pulled back her eyes looked a little watery, but her smile was more genuine and sure.
I wasn’t sure how long the reassurance of a fifteen-year-old would last, but I decided it was possible Mom was just happy someone in the house was supporting her and her revived career.
Luke and Skylar merely murmured half-hearted goodbyes, totally unconcerned by Mom’s nervousness, as Mom grabbed her sacked lunch and headed out the door. They carried on with nibbling their toast with about as much enthusiasm as one might expect from getting a root canal. I considered telling them to get used to it. I had a feeling we’d be eating simple breakfasts from now on, but I kept my mouth shut, remembering I needed them if I didn’t want to walk to school.
Mom’s first day of work also happened to be the same day the school’s monthly newspaper was released. Even though I got a later start than everyone else, my article had been ready for well over a week before the deadline while everyone else continued to make final edits.
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