As we ran, past those jeans in the window of American Eagle,
Nancy chased us.
Mom slipped once,
but I lifted her up.
We kept going.
We were fast.
We ran out into the parking lot.
A woman was pulling out of her spot.
She pulled out too quickly
or we were moving too quickly.
She almost ran me over.
And Mom started screaming at the lady.
The lady got out of her car, slamming her door.
I tried grabbing Mom, calming her down.
But the woman said she was a “drunk idiot.”
And then Mom spat in her face.
And the woman grabbed her.
And Mom punched her.
And then Nancy was there.
And Mom shoved Nancy.
And then one of the cops, when they showed up.
And I watched the whole thing
And there was nothing I could do to stop it.
The whole world
pulsed—and then bled—
orange.
Finally
As we pull up
to Anne & Carl’s
sturdy stone house,
I let Mom’s sober, full smile fill me.
Try to make my own “amends.”
Maybe
that day in that parking lot
was what we needed.
Maybe
if she hadn’t lost me,
she wouldn’t be in rehab.
Her smile would still hang crooked.
Just because I’m not with her,
doesn’t mean I’m not
helping her.
Balancing Equations
At school,
everyone’s talking
about Audrey’s holiday party.
What they will wear,
what they will bring her.
Audrey and I are paired
together in math.
I can tell she’s surprised
I know so many answers.
I used to buy my own math
flash cards, workbooks
from the dollar store.
It was something I could do
to keep the school’s hawk eyes off me.
If I kept up, Mom couldn’t get into that much trouble.
At least I thought.
We balance equations.
At the end of class,
Audrey says Anne & Carl
usually come to the party.
She doesn’t ask,
just says
she will see me there.
Drifts
In Worship & Ministry,
we all make a list
of sample favors
kids could do for each other
for our holiday event.
Think how Mom and I kept it simple:
doing dishes, making beds.
But how one time I asked her to pour out her liquor, as a favor.
She screamed at me that that was a waste of good money.
Push the memory aside.
We split into two groups,
5th & 6th graders and 7th & 8th graders.
Mariah says: Bake cookies.
I think about what it would be like
to grow up with a parent who bakes.
Jake suggests: Help someone study for a test.
I notice he doesn’t look to Lauren
for approval like he usually does.
He just stares at his hands.
Lauren says: Get their lunch for them?
I write it down on our list.
It is snowing a bit outside
and all of us
seem to be watching the snow drift
more than working on our list.
Gordy, Oscar, and the 5th-grade girls
are all shouting ideas to one another.
But the four of us are quieter.
After the meeting,
Lauren asks again if I’m OK,
if I’m mad.
And I tell her no,
though thinking of Amy’s unicorns
and stuffed animals,
I think I am angry.
At her? At myself?
But I can’t tell her how I feel.
It will make everything worse.
She says:
“Well, if you are.
Don’t be.
It’ll all be over this weekend.
I promise.”
“So, sooner than a month?”
That feels better.
To give Amy her room back. Sooner.
I nod my head,
smiling now,
maybe it will all work out:
Lauren will stop stealing,
Mom will be sober now forever,
and Anne & Carl can be my friends.
A place to visit.
Maybe I can visit Mariah, too,
eat cookies.
I ask Lauren,
does she want to hang after school.
Play in the snow?
She cracks a smile,
we link arms
we float drift together down the noisy hall.
LAUREN
Not OK at All
The snow started up again on Friday morning—not enough for a snow day but enough to distract everybody in advisory, until Ms. Meadows held up a plastic bowl filled with folded-up pieces of paper.
“Instead of the Secret Gifters exchange we usually do, the Worship and Ministry group has organized a different kind of swap this year,” she announced. “Lauren, would you like to tell us more?”
I glanced over at Sierra, who was running a finger back and forth along the edge of her desk.
“Actually, I think Sierra should. Unless she doesn’t want to.”
Sierra stiffened when I first said her name, but then she relaxed her shoulders and sat up straighter in her chair. “No, I’ll do it.”
“Yeah, Daisy!” Max Sherman called from the other end of the room.
Ms. Meadows shot Max a “quiet down” look before nodding at Sierra, and Sierra took in a big breath before she started to explain the Favor Swap. She balled her hands into extra tight fists, but she didn’t talk too quietly for anybody to hear, like she used to when she was new.
Every time I talk in advisory, Audrey refuses to look anywhere near me, but she was looking at Sierra while Sierra told everybody all the details, and the expression on her face wasn’t even mean. It’s not like I want Audrey to scowl at Sierra, but still. Now it’s only me Audrey has a problem with? When did that happen?
“And if you don’t really know the person whose name you get that well, you can find some favor ideas on the bulletin board outside Mr. Ellis’s room,” Sierra finished. “Oh, and you should keep it a secret which person you pick until after you’ve done the favor, because it’ll be a lot more fun that way.”
Ms. Meadows beamed at Sierra and thanked her, and when Sierra looked back down at her desk and started running her fingertip along the edge again, I could tell she was holding in a smile.
