“Booo. But, yeah. Can do.”
“Cool. I’ll call you later, though, ’kay?”
“Yup. Love you.”
“You too.”
I studied his phone. Thin. Black. It would be wrong to read his texts, right? It would be wrong to see who he last called. Only crazy girls did that. Girls who weren’t in love. Noah and I were amazing.
I tossed the phone on my bed. If there was something he didn’t want me to see he wouldn’t leave the phone here overnight, would he? I think not. I laid down on my futon, soaking the duvet with my wet bathing suit. My heart raced. Just in case . . . I clicked open his texts. One from me. Another from RJ. From RJ. From . . . whose number was that? Was that Corinne’s?
What time you coming?
Coming where????
Oh. I knew that number. It was his brother. I exhaled. I kept scrolling and scrolling, scrolling back a week, two weeks, three . . . since before we slept together . . . and there were no sketchy texts. Nothing. Nothing weird at all. I hugged my towel to me and headed back up the stairs.
The house was freezing. I stepped onto the deck.
“You forgot to close the door,” Vi said, head back, eyes closed.
I shut it firmly behind me and ran back to the hot tub. “Sorry.” My limbs sank into the delicious warmth. “Ahhhhh.”
“Everything okay?”
“No,” I told her. “I’m crazy.”
She nodded. “We’re all crazy. What’s your specific form of crazy?”
“Noah left his phone here and I read through all his texts.”
“Uh-huh. Why?”
“To make sure he wasn’t cheating on me with Corinne.”
She nodded again. “Do you think he’s cheating on you with Corinne?”
“No. Things are amazing with us. That’s why my craziness makes no sense.”
“Not no sense. It’s not like you’ve never encountered cheating before.”
“You mean Noah?”
“Nooooo.”
“Oh,” I said, getting it. “You mean my mom.”
“Yup.”
“So I think Noah is my mom?” I asked.
She nodded. “Or you think you’re your dad.”
“Maybe,” I said. I looked over at her. “And you’re afraid that if you fall for Dean you’re going to end up like your mom.”
“I would never let that happen,” she said adamantly. “When my so-called father left my mom, she had to give up everything. Guys suck.”
“Why do you think people cheat?” I asked.
“Because they’re bored? Because they can? Because they’re selfish and think they’re entitled to anything they want? Because they don’t think they’ll get caught?”
I closed my eyes. Poor Vi. Poor me. I opened them when I heard a screech of tires from the road in front of our house. “What was that?”
“Bad driving.”
The car continued on, zooming down the rest of the street and over the bridge. Without headlights.
“What is wrong with people?” I asked, shaking my head. “Who drives without headlights?” Who leaves his pregnant girlfriend in another country? Who abandons her child?
“Crazy people,” Vi said, with a sigh. “So what did you find in Noah’s phone? Anything suspicious?”
“No,” I said. “Nothing at all.”
“Good. Then stop worrying.”
I tried to let my shoulders relax, but they were not cooperating. Something was nagging at me, but I wasn’t sure what.
ANOTHER TIME I KNEW SOMETHING WAS WRONG
I was in fifth grade and my father had come home with a dozen roses.
“Are those for me?” I’d asked. Roses were the prettiest flowers I’d ever seen. Sleeping Beauty had roses.
“They’re for your mother,” he’d said, giving me a kiss on the forehead. I’d been disappointed, but the gesture made me happy. Someday I would have someone who brought me roses. I wasn’t sure why my dad had brought flowers but I guessed they were having a fight. My parents’ door had been closed a lot lately, and not at night, in the good way.
“Mom! Mom!” I screamed. “Daddy brought you flowers! Come see! Come see!”
My mother stayed in the kitchen.
“Mom,” I’d said. “Come see!”
“I’m doing something, sweetie,” my mother said. I didn’t understand what could be more important than roses.
Eventually my dad took off his shoes and his coat and carried the flowers into the kitchen. They were wrapped in thin pink wrapping paper, the tops peeking out.
