Say You'll Remember Me

by Katie McGarry

  A firestorm? There’s always a firestorm, and I’m confused how this is complicated. “Just say yes. That’s it. Tell me you’ll clear up the misunderstanding.”

  Dad jerks his hand in a motion for someone to enter and then begins speaking on the phone. He then nods his chin as he makes eye contact for me to leave, but I don’t want to leave, not until he gives me the answer I’m searching for.

  My mother appears on my right and puts her hand on my shoulder. She tilts her head toward the door, and this is one of those moments where I follow. Once I’m out, Mom closes the door to Dad’s office with such care that it’s like she’s laying an infant down to bed.

  “Your father is having a rough day, and you need to let him deal with some things. Where have you been?”

  “At the mall.” The lie comes too easily. “I saw the story about me and Andrew on the news. This needs to stop.”

  “Did you buy anything?” she asks.

  “No. I want Dad to tell everyone that Andrew and I aren’t dating.”

  “Did any media follow you to the mall?”

  Oh my God, I could scream. “Mom, I’m not talking about the mall anymore. I’m talking about me and Andrew.”

  She sighs like I’m a bother. “You want your father to announce you’re not dating.”

  Finally. “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “What?”

  “The moment your father opens his mouth and answers any question about you, then that makes your personal life up for discussion, and that is not an option for us.”

  “They’re already discussing my personal life. If they’re going to do it, at least they should get it right.”

  Mom’s eyes sweep over me from head to toe. “Have you met a boy?”

  I blink several times because that question threw me to the ground and because the answer is a blaring yes. As I open my mouth to answer no, nothing comes out except for a squeak. My mother smiles. “You met a boy. Who is it?”

  “I have not met a boy.”

  She purses her lips. “Then what difference does it make what the media says?”

  “It matters to me.” I press a hand to my chest. “What they’re saying are lies about me.”

  “And that’s what the media does. They take pieces of the truth, and they twist things to make a story that will give them higher ratings. Often, they are so hungry for the next big story that if they get a small inkling of the truth, they run with the story before fleshing out all the facts.”

  The air squeezes out of my lungs. “But they’re lying about me.”

  Mom’s blue eyes become sad, and she places a hand on my cheek. “I understand how upsetting this is for you, but if your father speaks out, it will only cause the media to start hunting for more on you. Just be patient. You’re the headline now, but wait long enough, and someone else will be the headline later. That’s how this all works.”

  Frustration causes my throat to swell. “What if there is a boy?”

  Mom tucks my hair behind my shoulder. “Is there a boy?”

  I care for Drix so much that if I look at her she’ll know, so I lower my head and shake it. “But what if there was?”

  “Then he’d have to be patient and understand that being with someone special like you isn’t going to be like dating anyone else.”

  Drix said I have a choice, but I don’t. I’m absolutely and completely stuck.

  Hendrix

  My body rests against the seat, and my temple is cool against the window. The August heat was so intense I doubt there’s water left in my body. Every muscle is already asleep, but my mind is halfway awake. Axle hums along to Fall Out Boy on the radio, I’m guessing to keep himself awake on the ride home. Our job was an hour away, and I nailed in more shingles than I can count in the past ten hours. I’m tired, Axle’s tired, yet I’m semi-awake in the passenger seat.

  Elle. I’m waiting on Elle. She’s been gone a week. First traveling with her Mom to New York for a shopping trip, and then to DC with her dad. She was supposed to return sometime today, but her flights kept getting delayed due to storms on the East Coast.

  My cell’s in my hand as I wait for it to vibrate, for me to know that the past week of being without her is almost over. I’ve got a crazy hum in my brain, beneath my skin, that begs for me to hold her again. One week apart was too long.

  Axle’s car slows and I open my eyes. He’s heading off the freeway and we’re almost home. I check my cell in case I had fallen asleep, but it confirms I didn’t miss anything. Dammit, Elle, where are you?

  “Still nothing?” Axle asks.

  “Nada.”

  “From neither Elle nor on the audition?”

  “Nothing,” I confirm. This week, I auditioned for the youth performing arts high school, and I nailed it. I played both the guitar and the drums, and it’s the only flawless thing I’ve done in my life. Now I wait.

  “So you and Elle,” Axle says like he asked a question, and I circle my neck.

  “Don’t start.” My brother likes her, but he’s concerned with good reason. We’re the definition of doomed. Star-crossed and all that bull. But I’m not ready to give her up, and it appears she feels the same way about me.

  “Not what you think,” he says, “so take a step back. Though since you brought it up, dating the governor’s daughter without his consent is stupid. Dating her with his consent would still be borderline stupid.”

  I scrub both hands over my face. I’m too damned tired for this. “Drop me off. I’ll walk home.”

  “But that’s not why I’m bringing her up.”

  I roll my head against the headrest to look at him. Axle’s focused on the road. One hand on the steering wheel with his fingers tapping out the strands of the chords of the song on the radio. “Are you being safe with her?”

  Damn if that wasn’t direct. “I know how to use a condom.”

