by Meg Haston
“As promised, we’ve got a fun story for you tonight!” chirped Mom’s tiny colleague. “Singer-songwriter Levi Stone, in town for a concert at our own Goodman Theatre, stopped by Lincoln Park’s Marquette Middle School to play a charity concert for one brave fan.” Lisa’s face scrunched up, like she couldn’t decide whether the piece called for a cheery smile or a somber nod. Amateur. “Channel Five’s Bob Jankowitz has the heartwarming story.”
This was not happening. The picture on the screen wavered. Or maybe I was just about to pass out. Why had my stupid mother insisted on a TV in the kitchen? Didn’t she know THE FAMILY WHO ATE TOGETHER WITH MINIMAL DISTRACTIONS STAYED TOGETHER?
“Look! They’re in Hemingway!” Paige slapped the counter as Levi’s face came on the screen. He was standing in front of a row of lockers. Jankowitz stood out of the frame, extending a mic to Levi’s chin. “SHHH!”
“Thanks for taking the time to talk with us tonight, Levi.” Jankowitz’s gravelly voice was like sandpaper on my aching brain.
“I’m stoked to be here, Bob. I wouldn’t be where I am today without my awesome fans, and it always feels good to give something back.”
“Which brings us to the reason you’re here tonight. You got a letter about your biggest fan here in Chicago, is that right?”
“That’s right, Bob. A super-brave fan who’s suffering from a rare disease called Verticopolus. She wanted to hear me play, and I was, like, totally honored to help her out and raise awareness about this silent killer.”
I tasted chocolate. Don’tsayhernamedon’tsayhernamedon’tsayhername.
“Wait. Verti-what?” Paige turned up the volume.
“Is there a sick girl in your grade?” Mom looked confused.
I blinked at the screen, telepathically begging the segment to end, or a natural disaster to strike, or for one of those annoying telethons that raised money for the station to cut the newscast short. I silently swore to buy fifty tote bags if a telethon would magically appear RIGHT. NOW.
“Now, I’m not familiar with Verti—”
“Verticopolus, Bob.” Levi nodded somberly at the camera. I couldn’t decide which was harder to believe: what a moron Levi Stone was, or that I was still standing here, watching. My brain was screaming, Run! Do something! but my body wouldn’t listen. “It’s a rare, green, flesh-eating fungus. And sadly, it’s fatal.”
“I believe your manager gave us a picture to show the effects of Verticopolus? Can we put that up, guys?”
Noooooo! But it was too late. Paige’s seaweed mask picture, the one I’d e-mailed to Levi to convince him to come to Marquette, was officially on television. All over Chicago. Our grainy TV made the cracks and crags in Paige’s face look even more gross than they had in real life.
The kitchen went silent for a full five seconds.
“Wait.” Paige’s mouth flopped open and she squinted at the screen. “Is that—”
“It’s tragic,” Levi’s voice said over Paige’s picture. “But Paige Greene is an inspiration to, like, all her classmates. I just feel really grateful that she likes my tunes, you know?”
This time, it was Paige who jerked the cord out of the wall. The screen went dark, twenty seconds too late. She turned to face me.
“Paige.” I backed away slowly. “I can explain. I swear.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. She did this three times before she finally forced actual words out of her mouth.
“KACEY! YOU DID THIS?” Paige was shaking so hard, her glasses were bouncing on her nose. “But why—I don’t—I can’t even—”
“Oh, Paige. Sit down, sweetie.” Mom slipped her arm around Paige’s shoulder and tried to nudge her toward the table, but Paige wouldn’t budge. So Mom refocused her attention. On me. “I truly hope this was some sort of horrible misunderstanding.” Her voice was like concrete. Cold, enraged concrete. “I want to hear an explanation this very second, or so help me, Kacey—”
“I didn’t mean to! It just—I don’t knoooow!” I backed into the island, the sharp edge of the marble slab stabbing me in the back.
“ ‘I don’t know’ is most definitely not an option. You have one more chance. And I’ll know if you’re not telling the truth.”