“For you,” he’d said to her.
My mom looked up. “Thanks. I guess I should put those in water.”
“I can do it.”
She sighed. “I got it. Dinner in five.”
He nodded and then went upstairs.
“Don’t you love roses, Mom?” I asked. “Are they your favorite flower?”
She sighed again. “No, orchids,” she said, and then ripped off the paper and cut the bottoms under running water.
“Mine are tulips,” I said. My dad trooped back in and I turned to him. “Dad, Mom’s favorite flowers are orchids! And mine are tulips. Next time, can you get those instead?”
His face fell.
“Roses are my second favorite,” I said.
Something in my stomach felt funny, like the beginnings of the flu.
STILL CONCERNED
The nagging thought that something was wrong continued through my post-Hula shower. And then when I was doing more homework. And during my nighttime call to Noah. And then when I was trying to fall asleep. Something wasn’t right. But what? Was it guilt? Possibly. The right thing to do was to tell Noah I searched through his phone, but I was confident that wasn’t going to happen. Was it my feelings of suspicion? Possibly. Had my mom screwed up my ability to trust for life? Also possible. It was so quiet. I stared at the ceiling. I flipped on my back. I flipped on my stomach. I sat up in bed. That was it.
It was too quiet. Where was Donut?
“Donut?” I called. I padded up the stairs. “Donut?” I asked again.
Donut spent her nights in the basement. Ever since Valentine’s Day she had taken to falling asleep on my bed with me. Maybe she fell asleep upstairs?
“Donut? Here Donut, Donut. Where are you?”
The stairs creaked as I climbed them. When I got to the landing I opened the door and peered around the living room. No Donut. I checked under the couch. Around the kitchen. Maybe Vi knew. “Vi?” I asked softly. “Are you still up?”
“Yeah,” she answered. “What’s up?”
“Have you seen Donut?” I asked.
“Doesn’t she sleep downstairs with you?”
“Usually,” I said. “But I can’t find her. I haven’t seen her since . . .”
When was the last time I saw her? When she had found Noah’s phone. Then she ran upstairs.
Where I had left the back door open.
The back of my neck felt cold. “Do you think she got outside?” I whispered.
“I didn’t let her out,” Vi said.
“I left the door open. Remember?”
“Shit.”
I ran to the back door and pulled it open. A blast of cold air attacked my face. Vi flipped on the outdoor lights. “Donut?”
No Donut.
I looked out at the Sound feeling sick. The water looked cold, dark, and menacing.
“Do you think she could have . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“Oh God, I hope not. Can’t cats swim? I think cats can swim.”
“Not if the water’s freezing.”
I ran outside toward the shore.
“April! You’re not wearing any shoes! Or a coat! Plus, your hair is wet—”
I ignored her and hurried down the stairs of the deck. I was cold. But Donut! If she was in the water, then she was definitely colder than I was. I couldn’t believe I’d left the door open. How dumb was that? How irresponsible! What was wrong with me?
>
Once I reached the ground, and the snow, I stopped in my tracks. Yeah, running through the snow in my bare feet was not a brilliant strategy. Frostbite would not help my search. Luckily Vi was behind me with my Uggs and a coat. I stuffed my feet inside, pulled on the sleeves, and scurried down to the rocky sand.
The lights from across the way illuminated the water.
“You’re not going to jump in are you?” Vi asked. “Hula’s one thing, but this—this would be crazy.”
“I guess not,” I said, looking out. A weight pressed against my chest. “Do you think she’s in there?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice wavering.
“Donut!” I called. “Come here, Donut!” I ran down to the floating dock and looked out, calling her name all the while.
“I bet she’s not in the water,” Vi said. “She’s not an idiot. She figured out how to work the remote, didn’t she?”
“True.” I looked back at the Sound. The tide was low. “Do you think she could have gotten around the fence and made it to the road?”
“What, you think she ran away? She’s too good for us?” Vi laughed a squeaky, un-Vi-like laugh.
“Maybe she was exploring and got lost.”
