by Zac Brewer
“I don’t remember seeing it last night.”
Great. Not only did I fail to check in with my parents last night, but now I’d lost my phone. They were going to ground me until I was twenty.
As I slid my knee-high socks back on, I tilted my head at Derek in wonder. “Won’t your dad notice me sneaking out of your bedroom?”
He shook his head and grabbed his boxers from the foot of the bed. The temptation to peek at him as he got dressed filled me, and I didn’t bother resisting. As he slipped into his jeans, he said, “I sincerely doubt he even made it home from the bar last night. He usually crashes at a buddy’s or in his truck in the bar parking lot.”
His family life was so completely different from mine. I couldn’t imagine my dad going to a bar, let alone not coming home from one that night. “Has he always been like that?”
“Yeah. For as long as I can remember, anyway.” He zipped up his jeans and pulled his T-shirt on over his head. We looked pretty much as we had the night before. But something was different now. We were bonded in a very special way—almost like we shared a secret. Well, it was a secret now. It would remain one until I told Duckie, of course. Derek handed me my left shoe and said, “My mom was a druggie who ditched me with my grandparents till I was ten. Then after they died, there was nowhere else for me to go but with my dad.”
“Is he always—”
“An asshole? Yeah. Yeah, he is.” Briefly, a pained look crossed his features, but it faded when he met my eyes. “But’s no big deal.”
Except that it was, and it was written all over his face.
Derek handed me his phone, and I texted Duckie. It wasn’t long before he turned into the driveway. Before I stepped off the porch, Derek caught my elbow in his hand and pulled me back to him. “Love me?”
I smiled, stood on my tiptoes, and placed a gentle peck on his forehead. “Love you.”
As I slid into the passenger’s seat, I said, “I am the worst friend in the world and totally stepped over the line in the most selfish way possible by tearing you away from Tucker last night, and I’m sorry.”
Duckie sat there silent for a moment. Then he put the car in gear. “Apology accepted. By the way, I found your phone in the Beast when I got home. And then I pretended to be you when your mom texted to check on you last night. Just so you know, you had a lovely time playing dirty Scrabble with me. You only won because you cheated.”
He held up my phone, and I took it from him with a smile. Duckie was the best.
“Also . . . you had sex. And I want to hear every sweaty detail.”
I turned my head toward him, “How did you know?”
“I didn’t.” He glanced my way over the top of his round sunglasses. “You just told me.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Boardwalk is mine. You’re goin’ down, doc.” I moved my little thimble gentleman onto the coveted blue property and held out my hand.
“Don’t be so sure. You underestimate the value of well-placed hotels on cheap properties.” He handed me the property card. He sounded pretty sure of himself, despite the fact that I also owned Park Place. At least I was getting better at playing Monopoly. That much he couldn’t deny. “So how are you, Brooke?”
Five sessions in, I’d finally come to the conclusion that I liked the doc. Talking about stuff was still difficult, but it was getting easier. Much easier on this day—a day there would be no tears or pain. “Weirdly, I’m really happy, doc. Makeup crew’s been going well the past few weeks. My grades are getting better—well, except for AP History, but let’s not open that wound. And I’ve decided I truly actually like folding origami cranes. The whole process of paper folding is cool. I checked out a few books on origami. Might try something more complex soon, y’know?”
He nodded and rolled the dice, a contemplative look on his face. He got a six and started moving his race car across the board. “That all sounds great. It’s nice to hear you’re getting out there and moving forward. Are the cranes helping?”
“When I first started folding them at home, I thought a lot about Joy. Remember? The girl who killed herself while I was inpatient?” I raised an eyebrow at Dr. Daniels and he nodded in response. I didn’t usually talk about Joy. But today I could. Today was different. It was an up day. “I thought about how the inpatient staff all gave us these cheesy ideas about how to save our own lives by folding birds out of paper and how it wasn’t enough for her. I really resented them for that. They told us to use origami as a distraction from our suicidal thoughts. When I started making them at home, I’d make one every time I thought about dying. I have hundreds now. They hang over my bed.”
