Andi couldn’t help smiling at his enthusiasm. But she was confused. “What team?”
“The Ultimate Frisbee team. Durr. I’m the captain,” Jonah explained.
Andi nodded. Right. She had known that. There was just one teensy, tiny problem. “That’s a sport. I don’t play sports. I’m an indoor person.” Anyone who knew her knew she was much more comfortable at her workbench than on a playing field. Although to be fair, up until that day Jonah hadn’t known more about her than that she made kickin’ kicks.
But Jonah was proving to be as stubborn as he was adorable. “What if you’re really an outdoor person?” he said, pressing her. “Listen. You’re good at this.”
Andi couldn’t help smiling even as she said, “I am?” It was pretty sweet how enthusiastic he was about the whole joining-the-Frisbee-team thing. Still…even if Jonah thought she was good, she wasn’t sure she was good enough to be part of an actual team.
Jonah, however, was not going to take no for an answer. He told her practice was the next day. “You know you like this,” he said, finishing his plea.
“I like you,” Andi said. She gasped, her eyes growing wide. She looked around, hoping that a hole had suddenly opened in the field for her to drop into. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. And she really hadn’t meant to say that out loud to Jonah. Quickly, she tried to cover her massive oops. “I like it. I like Frisbee. Just delete what I said before.”
Luckily, she was saved from further humiliation by the sound of footsteps. A moment later a girl threw herself onto Jonah’s arm. “Amber alert,” the girl said in a sickly sweet voice, tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie. “Amber alert.”
Andi’s eyes narrowed. The girl’s long blond hair shone in the sun, and her eyes were nearly—but not quite—as bright blue as Jonah’s. Instantly, Andi felt as though she had shrunk and grown a third eye. The girl, whoever she was, was clearly older and, judging from the way she kept touching Jonah’s arm, clearly into him.
“Um, this is Amber,” Jonah said. He looked uncomfortable as he said it, and Andi felt a brief flare of hope.
“His girlfriend,” Amber added, dumping a big bucket of water all over Andi’s hope.
“Hi. Nice to meet you,” Andi said, hoping that the disappointment she was feeling wasn’t written all over her face. Racking her brain for something to say, she added, “You guys are a cute couple. You don’t go to Jefferson, because I’d remember that.”
Amber raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow and gave Andi a look that clearly said, Oh, well aren’t you just the sweetest, in a totally fake tone. Out loud, she informed Andi that she went to Grant. As in the high school.
There was an awkward pause as the two girls eyed each other and Jonah stared at the grass as though it were the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. Then, before things could get any more uncomfortable, Andi said a quick good-bye. She had had a good time with Jonah. He wanted her to join his Frisbee team. If she was being honest with herself, that was a pretty good end to the morning. After all, she hadn’t even known she was going to be hanging with him that day. Still, there was something so smug about the way Amber was looking at her that it made her feel like she couldn’t leave without saying one last thing. Brushing past the older girl, Andi paused long enough to say what she had been thinking since the girl first walked up. “By the way, AMBER Alerts are for kidnapped children. So more terrifying as opposed to cute. Just something to think about.”
Without another word, Andi walked on. She could hear Bex calling her name, but she ignored her sister. She might have put on a smile in front of Jonah and Amber, but she was mortified. How could her sister have done that to her? How could she have set her up to look like a fool?
Catching up to her, Bex reached out and grabbed Andi’s arm, forcing her to stop. Andi whirled on her. “He has a girlfriend—who’s in high school!” she said after informing Bex how embarrassed she was. “Did you see her?”
“What?” Bex said, sounding genuinely confused. “So she’s a pretty girl! She’s nothing. She’s not you!”
Andi wanted to scream. How could her sister be so oblivious? “You’re right!” she said, raising her voice. “She’s up here!” She lifted her arms as high as they would go and stood on her tiptoes for emphasis. Then she pointed to the ground. “And I’m down—move your foot—there. Where you were just stepping on.”
