Yup. Somebody give the girl a medal.
“I didn’t know your sister had a thing with Massy,” I say. It must’ve been before he showed up on Audrey’s radar.
“Uh-huh,” Nishani says nonchalantly. “For about three weeks.”
Next thing we know, Massy and Kaitlynn James are walking up the board game aisle towards us. Kaitlynn’s crazy high heels are tilting her forward, and Massy’s stuck on her like moss. Her foundation’s as thick as Liquid Paper, but her skin’s as bumpy as ever. How does Massy kiss her without streaking her paint job? I bet he goes straight for her boobs, afraid to look up.
If Audrey were here, we’d kill ourselves laughing the minute they cleared the aisle. Massimo and Kaitlynn James hooked up after all. It’s too stupid.
“Hey,” Kaitlynn says, stopping next to me. “You work here?” She doesn’t remember my name—if she ever knew it in the first place.
“Yeah,” I say. “How’s it going?”
Massy stops next to us. His gaze swings over to my face for two seconds. Then he blinks and stares at the shelves behind my head.
“Not bad.” She pauses and leans into Massy. “We’re just taking it easy.”
Massimo’s about as animated as a cardboard cutout next to her, and I wonder, for the first time in months, what lies Adam told him about Audrey and maybe even about me. At the time, Audrey said she didn’t care what it was, that it was only Massy’s reaction that mattered, but she must have wondered too. She just didn’t want me thinking about Adam any more than I already was.
Even now, ten months later, I’m so itchy in my own skin at the thought of him that I could scratch right down to the bone.
“Hi, Massy,” Nishani says from behind me. “You still working at Sobey’s?”
“Yeah.” Massy squeezes Kaitlynn’s waist as he eyes Nishani. “How’s your sister doing?”
“Good,” Nishani says.
“Good.” Massy’s lips curve up, but they never quite make it into a smile.
“Come on.” Kaitlynn bumps her hip against Massy’s leg. “Let’s check out the video games.”
“Yeah, right.” Massy’s head jerks like she just woke him up. “Have a good summer, Nishani.” His dark eyes leap over to me. “See you later, Finn.”
That’s the first thing he’s said to me since last fall, and it makes my stomach twinge. “See you,” I croak.
“Bye,” Kaitlynn says.
I watch them move down the aisle, Kaitlynn tottering away on her honey-colored legs and Massy’s hand around her waist. It’s so stupid. They’re actually together, just like Audrey predicted. And after ten months Massimo finally feels like he can say three meaningless words to me.
Is that supposed to make me feel better? Like I’m finally finished with this thing because Massy decided to start speaking to me again?
I don’t feel better. I feel like maybe nothing ever really changes, and that’s so unfair that it can’t possibly be true. The thought loops around in my head for the rest of the day, and when Mom comes to pick me up later, my head is throbbing with the weight of forgetting all over again. I want to climb into bed, pull the sheets to my chin, turn up the air-conditioning, and listen to Our Lady Peace.
“Did you take your vitamin this morning?” Mom asks, eyeing me sharply.
“I don’t remember,” I mumble. “I have a killer headache.”
“You look white as a ghost,” Mom says. So what else is new?
After dinner I put on my scruffy old track pants, drink ice-cold chocolate milk out of the carton, and almost trip over Samsam in the hall. The phone rings on my way upstairs. Mom answers it from her bedroom. I begin to eavesdrop from the hall and then stop myself cold. What difference does it make who she’s speaking to or what she has to say? What can I do about any of it?
So I dive under the covers with my earphones, and soon there’s only Raine Maida’s voice, a relentless beat, and my lungs filling up with oxygen. I’m not sleepy but I shut my eyes. I just want to be and not have to think about it for once.
Mom has other ideas. She touches my shoulder, scaring the shit out of me. My eyes pop open as I tear off the earphones. “Jesus, Mom, you shouldn’t sneak up on people like that!”
“I didn’t know you were sleeping,” she says. “Do you have any uniform shirts for the wash?”
“I wasn’t sleeping,” I grumble. “I was trying to sedate my headache.” I get up and shuffle across the room like an eighty-year-old woman. My closet door’s half open, revealing an inside-out Play Country shirt lying under a black bra. I surrender the shirt and collapse back onto the bed.