“I’ll just add that the only possible reason you might need to put back the name you pick and try again is if you pick your own name. And no reactions when you see who you get, please!” Ms. Meadows said as she carried the bowl to Max.
Of course, that didn’t stop Max from groaning when he saw the name on his piece of paper. The bowl made its way around the room, and when it was Sierra’s turn, right before mine, she had to put back the first paper she took, which meant her name was still in there.
Sierra. Sierra. Please let me get Sierra, I thought as I reached in.
Then I wouldn’t have to use one of those simple, works-for-anyone favors we’d brainstormed at Worship and Ministry. I could come up with something just for her. Something special that could maybe make her feel like at least she’s made a friend who’s almost as good as family, even if she can’t be with her real family for the holidays.
I pulled out a folded-up piece that looked about the same size as the one Sierra had just dropped back in, and then I had to swallow back a gasp when I read the name.
Audrey.
I’m sure the only favor Audrey wants from me is to skip her family’s holiday party, which obviously won’t work, since that party is the key to me selling a bracelet for $300 and making it to $1,000.
But then I realized, I didn’t need any of the works-for-anyone favors for Audrey, either, because even though Audrey and I aren’t speaking, I probably know her better than anybody else. So I know the perfect favor to do. And the best part is, doing it will get me right across the hall from her mom’s jewelry collection.
“Who do you have?” I whispered to Sierra on the way out of advisory.
Sierra’s mouth dropped open. “Lauren! The whole point is not to tell!”
I pretended to pout, even though I knew she was right.
She swatted my arm with her notebook and said, “Outlook not good for our Favor Swap if everybody tells. Then there won’t be any surprises!”
I laughed and answered her in Magic 8 Ball speak. “It is decidedly so. I know. I won’t ask you again.”
We grabbed our stuff for Spanish, but then as we walked down the hallway toward the classroom, Jake was there just a few feet away, drinking from the water fountain.
One time right before we went to Mariah’s, he was getting a drink at this same water fountain when Sierra and I passed the eighth-grade advisory rooms, and I reached up and flipped the hood of his sweatshirt over his head. He laughed the big kind of laugh that showed me all his molars and flicked water at me.
Today, he was wearing the same sweatshirt, but I couldn’t imagine pulling his hood up over his head again. Because now, anytime I’m near him, I remember what he said when we were walking home from Mariah’s. And then, it’s like a hole opens up in my stomach and tries to swallow my lungs.
The thing is, I want Jake to think I’m a good person, but I know he wouldn’t understand what I’m doing. And once I think of that, I can’t help thinking of how Sierra doesn’t want me to do it anymore, either, and how I don’t want to make Sierra unhappy, but I also know I can’t stop. Unless I get to $1,000, at least.
Jake finished drinking from the water fountain and picked up his head. He smiled when he saw me, but it was a confused, just-trying-to-be-polite smile, not the giant grin I used to get.
I tried to make my mouth smile back, but I knew I’d have to say something when I walked by him, and I couldn’t talk with all that lung sucking, mind spinning going on. It’s just too confusing, remembering the way he touched my arm and the nice things he said and being almost sure he likes me, or did before I freaked out, anyway, and knowing for absolute sure that I like him . . . but also knowing that I hated how I felt after he said what he did. Because it made me doubt myself too completely, and I don’t have room for more doubt in my head right now.
So I stopped in front of the girls’ bathroom. “Tell Señora I’ll be there in a minute,” I told Sierra.
Then I pushed open the door and stumbled in.
That night, the last Aveda shampoo and the last Anthropologie hair clip sold.
That meant after I got them back from Sierra, there’d be nothing left hidden in Amy’s room. It also meant we’d made it to $733. We’d be over $1,000 as soon as I had the bracelet.
I was planning to mail the shampoo and hair clip on Saturday, but then right when I was about to leave, Mom and Dad came down the stairs.
“We’re heading off to do some errands in Chestnut Hill!” Dad announced.
“But don’t worry,” Mom added. “We’ll be back in plenty of time for the Lees’ party!”
Dad put his arm around Mom and then winked at me and acted all exaggeratedly secretive as they got their stuff to go, which meant they were probably doing Christmas shopping for me and Ry. But shopping in Chestnut Hill meant they’d be right by the post office.
I texted Sierra as soon as they left to tell her I’d mail the stuff on Monday instead, but Sierra showed up at the front door twenty minutes later, holding Seeger’s leash in one hand and a plastic bag with the shampoo and hair clip in the other.
“I already took them out of Amy’s room,” she told me. “I really don’t want to put them back in there, Lauren. Can you figure something else out? Please?”
Her lips quivered, and I got the terrible feeling she might cry if I said no.
“I guess you could mail them instead of me,” I offered, but that didn’t make her lips stop quivering.
She sighed. “I can’t take Seeger all that way when it’s this cold. And Anne will want to know where I’m going.”