“Stop. You obviously can’t see yourself,” Bex said softly.
“And you can?” Andi asked, her tone biting. Bex took a step back, a wounded look on her face. Andi felt a pang of guilt. She knew the comment had stung, but she had wanted someone else to hurt the way she was hurting right then—even if it was her sister. Andi turned and started to walk away.
Bex followed, a look of determination replacing the wounded one. “You were raised to think you have to be perfect,” she said to Andi’s back. Her voice rose. “But you don’t.” She wanted Andi to know that it was good to have moments like that, even if Andi didn’t think so. Those moments, Bex said, finally getting the younger girl to stop, were the ones she would remember. They would be the funny stories she would tell people one day.
“That’s you,” Andi said, looking up at Bex. “That’s not me.”
“Not yet,” Bex agreed. “I’m trying to help you.”
Andi was done listening. She had heard enough. She knew exactly what her sister was trying to do, and she was over it. The emotions from the day—from the nervousness to the excitement to the final embarrassment—welled up like water behind a dam. And then the dam burst. “I don’t need your help. You don’t know how I feel. I’m not like you. I’m not cool or adventurous. I’m not one of those people in your memory box. Those are the people you know. I’m just some girl you send scarves to.” She whipped around and took off across the field, leaving Bex and her “help” behind.
Andi lay in her bed, staring up at the canopy of scarves. She had spent the rest of the day in her room alternating between feeling bad for yelling at her sister and being mad at her sister for sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. Then she had received a text from Jonah. He had sent a picture of himself with a Frisbee. On the Frisbee he had drawn a face, and the text said We miss you. It was cute and sweet and had made Andi feel better—for a minute. Then she had gone right back to feeling terrible. Only now she was feeling terrible for being terrible…to Bex.
The light in the hallway went on, sending a beam into Andi’s eyes. A moment later she heard someone banging around. Curious, she turned on her bedside lamp and got out of her bed. Walking down the hall, she saw that the door to the home gym/Bex’s old room was open a crack. The noise was coming from inside. Pushing the door open, Andi saw Bex stuffing clothes into her duffel.
“Bex?” Andi said.
Bex turned. “Oh, great. I woke you,” she said. She barely looked at Andi. Instead, she kept packing. “This has been a banner day. Don’t worry, I’m leaving first thing in the morning.”
“No, Bex, don’t go,” Andi said, walking over. “I take back what I said. Every word of it.”
Bex paused her packing. She looked down at Andi. “You don’t have to.”
“But can I?” Andi said. Even as she spoke, she realized she should have said this hours earlier. It was what she had been thinking ever since she’d heard from Jonah. Really, it was what she had been thinking since she’d stopped and actually thought about what her sister had been trying to say. She took a deep breath and went on, figuring late was better than never. “You were right. These are the moments I’ll remember.” She paused. “Jonah Beck texted me. I don’t even know how he has my number.”
To Andi’s surprise, Bex smiled. “Don’t be mad, but I gave it to him,” she said. “He asked for it.”
“He did? Jonah Beck asked for my number?” Andi said, practically squealing but then stopping when she remembered her parents were asleep down the hall. She lowered her voice. “That’s an amazing sentence. I need to say it again. Jonah Beck asked for my nu
mber?”
Bex laughed. “I’m just glad you’re happy,” she said, looking at the glow on Andi’s face.
“So you’ll stay?” Andi said hopefully.
The laughter died on Bex’s lips, and she looked back down at her half-packed duffel. All she wanted to do was say yes, that she would stay and be a part of Andi’s life. But if that day had been any indication, she would probably just mess things up. That was what she did. That was what she had always done. “I’ve made too many mistakes,” she finally said.
“When?” Andi asked, determined to keep her sister from leaving.
“Today. And yesterday. And the day before that,” Bex answered. “And every single day of your life.” She turned and looked at Andi’s hopeful face. Tears welled up in her eyes. Her heart pounded. She wanted to tell Andi the truth. She wanted so badly to tell her.
