“I found this neat market—they have lots of fun cooking stuff. I’m going to make a surprise dinner tonight.”
“Okay, but remember, even though God’s sure been faithful to us, we don’t have extra money for you to buy all kinds of exotic foods to play chef with. At least not now.”
Carmen took a deep breath. The God stuff again. “I know, Mom. Just trying to do something nice. Besides, I don’t play chef.” Change the subject. “But hey. Since the bunk beds aren’t finished, how about we just separate them and put one on each side of the room? Or better yet, put Kimberley’s in the living room.”
The hammer clanged as Mom dropped the screwdriver on top of it. “We’ve been over this. We have no choice, Carmen. You’ve got to share a room with Kimberley, and trying to squeeze two separate beds in here is silly. It would take up way too much room, and there’d be no place to put all your books. Unless, of course, you want to give up some of your bookshelves.”
Over Carmen’s dead body. “You can’t be serious. My books?” The cookbooks alone would fill two shelves.
“I didn’t think so. Then that’s all there is to it.” She sat back on her heels. “You know, it’s not like I’m thrilled to share with Harper. At my age, I didn’t expect to be roommates with an eight-year-old.”
“But…” Oh, what was the point in arguing? Stop thinking about her big bedroom at home…er…at Dad’s. The good life wasn’t her life anymore—at least it stood waiting for her to visit two weekends a month. Carmen looked around the tiny space. Up at the water spots on the ceiling then down at their mirror images on the carpet—one pair of them reminded her of elephants with their trunks raised in salute to each other. Her new home—whether she liked it or not. But she didn’t like it one bit. “Why can’t I at least commute to my old school from here? I mean, I could take the bus. Nate and I Googled it.”
Mom pressed her fingers into her temples until her knuckles turned white. “You Googled what exactly?” She thrust out each word with what seemed a huge effort.
Oh no. Mom appeared done in. Why hadn’t Carmen waited to bring this up after dinner? Too late, though. “Um, the bus schedule. All I’d have to do is catch the one-sixty-five a block away at State Street. Then hop on the number seven subway at Times Square. A quick ride to Grand Central, and then I’d get on the Metro-North Hudson Line to Ossining, and then I’m basically there.”
“Right. And what time is the first bus at State Street? Four a.m.?” Mom shook her head. “You’re talking to a native New Yorker. I know full well what you just described is at least two hours’ traveling time each way.”
Two and a half actually. But admitting the actual travel times to Mom sure wouldn’t help Carmen’s cause at all. Besides, Carmen didn’t pick Hackensack. They could have moved closer to home if only Dr. Miller from Mom’s church hadn’t offered her a receptionist job in his Hacker location. “I don’t mind the travel. Really. I can do homework, read, or even nap.”
“No way, Carmen. Walking around outside this apartment while it’s still dark in the morning and then not getting home until after dark? I don’t think so. It’s just not safe to have you traipsing all over two states twice a day.”
It had to be safer than going to school in Hackensack. But Mom wouldn’t like to hear that at all.
“Plus what about your sisters—how are they supposed to get to school, and who will be here for them after? I’ll be working at the dentist office during the day and hopefully doing Mary Kay facials at night.”
But why was it Carmen’s responsibility to be the parent?
Mom slapped her hands on her thighs and pulled herself up, her knees creaking the whole way. “I have an idea, though. If you and Nate want to be together so much, why doesn’t he do the daily bus pilgrimage and transfer to college in New Jersey to be with you? How about trying the chivalrous thing for once, rather than expecting you to do all the work.”
“Right, like his parents are going to let Nate McConnell, heir to the throne of their political empire, slum it in Hackensack, New Jersey.” Carmen wrinkled her nose and gazed out the tiny window at the billboards and barred store windows below them. He wouldn’t do it anyway. No way. “Just forget about it. Besides, it’s a lot harder to transfer colleges, and he’s been in classes for a month now. And since I already started the year at my old school, I could skip the whole transfer process completely and just keep going to my school.”
Mom ignored her. She grunted and leaned back at her hips, rotating her upper body. “I’m getting too old for this,” she muttered.
