Calli

by Jessica Anderson

  Mal. Mal. Mal.

  After school Liz is waiting for me in her ratty white station wagon. Before climbing in I scan the campus for Dub. Has he read my note yet?

  Liz has long arms and it doesn’t take her much effort to pop the door open for me. “Are you embarrassed to get into the car with me?” she asks.

  “No, just looking to see if I could find someone.”

  “Well, we’ve got some time to kill before the appointment. Want to pick up a few things at the grocery store?” Liz offers.

  When we’re at the store, I select several 3 Musketeers. Liz grabs a couple of Snickers bars for herself. My teeth are sure to hurt later so I also pick up some packs of pudding and containers of yogurt.

  I thank Liz after checking out.

  “That’s what I’m here for. To spoil you rotten. Quite literally.”

  On the drive to the orthodontist office, Liz tears into one of her candy bars and gobbles it up in several bites. I’m tempted to do the same, but I’ll wait until later so there aren’t chunks of chocolate caked in my braces. The orthodontist always rants about oral hygiene.

  “Brandi told me the two of you had fun at the museum. I hope you know that I’m here for you too. You’re one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

  It’s the kind of cheesy comment you could easily hear on one of those after school specials, but I love it. I love her for telling me this. “Thanks, Liz.”

  The office smells like peppermint tea. After checking in, I go to the bathroom, where there’s a jar full of toothbrushes and a tray of travel-sized toothpastes. I grab one of each and get to work making my mouth minty fresh. I’ve always wondered who would come here without cleaning her teeth. Now I know.

  Liz is reading Motor Trend in the waiting room. I pick up a worn copy of Sports Illustrated’s swimsuit issue from a table when I join her. The models look so thin, so unreal, that I put it back on the table. “Any interesting cars?” I ask Liz instead. She points out a funky concept car with doors that open like a pair of bat wings. “Can you imagine Mom driving that?”

  Liz laughs and turns the page to an advertisement for car wheels. “Which rims would you pick out?”

  I point to the ninja wheels right as an assistant calls my name. I take a deep breath and prepare myself for teeth torture.

  I’ve been home only a little while, but my teeth already hurt after the adjustment. I help myself to a cup of pudding.

  “I can’t believe Liz bought you that junk,” Mom says, joining me at the kitchen table. If she knew about all of the candy bars, she’d really go off on us.

  Cherish charges into the room, wild-eyed. “Where the hell is it?”

  All the oxygen whooshes out of my lungs. I push the pudding cup to the side, and before I have a chance to give her my rehearsed response, she starts yelling, “You stole my necklace just like the pen!”

  “You can’t just take anything of mine you want or throw yourself at my boyfriend!”

  Mom stands up and steps between us. “Calm down, girls. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  Cherish pushes her out of the way.

  “Don’t you dare touch her!” Right as I get to my feet, Cherish leans in and pushes me. Hard. I stumble but manage to keep my footing. She’s lost it and so have I. “What’s wrong with you? No wonder nobody wants you around for very long!”

  Cherish flies at me. It’s too late to run. She punches me in the mouth, knocking me down. My head hits something hard. The pain in my head is blinding.

  Someone cries out.

  The room spins.

  Fists pummel.

  Legs kick.

  A dog barks hysterically.

  A voice shouts, “I’m calling 911!”

  WORST DAY EVER: PART II

  Monday, April 28

  “CAN YOU TELL ME YOUR NAME?” an older, uniformed guy asks me.

  I’m sore and numb headed. “Calli.” I stare at the bright blue and orange star-shaped patch on his sleeve while he flashes a bright penlight in my eyes. I blink. Even my eyeballs hurt.

  “Stare at my nose,” Ambulance Guy says. It’s big and has tiny black hairs all over it.

  “What day of the week is it?” he asks while a woman in a similar uniform checks my blood pressure.

  “Monday.” It feels like I’m mumbling for some reason.

  Ambulance Guy leans in to inspect my face. I continue staring at his nose hairs. “Doesn’t look like you’ll need stitches. You’ll want to keep that lip iced.”

