I forced myself awake with a gasp.
3:49. The kitchen clock glowed green. I shivered, my heart racing, then pulled the blanket tight around me and waited for my mind to clear, to remember what was real and what wasn’t.
It took a minute or two, but eventually my heart slowed and the panic dissipated. And then all I could feel was emptiness.
• • •
“Where’s Charly?” Bree asked.
I pointed a finger loft-ward.
“You didn’t want to wake her up?”
I put my cereal bowl in the dishwasher. I wasn’t gratifying that question with an answer. Waking Charly up was like poking a hibernating grizzly with a stick—nobody wanted to do it. And more to the point, it wasn’t my job.
She took her keys from the hook. “Ready to go?” Little lines creased the skin between her eyes. She was ticked, but I totally didn’t care. She could go and wake Charly up. She was the one who convinced her to go to school in the first place. I’d told them both this day would come and I’d been completely ignored.
I slung my backpack over my shoulder.
“Did she say anything about the ultrasound last night?” Bree asked.
“No.”
“Hmmm. I hope she doesn’t sleep all day. Yesterday she said something about a math test after lunch.”
“Charly doesn’t give a crap about a math test.” I followed Bree out the door and down the stairs.
“Well, she should.”
“Well, she doesn’t.”
We walked to the car in silence.
“I just don’t want her to start slipping. School is important.”
“Really?” Why was I resorting to sarcasm with Bree? “Listen, when things get rough, Charly holes up like a mole. You can’t lecture her out of it. It’s just what she does. She gets bored of things or stressed out or upset and just shuts down. Honestly, I’m surprised she lasted a full month at school.” I climbed into the car while Bree went to town on the windows with her scraper. It was violent, but the windows were frost free in less than a minute.
Bree got in the car, giving the door a good slam. “I just think if you were to help her out a little, you know, try to keep her motivated, it would really go a long ways.”
I stared out the freshly scraped window and felt my heart thump. Backing down would be smart. Patience would be smart. At this point, even putting my fingers in my ears would be smarter than what I really wanted to do. And she was just so deserving of a push.
“Back when you were so eager to have Charly in school,” I started, “you both thought that I was the mean one. Never mind that I’m the girl with lifetime front-row tickets to the Charly show. I mean, it’s great how gung ho you are about education now, but maybe you should have channeled your own high school dropout days before convincing her she could handle high school pregnant.”
Bree flinched.
I sat, arms folded over my chest, trying to keep from shivering. Neither of us said a word the rest of the drive.
She pulled up to the school and I got out, but before I could shut the door she asked, “So what happened with you and Ezra?” Her voice was peaches and cream as usual. She was too good to let even a hint of a smile bend her lips, but there was a glow.
I slammed the door shut.
• • •
I fully expected Charly to still be in bed wallowing when I got home from school, but she was sitting on the couch, dressed in one of the new maternity tops and stretch-band jeans, hair curled, makeup on.
“You’re up.”
“Yeah.”
“Bree had her panties in a bunch about you missing school.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
I went straight to the kitchen. My lunch had been rudely interrupted by an impromptu library walk-through by Dr. Ashton. Mr. Langer may not have cared that people ate in the carrels, but apparently she did. She’d disentangled the make-out couple two carrels down, then taken my lunch.
“What’s with the makeup?” I said, taking a block of cheese and some deli meat from the fridge. There was maybe a fifty-fifty chance she’d answer me, versus telling me to go to hell. I thought it best not to mention the fact that she’d broken and finally put on the maternity clothes.
“There’s a couple driving in from Calgary to meet me.”
I grabbed a loaf of bread and started making a sandwich. A couple. It took my starving brain a moment to realize she was talking about people wanting her baby. An adoption interview—that was why Bree had been so tense about Charly spending the day in bed. She’d been worried Charly wouldn’t get it together. And of course she couldn’t have just told me, seeing as I wasn’t a part of their little circle of trust.
“When?”
She glanced at the clock. “Hour and a half.”
“Here?” I asked, shocked that she hadn’t shut me down yet.
She shook her head. “I’m meeting them at a restaurant.”
I took a bite of my sandwich and chewed about thirty times.
A restaurant. She wouldn’t even tell me the name of the place, like she honestly thought I was going to crash her little dinner. Was this a done deal or just an interview? I couldn’t ask. I couldn’t ask anything, but how on earth did Charly know what to ask them?
A thousand questions flooded my mind: Do you just hand over the baby and never see them again? Are they smart? Do they go to church? Are they dog people or cat people? Do they vote? Do they recycle? Do they floss every night?
I swallowed and took another bite of my sandwich. I couldn’t ask a single one.
• • •
I was alone in the apartment when the phone rang. I hunted under throw pillows for it. Bree always called home at least once during her evening shift at McSorley’s, just to make sure we hadn’t burned down the apartment or been abducted. On the one night I’d dared to let it go to voice mail, she’d freaked out and come home early.
I found it after the sixth ring, and pressed talk before I noticed the caller ID display. Banff Public Library. Crap.