I knew she was right. A woman didn’t spend twenty years as a reporter in a major market without learning how to tell when someone was lying. “I just—I—it wasn’t just me. It was Stevie, too.” My breath was shallow in my chest. “We didn’t want you dating Gabe, so we thought if you had to go to work—”
“You what?” my mom said.
The color had drained completely from Paige’s face. “You humiliated me in front of the whole CITY just so your mom wouldn’t go on a DATE?”
“He’s not good for her!” I choked. “He’s not good for you, Mom! I did it for your own good! Remember how sad you were when Dad left?” I didn’t know where to look: at Paige’s shock-stricken face, or in Mom’s horrified eyes. So I stared at the floor.
“Kacey. Elisabeth. Simon.” Mom stared blankly past me, her eyes unfocused. “I cannot believe…” Her voice trailed off.
“You are, without a doubt, the most selfish person I have ever met,” Paige said softly. I wished she had yelled, or even shoved me. It would have hurt less than the stabbing pain in what little remained of my conscience. “I’m so outta here.” She turned to look at me one last time. “Don’t ever speak to me again. We’re through.”
AFRAID OF THE DARK SIDE
Saturday, 2:51 A.M.
I didn’t bother with a toothpick as I sat cross-legged on the kitchen counter in the dark, cradling a cold bowl of thickened chocolate in my lap. Other than the tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway, the house was silent with fury and judgment. As was the cell phone balanced on my thigh.
After Paige had stormed out, my own family left me in the kitchen, alone with a table full of virtually untouched grub. I’d secured the plates of fruit, marshmallows, and cinnamon buns with plastic wrap. Perfectly, too: Every corner was even, every bit of plastic stretched tight enough for me to see my reflection. If I’d wanted to.
I dragged a rock-hard marshmallow chick in figure eights over the fondue skin. I wondered if Paige was asleep. Maybe she was up, too, regretting how overdramatic she’d been. But even as the thought crystallized in my mind, I knew I was wrong. Paige hadn’t been overdramatic. Everything I’d done—all of it—was so, so wrong. I’d gone from being the girl who always told the truth to the girl who could lie too easily. And now everything had come crashing down.
I’d gone way too far. Paige might never forgive me. And the same was true for Zander. When it came to relationships, maybe I just didn’t have it in me to make them last. Maybe I was no better than my coward of a father.
“I hope you’re not planning on leaving that there.” Mom stood in the doorway in her light-pink terrycloth robe, striped pajama pants, and socks.
“Mom! You scared me!”
“Kacey.” Mom gave a sharp nod to the bowl in my lap. I looked down. The marshmallow chick was drowning in the middle of the chocolate.
“Sorry.” I scooped it up, saving it, like I wished someone could save me from this night.
“Can’t sleep?” Mom slid onto the counter next to me.
I shook my head. “Mom—”
“What were you thinking, Kacey?” Mom stared straight ahead, into the dark. “Do you understand what you’ve done here?”
“Yes! I just—”
She cut me off with the razor-sharp edge of her disapproval. “I don’t think you do. I think right now, you’re thinking about how Paige and I are angry with you.”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“I don’t think you’ve considered the fact that you used valuable Channel Five resources for what was essentially a prank. I don’t think you’ve thought about the fact that when this gets straightened out, my job could be in jeopardy. Or about how that job is what puts food on our table, since your father contributes absolutely nothing to thi
s family. So maybe you could think about those things for a while.”
“I’m so sorry, Mom.” My body folded into itself. In that moment, I felt like she’d knocked every molecule of air from my body. My stomach heaved like I was going to be sick.
It wasn’t until Mom’s fingers brushed my wet cheek that I realized I’d been crying.
“I know you’re sorry.” She didn’t hug me, but she dabbed beneath my eyes with a rough dish towel. It was the pink-and-white towel I’d crocheted for her at summer camp the year I was six. I didn’t have to see it to know that the pink had faded, the white had dulled to yellowed cream. “And I’m sorry, too.”
“Why?” I rasped.
“Clearly, you weren’t ready for me to date. We should have talked about this as a family. I wasn’t thinking. I just really thought Gabe could…” Her eyes were glassy in the dark. “I’m sorry.”