  “I’ll get an ice pack.” Mom’s voice sounds weak. I turn and see tears streaming down her face before she walks into the kitchen.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Liz is talking to a police officer. I don’t know where Cherish is. Maybe she ran away after Mom called 911.

  “Do you know where you are?”

  “At my house, sitting on the couch.” I don’t remember how I got here. Ambulance Guy feels my head all over, pressing on a lump. “Ow.”

  Mom returns with a ziplock bag full of ice cubes and hands it to me. The bag of ice stings when I hold it against my lip.

  “Do you know how long you were unconscious?”

  “No.” It’s weird. I barely remember anything after Cherish started hitting me. I keep this from Ambulance Guy. Mom seems too fragile. “I’m okay.”

  “You’re being really brave,” Ambulance Guy says and asks me to spell a word backward.

  As soon as I respond, he peppers me with more questions. “When is your birthday?”

  “February second.” I want to run away too, but my body feels heavy and maybe I’ll get arrested if I try to escape.

  “How old will you be next year?” How many questions does he have?

  “Sixteen.”

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “I, uh, I mouthed off to my foster sister and she got upset, and she, well, started hitting me.” I leave out the specifics. There goes another mark against me.

  “I’m okay, seriously.” I look away from his tiny black nose hairs and stare at Mom again. “Where’s Cherish?”

  “She was arrested. I promise she won’t hurt you anymore.”

  Arrested? I can’t believe this is happening.

  What she did was wrong, really wrong, but what I did was wrong too. I should come clean about stealing her necklace, but I choke up with the police officer here. I don’t want to be taken away for questions like Cherish. I don’t want Mom and Liz getting into any additional trouble.

  “She’s responsive and doesn’t show any major signs of trauma,” Ambulance Guy says to Mom, “but given her age and the nature of her head injuries, I suggest getting her evaluated.”

  “Please, Mom. I just want to stay home. Please.”

  Mom asks if that would be okay, and Ambulance Guy doesn’t exactly say yes, but he seems to imply it. He tells her the symptoms she should watch for before leaving.

  I glance out the window as the ambulance drives away.

  There’s still a police car parked outside. It’s only a matter of time before the rumors spread.

  Cherish went off on Calli.

  She deserved it.

  Mom squeezes my hand. “Everything will be all right.”

  I close my eyes and lean back on the couch and want to believe her.

  “Are you feeling dizzy?” Mom asks. “Excessively sleepy?”

  The truth is yes, but I tell her no.

  Before the police officer leaves, I have to explain what happened again, and I tell the story just like I told Ambulance Guy. The officer has no expression on his face as he writes down what I say. Does he see through me? I feel even sleepier. Dizzier.

  I want this to end. I want another sunny morning with pancakes and syrup-flavored kisses.

  Things haven’t returned to normal. They’ve gotten only worse.

  “Thank you, Miss Donahue,” the officer says, mistaking my last name for Liz’s. I don’t correct him.

  Liz walks him out and kisses my
forehead after. “Thank God you’re okay.” Her hands are shaking, and her right eye is red and puffy.

  “What happened?”

  She brings her hand to her eye. “This is nothing. Just got in the line of fire when I pulled Cherish off of you. There was a lot of struggling, even after the police arrived.”

  God, I hope I’m not the one who hit her. This situation is a mess. An. Absolute. Freaking. Mess.

  I tongue the inside part of my lip and there’s a bloody knot there. When Cherish hit me, my braces must’ve scraped the inside of my mouth. It tastes coppery. “Can I go to my room?”

  “You’re not feeling like you’re going to throw up, are you?” Mom asks.

  After I honestly tell her no, Mom makes me take some Tylenol and says she’ll come check on me. Sassy follows me down the hall and jumps onto my bed.

  My room is torn apart: clothes pulled out of the drawers and the closet, papers everywhere, books knocked off the shelf. There’s a ripped picture of Dub and me scattered on the floor. Boxes under my bed are shredded, including the 3 Musketeers box. The candy wrapper with the necklace isn’t there.