“You’re thirty-three. That’s so not old.” They’d had the same discussion before. Mom, still young and pretty, could lose a few pounds, sure, but who couldn’t really? Maybe if she did, maybe if she bought some new clothes and got a trendy haircut, then maybe Dad would want her back and they could all go home.
And makeup. Hopefully Mom’s new Mary Kay venture would add a little color to her own face. Maybe they’d teach her to get rid of those dark circles and bags under her eyes. She’d never be as young and, um, perky, as Tiffany…but she could be a better version of herself without even trying very hard. Mom had better step it up if she wanted Dad back. But how could Carmen convince her without hurting her feelings? Especially when she didn’t seem to want him back.
“Hey guys, what’s up?” A tiny blur of flowing black hair bounded across the room and rolled onto the bottom bunk. Harper rested her elbows on the bare mattress and propped her chin in her hands.
“Get off my bed.” Carmen swatted her little sister down and fitted the bottom sheet onto the bed.
“Um. You might want to know, Kim says she gets the bottom.” Harper shrugged. “Just giving you a fair warning.”
“Hah. I don’t think so. Kimberley’s in for a rude awakening if she thinks I’m climbing to the top bunk every day. Ain’t happening.”
“Well, I’m going to leave you two to battle it out on your own.” Mom plugged her ears as she left the room.
Yeah. Not going to be a battle. Dad always said to choose her fights carefully and select which hills she would die on. Possession of the bottom bunk was a war she’d fight to the death.
Carmen marched into the family room where Kimberley was painting her nails bright blue. “First of all, your nails look moldy. Secondly, I get the bottom bunk.”
Kimberley glanced up. “Fine.”
Did she say fine? Wait. Had the whole thing been a setup? Had Kim sent Harper in there on a reverse-psychology mission?
Harper giggled in the corner.
Carmen’s hands balled into fists. They were lucky Mom was home. Little sisters were so annoying. One day…one day she’d be free of them.
Mom scooted sideways down the hallway, her arms stacked with cardboard and trash from her construction project. She dumped it all into a pile by the front door. “Kim and Harper, I need you two to haul this stuff down to the Dumpster.” She turned to Carmen. “I have a facial party tonight. So you’ll be in charge, of course.”
Thanks for asking. Not like she had a life anyway. Don’t suppose it’s a paid gig? “Okay. Are you going to let them go to the Dumpster by themselves?”
Mom looked confused. “They’re old enough to throw away the trash.”
“You can’t let them run around here like they did at home. It’s just not safe, remember?” Hadn’t Mom heard her own lecture? “I’ll go with them.” Carmen shrugged on a sweater and grabbed an armful.
Two trips down the back stairs, and they were finished. Carmen stomped back to her room without a word. Don’t follow. Please don’t follow. She had stuff to take care of and needed complete privacy. Once in her room, she pulled the door shut and locked it.
No such luck. She sensed them on the other side of the door before she heard the knock. Why couldn’t she get even a moment to herself? “What do you want?”
“I just wanted to say sorry for tricking you about the bed. And thanks for helping with the trash.” Kimberley spoke through the door
. At least she didn’t ask to come in.
“Me, too.” Harper giggled. “But it was funny.”
Carmen opened the door a crack. “Thanks for the apologies. Now can I just have like fifteen minutes alone? Please?”
“Okie doke.” Harper grabbed Kim’s hand and scurried away, pulling the door shut behind her.
Finally. Carmen ran to her dresser and rummaged through the drawers then turned to the closet and dug through the three unpacked boxes of books. Not there. She pulled her purple nylon tennis bag from under her bed and plowed through the deodorant, granola bars, hairspray, and extra socks. Not there either. Where were they? She’d already missed two of her birth-control pills, and they were still nowhere to be found. In an entire year of taking them, these were the first ones she’d missed. If she found them, she’d just double up for two days—no problem.
But if she couldn’t find them, then what would she do?
Carmen rubbed her chin and turned in a circle, looking at everything in her room. Had she said something to Nate about where she put them? But she couldn’t ask him—then he’d know she’d missed some, and they were supposed to get together after tennis practice tomorrow. He had a special evening all planned while his parents were away, and then he intended to stay over with her at Dad’s. Carmen sure didn’t want to mess everything up.