“She might not even have left the house,” Vi said. “She could be hiding under my bed as we speak. Or maybe she figured out how to get in the oven. She loves that oven.”
“You check inside,” I said. “I’ll look around in front.”
“’Kay.”
The door to the fence was open. Not wide, but wide enough that something Donut’s size could squeeze through. Uh-oh. I pushed through and ended up to the left of the driveway.
“April?” I heard. Lucy was standing on her porch. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” I said. “Donut’s missing.” I passed my car and looked at the street.
“Donut?” I called. “Are you there? Dooooonut! Do—”
I saw her.
In a ball on the road, near the sidewalk. “Donut!” I called.
She didn’t move.
I hurried over to her and crouched in the middle of the street. She looked up at me and blinked. Her eyes looked terrified. She shivered.
“Get Vi,” I called to Lucy.
I stroked the back of Donut’s head. Poor, poor, Donut. I’m sorry, Donut. My eyes prickled with tears. A few seconds later Vi and Lucy were both beside me.
“Someone hit her,” I said, my voice shaking with tears.
“Omigod. Is she . . .”
I scooped her up. “She needs to go to the vet.”
BAD THINGS ALWAYS HAPPEN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT
It happened at around one A.M.
My dad was on a business trip to LA. My brother was in bed. I was in bed. My mom was in bed. I couldn’t sleep. I had a math test the next morning. Seventh-grade math was not my specialty. I heard my mom’s voice. I assumed she was on the phone with my dad. I picked up.
I don’t know why they didn’t hear a click. But they didn’t. I was going to say hello but they seemed to be in the middle of a conversation. So I waited. And listened.
“Tell me what you want to do to me,” my mom said.
“I’ll tell you,” a voice said. “I want to take my lips and kiss all the way down your body.”
My first thought was—gross. My second was . . . that voice is not my father’s. That voice is not my father’s.
They kept talking. It was dirty. It was awful. It was my mother, saying dirty awful things to a dirty awful person who wasn’t my dad.
My face was hot but I was too frozen to hang up. Waves of emotions crashed over me as I sat under my covers, gripping the phone. Nausea. Fear. Betrayal. Hatred. How could she do that? To my dad? To us? I held on to the phone, not saying a word. Not making a sound. Maybe I was dreaming. But the words kept coming. Until I couldn’t listen anymore. I didn’t want to hang up in case they would hear it and then they would know I knew. So instead I unplugged the phone.
There. It was dead. I felt dead. I hid under my covers. My brain buzzed. I wanted to cry but I couldn’t. My body started to shake.
I huddled under my covers and shook until morning.
BUMPY RIDE
Vi drove while I held Donut and purred, “Donut, Donut, you’re okay, aren’t you?”
I called our vet but the message referred us to an emergency vet open on nights and weekends. Lucy directed Vi to their office while I continued to pet Donut. She was not moving. Her eyes fluttered open every few minutes and then closed again.
“I can’t believe we killed our cat,” Vi said.
I blinked back tears. “Vi! We didn’t kill Donut. She’s going to be fine. We have to be positive. Right, Donut?”
“This is so awful. Is she still breathing?”
“Yes!” Not just breathing. My leg felt warm. Pinkish cat urine had soaked through my pajama bottoms.
When we arrived at the vet we were the only ones there. With rounded shoulders I held Donut out in front of me very, very carefully. She lifted her head. I burst into tears. “She got run over. It’s my fault, I didn’t close the door. Is she going to be okay?”
A technician in a white coat came right over to us. “Hello, little friend,” she cooed. “You don’t look so good, but we’re going to take care of you. Why don’t we all go into the exam room?”
Vi and I followed her while Lucy waited in the reception area. “Good luck,” she called to us as we walked down the hall.
The exam itself was a blur. Donut tried to sit up but started gasping. The doctor felt her abdomen and listened with a stethoscope. Donut was crying in pain.
I think I was too.
“We need to take some X-rays,” the vet said.
I nodded and she wheeled Donut away.
