“Of course he can see us,” Jersy says.
“How old is he?” I skim my fingers across Gizmo’s back. He doesn’t seem to mind.
“Three.” Jersy deposits him carefully back in the tank. “They can live to twenty.”
“Wow,” I say again. That’s longer than my dog. Somehow it doesn’t seem fair. I sit down on the bed before I realize what I’m doing. Jersy sits on the far end, rubbing his eyes and yawning.
“So why’re you so tired all the time?” I ask. I’m glad that we’re not talking about my parents anymore. It feels okay to be up here with him, despite the weird smell and Gizmo’s beady eyes blinking at us like he knows exactly what’s going on.
“I’m a bad sleeper.” Jersy touches his scar, slowly, like he’s smoothing away an eyelash. “I get into these phases where I’m wide-awake in the middle of the night. Nothing I can do about it. Just wired, you know? It’d be okay if I could sleep late, but I can’t—not during the week. That’s why I was late for art that day. Overslept.”
“Insomnia,” I say.
“Isn’t that when you can’t sleep at all?” Jersy sits up straighter. “It’s more like I have my timing backwards.”
“How long do the phases last?”
“I don’t know.” Jersy pauses to give it some thought. “Maybe six weeks.”
“That’s a long time to have your schedule inside out,” I tell him. “You know what happens to people who don’t get enough sleep, right? They go crazy.”
“Yeah.” Jersy shrugs. “I’m already psycho, though.”
“That’s true. You could be beyond help.” I’d never say that if I thought it was true. He’s fine the way he is. Even if he is a stoner.
Jersy smiles. “Could be. Could even be contagious. Maybe you should keep your distance.”
“Yeah.” I get off the bed and look through his window. Snowflakes the size of golf balls are drifting gently down from the sky. Everything looks so safe in the snow. It’s almost like a cocoon. “There are mutant snowflakes out here,” I say, turning to look at him.
Jersy comes to the window and peers out next to me. “Feels like Christmas,” he says. “We should go outside.”
He stands sideways like he’s ready to go, and I raise my eyebrows and say, “Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously,” he repeats. “Why not?”
Because I don’t like my cold quite so chilly. The controlled cold of my bedroom is one thing; arctic chills that make your bones freeze and break off like twigs are something else. The thing is, I really do love the snow. It makes the ordinary look beautiful and pure, like you’re seeing it through different eyes. “Okay then,” I tell him.
We shove our shoes on and go out through the sliding door in the kitchen. The backyard has a swimming pool in it, but it’s impossible to imagine summer. The snow’s coming down so thick and soft that Jersy and I are already covered in fuzz. I fold my arms in front of me and hunch over, doing my best to hold on to my body heat. It’s quiet the way only winter can be, and I’m almost afraid to say anything, in case words ruin it.
“It’s like the inside of a snow globe,” Jersy says, smiling and hunching over next to me. I look at his breath on the air and nod.
We stand silently watching the snow fall for as long as I can stand it. The hazy orange lights from other houses seem miles away. It feels like we’re the only people on the planet, Jersy and me. It’s weird. He’s so quiet next to me, but that only makes him feel more real and near.
I sneak another look at him, for safekeeping. If I had more guts, maybe I’d do something more.
Shit.
Trust me to ruin the moment for myself without even saying a word.
DanIeL anD I are the opposite of twins, whatever that is. He’s addicted to The Simpsons, South Park, and nauseatingly stupid reality TV shows. He loves wrestling, video games, and rock climbing at the Y and avoids all creative activities like the plague. It seriously makes me wonder about genetics.
If he was a Mini-Me, I’d probably be more worried about how he’s handling the situation with my parents, but I don’t understand him at all. Maybe I’m a crappy, self-obsessed older sister. That does occur to me from time to time, and when I get back from the Mikulskis’ I decide it’s time for an official check-in with Daniel.
