All in Pieces

by Suzanne Young

  “No.”

  He licks his spoon, watching me with a smirk. “Okay.”

  * * *

  Cameron lets me use a little of Kendra’s makeup to cover up the bruises on my cheek. I’d hate for his parents to see them, for them to know the kind of mess I’ve gotten myself into.

  When Kendra and Marcel get home an hour later, Cameron walks over to his mother and says something under his breath. She immediately looks at me.

  “You should definitely spend the night, Savannah,” she says, as if I’m arguing. “With your father out of town, I’d be more comfortable with you here.”

  I want to punch Cameron in the throat, but we’d already agreed to stop fighting through our problems.

  “I can’t stay,” I tell Kendra politely.

  “You can,” Cameron mumbles, and goes to sit on the couch. “You just don’t want to.”

  “That’s not true,” I say.

  “So you’ll stay?” Kendra asks.

  Well, now I’ll look like a huge jerk if I say no, so I press my lips into a smile and say yes. She smiles broadly and asks if we’ve already had dinner. Cameron and I exchange a look, not mentioning our time at Vince’s Pizza, and Cameron tells her he’s starving.

  Kendra ends up ordering us pizza for dinner, and this time I get to eat. I don’t bother calling my father to let him know where I am. I doubt he notices or even cares.

  After dinner Cameron and his dad watch the end of a basketball game together, even though Cameron told me that his father was still pissed at him for vandalizing the school. When my father’s pissed at me, he yells. Or he leaves. He doesn’t ask me to pass the popcorn.

  But whatever alternate sitcom reality I’m in, it feels safe. And I haven’t felt safe in a long time.

  * * *

  “You sure you don’t want to sleep in my room?” Cameron asks, laying blankets across the couch. “I don’t mind staying out here.”

  Cameron’s guest rooms, plural, are being recarpeted. And they’re renovating the basement one to add another bathroom. Another bathroom. They already have four.

  “No,” I say, carrying a pillow from the linen closet. “It’s your house. You get to sleep in the bed.”

  “But—”

  “No.” I turn to him, intending to be angry. But I feel flutters instead. He’s standing closer than I thought, looking all sleepy in his pajamas. Like a normal person would—only hotter. I’m wearing one of Kendra’s yoga suits that is tighter than what I’d typically wear, but so soft it doesn’t matter.

  Cameron checks me out, and for a moment . . . I think he’s going to reach for me. But he doesn’t. He turns toward his bedroom instead.

  “Good night, Sutton,” he says. “Feel free to crawl into my bed later if you get lonely.” He walks down the short hall to his room and closes the door. “Pancakes in the morning,” he calls from inside.

  “Great,” I say back, unable to hide my smile. Alone in the living room, I sit down on the blanket and pull my knees up to wrap my arms around them. I should walk into Cameron’s room right now. I think he wants me to. It would be easy.

  My eyes flick to his door, and my heartbeat quickens.

  “Stupid,” I mumble to myself, and collapse on the couch, covering my face with my arm. I would ruin what we have. And I don’t want to. This is nice. The only nice thing I have right now other than Evan.

  At the thought of my brother, a sense of peace eases my heart, and I close my eyes and let myself drift off to sleep.

  * * *

  “Savannah.” There’s a voice in my ear, a shadow of movement. “Savannah.”

  My eyelids fly open, and Cameron is in my face. I jump and push him away, making him fall back on his ass.

  “Sorry,” he whispers, holding up his hands.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, alarmed. I look around the room and see it’s still dark.

  He stares at me, confused for a second. “You . . .” He pauses. “You were calling for me.”

  His face is swollen with sleep, his hair messed up. “I was?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” he says. “Loudly. Are you okay?”

  “I am. Was I just . . . yelling?”

  He nods. “You were calling for me to help you. You sounded scared. I thought . . . I don’t know. I thought something happened to you.”

  Sweat clings to my skin, the nightmare still close to the surface of my mind. The smell of Patrick’s cologne is still in my nose. My cheek hurts.

  I rub my palm over my face, but I can’t shake him. Can’t shake how he terrorized me. I squeeze my eyes shut, and when I hear Cameron get up suddenly, I see him walk into his room.

  I’m disoriented, still a little frightened. Cameron comes back into the room dragging a blanket and pillow behind him.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  He throws his stuff down on the floor next to me. “Don’t argue, Sutton,” he says. “Just go to sleep.” He gets down on the carpet and curls away from me.

  “But—”

  “Sleeping here,” he announces.

  I close my mouth with a click, staring at his back. I don’t know how to thank him because no one like him has ever been willing to keep up with me this long. I want my life to be better so that I can be with him. If things were different, I’d be his girlfriend. But things aren’t different. So there’s no use pretending.

  * * *

  “How’d you sleep?” Marcel asks me at breakfast. He slides butter on his pancakes, and then reaches to grab his coffee. It’s early. Too early for people to talk.

  “Good,” I say anyway. Cameron’s across from me, eating, occasionally smiling at me. He looks really proud that he got me to stay the night.