“Hello.”
“Hi.”
It was him.
“Amelia?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s Ezra.”
“Yeah.”
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. Then he said, “How are you?” at the exact same time I managed to spit out, “How’s it going?” We followed that up with a simultaneous, “Fine/Good,” and another few seconds of awkward silence.
“So, I haven’t seen you in a while,” he said.
No, you haven’t, not since your beautiful and psychotic ex verbally abused me. “I’ve been busy.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“I need to apologize,” he said. “For the other day.”
“Don’t.” The other day? As in three weeks ago. The statute of limitations on an apology was long gone.
“You didn’t deserve to be the target of Taylor’s wrath.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have let it happen, and I definitely should’ve called you sooner. I’ve been feeling like an idiot for the last two weeks.”
“Three.”
“Right, three weeks.”
“That’s a long time to be feeling like an idiot for. Poor you.”
He ignored my sarcasm. “I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me. From the sounds of it, I wasn’t wrong.”
“No.”
He paused. “No, I was wrong, or no, I wasn’t wrong?”
“I was embarrassed. I’ve never been in that kind of situation before.”
“Yeah, Taylor really lost it.”
“No, I mean, I’m not the kind of girl who gets caught making out in a library. Or anywhere. Ever.” Great. Now he thought I was a prude.
“Too fast, then.”
“Yeah, and you disappearing didn’t help anything.”
“I’m sorry. It’s not like I planned to hook up like that.”
; That sounded terrible. Like he’d kissed me and couldn’t for the life of him figure out why.
“And I definitely didn’t plan on Taylor dropping by.”
“Are you two even officially broken up?”
“Of course.” He sounded insulted. “We haven’t been together since before Christmas.”
My stomach churned, a mix of excitement and anger and shock swirling around. I’d spent the last three weeks convincing myself I’d never hear from him again. I couldn’t believe we were actually talking.
“I feel bad that you feel bad,” he continued. “You didn’t deserve that. And the things Taylor said to you, and about me—none of that was true.”
“But you still didn’t come find me.”
More silence. Every piece of me wanted to let him off the hook, to be one of those girls who giggles and ignores whatever needs to be ignored. But I was still me, and he’d still kissed me till I was dizzy and then let me think I was nothing to him for three whole weeks.
“You don’t let a guy off easy, do you?”
“Guess not.”
“Any suggestions for me?”
“I might be willing to negotiate some sort of penance.”
“I’m listening.”
My brain stalled. What did I need from Ezra? It wasn’t like he could undo what had happened. “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe you should just start trying to impress me and I’ll let you know if I decide to forgive you.”
“At least give me a hint of what would impress you.”
“I could really use some Florida sunshine right now.”
“Great. That should be easy to arrange. How about Florida orange juice instead?”
“No dice.”
He sighed. “Okay, I’ll work on it.”
“Good luck,” I said, wondering if he could hear the smile in my voice.
“So how’s life at Bree’s?”
Bree, my favorite subject. I opened my mouth ready to complain, but stopped myself. Ezra had it worse than I did. At least I didn’t walk around feeling responsible for anybody else’s mental health, and as much as my situation sucked, it wasn’t permanent. “Okay. Things are starting to feel normal. We’ve got our routines so we don’t get into each other’s hair too much. How are things with you?”
“Nothing new. I’m actually about to close the library up and hit the road. I’m going to Calgary for the weekend. What are your plans?”
I wasn’t about to admit my plans revolved around Charly, Bree, and Richard, or more specifically, avoiding Charly, Bree, and Richard. But they did. “Not solidified yet. What are you doing in Calgary?”
“Not much.”
“Just so you know, part of your penance is actually answering an occasional question.”
He laughed. “Fine. I’m staying with some friends at U of C.”
“In the dorms?”
“No. They live in a house just off campus. We all went to high school together.”
I couldn’t ask if they were guys or girls without sounding jealous, but the thought of him playing sleepover with a bunch of girls was mildly annoying.
“Most of the guys I hung out with moved to Calgary last year after graduation,” Ezra said.
“But not you.”
“Not me.”
If our conversation was a bike tire, we’d just rolled up to the lip of the curb and were now rolling backward. But that didn’t make it a complete failure. He’d answered a question or two, and had actually volunteered information without having to be grilled.
“So how’s school?” he asked after a moment.
“Not bad. CALM’s lame, but kind of funny. Today Ms. Hill talked about how racial slurs are not nice.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot about that unit that’s like diversity for bigots. What else are you taking?”
“Photography is the only other interesting class, but I suck at it. The tests at the beginning were easy, but I’m kind of a spaz at the picture-taking part. We have this huge assignment coming up that might actually require me to go sit in the snow for an hour or two.”
“Good thing you love the snow so much.”
“I know.”
“If you need any help with the photography you should ask my mom.”
“Oh. Yeah.” I’d forgotten. “She wouldn’t mind?”
“Are you kidding? She’d love it. She loves you.”