  I scour my room and find it on the ground near my trash can. Cherish had come so very close to finding it.

  As I think about turning the necklace over to Mom and Liz, they erupt into an argument. Their voices are loud but their words are too distorted to understand. I do my best to filter the sound out.

  I push the box back to its resting spot and return a couple of things to their normal places so it’s easier to pretend none of the badness has happened.

  My head pounds. My lip too. When I set my papers and folders back on the desk, I drop an eraser behind it. I look to where it fell and find the eraser plus something pink and rectangular. Unbelievable. I can barely bend down, and it takes all my strength to reach it.

  My iPod.

  Did Cherish toss it there? Has it been here all along?

  My thoughts are broken by Mom screaming something about making a mistake. Liz raises her voice and says something like, “We had no way of knowing!”

  I bury myself in Sassy’s fur while I wait for Mom to check on me. Sassy’s feet smell like corn chips.

  Mom doesn’t come right away. She’s too busy fighting with Liz. I close my eyes and pray. Dear God, please let things get better.

  OKAY BUT NOT

  Tuesday, April 29

  MOM WAKES ME UP by rubbing my back. “How’s my baby girl?” Her voice sounds sweet, and it reminds me of how she used to read stories to me when I was a little girl.

  I open my eyes and groan. The clock glows 2:00 AM.

  “What’s your name and where are you?”

  My mother woke me up for more of these questions? “My brain is fine.” I pull the covers up to my neck.

  “Good,” she says, blowing out a long breath of air. “You doing okay?”

  I’m not.

  I hurt.

  I miss Dub.

  I miss Delia.

  Cherish kicked my ass.

  “Mom? It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Even with minimal light, I can tell Mom’s rash is red. So red. I close my eyes. They’re on fire and I don’t want to cry anymore. It makes everything hurt worse. “Nothing.”

  “We’ll talk later. Get some rest. Call me if you need anything.” Mom kisses me on the cheek and leaves.

  When I open my eyes, it takes me a moment to realize where I am. Is my brain really not okay?

  It’s ten o’clock. I didn’t set the alarm last night. I’ve missed the bus, missed French, and missed an entire morning of humiliation.

  There is no way I can go to school today. Or tomorrow. Or the day after.

  I walk to the bathroom and gasp seeing my face. My lip is huge and reddish-purple-blackish. The knot on the back of my head feels huge. And sore.

  I check my braces to make sure they’re all in place. My teeth hurt, but every rubber band is where it should be.

  When I take off my nightshirt, there are bruises peppered across my back. I look and feel much worse than I did after I fell down at Spar Waterpark. But Dub’s not here this time.

  The room steams up when I start the shower. I step in and the water feels warm. Calming. I could stay in here for a while, but then I hear Mr. Hatley’s voice about conserving natural resources. I turn the knobs off as soon as I clean myself up.

  After toweling dry and getting dressed, I walk out into the living room and see Mom and Liz talking to Michelle, the caseworker. She’s sitting board straight on the edge of the recliner. It’s a stark contrast to how Cherish always sits in it. Seeing Michelle here can’t be a good sign.

  “Oh, great, you’re up,” Liz says in a forced cheerful voice. Her hair is spiky from pulling at it, but her eye looks better. It could be because she’s masked the bruising with eye shadow, liner, and mascara.

  Michelle smiles at me and I smile back, though I wonder if it actually looks like I’m smiling since my lip is puffy. Mom makes me sit down.

  The loveseat dips from my weight. “Sorry for sleeping in.” Sassy comes to see me, and I stroke her back. My hand is so damp that her fur sticks to my fingers.

  “You needed your rest.” Mom excuses herself and walks to the kitchen. She comes back with a glass of milk and a banana for me.

  “Thanks.” My mouth is way too sore to eat the banana even if it’s overripe, but I sip the milk. The coldness slides down my throat. I feel so uncomfortable sitting here that I take another sip of the milk even though I don’t want any more. “Where’s Cherish?”