  We have to be at school in half an hour, and I’m wearing Kendra’s clothes. An outfit that’s still too tight, but way more stylish than anything I’d normally wear. And that includes The Shirt.

  “Did you want any more juice, honey?” Kendra calls from where she’s standing at the refrigerator. I don’t know if she’s talking to me, but when no one else answers, I clear my throat.

  “Oh, um . . . no thanks. We have to get to school.” I look at Cameron, and he curls his lip in disgust before taking a bite of his bacon.

  “We could skip,” he suggests.

  His dad sets down his mug with a heavy thud. “What’s that?” he asks. He doesn’t sound amused. I wonder if he knows just how much school his son misses.

  Cameron rolls his eyes. “I’m going, Dad. I was kidding.”

  “You’d better be,” Marcel says, so intense that I feel uncomfortable. “Deal’s off if you don’t graduate.”

  Kendra leans against the counter, looking at her husband. She seems upset, obviously thinking about whatever bargain was made between her husband and son.

  Cameron lowers his eyes. “Drop it, Dad.”

  “I will not ‘drop it.’ You want to waste your life? Finish high school first. That’s not too much to ask.”

  Cameron stares down at his dish, a pink flush rising on his cheeks. His father is embarrassing him in front of me, and it sparks a bit of anger in my chest.

  “I’m out of here,” Cameron mumbles, pushing his chair back with a loud screech. He grabs his plate, carries it to the sink, and drops it in. We all jump at the clatter.

  Cameron leaves the room and I hear the front door open and close. I’m not sure what to do. Am I supposed to chase after him? Have more juice?

  “Savannah,” Kendra says, startling me. “Can you make sure he gets to school okay for me?”

  “Yeah,” I say. But before I leave, I look at Marcel. “You shouldn’t have done that when I was here. You embarrassed him.” Marcel seems stunned and lowers his eyes.

  Kendra walks over to take my plate and looks down at me. “Have a great day,” she says. Her voice is kind, and she reaches to sweep some hair away from my face.

  For a moment I want to hug her. Adults don’t usually talk to me like this—act so maternal. I thank her
and walk out to find Cameron.

  Cameron’s in his car as it idles in the driveway. I get in the passenger side, glad that it’s warmed up, at least. I turn to him.

  “So that was a fun family breakfast,” I say. “Why’s your dad so pissed?”

  “Sorry about that,” he says in a low voice.

  “Don’t be sorry. My dad pawned your Xbox, so . . .”

  Cameron looks sideways at me. “Let’s just say my father hasn’t been as forgiving as my mother. You know, the whole hundred thousand.”

  “Right.”

  “It’ll be fine. He had to pay the money, so he deserves to be angry. But if he would have just let me drop out of school, none of it would have happened.”

  “I don’t understand,” I say. “I’ve never wanted to drop out of school, and I stabbed somebody in math class. So why do you want to quit so badly?”

  He smiles. “I want to waste my life.”

  “You can just leave,” I suggest. “Although I’m not really sure why you’d want to.”

  “What. Like run away?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No, not my style.”

  “Fair enough. So what’s the deal your dad’s talking about? What happens if you don’t go to school?”

  “You’re awfully curious today, Sutton.”

  “You must be rubbing off on me. Now what kind of deal?” In truth I’m fascinated. The more I know about Cameron and how unperfect he is, the more perfect he becomes.

  “My dad told me that if I didn’t graduate from Brooks Academy I’d have to pay for the damages myself. I’d have to sell my car, my stuff. Then any money I have in my savings accounts. All of it gone. After that he said he’d let the state go after the rest. They’d garnish my wages. You know, if I ever got a job. But . . . I really like my car. So I agreed.”

  “I really like your car too,” I say. “Would your dad really do that, though?”

  “He would.” Cameron exhales. “He definitely would.”

  “Then you’d better not let him find out how much school you miss.”

  “It’ll be our secret,” he whispers.

  I lean my head back on the seat, watching him. “And it’s not weird?” I ask. “Like, every day, it’s not weird for you guys to be around each other?”

  “Not really. I mean, he’s my dad, right?”

  I nod, but it doesn’t make sense to me. At my house we wear our anger on our sleeves.

  “If you’re bored we could just stay in my driveway and make out,” Cameron says, startling me out of my thoughts. He laughs when I look at him.

  “Not this time,” I say, blushing. “Besides, we’d better get you to school. I like riding around town in your Beamer. Would hate for it to get taken away.”

  “Glad you’re thinking of my well-being.”

  “And you have to be close to your absent days.”

  “One day left,” he says. “Want to cut?”

  “No. I save my days in case Evan needs me.”

  He glances in the rearview mirror and backs out of the driveway. When he shifts into gear, I lean over and kiss his cheek. I can’t help myself. I hated seeing him look so sad and embarrassed in his house.

  When I sit back in my seat, my hands trembling, Cameron’s lips turn up into a grin. “You’d better be careful, Sutton,” he says, watching the road. “Or you’ll end up falling in love with me.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  With Retha and Travis gone, I don’t have transportation to and from school. I’m too scared to walk, afraid Patrick will be waiting for me. I can’t pretend to handle it on my own.