The race car came to a stop on Free Parking, so the doc collected the four-hundred-dollar pot from the middle of the board with a smile. Then he handed me the dice. “Are you concerned at all that you might be feeding your urges to harm yourself? Are they a reminder of your suicide attempt?”
Shaking my head, I dropped the dice on the board. “Not anymore. I’m making them for a different reason now.”
“And what’s that?”
I moved two spaces and cursed under my breath. It never failed. Every single time I landed on a space between Go and Jail, I ended up paying rent to the doc. “I fold an origami crane every time I think of a reason to live. Even if some of those reasons might seem like the same reason.”
“What do you mean?” He looked at me thoughtfully and reached for the dice. Almost as an afterthought, he said, “You owe me rent, by the way. I told you those cheaper properties can be sneaky.”
As I forked over the cash, I said, “That interesting guy I told you about almost a month ago? His name is Derek. And I’m making cranes because of him now. One crane is for the way he smirks. One is for the color of his eyes. One is for the way my breath catches when he looks at me.”
It sounded ridiculously cheesy and vomit inducing, but I couldn’t help it. Derek was the love of my life.
The doc paused noticeably before speaking again. “I see. Are you two close?”
“Really close. I love him. Sometimes I feel like he’s the only person who really understands me.” Sorry, doc. “When I was in the hospital, the doctors said I needed to find my reason to live.”
“And?”
Smiling, I met his eyes. I hadn’t felt this light, this in control, this happy in a long time. “Well, I have. Derek is my reason.”
Dr. Daniels set the dice on the table without rolling them. He leaned forward and spoke slowly and crisply in order to drive his point home. His left ring finger was bare. “You need to be careful, Brooke. Careful not to put too much of your will to live on the shoulders of another person. I’m pleased that your reasons for making the cranes have changed, and that Derek has inspired this newfound hope in you. But sooner or later, you’re going to have to learn to live for yourself.”
My alarm clock flashed 2:52 a.m., and I groaned. I couldn’t sleep. I was too mad to sleep. Mad at the doc for saying what he’d said about Derek. What was so wrong with loving someone so much that they gave you a reason to keep living? How could he insinuate that that was a bad thing? Just when I was finally starting to kinda like the doc, he had to go and say something insensitive. Figured.
Lurking beneath my anger was a question that I didn’t want to ask. I rolled over so that I didn’t have to see my alarm clock anymore and curled into a ball. The question poked and prodded at the back of my mind, demanding to be heard.
What if the doc was right?
I sat up and threw my quilt off, willing the question to vanish into the night air. Then I stood up and went downstairs. Maybe some milk would help me sleep.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I noticed the light in the kitchen was on. I rounded the corner and found my dad standing in front of the open refrigerator. Apparently I wasn’t the only one experiencing a bit of insomnia. I cleared my throat so he’d know I was in the room. The last thing I needed was to give my dad a heart attack by coming up behind him in the
middle of the night and saying hi.
He turned around, surprised that he wasn’t alone in the kitchen at almost three in the morning, and said, “Caught in the act. What’s it gonna be? Jail? Making small rocks into smaller rocks?”
I smiled. “I think I can let you off with a warning this time. Can’t sleep?”
Dad’s shoulders slumped. “Not a wink. I was hoping to find company in the fridge. Maybe in the form of leftovers.”
I sat at the counter and said, “Mom baked brownies earlier.”
“That’ll work.” He retrieved two glasses and filled them both with milk as I removed the lid from the plastic container. As he picked up a double-fudge brownie, he said, “What’s got you up so late? Or early, I guess.”
“My brain won’t shut up.” A sigh escaped me. It was nice to have Dad’s ear again—if only for a moment. The truth was, I’d missed our talks. “Dad, have you ever felt like you’re totally right about something, but then had someone come in and stomp all over your rightness?”
“Of course.” He spoke through a mouthful of chocolate. “Know what I do in that situation?”
“What’s that?”