So I grabbed my coat and the bubble wrap I keep at the back of my closet. “OK. We’ll walk Seeger around the block first, take him home, and then we’ll go together. You can tell Anne we’re going to get hot chocolate or something, and then you can stand guard at the post office so my parents don’t catch me.”
She didn’t seem so thrilled about that plan, either, but she couldn’t think of anything else, so she agreed.
I’ve been going to the post office every week for ages now, but Sierra’s eyes went wide when we walked up, the same way her eyes had gone wide when she saw the inside of Audrey’s house and my house, too.
“This is a post office?” she asked.
And for the first time, I paid attention to the big shiny gold doors and the elegant storefront. I guess that’s how used to fancy stuff I’ve gotten. Even though I want to, sometimes I don’t notice when something’s ten times fancier than it needs to be.
I held one heavy door open and followed Sierra inside, where the line snaked around and around.
“At least it looks like a regular post office inside, anyway,” she said, and I was relieved for some reason. As if I were somehow responsible for the post office’s fanciness.
“Here, just stand here at the front and tell me if you see my parents so I can duck, OK?” I told her.
It’s not like they were going to peer in the windows looking for me, so we just needed to make sure they didn’t happen to walk by when I was in the part of the line that went closest to the doors and windows.
“How long do you think this will take?” she asked. “Anne’s going to wonder if we’re gone too long.”
I couldn’t really tell, though, because it’s never this crowded when I come on weekdays.
I pushed my way through the line to the mailing supplies area so I could choose the right size Priority Mail boxes and fill out the labels. Most of the other customers were only there to mail holiday presents, but I knew exactly where to go for the supplies I needed, so I got on line fast. Still, it was taking forever.
As the line inched forward, I leaned to the side so I could catch Sierra’s eye and stick my tongue out to make her laugh. But then a tall, dark-haired woman opened one of the post office doors right when I stuck my tongue out. She stepped directly in between me and Sierra, so it looked like I was sticking my tongue out at her.
My cheeks burned, and I wanted to hide behind the girl in front of me, who was wearing a hat with a puffy pom-pom on top. But the woman looked kind of familiar. Maybe she was one of the women Mom had started doing Pilates with this year? Or somebody’s mom from school?
That hole deep in my stomach opened up a tiny bit. She was somebody’s mom. She was Jake’s mom.
I had accidentally stuck my tongue out at Jake’s mom! I asked the pom-pom hat girl to save my spot in line for a second and rushed over.
“I’m so sorry, Ms. . . .” but I trailed off, because I still didn’t know if her name was Paterson or Willis or both. “That’s my friend behind you, and I was sticking my tongue out at her. Like, as a joke. I’m really sorry.”
Jake’s mom just looked at me for a second, studying my face as if she had no idea who I was, and then she threw her head back and laughed. A big, molar-showing laugh, just like Jake’s.
“Lauren, right?” she said
. “I won’t take it personally. When Jake’s sister was three or four, she used to stick her tongue out at everybody. I think I’m immune to the effect now.”
I laughed, too, even though she’d sort of just compared me to a three-year-old.
“OK, well, say hi to Jake for me,” I said, just to have a way to end the conversation and get back to my spot in line.
But she nodded a little too eagerly. “I’ll do that, Lauren. And I know he’s planning to make that Black Forest cake for us over the holidays. Maybe you can come over and help.”
“Maybe so,” I said, even though the lung-sucking stomach hole gaped farther open at the thought.
But maybe I could hang out with Jake again without freaking out by the time he made the Black Forest cake. If tonight went the way I hoped, I could be the best person Jake knows again, without having to give up on my plan.
If Jake still wanted me to be, anyway.
• • •
Audrey’s mom grew up with conservative Korean parents who refused to make a big thing about Christmas. According to Mrs. Lee, they never got a tree, they barely bought any presents, and they wrinkled up their noses at the idea of eggnog or Christmas cookies or caroling. So now, Audrey’s parents still make Korean food and keep up their Korean traditions for most of the year, but in December, Mrs. Lee makes up for all the Christmases she didn’t get to celebrate when she was a kid.
The Lees have a massive tree in their front room that looks professionally decorated, and Mrs. Lee and Audrey string lights and garlands everywhere. For their holiday party, they hire caterers, and Mrs. Lee spends a whole week making little wreath and candy-cane cookies decorated so perfectly that it’s impossible to believe she didn’t buy them at a bakery. When we were little, she even helped Audrey transform the dollhouse in her room by decorating every tiny room with miniature wreaths and trees.
Audrey and I used to start planning our holiday party outfits weeks before the party, but this year I didn’t think about what I’d wear until Sierra and I got back from the post office and she asked me what “festive fabulous” means, since that’s what it said on the invitation.
“I don’t think I have anything,” Sierra said, so I let her borrow the sparkly green shirt I wore when I was with Audrey’s family for New Year’s last year. I ended up wearing the same dark red dress I’d worn to last year’s holiday party, with black tights since now it’s a little short.
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