Sia

by Grayson, Josh

  We pull into the parking lot of the rehab center, a large, white building that resembles a Deep South mansion. The place is surrounded by lavish gardens and an intricate security system. It caters to Hollywood stars and other celebrities, so their reputation depends upon keeping their clients’ identities hidden from the media. Dad and I have to show identification before we can pass through a tight security checkpoint. We park in a palm-tree-shadowed spot, then climb the stairs to reception. Dad tells the woman at the desk who we’re there to visit. She tells us to have a seat in the waiting room.

  Dad fidgets with his watch. He’s nervous. So much depends on how well the center is treating Mom and how she’s getting along.

  I grab his hand and squeeze it. “It’s going to be fine,” I say.

  “You’re really a big support, Sia,” he says. “Thank you for being here.”

  “She’ll do well, Dad. She’s a fighter.”

  He chuckles. “Well, she’s stubborn, that’s for sure.”

  Mom walks out from behind a set of swinging doors. She’s dressed like I’ve never seen her before: in a loose black t-shirt and a pair of gray sweats. Her hair is straight and long, the ends curled just slightly at the bottom, and she has no makeup on.

  Dad is on his feet and walking toward her before she’s even gotten all the way through the doors. His arms reach out. “Hey, you.” He looks unsure, but she puts him at ease by curling into his embrace. I watch him close his eyes and smile into her soft blonde hair. “You've never looked better.”

  “Ha!” she says, pulling slightly away. Her eyes smile and shine with clarity. “You smooth talker. I look like I need a day at the spa.”

  He’s gentle. “No, hon. This is all you need.”

  From their expressions, I’m pretty sure they’ve both forgotten they aren’t alone. Dad leans down and kisses her. It’s like watching a romantic movie. All that’s missing is a swell of orchestral music to carry them along.

  “I’m so glad to see you,” she finally says, then blushes, realizing I’m watching. “Sia, sweetheart. I’m so glad you’re here. Now there’s a beautiful girl.”

  “Just like her mom,” Dad assures us both.

  “All right,” she says. “Well, come on into the visitor room and I’ll tell you what’s been going on.” She is happy, it turns out. Mom admits that coming to the center was the best possible thing she could have done. “I really think it’s helping. I mean, it only works if the person is willing to change, and I . . . well, it took me a day or so, I admit. I didn’t want anyone preaching to me or trying to fix me, you know? It’s hard to give in like that. I really wanted to believe—and to have everyone else believe—that I didn’t have a problem.” She takes a deep breath, then grips Dad’s hand. “But I do have a problem,” she says, looking into his eyes, “and you and Sia helped me see that. And with the help of these professionals here, I feel I have a chance at beating this.”

  “Really, Mom?” I ask.

  She gives a small nod. “It’s going to take time, though. I’ll need you both to be patient with me.”

  “Of course,” Dad says. “We’ll do whatever it takes.”

  I nod, too. “Of course we will. We love you, Mom.”

  A tan, middle-aged man joins us in the room. He smiles at Mom, then holds out a hand to me and Dad.

  “I’m Jeff,” he says. “One of Janet’s counselors.”

  “This is Sia and Raymond,” Mom tells him. For the first time, she looks slightly nervous. “Shall we get started then?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  After a very quick hour Jeff stands, and we all rise with him. He has delved deeply, asking questions that made us all think about ourselves, our relationships, and what we want to accomplish in the future. I feel slightly drained after such an intense conversation, and I have a whole new respect for my mother for going through all these kinds of sessions all week. She is determined to confront the dark parts of herself.

  “I think that went exceptionally well,” Jeff says. “Some great healing and renewing. I have a positive feeling about this family. I can tell you are very supportive of each other. I’m confident that in a few days, Janet will be able to return home to live her new, substance-free life.”

  “Not today, huh?” I ask, disappointed.

  Jeff smiles but shakes his head. He picks up the lemonade pitcher and refills our glasses, letting ice cubes clunk into the drinks. “It’s only been a week, Sia. This problem has been going on for quite some time. Your mother can’t beat it overnight.”