He pointed his half-eaten brownie at me. I liked seeing him this way—loving, kind. Not the quiet, angry man who hid behind his newspaper and avoided eye contact with me. “I trust my gut. Usually it’s right. Sometimes it’s not. But on those rare occasions when my gut feeling is wrong, I take what lessons I can from the experience and move forward.”
My gut said that Dr. Daniels was wrong about me relying on Derek as a reason to keep going. It also said that I should eat the brownie in my hand before my stomach started to rumble with hunger. “How’d you get so smart?”
Dad smiled and held his glass up to me in a toasting gesture before taking a drink. “I listened to your grandma for forty-three years.”
He’d always said that I reminded him of Grandma. When I’d looked at pictures of her from when she was younger, I could see an uncanny resemblance. But more than that, before Grandma died, she was the person I’d felt closest to. Maybe that was because we were so alike. I wasn’t sure. But one thing I did know: if this advice was coming from Grandma, it was solid.
I took a bite and chewed, suddenly grateful for my parents. “So what’s got you up in the middle of the night?”
Dad looked at me, apparently not sure how to answer. “Just . . . worrying.”
Polishing off my midnight snack, I thought about how alike my dad and grandma had been. Did that mean that he and I were alike as well? Maybe. “What about?”
“Everything. Work. Your mother. You.”
“Well, you don’t need to worry about me. I’m actually doing really well.” And I was. Honestly.
He nodded, curious. “How’s that head shrink treating you?”
Remembering the doc’s final words from our latest session, I broke my brownie in two. “He’s okay. I think he cheats at Monopoly, though.”
Dad looked at me blankly. “Well, have you tried buying up all the cheap properties and putting hotels on them? It’s amazing how much people underestimate a strategy like that.”
I very nearly face-palmed. Was everyone better at Monopoly than me? At life? “I think I’m going to try to get some sleep. You staying up to worry some more?”
He paused and then gave me a half smile. “I guess I’ll give it a rest for a night. Sweet dreams, kiddo.”
On the counter was a small stack of papers, tastefully organized and stapled together. It looked like one of Dad’s out-of-town work itineraries. “Wait. What’s this?”
He rinsed his glass and set it in the sink with a sigh. “It’s for a business trip that the execs and their spouses were supposed to attend. But I’m canceling it. We should be home with you. So it’s nothing, really.”
“Dad, you really don’t have to worry about leaving me alone. I’m doing much better now.” He didn’t look very convinced. “What if Duckie stayed the weekend with me? It’s just two days. Come on. Give me a chance to show you how much better I’m doing.”
He eyed me for a second, glanced at the itinerary, and then eyed me some more. Then he picked up his plate, set it next to his glass in the sink, and shook his head. “Your mother is going to throw a fit.”
“Let her throw a fit. Maybe it’ll be good for her.” I gave him a smile, glad that he was starting to trust me again, relieved that we were talking.
As Dad walked out of the room, he planted a kiss on top of my head and chuckled. “That’s just what your grandma would’ve said.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
When the alarm went off at six, I wanted to throw it across the room, but I managed to resist the urge. I turned it off and dragged myself through my morning routine. By the time Duckie rolled up in the Beast, I was clean and dressed, but half-asleep. It was a wonder I remembered to take my meds and grab my backpack on the way out the door. I opened the door of the Beast and oozed into the seat. Duckie laughed. “Rough night, princess?”
I hated when he called me that. He’d only done it maybe four times in our entire friendship, but each time incited a glare from me. “Something like that, yeah. I only slept for maybe two and a half hours. Today is going to last so long.”
“Even longer than you think, I’m betting.” He glanced at me and said, “Did you forget we have rehearsal tonight?”
“Ugh.” I slumped down in my seat, exhausted. “Y’know, after six years of being in theater, I still don’t get why it’s all hands on deck for every practice. They don’t do that at any other school. It’s so stupid. Most of us just end up standing around all night, waiting to go home.”
Duckie rolled his eyes as he navigated our way to school. “Oh, please. You love it and you know it. Being surrounded by like minds. Watching the play come together like a complex puzzle. They want all hands on deck at every practice so that we each can learn and appreciate all the hard work that it takes to make a play happen.”