“What are you talking about?” Andi said, confused by the look on Bex’s face. “You’re scaring me.”
Bex took a deep breath. She had made a promise a long time ago to her parents. But that had been then. This was now. And now things were different. She couldn’t keep pretending. Thirteen years had been long enough. “You should be scared. Do you think that you’re not in here?” Bex asked, taking the wooden box out from the duffel. “You are.” Slowly, she opened the lid and popped open a hidden compartment on the top. A picture fell out.
Taking the picture in her hands, Andi looked down at it. Then she looked up at her sister. “Is that you?” she asked, even though she knew the answer. The Bex in the picture looked so young, her hair shorter and her face rounder. She was lying in a hospital bed, holding a baby in her arms.
Bex nodded. And then, slowly, she reached out and pointed at the baby in the picture. “And that’s you,” she said softly. “Andi, I’m not your sister…I’m your mother.”
Andi looked up as her mouth dropped open. “You’re my what?” she asked, this time not bothering to keep her voice down. She wasn’t even sure why she had asked. She had heard Bex loud and clear.
“I’m your mother,” Bex repeated, wringing her hands nervously.
Andi began to shake her head. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t happening. This was the kind of thing that happened in terrible daytime television shows. This didn’t happen to her. She had a mom already. She had a mom whom she needed to see—right then. “Mom!” she shouted. “Mooooom!”
“Please,” Bex said. “She’s going to be so mad.”
But it was too late. Celia burst into the room. She took one look at the two girls and the open box on the bed, then turned and yelled for her husband. Then she turned back and screamed at her older—or rather, only—daughter. “You had no right!”
“It just slipped out,” Bex said, not sounding very convincing.
Bursting into the room, Andi’s father looked at the gathered women. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“My brain feels like it’s melting!” Andi shouted as her parents—or the two people she had thought were her parents—began to yell at Bex. Over the pounding of her heart and the throbbing in her melting brain, she heard first her mother, then her father tell Bex she had had no right to say anything. Finally, Andi couldn’t take it anymore. “You don’t get to be upset,” she erupted, pointing at Celia. Then she pointed at Ham. “You don’t get to be upset.” Finally, she looked at Bex. “And you don’t get to be upset. The only person who gets to be upset here is me. Because you all have been lying to me. For my whole life.” She looked one by one at the three people whom, up until a few minutes earlier, she had trusted completely. The people who had said they loved her and would never, ever hurt her. She narrowed her eyes. Well, the joke was on her. Because they had just hurt her—a lot.
She turned and raced out of the room. She had to get as far away from her “family” as she could.
Andi ran to the one place that had always brought her comfort: Andi Shack. It was a small house in the backyard, and she had made it her own over the years, filling the small space with her craft supplies and finished projects. The result was a cozy space that was completely and totally hers. Paper lanterns hung from the ceiling. Uninflated balloons in a variety of colors covered the wood paneling, and a thick branch strung with colored duct tape hung over the window as a makeshift window treatment. A big shaggy rug lay on the floor, and dozens and dozens of jars of every shape and size were filled to the brim with things like pipe cleaners and paintbrushes. All things that had always made her happy.
But now, as she lay inside on her futon, struggling to stop her brain from melting, she couldn’t even find comfort in the comfortable. Her parents were her grandparents? Her sister was her mother? Everything she had ever known was one giant lie. Even her shack was a lie. It had probably been a gift from her parents/grandparents to try to make up for the fact that every time they opened their mouths, they were lying. Her brain melted some more.
Hearing a sound outside the small half door, she raised her head off the pink pillow and saw Bex hovering uncertainly on the threshold.
“Please don’t touch anything,” Andi said, slowly sitting up. The movement made her head hurt more, and she knew the frown on her face was deep.
Bending down, Bex peered at the small homemade lamp by Andi’s futon. “Are those my CDs?” she asked. The silver circles were glued together to form an octagon that housed a single bulb. Andi shrugged and apologized. Bex nodded. So that was how it was going to be? She couldn’t blame Andi. She honestly couldn’t begin to imagine what the girl was thinking or feeling. But she had just admitted she was Andi’s mom. And as her mom, she had to try to make things better. “Andi, I’m so, so sorry.”