  Mom looks at the floor, and Liz chews on her lips. Michelle’s voice is flat when she answers. “She’s in custody at the juvenile justice center.”

  Cherish deserves to be in trouble for what she did to me, but even I can recognize this seems excessive. “For how long? When is she coming back?”

  “The upcoming hearing will decide her placement, but regardless, she’ll be relocated so you don’t have to worry about seeing her again,” Michelle says with a look that I’m sure is supposed to be reassuring. It’s anything but reassuring. I’m not going to see Cherish again?

  My words rush out. “Things got way out of hand. I don’t want to press charges or anything. We can make it work between us.”

  “It’s more complicated than that, Calli,” Mom says quietly. “Cherish hit a police officer before she was arrested.”

  That’s not good. Not good at all. “How long will she be. . .” I can’t even bring myself to say “locked up.”

  “A while,” Michelle says.

  I’d been afraid about Cherish erupting, but I never thought it would come to this. Never. She’s in jail now, like her mother.

  I wanted Cherish out of my life, right? For my life to return to normal. But there’s no way life will go back to the way it was. With Cherish or before Cherish.

  Regret overwhelms me, not just shock and resentment. I never should’ve destroyed her work. Stolen her necklace. Mouthed off. I wasn’t the sister Cherish needed. No. Not at all. I haven’t even been the daughter I should be or the friend or the girlfriend. I should confess all of this, but my throat feels dry. So terribly dry that not even another sip of milk will help. It feels like the air has been vacuumed out of my lungs.

  I can’t breathe. I wheeze. Cough.

  Mom rushes over to me. “Breathe, baby girl. Breathe.”

  I suck in a wheezy breath.

  Liz picks up the phone. Is she going to call 911?

  I manage to croak out the words, “I’m okay.” Another lie. The wheezing turns into bawling and then my mouth fills with excess saliva. I race down the hall in case I retch. I hang over the toilet but nothing comes out except more tears.

  Mom and Liz rush after me.

  It’s easier to breathe, and I repeat that I’m okay, really, and that I just need to be alone for a little while.

  Mom reluctantly agrees after asking me more silly health questions. “Call us i
f you need anything,” Liz says.

  I lie down on the vinyl in the bathroom in case the feeling of getting sick returns. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. Maybe more. Maybe less. I overhear Michelle say something about a hearing and that she’ll be in touch. Then the front door clicks open and she leaves.

  Right after, Mom brings me a glass of water and Liz passes me a moistened wad of paper towel to press against my forehead.

  They tell me things like, “I love you.” “You’ll be okay.” “Everything is fine.”

  I don’t deserve any of it.

  CONFESSION

  Wednesday, April 30

  “YOU CAN’T KEEP BLAMING YOURSELF!” Liz practically shouts. It takes me a minute to realize I’m not dreaming this and I’m not the one she’s talking to.

  “What kind of mother am I? If I had only. . .” I can’t hear whether Mom finishes her sentence or not, but the sound of her sobbing carries through the hallway and my open door a moment later. They’re in the room next to mine. Where Cherish lived before merde hit the fan.

  Liz’s voice is softer when she responds but still loud enough for me to overhear. “Thinking like this isn’t going to change a damn thing. It’s not going to make you any healthier either.”

  Following this comment, there is silence. I hope Liz is hugging Mom, comforting her. I want to do the same. To hug Mom tight and tell her she’s a good mother. That it’s okay she isn’t perfect, and that she shouldn’t blame herself.

  I crawl out of bed. I don’t want to do this. I have to.

  The sun is starting to rise. The soft amber glow in my room is enough for me to be able to search under my bed without having to flip the light switch on. I retrieve the necklace and weave it between my fingertips.

  My mouth feels dry and my lungs clench like they did yesterday. I breathe through my nose and exhale slowly before moving.

  Mom looks startled when she sees me. Her eyes are wet. Red. Liz is so disheveled it’s like she’s been electrocuted. Even Sassy appears distraught with her unkempt fur and floppy, wagging tail.