Because we have limited points of reference, this is clumsy and obvious. I sit next to him on the couch and listen to Cartman screech at Kyle and Stan on South Park. The show’s actually pretty funny, in small doses, and I laugh and groan at the same time. But the longer you wait to do something, the harder it is. That’s why I force myself to say something as soon as the commercials come on. “Mom and Dad are driving me crazy.” I spy on Daniel out of the corner of my eye. He’s not looking at me; he’s staring at a dog food commercial like he’s hypnotized.
“Doesn’t it bug you?” I prod.
Daniel shrugs and kicks his feet out in front of him. “I don’t know.”
“But we don’t have any peace anymore,” I continue. “It’s like we never know when one of them is going to snap.”
“Dad doesn’t snap,” Daniel says.
“Not like Mom, no, but he changes.” I turn my head towards my baby brother, the Anti-Me, and catch him chewing his lip.
“You shouldn’t listen in,” he says accusingly, as though somehow this is all my fault. “That’s rude.”
“You’re rude,” I tell him, flashing angry eyes in his direction. “I’m just sitting here talking to you, and you’re starting to freak out.”
“You don’t even like this show.” Daniel’s eyes narrow. “Why’re you sitting here?”
“Like I can’t sit here all of a sudden. This is my house too, you know.” At least until our folks break up, split custody, and take one of us to live in another town. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say it, just to get a reaction, but I’m not feeling that mean.
South Park fills the screen, and we both face forward and watch the rest of the show without saying another word. What do I expect of the Anti-Me anyway? I wouldn’t know what to do with him if he started to cry like I did at Jersy’s.
In the lunch line the next day, I tell Audrey about my trip to Jersy’s house. I tell her about everything except the snow falling in the backyard. I even tell her about the crying. “At least he was cool about it,” she says. “I didn’t know he had a sister. He never mentioned her.”
So she’s been talking to him in science class. If something’s going to happen between them, I want to get it over with. I don’t want her to go on about him the way I went on about Record Store Guy. Or maybe he could turn into a prick and make us both hate him. That’d be even better.
At our table Edwardo and Teresa are sharing a plate of soggy fries while Maggie flips through In Touch magazine. Her head snaps up when she sees Audrey and me. “Aidan Lamb is getting married,” she coos, “to his longtime girlfriend.” She shoves the magazine at us as we sit down. “Look at her. She looks so normal. She teaches kindergarten. Isn’t that amazing?”
“Mmm.” I squint at their photo, pretending to be interested.
“He’s not really that good-looking himself, though, is he?” Audrey says. “His forehead is huge, and his eyes always look kind of crazy, like he’s high.”
Sacrilege. Maggie’s eyebrows arch. “You’re kidding, right? He says he barely even drinks. Did you see Summer Cold?”
“No,” Audrey says. “Is it any good?”
“Awesome.” Maggie’s mouth drops. “You have to watch it. Both of you.” She fixes her stare on me. “He’s the most amazing character in it. So sweet.”
“Sweet?” Jasper repeats, sitting down next to her. “Who’s sweet this time?”
Maggie slides In Touch in front of him and taps the photo. “Aidan Lamb in Summer Cold.”
“Ugh,” Jasper groans, disgusted. “That’s such a chick movie, Maggie. Total saccharine. He’s completely unconvincing in it. I’ve seen better performances in infomercials. Honestly, Mags. Sometimes I don’t kno
w what we’re going to do with you.”
Maggie, clearly insulted, reclaims her magazine, but Jasper bumps her shoulder affectionately and says, “Who else is in there this week?”
Maggie’s so easily won over. She hands him back the magazine and watches him flip intently through the pages. Jasper is more interested in movies than he is in actors, but there’s a certain amount of overlap. Audrey and Teresa, who are both in his drama class, say he’s a pretty good actor, but Jasper thinks he could be a great critic.
I hope I can be a great graphic designer, but I’d settle for being a good one. Sometimes it feels as much like a compulsion as it does a career choice. I can spend hours redesigning a CD or book cover, just because I think I could’ve done a better job. My Web page is forever under construction with new color schemes and layouts. At the moment it’s minimalist, with a royal purple background and a tiny white font, but that look’s already getting old to my eyes.