“Just stop,” Andi said, not letting her continue. “It’s too weird. When I look at you, I see my cool sister, out in the world, having adventures on her motorcycle.” She shook her head. “But that’s not who you are. You’re my mother—who abandoned me.” As she spoke, the tears she had been fighting welled in her eyes. She tried to hold them back, not willing to let her sister/mother see how much she was hurting.
Bex, however, did not seem to mind letting Andi know she was hurting. Her own eyes filled with tears as she began to shake her head. “That’s not what happened,” she said. “Do you want to know what happened?”
“No.” The word sounded loud in the small space. “Not right now,” Andi clarified. Because she did want to know. She wanted badly to know.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Bex said, honoring Andi’s wishes. “I’ll tell you everything. Whatever you want to know.”
“I just want to think about my text from Jonah right now,” Andi said, dropping her head into her hands. Even through the misery of the situation, saying the words text and Jonah in the same sentence made her feel a little bit better.
Looking at Andi’s lowered head, Bex nodded slowly. “I think that’s a great idea,” she said. Then she stood up and turned to go. She walked the few steps toward the door, her shoulders stooped and her face fallen. Knowing how much pain Andi was in was more terrible than anything she could have imagined. Pausing at the door, she turned back. “You probably hate me. You probably should hate me,” she said softly. “But I’ll always love you. And I always have. And you have that whether you want it or not.” Pushing the door open, she walked outside, letting the tears finally fall.
Behind her, Andi lowered her head to the pillow—and let her own tears fall.
Andi had been convinced the world was over, but the sun still rose the next morning, and the alarm still went off bright and early, reminding her that while she now had a mother she had thought was a sister, she still had school. That meant she would have to see her best friends, and she had no idea what she was going to say. Should she tell them? Should she keep it a secret? She really wasn’t sure she was ready to tell them yet, but if she kept it a secret, was she any better than her own family? Sighing, she decided to just get on the bus and see what happened.
Arriving in front of Jefferson Middle School, she
instantly spotted Buffy and Cyrus standing by the bike racks. Cyrus was wearing her helmet and holding on to the seat of the bright yellow scooter. As she walked up, she heard him attempting to throw out some biker lingo. Laughing, she jumped between her friends. “You brought the bike! Thanks!” she cried as Cyrus tried to remove the helmet and ended up nearly choking himself.
“You ready to take off the training wheels?” Buffy asked.
Andi shrugged. “I’m not even sure I’m keeping it.”
Buffy gave her friend a look. “Did something happen on your birthday?” she asked. “I tried calling you all day.”
“Yeah, me too,” Cyrus said. “No answer.”
Andi knew her friends’ prying was out of genuine concern. But now that she was at school, she knew she had to wait to tell them. “Yeah,” she finally said. “Something happened. Something really, really big.”
Buffy’s eyes grew wide. “Are you going to tell us?” she asked, curiosity written all over her face.
Looking at the students hanging around and walking to class, Andi shook her head. “I can’t just blurt it out right here.”
“Why not?” Buffy asked.
Cyrus, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally jumped in. “Buffy!” he said. “Are you not listening? Something big happened. She’s a totally different person.” Buffy rolled her eyes at his overdramatic synopsis of the conversation she had just been a part of. Ignoring his friend, Cyrus gave Andi a sympathetic look. “We know what you’re trying to tell us. You don’t need to spell it out.”
For one brief moment, Andi wondered if somehow Cyrus did know. But then she shook her head. There was no way. “Trust me. You don’t,” she said. Hearing the bell, she turned and began to walk toward the school entrance. “I gotta go. It’s my first period.”
“Exactly!” Cyrus said, mistaking Andi’s school schedule for what he had been convinced was her big news.
Tomorrow Starts Today Page 3