“Anna invited us over for a barbecue on Sunday.” Mom smiles. “The three of us. You’re not working, are you?”
“No, I’m doing Saturday this week.” I shove my feet under the covers, and suddenly it hits me that a barbecue at the Mikulskis’ will probably mean seeing Jersy. I don’t know if I’m ready for that. Last time was so weird that I haven’t fully recovered yet. Showing up at his place Sunday could make things even stranger, and where will I be then? “This weekend?” I repeat.
“This Sunday,” Mom replies. “Anna and I have been meaning to get together for dinner, and she thought this would be just the thing.”
“I was thinking of maybe getting together with Jasper or Maggie on the weekend,” I lie. “I haven’t seen them since school let out.”
“You can see them on Saturday night,” Mom points out. “Or some other time this week.”
I’m not quick enough to reason my way out of that one. My defense mechanisms need work.
“Okay then,” I tell her. Maybe I’ll get lucky. Maybe Jersy won’t be home anyway. Even if he is, we’ll all be hanging out by the pool eating burgers. There won’t be any time for weirdness. Besides, Mom really needs to get out and enjoy herself. I don’t want to drag down that operation. I’m sure Dad will do that soon enough.
“Good.” Mom nods. My inside-out Play Country shirt is folded over her arm, and her hair looks tidy enough, but all traces of makeup have been scrubbed from her face. She looks like a “before” picture from a makeover contest.
“I’m seeing Dad next weekend,” I say suddenly, watching Mom’s eyes. “I told him I couldn’t go for the weekend but that we could hang out on Friday night before him and Daniel drive up to the cottage.”
“He’ll be pleased.” Mom’s eyes crinkle up. “He really wanted to spend more time with you last time he was down.”
Last time I didn’t want to see him. I still don’t. I don’t want Mom staring down at me with small eyes either, like she’s glad I’ve decided to make my father happy. I’m sick of feeling sorry for everyone. Why can’t they take care of their own problems and leave me out of it?
I fake a yawn and tug my earphones on.
Mom takes the hint and moves towards the door. “I don’t know how you can listen to that with a headache,” she says, grabbing the doorknob.
It’s better than aspirin. I switch the music on, close my eyes, and let it carry me away.
SaTurDaY IS THe busiest shift of the week, which means Nishani and I barely have a minute to talk on our last day together. People keep tapping us on the shoulder, asking us where they can find party goods, Easy-Bake ovens, and Play-Doh sets. Nishani, in a good mood, on account of her imminent transfer to cash, does most of the PR work while I rush in and out of the stockroom on overdrive.
One of the stock guys, Sebastian, left halfway through his shift with food poisoning. Courtney says it’s more likely alcohol poisoning. Either way, the result is me running around pretending to be stock girl of the century. If I didn’t have those extra hours’ sleep last night, I’d be done for. As it is, I’ve had to pee for the past fifty minutes but haven’t had time.
It’s next on my list, right after I get more copies of the latest Disney DVD everyone’s been asking for back on the floor. I load another box of movies onto the cart and throw some bagged candy on top for good measure. Last I looked, we were nearly out of
gummies.
“Finn-oolala,” Kevin croons, striding up to me out of nowhere. “Where’ve you been all day? You trying to avoid me or something?”
You can take that as a given. “I’m busy, Kevin,” I snap. “Way too busy to worry about avoiding you. I gotta get this stuff on the shelves.”
Kevin grabs his chest like I’ve mortally wounded him. “You never have two minutes to talk to me. How’s that supposed to make me feel?” His Chiclet smile’s eating up half his face, so I guess he doesn’t feel too bad. Anyway, I don’t have time for this.
“Later, Kevin,” I say. I grab my cart and begin to steer it out of the stockroom.
“Come on now.” Kevin plants his hands on my shoulders from behind. I jump back as I swing around. “Relax,” he says, snatching his hands back. “What do you think I’m gonna do?”
“I’m going.” My words sound anorexic thin. I’m trembling like something newborn.