Edwardo and Teresa are still picking at their fries. At times they can be so into themselves that I almost forget they’re around. Other days you’d hardly guess they were a couple. Maybe that’s normal, but it feels kind of funny to sit across from two people, never knowing how they’re going to be.
“So what are you guys doing this weekend?” I ask tentatively.
Edwardo’s working and Teresa has to go to her cousin’s engagement shower, but they’ll get together to watch a movie or something on Sunday night.
Maggie starts to go gaga all over again at the mention of an engagement. It makes me want to tear her hair out, but I know that’s only because I’m bored. Also, my chicken fingers taste like cardboard and I think I’m getting my period.
I spent the years twelve to fourteen dutifully marking Xs on my calendar and then realized my period would roll up any damn time it wanted to. Cramps, check. Bloating, check. Wonderful. I’ll have to drop by my locker to pick up my stash of sanitary pads.
I excuse myself. Lunch is almost over. I already know I won’t make it back in time.
Pads. Bathroom. Period. Yup, I was right. Wonderful.
Afterwards I walk slowly in the direction of English class and run into Audrey and Jersy together in the hall. I’m embarrassed about losing it in front of him the other day, but I’ve already decided that I won’t act weird about it and make things stranger. Anyway, the real problem is that he and Audrey look so natural together that I feel like an outsider. Like it’s them and me.
“Hey, Finn,” Jersy says. He looks more like a Beautiful Boy every day. He’s too short and it wouldn’t surprise me if he wore baseball hats, but other than that he’s perfect. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it that first day in art. He’s got the good-bone-structure thing going on like crazy, and his gorgeous aqua-colored eyes are killing me. He even makes the gray uniform pants look half decent, and his lips, well, I could spring towards him in the hallway and lick him on the mouth. That’s how good he looks.
It’s insane.
And then it gets worse. Adam Porter saunters by with Massy at his side. Adam’s taller than any of us. His body is more man than boy, and I shrink when I see him, shrink like I’m being squeezed. He smirks in our direction. Just long enough for us to get the point. I freeze on the inside and snap my head away.
Audrey’s so angry that I can almost see her shaking. Her hazel eyes hold my gaze. They’re the only things keeping me in place. I want to throw up until I feel normal again, but I stand rooted to the spot. Audrey is my courage.
“What’s your problem?” Jersy says, cocking his head at Adam.
Adam shrugs like it’s no big thing, like he could just as easily let it go. “Hey, man, if you want to hang around with loser girls, that’s your business.”
Adam falls instantly back into his stride, but Jersy’s fuming. He starts off after Adam, and I can see it in my head—kicking, punching, and blood. It shocks me how fast aggression breaks the surface in boys. My heart’s racing and the tiny hairs on my arms are standing on end. This shouldn’t happen but I can’t stop it. My legs have forgotten how to move.
“Jersy, don’t,” Audrey says, running after him. “He’s not worth it.”
Jersy turns as she grabs his arm. His eyes are blazing, and I know she won’t be able to stop him. Adam and Massy are looking back over their shoulders, and I know they know it too.
“Leave it,” Audrey pleads. She’s still holding his arm, and she leans her head in real close to his and drops her voice. “Please, Jersy. Don’t. Okay?” I can’t hear the next part, but I watch his shoulders relax and his eyes go calm. He nods slowly at her and then shrugs lightly, as though he wasn’t set on doing anything anyway.
The two of them trek back across the hall towards me. My face feels as white as Jasper’s, and for a second I think I really might throw up. Then Audrey stands next to me and loops her arm through mine, feeding me strength.
Didn’t I tell you that I have the best friend in the universe?
NInTH GraDe WaS everything that I expected it to be: nothing much, really. A lot of people I knew in eighth grade looked at it as a chance to reinvent themselves. Skaters came back to school as skinny emo boys. Brainiacs tried their best to blend with the dramaheads. Filipina girls suddenly hooked up with gangsta guys. Beautiful people, for the most part, just tried to hold their place. There are a limited number of places at the top of the school chain, and if someone else is suddenly super hot, that means less attention to go around.