“What? She doesn’t even know me. She met me once for like two minutes.”
“She loves anyone who isn’t Taylor.”
The T word. The ensuing pause was our longest and most awkward yet. “Maybe I’ll call her then,” I said finally. I’d said it with just enough noncommittal enthusiasm to keep the conversation from dying completely. But I wouldn’t call Naomi. It was the muddled inverse of the whole thing with Will, and I wanted to be loved because I wasn’t Taylor about as much as I wanted to be unloved because I wasn’t Charly. So, not at all.
“Okay,” he said. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
He hadn’t said to come by the library to see him. “Sure.”
“All right. I should go.”
“Drive safely,” I said, “and pull over if you’re tired.” Hearing Grandma’s words come out of my mouth filled me with a sudden pang of homesickness. Tears welled unexpectedly before my eyes. I blinked them away, relieved he couldn’t see me.
Ezra laughed. “It’s only an hour. I think I’ll be okay.”
“How do I know you’re not narcoleptic? And laughing at me is no way to start your penance project, by the way.”
“That’s right. I have Florida sunshine to find.”
“Good luck.”
“Good night.”
I hung up and hugged my knees to my chest. I wanted to think about Ezra, to just lie on my bed and analyze every word he said, picture his face and his mouth as he said them. I could believe him.
But then there was the other voice, the cruel one saying cruel things. It was Taylor’s but not Taylor’s, because at some point my mind had melted her words and poured them into a different mold. It was my voice now.
• • •
I almost faked sleep when Charly got home. I could have. I was already in bed, reading some corny self-help book I’d snagged from Bree’s bookshelf, when I heard her come in. She’d done it to me enough times lately, always making sure she was spread from corner to corner of the bed. I’d started to feel like the couch was home.
But I wanted to talk to her. No. I wanted her to talk to me.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey.”
She took the headband out of her hair and flopped down on the bed beside me, sighing like her lungs had been holding it in all night.
“That much fun?” I asked.
“Yeah. No. I don’t know.”
So that’s where we were. I turned to the next page of my book and went back to learning how to grow my inner goddess.
“Actually, it was pretty good,” she said softly.
Her back was to me, but I didn’t look at her, just to be safe. It was like trying to feed a squirrel—eye contact would be a mistake.
“They were nice. Really nice.”
“Yeah? Was Bree there with you?”
“No. I went alone.”
Hallelujah. Except if Bree had been there, at least the basic questions would’ve been asked. On her own, Charly very well may have spent the entire interview on junk food preferences and favorite bands.
“At first I wasn’t so sure about them,” Charly offered. “She’s kind of odd-looking, and her eyebrows are plucked to almost nothing and then drawn in, you know?”
“Yeah.”
“But then she turned out to be pretty cool.”
Nice and cool. She could’ve been describing a Popsicle. Please, Charly, please say you got more than just that. My own list of questions was flying through my brain, but Charly was too skittish for me to just start firing. She’d clam up.
But if I could only get away with asking one, which one?
What did she need to think about that she hadn’t already?
I was about to open my mouth when she started up again. “Her name’s Summer. She’s a nurse at an assisted living center for old people, and he’s something geeky to do with computers. I don’t know, I stopped listening. But she wants to quit her job and stay at home after the baby’s born. If . . . you know.
“Anyway, she ordered rainbow trout, which I thought was weird, but whatever, and then when it came I could totally tell she didn’t like it.” Charly stopped to think or to breathe or maybe just to make me wonder where this was going. “Except she didn’t say anything. Maybe because she didn’t want to seem like a snot in front of me, or maybe because she’s just the kind of person who doesn’t complain when they get gross food. I don’t know. But then he traded with her. Ryan. His name’s Ryan.”
Another pause. I pictured the scene: the geek husband quietly sliding his plate toward his wife, her painted-on eyebrows rising in surprise and then appreciation.
“So Ryan ate her nasty rainbow trout,” Charly said, “and she ate his ravioli.”
“That’s kind of nice,” I said.
“Yeah. Amelia?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll pay you a million dollars if you brush my teeth for me and give me a foot rub.”
I chucked the self-help book on the floor and grabbed one of Charly’s feet. “I’m not doing your teeth.”
“Okay.”
Chapter 17
The envelope was tucked beneath the wiper on the passenger side of Bree’s car.
“Holy crap!” Bree screamed, doing a little spazzy dance. “Which one of you darlings snuck out and scraped the car? Best. Monday. Ever!”
“Honestly,” I said, “it’s never even occurred to me.” It hadn’t. Charly and I’d sat shivering in the car while Bree had scraped every single morning since we’d gotten here. And until this moment, it hadn’t seemed that selfish.
“Wasn’t me,” Charly said, sliding the envelope out from under the wiper. “Oooh, it says Amelia on it.” She waved it in front of my face, then pulled it away as I reached for it. “And it looks like man writing.”
I snatched it out of her hands and put it into my backpack.
“Are you kidding me?” Bree squealed. “You’re not going to open it?”
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