It took every fiber of my being to hold my tongue. I was too tired to listen to Duckie go on about details I already knew. I’d just wanted somebody to agree with me for the moment, until I’d slept more and felt better about everything. I lay my head against the door. “I’m gonna doze.”
Duckie’s voice was almost too perky for me to handle. “When you wake up, be less grumpy, okay?”
I didn’t actually think I’d fall asleep on the short drive to school, but I realized I had when the Beast backfired and my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. Duckie laughed and said, “Good morning. Again. Less grumpy now?”
“No.” My tone was biting and I knew it, but didn’t much care. I opened the door and reluctantly pulled myself from the Beast.
As I stood next to it, trying to ready myself for the day, Duckie walked around the front and handed me my backpack, which I’d apparently left inside. Snatching it out of his hands, I grumbled my gratitude. He glanced behind me and said under his breath, “Maybe this will help.”
Now all-too-familiar hands slid around my waist, and Derek’s voice filled my ear. “Hey. I missed you. Why didn’t you text me back?”
“You texted me?” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and looked at the screen. Seven missed texts from Derek. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was up really late and distracted. I must not have heard my phone.”
“Up late? Where were you, some party?” He gave my neck a little kiss, and I couldn’t help but smile at his sweetness.
“No, I was home. But my stupid therapist said something that wouldn’t let me sleep, so I was tossing and turning all night.”
“That sucks.” I turned around in his arms and kissed his still-injured lip lightly. His eyes were full of concern. “I was worried.”
What was this? Worry-about-Brooke week?
Duckie was right. I was super grumpy.
Shaking my head, I said, “I’m sorry. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Derek planted a kiss on my forehead and we started walking toward the school, hand in hand. Ducki
e picked up his pace and moved ahead of us, making himself scarce. He’d been doing that a lot the past few weeks whenever Derek was around.
Derek said, “I was thinking we should hang out tonight. Maybe catch a movie or something?”
We moved up the front steps toward the door. Miller was standing just outside, trying to strike fear into the hearts of several hundred teenagers who couldn’t give a crap about him. I shook my head at Derek. “I can’t tonight. I have rehearsal and I’m so tired, I could probably fall asleep standing up right now. Maybe this weekend?”
“Maybe?” He stopped walking, pulling his hand from mine.
When I turned around, I could see that I’d hurt his feelings without meaning to. “Hey. You okay?”
The air between us lightened almost immediately.
“Yeah. I just had a bad night too.” He pulled me closer and whispered in my ear, “Still love me?”
My heart felt like it might burst. It was the first good thing to happen today. “Absolutely.”
He reached up with both hands and gripped the collar of my jacket, smiling. His tone was commanding. “Say it.”
“I love you.” My legs felt weak, and my mind insisted on bringing up images from Derek’s bedroom a few days before.
“I love you too.” Derek smiled and leaned in, kissing me hard on the mouth. As we parted, I could see Miller huffing his way toward us out of the corner of my eye. “You sure you can’t ditch rehearsal?”
Guilt gnawed on my insides until I said, “Okay. One movie and then I’ve gotta get some sleep, okay?”
Derek grinned. “Okay.”
As we walked toward the school, Miller was distracted by a small scuffle, which set my mind at ease. The last thing I needed today was Miller. “So what movie are we seeing?”
Derek opened the door and held it for me. As I stepped inside, he said, “Who cares? I planned to kiss you all through it anyway.”
It was sweet. And it should have been endearing. But with my lack of sleep, it felt a bit pointless—something I attributed to my bad mood.
The rest of the day flew by in a blur. Probably because I took at least one short nap each class period. It was practically a miracle that I managed to survive the day at school, get home, and finish a paper for economics class on some Scottish philosopher named Adam Smith before dashing out the door at the sound of the Beast’s engine. I slid into the passenger’s seat, and Duckie backed out of the driveway without a word. It was almost like he could sense what I was about to say.