Wait. She was sorry? She might as well have stabbed me in the heart with a fondue toothpick. I made some sort of a noise in response. A combination of a wail, a sob, and a desperate plea for forgiveness. Paige was right. I was the most selfish person on Earth. I’d just wrecked my mother’s chance at happiness, and she was apologizing? My sobs overtook me.
“Oh, my sweet, sweet girl.” Mom pulled me in, cradling me against her chest. “You know no matter what you do, I’ll always love you.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.” I heaved into her robe. “Really. I can talk to Gabe, or—”
“It’s too late, Kacey. But if you’re this upset, maybe it’s for the best.”
I curled up in a ball and buried my face in her lap, tears streaming while she stroked my hair and whispered over and over the words I didn’t deserve to hear.
“No matter what you do, I’ll always love you.”
HONESTY IS A DISH BEST SERVED WARM.
WITH FROSTING.
Saturday, 7:47 P.M.
“Paige. I know you’re mad, and you have every right to be. But you have to call me back.” I shivered, leaning against Sugar Daddy’s glass storefront. “I mean, you don’t have to. But I want you to. Please?”
On the other side of the window, Molly, Liv, and Nessa waved me inside from their perch on our usual couches in the back.
I stashed the phone in the inside pocket of my jacket, wondering if I’d ever get the chance to apologize to Paige in person. I’d lost count of how many times I’d called, how many messages I’d left.
Sugar Daddy was in chaos—screaming kids with colored frosting goatees darted around the antique student desks and played hide-and-seek behind the cupcake bar. North Shore moms barked orders into iPhones and BlackBerrys while rocking strollers back and forth.
My North Shore mom should have grounded me, but she was too depressed to forbid me to leave the house.
I plopped next to Molly at the end of the couch, and she squeezed my arm. “Glad you’re feeling better.” Her voice was pinched, high.
“Huh? Oh, yeah.” I’d explained my early exit last night as sudden illness. “Much better.”
“I don’t know. You don’t look so good,” Liv said cautiously. She tucked her feet beneath her and spread the hem of her colorful maxi skirt over her boots. It looked familiar, but I couldn’t remember when she’d last worn it.
Nessa looked up from the Trib review of a French film playing at the indie theater down the road. “C’est vrai,” she agreed.
“I’ll be fine.” I sighed. I wanted to tell them everything. To come clean about Levi. About Paige. And about Zander. To start fresh.
“What’s going on?” Liv prompted.
I gripped the plate of the cupcake the girls had gotten me so tightly, it should have cracked. “It’s Paige.”
“Ah.” Liv nodded solemnly. “Are you worried about how devastated you’ll be when she passes on?”
“No, that’s not—”
“Did the news guy say whether she was contagious?” Molly asked worriedly.
“Ohmygod. She’s not—”
“How have I never heard of Verticopolus?” Nessa sniffed.
“Because it isn’t real!” I burst out. “Don’t you think I would have told you guys if Paige was really dying? I made it up!”
Their heads snapped toward me.
My face felt hot. “It’s kind of a long story.”
“Does Paige know she isn’t dying?” Liv asked.
“Ooh!” Molly’s eyes glinted. “Don’t tell her! She’d be all, ‘And I bequeath to Kacey my ugly black shoe collection,’ and you’d be all, ‘Um, over my dead body. Oops!’ ” She burst into giggles, obviously proud of herself.
“Bequeath?” Nessa raised an eyebrow.
“What? I know words.” Molly sniffed.
I smacked her arm. “Of course she knows she isn’t dying.” My head was spinning, and the smell of sugar was starting to give me a headache. I shoved my plate as far away as possible.
“We’re going to need you to start from the beginning.” Nessa folded the sleeves on her three-quarter tuxedo blazer and took a long sip from her mug.
Slowly, carefully, I explained everything about the Paige situation.
“My mom’s miserable, and Paige won’t talk to me, and Zander and I—”
I froze. Zander and I. Had I really just said that?
“Zander and you… what?” Molly swiveled toward me. I couldn’t read her. Her eyes were clouded, but her mouth twitched like she was on the verge of a smile.
“We’ve kind of been hanging out,” I croaked. “And I didn’t tell you because I thought you’d be mad, and I’m really sorry, but it won’t happen again because he hates me now.”