“You think I’m gonna kiss you or something?” he asks, taking a step towards me and leaning his head in near mine. His breath smells like sour milk and garlic, and he hasn’t stopped smiling. My chest’s thumping like a racehorse. My lungs won’t take in oxygen.
Suddenly my hand’s hurling towards him, slapping him across the face so hard that I can make out the angry red imprint of each of my fingers on his cheek.
His smile crashes. His left hand flies to his cheek. The red fades to pink as I watch, stunned. “You’re crazy,” he spews. “What was that?”
“Leave me alone.” This time my voice is pure rage. “Just leave me the fuck alone.”
I turn slowly back to my cart, breathing hard. Blood’s rushing through my arms and legs and I want to push Kevin’s Chiclet teeth in and run until I can’t take another step.
“You’re a fucking wack job,” Kevin says to my back.
“You got in my face,” I shout, winding my fingers around the cart’s handle to steady them. “What was that?” Why did he have to push me? What is it about me that makes these things happen?
I keep my eyes on my hands as I pull the cart forward. My head’s spinning and my stomach’s rolling over like it’s not attached to anything. I could be sick if I let myself. I could throw up in the stockroom and make the customer-service-booth girls call for cleanup. It’d give them something else to talk about—one more reason to think I’m freaky, because after Kevin leaves the stockroom you better believe he’ll be spreading the word to everyone.
“You’re crazy,” Kevin repeats, taking his hand away from his cheek. “I never even touched you. You think you can walk around slapping people in the face for nothing? That’s assault.”
“Why don’t you tell Suzanne then?” The tears well up in my throat and I hold them there, scared that once I start I won’t be able to stop. “And I’ll give her my version.” I’ll tell her that Kevin stands too close to all the girls and says something stupid nearly every day but that I was never afraid of him before. I’m not even sure I’m afraid of him now. My sleeves are long enough to hide the goosebumps on my arms, but I can feel them. I’m shaking too— angry, confused, and scared. Because what if Kevin’s right? What if I’m just crazy?
“Why are you doing this?” Kevin says incredulously. His hands are at his sides, palms forward, imploring.
“I’m just sick of your shit, Kevin.” I turn and face him. “If you try anything else, I’m going to Suzanne and Gerald.” I’m shivering, but I mean it.
I can’t go through all this again, but I know by the expression on Kevin’s face that I won’t have to. He doesn’t understand, but he believes me about telling. “I hear you,” he says in a low voice. “Just haul your crap outta here. I’ll put my hands behind my back and turn around. Will that make you happy?”
I tug my cart forward, wrestling with the weight of invisible tears. I walk as fast as I can so that all the customers and staff will know I don’t have time for them. Then Nishani passes, and I hand over the cart and shuffle along next to her. “Are you okay?” she asks.
“I had a fight with Kevin in the back,” I confess. “I have it under control.”
Nishani steers the cart around a woman with a stroller. “What’d he do now?”
I don’t know what he did; I just know what I did. “He’s an idiot,” I say with a shrug. The doubt’s deeper now that I’m out in the open, but if I explain I won’t be able to hold back the tears. “Typical Kevin.” Maybe he didn’t mean to scare me. Maybe I slapped him for nothing.
I don’t know what to believe.
“I’ll catch up with you,” I tell Nishani. “I need a pee break.”
I rush into the empty staff washroom and slam the stall door behind me. The tears are stuck halfway up my throat. They burn, but they won’t come out. Not even when I give them permission.
I pee and then wash my face and hands with sickly-sweet-smelling liquid soap. The person who looks back at me from the mirror is different than the one I saw this morning. I’ve never hit anyone before. I never even thought of fighting Adam. I was too scared to think.
I haven’t lost that fear. It’s in the room with me now, whispering things about Adam, Kevin, and me. I don’t know what to do.
The one thing I’m sure of is that I’m not sorry about Kevin. Maybe he was never really going to kiss me, but if I let him I’d feel worse. It’d be like living last September all over again.
And I can’t do that.
I wait, but the tears never come. In the end I wipe my face dry and go out to find Nishani. Kevin doesn’t come within ten feet of me for the rest of the day. In fact, he avoids most of the girls, and when I catch him glancing in my direction from the end of the action-figure aisle, he turns his head slowly away, giving me a clear view of his cheekbone. But there’s no point looking for traces of the red marks I left there. I already know I won’t find any.