  “Considering you don’t have any baby mamas at the door screaming for money, I’ve guessed that, but I saw how you and Elle kissed goodbye last Sunday. I also saw the look on her face when she pulled away, and I saw the same expression on you. This ain’t a hookup, and I don’t want a conversation with you down the road where you explain you forgot to use the condom because you were swept up in a moment. Moment or not, you cover up, you got me?”

  Couldn’t get it any more loud and clear if he screamed it point-blank in my ear. “No babies. I understand.” I pause, playing out the next statement in my head because I’m not the kind of guy to talk girls in a locker room. “How I feel about her—she’s different.”

  Axle switches hands he’s driving with. “I know. Different looks good on you, Drix.”

  “I said, she’s different.”

  He glances at me out of the corner of his eye as he pulls into our driveway. “I heard you.”

  Axle turns off the car, followed by the headlights, and neither of us move to exit. Our front porch light is on, and light also pours from our living room. Shadows moving behind a curtain and there’s a strange tug at my heart because this house is finally becoming a home.

  “Have you ever been in love?” I ask.

  “Once.”

  “What’s it like?”

  He flips the car keys around his finger. “Like you didn’t know a piece of you was missing until they smiled at you, and then you realized what it felt like to be whole.”

  The front door opens, and Holiday waves at us to come in. She’s smiling, and that’s a good indication she listened and spent the day with Dominic, Kellen and Marcus instead of her asshole boyfriend. They offered to take her to the lake, and as she steps onto the stoop, a part of me rests at seeing her bathing suit straps poking out from beyond her T-shirt. Point for the home team. For today, she chose her family.

  We leave the car and head straight for the garage to unload our tools. The tw
o of us talk trash. How I was faster than him pounding in shingles, but he nailed straighter than me. We argue over playlists in case we land a gig. I want anything with a strong beat. He’s insistent we add slow songs for couples to dance. I tell him slow songs are for wusses. He tells me I’m an asshole. I tell him to kiss my ass. We eventually finish up and trudge toward the back door of the house.

  All I want is a shower, hot food, a bed and then for Elle to call. There’d be nothing better than to listen to her sweet voice until I fall asleep.

  “I call dibs on the shower,” Axle says.

  “Try for first and I’ll kick your ass,” I say, and he chuckles behind me.

  Back door open, I step into the kitchen and loud voices ring out, “Surprise!”

  Startled, I go still, then glance around the room. It’s my sister, Dominic, Kellen and Marcus. I narrow my eyes, since I don’t get what the surprise is. “What’s going on?”

  Holiday rocks on her toes. “You got a letter today. From the youth performing arts program.”

  My heart stops in my chest. “Where is it?’

  “I already opened it. You got in and this is your surprise party.”

  I hold my breath because I don’t know if I heard her right. “I did what?”

  “Got in.” My entire body vibrates at the glorious sound of Elle’s voice, and Dominic and Marcus split apart to show her coming in from down the hallway. Each and every time I see her, she takes my breath away, and this time it’s no different.

  Her long hair is loose around her shoulders, and the blue cotton dress she has on makes me think of all the ways I’d love to take it off. Elle extends her hand, and in her fingers is a letter addressed to me.

  “You were supposed to come in the front,” Holiday says. “I had it all planned out. Elle was going to be standing their waiting for you with the letter, and then you two would kiss and be happy, and then we’d all join in and jump up and down with you, but you ruined it. Front door, Axle. What part don’t you get of front door?”

  “When have we used the front door?” Axle claps a hand on my shoulder. “Congrats. You deserve this.”

  I don’t say anything in response as I’m too busy memorizing every part of Elle. The letter. I should read the letter. Confirm the words myself. “I got in?”

  Elle nods. “Yes.”

  The room sways as a wave of emotion slams into me. My mind’s a mess, too many thoughts colliding all at once. Then another wave smashes into me, and it feels a lot like guilt. I hurt people, and now I’m getting this. I hurt people, and I don’t understand why good things are happening to me now. I hurt people physically. I hurt people emotionally, and my eyes immediately go to Holiday. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”

  All of the chatter ceases, and Holiday blinks. “What?”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you when I was in jail, and I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you before. I let you down, and I’m done letting you down. I promise you, I’m going to be here. I’m going to go to this school, and I’m going to make something better out of who I am. And then me and Axle, we’re going to get you to someplace better. Help you be whoever you want to be. I promise you can trust me.”

  Thor runs into the kitchen and through my legs, and I don’t know what to say anymore. I got in. I got into the youth performing arts program. One year ago, I was a selfish bastard, and I pounded my way through life one hit and punch at a time. One year ago, I was a wreck, handing over my life for a stick of a needle or swallow of the bottle. One year ago, I was on a path to death, and now I have a real chance at life.

  Emotion burns me up from the inside out, and I don’t know how to handle it. The therapist said to talk, he said to leave if I couldn’t contain myself, but this feeling isn’t anger. It’s something that resembles a ball of fire. It’s powerful, and it causes my eyes to sting and my hands to shake.

  I look over at Elle, and my voice is unrecognizably hoarse. “I got in.”

  She’s smiling at me, pure softness in that joy. “You got in.”