A COMPLICATED SITUATION
“I’m concerned that there are many things going on,” the vet said when she returned. I leapt to my feet. She held out a printout in front of her. “One, she has a pelvic fracture.”
“Okay,” I said. “What needs to be done for that?”
“Usually a pelvic fracture just requires cage rest and pain medication. But Donut also has a bilateral fracture in her hind leg. We might need a specialist for that . . . but the real concern is the diaphragmatic hernia. Basically it’s a division between her chest and abdomen. Bowel loops and intestines can get inside the chest. She’ll need surgery for that. Immediately.”
“Then do it,” I choked out.
The vet hesitated. “It’s risky. She could die on the table. We’d be opening up the chest.”
“Is she going to die if we don’t do it?”
The vet nodded.
“Then we don’t have an option,” I said, my arms fluttering by my side.
Vi stepped up beside me. “How much is the surgery?”
“With the X-rays and IV and tracheal tube . . . and then the fractures . . . about three thousand dollars.”
Shit. I must have turned white because the vet smiled sadly and said, “If you can’t afford to do that, putting her to sleep is the kindest option. Otherwise, she’d be in a lot of pain.”
“Oh my God,” I said. I was going to be sick. “We can’t kill her. I’ll find the money. Can we pay in installments?” Installments was my new favorite word.
She hesitated. “Not if you’re under eighteen. Can one of your parents come and sign for you?”
My shoulders sagged. “No. I don’t think so. But maybe they’ll give us the money.”
Vi grabbed my shoulders. “Can we talk about this for a second?”
“I’ll be right back,” the doctor said, excusing herself.
“April, it’s a lot of money. Three thousand dollars? That’s insane.” She leaned against the examination table.
“We can’t just let her die!” I wailed. I sat down in the corner chair.
“It’s three thousand dollars! I don’t have three thousand dollars! You don’t have three thousand dollars!”
“My dad gave me
my allowance a few days ago,” I said stubbornly. “I have six hundred left.”
“But you need that money. For food. Stuff. And you just paid off Hula.”
“So we can pay off our cat!”
“I just . . .” She shook her head. “I don’t have that kind of money. I have maybe five hundred in my savings account. We can use that.”
“Let me talk to my dad,” I said, pulling out my phone. “I’ll ask him for the money.”
“Hello?” he answered sleepily.
“Daddy?”
“April? What time is it?”
I glanced at the clock above the examining table. “One thirty. I’m at the hospital,” I began.
“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding panicked. “Which hospital? I’m getting on a plane.”
“No, Dad, I’m fine. I’m at the pet hospital. It’s Donut.”
“You’re eating a donut?”
“No. Dad. My cat’s name is Donut.”
“Didn’t your mom give away your cat because she couldn’t take it to France?”
“No, it’s my new cat!” I hadn’t told him about Donut in case he objected. “I got a cat. When I moved into Vi’s. But I left the back door open when”—I definitely never mentioned buying Hula—“I came inside. And she got run over by a car. And she needs to have surgery or she’s going to die. And it’s expensive.”
He sighed. “How much?”
“Three thousand dollars.”
Pause.
“April, you can’t spend three thousand dollars on a cat.”
“It’s not a cat,” I said, feeling panicked. “It’s my cat. And Dad, I have to! It’s my fault she needs the surgery! I can’t let her die.”
“I’m sorry, Princess, but that’s just crazy. You’ve only had the cat for, what, a few months? You never even mentioned you had a cat. I’m not giving you three thousand dollars to pay for cat surgery. You’re not being rational. Why don’t you sleep on it? In the morning I’m sure you’ll realize that I’m right.”
I couldn’t decide if he was being heartless or if I was being ridiculous. But I couldn’t let Donut die. I wasn’t just going to abandon her. “Maybe I’ll sell the car.”
“You are absolutely not allowed to sell your car,” he said. “That is not your car to sell. It’s in Penny’s name.”
Ten Things We Did (and Probably Shouldn't Have) Page 14