Mom makes me carry the wine and hands Daniel her homemade mixed-pepper salad. That leaves her in charge of a bag of nachos and a jar of salsa. It’s a perfect day for a barbecue— white-hot and not a cloud in the sky—and Anna called this morning to remind us to bring our swimsuits. I’m already wearing my tankini top and black-and-red-striped bottom under my clothes, but I don’t intend to unveil them until I’m ready to get in the pool. My boobs may be small, but I don’t want them wobbling around for everyone to see.
It could be my imagination, but I think they’ve grown a little lately. Or maybe Mom’s just shrinking more of my clothes in the wash.
Daniel’s got his swimsuit on too. Mom’s wearing tiny sandals and a cotton wrap dress that comes down to her bare knees. She looks like a movie star going casual at the Cannes Film Festival, and today she’s not doing it for Dad. I smile proudly at her and catch a puzzled look darting out from behind her sunglasses.
“I haven’t been swimming in ages,” I tell her. “Not since last summer.”
“I go all the time,” Daniel brags from the backseat. I guarantee he’ll still be the first one in the pool—and the last to get out.
Mom’s not much of a swimmer. She does a very delicate breaststroke and keeps her head above water at all times. She’s so confident in most other things that it’s almost funny to watch, and I smile again at the thought of it.
“You’re all smiles today,” Mom observes, sweeping her fingers through her hair.
“It’s good to be off work.” I haven’t figured out how to deal with Kevin when I see him again. Anxiety wells up inside me, making my arms twinge.
Audrey said she was proud of me, even if I misjudged the situation. She wants me to call later tonight so we can talk it over properly. Maybe I’ll feel better afterwards. Maybe a day by the pool will help too—especially if Jersy’s not home.
I search for signs of his presence as Anna opens the front door. “Come on in,” she says with an energetic movement of her arm. She doesn’t look like somebody who’s especially worried about her absent daughter. She’s smiling and motioning us on towards the kitchen like life is an endless summer barb
ecue.
Mr. Mikulski’s sitting on a patio chair in the backyard, his sunglasses reflecting our image. “Gloria,” he says, pulling off his shades as he clasps her hand. “Good to see you.” He nods at Daniel and me. “You’ll have to reintroduce me to your youngest. He really takes after you these days.”
Daniel endures a formal introduction and then points eagerly at the pool. “Can we go in?”
“Daniel, we just got here,” Mom admonishes. “Have a seat.”
Mr. Mikulski smiles widely. “It’s fine. He can go in. I haven’t even started on the food yet.” Mr. Mikulski switches his gaze to me. “You too, feel free. Jersy will be down any minute.”
My stomach drops. “I’ll go in later.”
Daniel pulls off his T-shirt, tosses it at Mom, and dips his right foot in the pool. Satisfied, he plunges himself into the water. I turn impatiently back to Mom and Mr. Mikulski, who are complaining loudly about gas prices. The conversation’s so boring that it makes the suspense worse. “Back in a minute,” I tell Mom.
I rush into the kitchen, where Anna’s assembling plastic yellow glasses on a matching tray. “Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask. Where the hell’s Jersy? I just want to get this over with.
“Thank you, Finn,” Anna says graciously. “I was going to start with some lemonade and the nachos your mom brought. You can take that out for me.”
“Sure.” I watch Anna grab a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge and pour out five glasses. “Is Christina around today?” I ask, although I know better. Why can’t I leave things alone?
“No, she’s away with friends for another week.” Anna quick-scans the kitchen. “Where did I put that salsa?” We spot it next to the toaster at the exact same time. “Ah.” She scoops the salsa into a serving dish and empties the nachos into a bowl. “Perfect.”
Anna beams up at me as we load the tray. “I’m glad you could all come today. I’ve been meaning to see more of Gloria since we moved back, but we’ve both been so busy.”
Jersy strides into the kitchen just as I’m picking up the tray. He gives me an easy grin and says hi. For a second I think he’s going to lean over and kiss me on the cheek like we’re Europeans.
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