  “Of course,” Dad says, watching Mom fondly. “We know that. We just miss her.”

  “We all understand that, don’t we, Janet?” Jeff says.

  Mom nods. She looks a little sad, but I know she’s okay. “It’s not for too much longer, I feel the fogginess disappearing. I’m feeling . . . more like me.”

  “All right, that’s our goal,” Jeff says. “Well, thank you for coming today. Janet did really well this week. She’ll be able to start communicating with you over the phone now. After that, we’ll work out future family counseling sessions. We find they’re very useful even after the client has gone home. I’ll leave you all here to talk amongst yourselves, but keep in mind that Janet will be needed in the general meeting room in ten minutes.”

  Dad extends his hand. “Okay. Thank you, Jeff.”

  Everyone shakes hands.

  After Jeff leaves, Mom lets out a long sigh.

  “You tired, Mom?” I say.

  “No, not really. I’m just relieved that—”

  The lemonade in my hand starts to jingle. The ice cubes rattle against each other all on their own, getting louder. The same is happening in my mom’s glass. I look at Dad, then at his glass as it falls from the table and smashes onto the floor. The entire room jolts and we struggle to stay on our feet.

  I frown. “What the . . . ”

  “Earthquake!” Dad yells.

  “Run!” Mom screams, grabbing my arm.

  Dad stops us. “No! Wait! Everybody down! Get under that table and cover your heads.”

  Mom and I act without question, diving under the large table. We grab onto the legs when Dad tells us to. He manages to squeeze in under a smaller table. Picture frames crash off the walls around us and knick knacks tumble to the floor.

  Mom screams in panic every time something falls. “Oh my God, Raymond!” she yells.

  “It’s okay, girls. Just hang on. It’ll be over soon.”

  But the rocking goes on for what feels like forever. Books dance off shelves. The crystal chandelier swings and chimes wildly over our heads. When everything finally slows, we all look up, not trusting the stillness of the room. The crashing noises and screams from before are immediately replaced by the wailing of hundreds of car and house alarms.

  “Okay,” Dad says. “Get up carefully. But be ready in case it starts again.”

  Fortunately, the earth seems satisfied with what it has done. Everything returns to normal. People bustle around in the hallway outside our room, cleaning up and talking excitedly.

  “You okay?” Dad asks. We nod, and he smiles. “Well, that’s what I call an earth-moving session,” he says wryly.

  “Not funny,” Mom says.

  Jeff blusters in, the dark curls of his hair dusted by white. “Everyone okay?” We assure him we’re fine. He glances around. “Looks like this room is going to need a little attention.”

  “How’s the rest of the place?” Dad asks. “Everybody okay?”

  “It’s fine. Just cosmetic.”

  “That was a big one,” Dad says.

  Jeff nods. “The radio announcement said it was just an aftershock.”

  “Aftershock? From what?” I ask.

  “You know, the major earthquake that hit San Francisco this morning.”

  I stare at him. “We didn’t hear anything about that.”

  “No? It was all over the news this morning. Major damage and loads of people left homeless.”

 
Dad clears his throat. “We didn’t listen to the news, Sia. Remember? We were too busy talking.”

  “Oh. Right. Well, I hope everyone’s okay.”

  “I didn’t hear about fatalities, but I know the hospitals are pretty full. Listen, I hate to be all business here, but I need Janet to join us now. We’re skipping our session today. Everyone’s working together to clean up the mess.”

  “Okay,” Mom says. She turns to us. “Hey. I’m so glad you were here today . . . ” She catches herself and laughs. “I don’t mean because of the earthquake! I’ve just really missed you both. I can’t wait to come home.”

  “Oh, Mom.” I hug her tightly. “You’ll be back soon. Good as new.”

  My parents hold on to each other for a few moments, and I hear Dad whisper, “Stay strong, honey,” into Mom’s ear.

  Her response is a warm kiss before she turns and follows Jeff.

  “Guess we’d better go see how our house fared,” Dad says as we head back to his car. Partway home, he asks me to call Beatriz.

  “The house is fine, mija,” Beatriz assures me. “But you have a guest. Stacy came to see you.”