Where were those pills? Think. Think.
Chapter 3
Eggplant parmigiana. Their third dinner in Hackensack. If they couldn’t live like rich New Yorkers, they could at least eat like them. Once in a while. Carmen blew on the steaming sauce before slurping a sample from the spoon. She kissed her fingertips. Perfecto.
The oven timer dinged. Carmen pulled open the squeaky door and slid out the tray of garlic bread, the cheese brown and bubbly. “It’s ready, you guys.”
Harper slid into the kitchen on her socks and skidded to a stop just before slamming into the countertop peninsula. “Mmm. Bread!” She reached for the least-brown piece.
“Harper.” Carmen reached a plate under the bread to catch the cheese about to ooze to the floor. She placed a serving fork in the salad and tossed it with the Caesar dressing just as Mom came in.
“I smelled it all the way in my room—hoped that’s what you made. This’ll be great.” She picked up a plate and served herself.
Kimberley strolled into the room, bouncing her head to the tunes on her iPod. “Just salad for me. I’m watching my weight.”
Hah. Little did she know, the Caesar salad with dressing, cheese, and croutons was about as bad as the full dinner.
Kim added a hunk of cheesy garlic toast to her plate.
“Uh, Kim. So much for watching your weight.”
Kim shrugged and sashayed from the kitchen, right past Mom, to sit cross-legged on the couch—her Juicy sweats most likely riding too low in back like they always did.
Harper sat on the floor near Kim and put her plate on the coffee table. She picked up the remote as she chewed her first bite.
They would never have gotten away with skipping a family dinner at…home. Carmen glanced at Mom, eating alone at the dining-room table as she thumbed through the pages of her latest Mary Kay catalog. Sure didn’t look lonely or depressed.
Fine. Carmen had no plans to stick around and force family togetherness if no one else wanted it. She grabbed her dinner and a Coke then went to her room. No one said a word to stop her.
She shut the door and slid to the floor with her back against the edge of the bed, drew her knees up, and rested her plate on them. She forked a bite of cheesy eggplant and twisted it until the molten strands gave out. After letting it cool for a couple of seconds, she scraped the bite from the fork with her teeth. Ouch! She shuffled it around on her tongue and huffed air to cool it more. Delicious. Carmen didn’t need anyone else to confirm it for her to know the truth.
Her pocket vibrated. She wiped her hands on the carpet and dug for her phone. A text message from Dad?
TRAVELING. I‘LL PICK U GUYS UP IN THE MORNING INSTEAD OF TONIGHT.
What? Didn’t such a major change of plans at least warrant a phone call? Carmen touched and held the number FIVE button then pressed the phone to her ear. It rang one time.
“You’ve reached Daniel Castillo…”
Voice mail? But he’d sent a text message only seconds ago, so his phone must have been on. How could he send his own daughter straight to voice mail on purpose? And what’s worse, how could he miss the first night of the first weekend of visitation?
“Kim!” Carmen shouted down the hall. “Did you get a text from Dad?”
“Let me check,” Kim yelled back. “No. Why?” Great. He expected Carmen to do his dirty work.
Nate’s evening class ended at eight. What time was it anyway? Carmen touched the display on her phone to bring it to life. Nine o’clock already? He’d been out for an hour and hadn’t called or texted. What could he be doing? Was he avoiding her? Could she really blame him considering her attitude lately? She sure hadn’t been the picture of pleasantry during the past week since the move.
Should she call him? Maybe he was staring at his phone wondering why she hadn’t called him. It wasn’t 1950; girls were allowed to call boys. Carmen pressed the number Two speed-dial button and waited for him to answer.
“Hey. I was just thinking about you. You excited about tomorrow night?”
Carmen breathed a sigh of relief. He sounded normal. She eased the door closed and sank onto her bed. She nestled her head between the four extra-fluffy pillows. “You kidding? Of course I am. Any time with you is awesome.”
“Mmm-hmm. Where’s everyone tonight?”