  I step toward her. One foot, then another, and when I reach her, Elle falls into me. Her arms around my neck, her fingertips sliding along my skin, her warmth surrounds me, and all the chaos in my mind ceases. There’s quiet and peace, and that ball of fire isn’t raging, but instead is burning. Slowly, deeply, in such a way that I’m fine with being consumed.

  “You deserve this,” she whispers. “You deserve to be happy.”

  Is this what this is? Happy? If it is, I want more of it. Never in my life have I had a taste of a drug that’s as potent as this moment. Feeling whole with her in my arms, this triumphant feeling that I can take on the world. No more wasting away. No more letting someone else control my life. I’m the master of my own destiny.

  “I love you, Elle.” I lower my head and I kiss her lips.

  Ellison

  “My brother declared he loved you in front of our entire family.” Holiday’s many bracelets clink together as she moves. “And Drix doesn’t love easily. So him loving you makes us sisters.”

  Holiday and I sit on top of a picnic table that the boys dragged from the back of the yard to the driveway so we could have the celebration pizza and chicken wings outside. The August night is one of those rare ones where the heat feels like a comfortable blanket. The sky is black, the stars are bright, and my parents are still in DC for two more days. Right now, they think I’m safe at home tucked away in bed.

  Thor sits at my feet, his eyes glued to me, tracking my every minute movement, and a bead of salvia falls from his mouth. “I’m not giving you any.”

  “Drix does,” Holiday says. “Drix gives that dog anything he wants. I’m warning you in case you guys grow up, get married and have babies. When the zombie apocalypse happens, he’s saving the dog before he saves any of us.”

  I snort, drop what I’m promising myself is my last chicken wing on the plate and lick my fingers. My mother would be horribly appalled at the number of chicken wings I’ve eaten, but she’s not here, and I’m enjoying doing what I like more and more. “Guess it’s good I plan on being strong enough to protect my children, and, so you know, I’ve always wanted a sister.”

  Holiday’s grin widens, and I’m on cloud nine. Drix told me he loved me, and I could have kissed him until the end of time. But then Axle cleared his throat, a subtle reminder we had company, and I separated faster than a tick to a flea collar. Drix only winked at me. Winked. Not sure what that wink meant, but it felt like a thousand promises of future plans that involve his arms around me.

  Kellen and the boys are working on their version of a Beatles song. They’re gathered near Drix’s drums, and he’s trying out different beats to see what tempo they want to use. Holiday often sings with them or will play the piano, but hangs back when they get into discussions.

  Tempo, as she told me, doesn’t concern her. Pitch is her thing.

  Not being a music person, I have no idea what that means, but it sounded poetic.

  The timer she brought out with her from inside beeps. “Are you ready for dessert?”

  “Sure. What are we having?”

  “Birthday cake.”

  “Really? Whose?”

  There’s a glint to her eye that makes me feel like I should run. “Yours and Drix’s.”

  “We already celebrated that,” I say so slowly that turtles could have run past.

  “We celebrated it the normal people way because Drix threatened to use all the hot water in the shower for a week if we celebrated your birthday our way, but now that he’s in love with you, you’re family, and we’re celebrating correctly.” Holiday slips off the picnic table and goes into the kitchen.

  I nibble on my bottom lip and try to decide how scared I should be. “Drix?”

  All of them turn their heads in my direction, and Drix pokes his head around his cymbal to see me.r />
  “What does it mean to celebrate my birthday like your family?”

  Axle chuckles, and the smile that stretches across Dominic’s face causes an anxious spiraling in my stomach. Drix mutters a curse, stands and leaves his sticks on the piano as he walks to me.

  “Someone catch me up,” Marcus says. “What’s going down?”

  Axle whispers something to Marcus, and he laughs a little too loud. Drix reaches me at the same time Holiday walks out of the house, once again, with two huge cakes in her hands.

  “No way,” he says. “It’s not happening.”

  She merely shrugs one shoulder, like her towering brother with a storm cloud for a face doesn’t faze her. Holiday drops the cakes onto the table, and instead of frosting, she takes cans of whipped cream, and one after another, covers the top of the cakes.

  “I apologize,” Holiday says. “It’s not icing, but it’s the best I got at the moment. These were marked down to fifty cents each.”

  Drix continues to glare at Holiday, arms crossed over his chest, big, bad brother mode. “It’s not happening. Not to Elle.”

  “Well—” Holiday empties out the last can “—I say it is, so that’s how it’s going to be. Besides, this isn’t for her, it’s for you.”

  And with that, my eyes practically fall out of my head when Holiday digs into the cake with her fingers as a claw, looks at me and then smashes the cake into Drix’s face.

  I can’t breathe. All bodily functions cease. Drix wipes away cake and whipped cream from his eyes, and a vein pops out of his forehead. Oh my God, he’s going to kill her.

  Holiday watches her brother, digs for another batch of cake, and my hand snatches out to grab on to her wrist. “What are you doing?”

  “We don’t eat cake here on birthdays. We fight with it.”

  “You fight with it?”

  “Yeah, we—” Holiday doesn’t finish as Drix wraps an arm around her with one hand, grabs a handful of cake with the other, and she squeals as he smashes the cake in her face, then into her hair.