  Stacy? That’s strange. As far as I know, Stacy, along with every other kid in the school, is avoiding me. “Okay. We’ll be home in about five.”

  I’m hardly in the house before Stacy is buzzing around me. “You okay, Sia? Was the earthquake rough where you were?”

  “It was a little scary, but we’re fine. Nothing like in San Francisco, I guess.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Oh my God, Sia! When I heard you were out there, I got so worried.”

  I hesitate. “Stacy?”

  “Mm?”

  “I don't want to be rude, but why are you here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but . . . ”

  Stacy’s cheeks flush crimson. For a moment, I think she's going to burst into tears. “Oh, Sia. You’ve got to go make up with Amber. You’ve got to.”

  Oh jeez. “What? Why should I do that? I mean, I can see what she’s all about now, and no one—not even you, Stacy—owes her an apology.”

  Stacy’s deep brown eyes are pleading. “I’m so sorry, Sia,” she says quietly. “I really am. We’ve all been rotten to you, especially with you having amnesia and everything. I feel awful.”

  “You should.”

  “I know. But you know how it is around Amber. If you want to survive in that school, you have to do it her way. I mean, it used to be the same with you, right? Amber did whatever you said. Now it’s all changed, and she . . . well, she’d never admit it, of course, but I think she really misses you. I think she feels bad for pushing you out.”

  “Well, she has my phone number,” I say bitterly.

  She shakes her head. “She won’t take the first step. It’s not in her nature. So you have to.”

  I set one hand on my hip. “You know what, Stacy? This whole thing has really opened my eyes, and I don’t care what Amber thinks. I don’t care what any of the old crowd thinks. The truth is, I’m ashamed of who I was. I feel horrible about the way I treated Kyle and his friends and countless other kids.”

  Stacy frowns. “Okay, I kind of get it, but—”

  “I don’t think you do. I’m trying to tell you that I can’t go back. I want to move forward, not backwards.”

  She frowns hard, like she’s trying to interpret a different language. Clearly, she’s on a different plane. “Yeah, okay, but Sia, you have to apologize to Amber. She’ll forgive you, I’m sure. Then she’ll take you back. Everything will go back to the way it was. The three of us, you know? Manis and pedis, shopping—all that fun stuff.” She is close to tears. “It’s just not the same without you.”

  “Stacy,” I say slowly, softening my tone. “That wasn't enough. I was still miserable. Now I'm finally learning to be happy.”

  Stacy slumps, causing her dark curls to bounce. “Oh, Sia,” she sighs, defeated.

  I hesitate. “Stacy, can I ask you something?”

  “What?”

  “Are you happy?”

  For a moment, Stacy just stares at me, boggled, then she snorts. “You’re so funny, Sia. Of course I am.”

  I hold her gaze. “C’mon, Stacy. Really?”

  She crosses her arms and drops her chin. “Okay,” she finally blurts. “Sometimes it’s not so great.”

  “So why stay with her?”

  “Because! You know why, Sia. You’ve just forgotten. It’s all I’ve ever known. Why would I want to lose all that? I like having friends. I like being invited to all the parties. I fit in with Amber and the other cheerleaders. To be honest, I don’t think I’d fit in anywhere else.”

  “Yes, you would, Stacy. You’re a nice girl. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. Trust me. You’d fit in anywhere.”

  All the energy seems to have drained from Stacy. “I don’t know,” she whispers. “I don’t know.”

  I puff out a breath. “I don’t actually think Amber would be so keen on welcoming me back anyway.”

  Stacy glances up quickly. “Of course she would!”

  “Not if she knew what was going on in my house. Amber’s all about the fame and fortune and reputation, right? Well, I hate to burst everyone’s bubble, but my family’s not exactly rolling in cash right now. We’re actually in some serious trouble.”

  Stacy gasps and covers her mouth. “Oh my God. Do you think you’ll have to move to the Valley?”

  “Possibly. Dad’s hoping for a deal soon, but if that doesn’t happen, we just don’t know. But I’m okay with it. Money isn’t everything. My family is what I care about.”