Carmen imagined Nate sprawled on the floor cushions in front of the TV in his room. Too bad he wasn’t curled up there with her. “Mom’s out at a Mary Kay thing at an old friend’s house. I’m babysitting—the girls are watching a movie.”
“If only I lived closer. I’d be over.” Nate’s hypnotic voice lulled Carmen into a dream state.
“I know. It’s going to be impossible to get used to this. Two weekends a month?” Carmen sighed. Even though they’d be together more than many couples, four days a month wasn’t nearly enough for them.
“How’s it going to work exactly? Your dad is going to come pick you up on Fridays, right?
Hadn’t they been over this a ton of times? “Yeah, every other Friday. He’ll pick us up at four o’clock. Then on the off weeks, Mom will bring me up for my tennis lesson on Saturday mornings. But I’ll have to come right back home with her after.”
“Hmm. If you can get your mom to let me stay overnight like your dad does, I could bring you back home from your Saturday tennis lessons on those in-between weekends and then spend the night. But I don’t see her agreeing to that.”
No way Mom would ever let Nate stay overnight. Besides, where would he sleep? Top bunk? Not likely. The rickety flea-market sofa with the duct tape holding the back together? Hardly. “I’ll see what I can do. Not promising anything, though.”
“Yeah. I get it. Never know, though.”
“Plus, don’t forget, this weekend could have been longer if Dad hadn’t blown us off for tonight. He was supposed to pick us up today, but he said his trip went long.” She didn’t fully believe him, though it was difficult to get the details from nothing but a text message. “So he’s not coming for us until it’s time for me to get to tennis in the morning.” If he made her miss tennis…Carmen shuddered. The team was already frustrated enough that she couldn’t be there during the week and could only come for the Saturday lessons. She was lucky to still be on the team. If she weren’t a good player, she’d have gotten kicked off for sure. Hopes of a college scholarship for tennis were probably out the window. But at least she could still play.
“Right. But hey, let’s focus on the good news. We have tomorrow night all to ourselves.” Like convincing a child it’s an okay thing there’s no Santa. “Oh, and in other good news, you’ll have lots more to tell Nosy Nellie with all those people
you’ll be meeting.”
“Hey. You leave my journal alone. And she’s just Nellie. Not Nosy Nellie.” Carmen laughed.
“Someday you’re going to have to let me see her.”
Carmen loved to hear him call her journal a her just like she did. “What’s funny is Mom made me start writing my thoughts about other people to Nellie as a way to break my obsession with gossip. All it did though is make me really, really good at it. Now I can pick out the worst in anyone just so I have something to tell her.”
“Okay. Now I really want to see your jour—Nellie. What have you written in there about your horrible boyfriend?”
“Oh, you know. It’s just girl talk between me and Nellie. She thinks I should dump you after all I’ve told her about you.”
“Hey. No fair. I’m going to start my own journal.”
Oh, the threats. “Ha. Then maybe your gossip journal can date my gossip journal.”
“Right. Then we’d have no secrets anymore.”
“Yeah. Scratch that idea.” Nate would be horrified if he saw her journal. Not about him—he was perfect as far as boyfriends go. But everyone else was fair game. Especially his mother.
“Hey. What secrets are you keeping?”
“Oh, that’s for me and Nellie to know and you never to find out.” Carmen laughed.
“It’s great to hear you laugh, C.”
Should Carmen tell him about the gang members who had taken up residence on the street outside her apartment? What about the recent fact she’d lost her birth-control pills and had missed four doses already? Hah. Carmen wondered which of those two bits of information would be worse news to her boyfriend. Who was she kidding? She knew the answer.
Speaking of which, where had her packet of pills disappeared to? If she didn’t want to tell Nate she’d missed some, and if she didn’t want to upset him by avoiding him all weekend, she might have to stay home tomorrow night after all. How did it even work when a person missed birth control for several days in a row? Surely people did it all the time. She’d have to Google it when she got off the phone. Couldn’t very well ask Mom what to do about it since she didn’t even know Carmen took them—it was against her religion. One which she believed Carmen at least sort of shared.
Embittered Ruby Page 2