Not that all the popular people were shamelessly cutthroat. Some genuinely didn’t seem to care about social structure, and according to Audrey, a tenth-grade basketball player named Massy was one of them. Her locker was right next to his homeroom, and by the end of April she was seriously gone on him. “It’s like suddenly he’s everywhere,” she told me. She’d run into him in the hall all day long, see him stocking shelves at the grocery store, even bump into him at the dentist’s office. One afternoon her stepdad dropped her off to get a cavity filled, and Massimo was in the waiting room. The dentist was running late, and they sat there talking for an hour, although they’d never officially spoken before.
Audrey hoped that could be the beginning of something, but then summer came and she didn’t see him for two and a half months. “All the momentum from that conversation will be gone,” she complained. “It’ll be like starting from scratch, and he’ll probably come back with a girlfriend anyway. Somebody like Kaitlynn James.”
“Kaitlynn James has horrible skin,” I said loyally. “No way he’s hooking up with her. She’d get Clearasil all over his basketball uniform.” Mean, sure, but the beautiful people are easy targets— especially when they aren’t beautiful to start with. Besides, I’d never say that to her face. I didn’t even dislike Kaitlynn James that much. I just wanted Massy to be with Audrey instead.
Truthfully, I didn’t even want that. I couldn’t see what was so special about him, except that he wasn’t an obvious snob. I never really thought there was any danger of him being interested in Audrey, though; I didn’t give him enough credit for that. Then September came and Massimo surprised us both. He wasn’t with Kaitlynn—he wasn’t with anyone—and he asked Audrey if she wanted to go to Sadie and Brian Nielsen’s party. Open invitation. Bring whoever you want.
“It doesn’t really mean anything,” she told me. “There’ll be so many people there, we may not even see him.”
“Of course you’ll see him,” I said. “It’s not like he’s going around asking everyone.”
“All those PAs.” Audrey groaned anxiously. “Do you really think we should go?”
“You need to keep up the momentum, right?” It sounded like a nightmare. Pack Animals getting pissed out of their minds, screwing in Mr. and Mrs. Nielsen’s bed and then vomiting partially digested beer into the bathtub. Disgusting.
“Yeah.” Audrey combed her fingers through her hair. “You’re right.”
Was I? I wanted to be wrong.
“So you’ll go?” she said.
“Y
eah, as long as you want me to.”
“Are you serious?” Audrey cried. “Of course I want you to go. There’s no way I’m even showing up unless you come with me. It’d be a disaster without you. I won’t know anybody. There probably won’t be that many tenth graders there, and even if there are, they won’t be anybody I’d talk to.”
She was already nervous, and the party was still five days away. Things were easier for me. I wasn’t looking to impress anyone; I just wanted to get through the night.
My mom shone when I told her about the party. She took me out to buy new clothes, even though I protested that I didn’t need anything special. I cringe when I remember those details now. How excited Mom was for me. How she made Dad give me a later curfew than he wanted to. She thought it was finally starting for me, that I was on my way to becoming an “It” girl. She seemed prouder about the party invitation than she was of my last report card.
I tried to defuse her enthusiasm by explaining that it was Audrey who’d been invited and that I was only going to keep her company because of Massimo. Then Mom wanted to know more about Massy. I only had to mention the word “basketball” and she regressed twenty years. Wasn’t there anybody special I liked? In the entire school there must be someone?
Nope. St. Mark’s was full of guys with buzz cuts who spent the summer in sandals and baggy shorts, using the word “shitfaced.”
“You’re so hard on people,” Mom said, frowning. “At least allow the possibility that you might have a good time.”
With people I can’t stand. Sure.
I just hoped Audrey’s stepdad would pick us up before the sex and vomiting started in earnest. Steven didn’t want her going to the party, but my mom made it sound so innocent over the phone. She can be very persuasive, and afterwards Audrey raved about how cool she was and how even her own mother hadn’t been able to change Steven’s mind.
The totally weird thing was that once I was changed and ready to go—full makeup in place, hair supernaturally subdued, and my new B-cup boobs encased in a strapless bra—I was actually almost excited.
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