The girls were silent.
I should have felt lighter. Now everyone knew everything. I had nothing left to hide from the people closest to me. I should have felt like my old self again. Instead, I felt a cold rush of dread welling up inside me as I waited for my friends’ judgment to rain down on me.
“It’s okay,” Molly said quietly.
“No, Mols. It’s not. I’m sorry.” Why did people keep forgiving me when I didn’t deserve it? “I’ve been a terrible friend, and it’s not okay, and I’m gonna make it up to you. I promise. Just tell me what I can do to—”
“YoucanforgivemeforkindofholdinghandswithQuinnlastnight,” Molly said under her breath.
I glanced at Liv and Nessa, who nodded.
“QUINN?” I shrieked.
Molly scrambled backward on the couch. “I’m SORRY! But you’ve been hanging out with Zander!”
“I know! But Quinn? When did this—how long have you guys—” I swallowed, feeling some combination of relief and nausea.
“Just last night. And we only held hands, I swear. It was just… after the rally… all that power.”
“What happened to the Girl Code?”
“I haaaate the Girl Code,” Molly exhaled. “I mean, it’s not really fair, right? You can’t help who you like, and friends shouldn’t get in the way of each other’s crushes! Especially when they didn’t work out. Right? Who’s with me?” She jumped up and dropped down again. Her eyes were crazed.
Dumbfounded, I tried to take it all in. Molly and Quinn. Quinn and Molly. Actually, it made perfect sense. But was it weird, swapping boyfriends like this? Boys weren’t like shoes or a favorite pair of jeans.
But we aren’t swapping boyfriends, I reminded myself. Swapping would mean that Zander and I were still together.
“Okay.” I bit my lip. “You’re right. We shouldn’t get in the way of each other’s crushes. If you like Quinn, you should go for it.”
“Ohhhmygod.” Molly practically jumped in my lap and threw her arms around my neck. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou.”
Nessa and Liv sighed in unison, looking relieved.
“Just like I never should have gotten in the way of my mom and Gabe,” I said sadly.
“So get them back together!” Molly chirped.
“Yeah,” Nessa agreed. “One missed date shouldn’t be enough to break them up for good. They really lik
e each other, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah. They did. They do.” I thought back to the sparkle in Mom’s eyes at the Millennium Park skating rink. To the lightness in her voice whenever she’d talked about Gabe. To the way they flirted right in front of Stevie and me. That last part I could do without, but the rest… Well, who was I to take happiness away from my own mother?
“Okay,” I decided, nodding at the girls. “We’ll come up with a plan. But first I have to talk to Stevie. And maybe Zander.” My eyes cut to Molly. She squeezed my knee.
“Good girl,” Liv said warmly. She stood up and fluffed her skirt. The colorful fabric caught my eye.
“Hey. Did you make that?”
“Yeah. You want one?”
“Do you have any of the fabric left over?”
“I think so.” Liv looked at me quizzically.
“Do you think I could borrow it?” The beginnings of a plan were starting to crystallize in my mind. The kind of plan that maybe, just maybe, could fix everything.
“Sure, of course.”
Molly’s lip protruded about six inches from her face. “Hey! No fair! How come she gets to know what’s going on?”
“She doesn’t,” I said secretively. “Not yet, at least.” I grabbed my messenger bag and hopped up. “I have to go. Call you guys later.”
“Good luck!” the girls called after me.
“Thanks,” I said, gratefully. I was going to need it.
HALLMARK SHOULD REALLY MAKE
A CARD FOR THESE THINGS
Saturday, 9:08 P.M.
I made it to Zander’s blue door way too soon. I hadn’t even finished prepping my apology speech. Not that it mattered. The second Zander appeared in the entryway, every word, every syllable I knew deserted me.
We stood there for a long moment, staring at each other like strangers.
“Goose. Let her in, man. It’s cold out there.” Stevie nudged Zander out of the way, ushering me inside. Her eyes were red and smudged with mascara. I wondered if she’d been crying.
“So, um, where’s your dad?” I kicked off my booties and left them by the door.
“He went out.” Stevie ran a hand through her hair. “He was really upset last night. I think we might’ve screwed up.”