  Stacy’s expression is skeptical. “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  “Hmm.” She considers my words for a few moments. When she speaks again, she sounds apologetic. “Can I come back and see you sometime? Like, even if you’re in the Valley? I really miss you, Sia.”

  She’s not a bad person. She really isn’t. Stacy’s just used to being with Amber and me, being one of the in-crowd girls. I can’t blame her. I simply hope that she sees what I’m doing and maybe learns from it.

  “I’d like that, Stace. I miss you, too.”

  “Can we . . . ” She twists her mouth to one side.

  I raise an eyebrow. “What?”

  “Um, you know, if Amber finds out that I—”

  I smile, nodding. “Of course I’ll keep it a secret, Stacy. She’ll never know you’ve been here.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  All day Sunday, I watch news stories about the earthquake. It seems every channel is covering the story. Images of destruction and loss take over the Internet. With every close-up of the chaos and tragedy, I realize just how lucky my family and I are. The earthquake didn’t cause much damage in Los Angeles, but San Francisco was shaken apart. Countless homes have been destroyed, bridges have collapsed, and power is out in thousands of buildings all over the city. Over thirty people have died, and thousands are homeless. The Red Cross is mentioned continuously; they are in serious need of help and volunteers.

  On Monday morning, the classrooms and hallways are abuzz with chatter about the quake.

  Mr. Barrow dedicates the entire class time to talking about the tragedy. He shows some of the pictures I’ve already seen and discusses the number of people who are now homeless.

  “Kyle has decided to coordinate a fundraiser to help the victims,” Mr. Barrow says halfway through class.

  Everyone turns to look at Kyle, who turns red under the hot glare of his classmates’ scrutiny.

  “Kyle will be in the courtyard every day at lunch, signing up volunteers. I encourage you all to help.”

  There is a bit of whispering, murmuring, and giggling.

  When the talk dies down, Mr. Barrow returns to business. “Now, let’s talk about the actual physical earthquake and what might have caused it. Does anyone have any ideas to contribute?” Mr. Barrow posts scientific photos and diagrams.

  “The San Andreas fault, right?” asks one kid.

  Others pu
t up their hands and soon, a discussion fills the room. But not everyone is paying attention.

  “Figures,” I hear Amber whisper to Stacy. “They pick the lowest person on the social scale for this.”

  “I know, right?” Stacy whispers back. “Who’s going to want to help if that dweeb’s involved?”

  I clear my throat.

  Stacy glances back. When she meets my glare, her expression is guilty.

  Stacy feels she needs to appease Amber. I get that. I really do, but still. Stacy’s fickleness angers me. It’s amazing how she can say one thing when we’re alone, then say the opposite around with Amber. It just affirms that I’ve made the right choice to distance myself from them.

  I glance a few rows over and realize Kyle has probably heard the girls talking about him. He isn’t taking part in the lesson. His jaw is clenched, and he won’t even look at me.

  Then it hits me.

  This fundraiser! It’s that opportunity Carol was talking about. This is a chance to prove myself to the school and to myself. Helping out with the fundraiser could be the first step in my new journey.

  When class finishes, I find Kyle in the hallway and corner him. He looks anywhere but at me. He’s clearly annoyed by my presence, but I don’t care. I know what I have to do. “I think your fundraiser’s a fantastic idea, Kyle. I want to get involved.”

  “I don’t know, Sia,” he says, finally meeting my eyes. “It’s going to be a lot of work.”

  I shrug. “I know.”

  “Won’t that interfere with your busy social life?” His lip curls, almost into a sneer.

  I bristle. “Maybe you missed the newsflash, but I don’t have a social life. No friends, no boyfriend, and I quit cheerleading. So no, I don’t think it’ll ‘interfere.’”

  Kyle still looks doubtful. “I don’t know.”

  “Come on. I’ll work harder than anyone else. If I don’t pull my weight, you can fire me. Deal?”

  He sighs, closing his eyes in defeat. “Fine. I need help, so I guess I’ll take it where I can get it.”

  “Gee, Kyle. Don’t worry about minding your manners around me,” I say with sarcasm. “How many volunteers do you have so far?”