  I don’t ask, but Cameron picks me up and takes me home. I’m glad I don’t have to ask, because I’m not sure I would. I love the easy way we settle into a routine. How he just seems to know what I need. And in return, all I ever give him is a simple kiss on the cheek.

  After school Cameron parks in front of my house and waits with me for Evan’s bus. I’d asked him not to, but he does anyway. He’s very convincing with that stupid smile.

  “It’s Friday night,” Cameron says, not looking at me.

  “Awesome,” I say unenthusiastically.

  “Want to come out with me?”

  “I can’t. I have Evan tonight. Kathy has a thing.” I laugh. “My aunt has more of a life than I do.”

  “What if you and Evan come to my house?” he says. “My mom would like to meet him.”

  “I can’t.” But when I think about it, I know that Evan would be thrilled to see Cameron’s house. It might be nice to let Kendra dote on him for a little bit.

  “Savannah, will you please let Evan come to dinner tonight?” he asks softly. “I’ll bring you both home right after.”

  My chest hurts because I know that Cameron cares about me. I want to care about him, but I don’t understand why he wants to get involved in something like this.

  “Why?” I ask.

  He looks confused. “Why what?”

  “Why do you want us to come over?”

  Cameron pauses, looking up the street. “I just do.”

  And it’s such a simple answer. He doesn’t profess his love or make a joke; this means more. I can feel how much he wants me there. How much he wants Evan there. I feel . . . special. My brother’s bus turns onto our street.

  “There’s Evan,” I say.

  Cameron drops his head. “See you later.”

  “Hey,” I say, slapping his thigh. “We’ll come to your dinner or whatever.”

  He smiles, like he knew that by pouting I’d say yes. “I’ll wait here.”

  I roll my eyes and go to wait for Evan’s bus. My brother will be so excited. Meeting people always makes him happy.

  “Cameron’s here!” Evan yells, bolting for the car. I worry he’s hoping Cameron brought a new game system to replace the one our dad sold, and when I catch up to him, he’s already at Cameron’s window.

  “Really?” Evan says. He turns to me, wide-eyed. “He’s going to take me for a ride in his car!”

  “I know,” I say. “Let’s get you in the back and buckled up.”

  Evan is squealing and squirming, so I sit with him.

  “I feel like a chauffeur,” Cameron says as we drive toward his house.

  “I wish I had one of those glass windows I could put up so I couldn’t hear you,” I say. Evan laughs.

  “Hey,” Cameron says, glancing back at him. “I thought you were on my side.”

  “I’m on Savannah’s side.”

  “Thank you,” I say, and wrap my arm around him.

  When I meet Cameron’s eyes in the mirror, he seems content. And just before I look away, he winks at me.

  * * *

  I’m not sure if Evan will ever want to leave. Kendra’s in high gear, baking brownies and doing art projects with him. I actually watch in amazement. Her patience is really beautiful. She’s better than Kathy.

  “Sutton,” Cameron says. I’m at the kitchen sink, and I turn to look over my shoulder at him.

  “What?”

  “Want to play pool?” he asks.

  “No. It’s getting late. We should go.”

  “How about a swim? My mom will let you borrow a suit.”

  “No. Maybe another time.”

  He smirks. “You actually sounded like you meant it.”

  “Shut up.” I turn around to watch my brother a moment longer.

  Evan is giggling and coloring. He’s so happy, and it makes me wish he could have grown up this way. With a mother, a nice house, even a stupid pool. It’s not fair that all he has is me. Okay, he has Kathy, too. But she’s nothing like Kendra. My aunt cut me out of her life without waiting for an explanation. I had no one else to look after me. What sort of person does that make her? Certainly not a mother. At least, not in my eyes.

  “Hey,” Cameron says softly.

  I sniffle. “What?”

  He walks around to look at me, studying my face and seeing that I’ve started to cry. He doesn’t mention it, but turn
s around and walks to the table.

  “Mom,” Cameron says. “I’m sorry to break up your playdate, but Evan has to go home now.”

  She slaps his hip. “Aw, but we’re having so much fun.” She turns her attention to Evan, brushing his blond hair.

  “Evan,” she says. He looks up at her happily. “It was very nice meeting you.”

  “Nice meeting you, too.” But he doesn’t move.

  “I hope you’ll come back and visit us soon,” she says, not seeing it.

  A wave of sickness washes over me. He’s going to melt down. Right here. Right now.

  “Evan,” I say calmly. “It’s time to go, buddy.”

  He turns to me, his face falling. “I don’t want to go.”

  I dart a quick look at Cameron, but he doesn’t get it either. “Evan,” I say, walking toward him. “We have to go now. It’s time to go home.”

  Evan stares at me, his crystal blue eyes welling up. “But I want to stay.”

  Kendra’s posture changes. I kneel down in front of my brother and put my hands on his shoulders. “We have to go,” I whisper.

  It’s almost immediate—his sobs. His violent, uncontrollable sobs. “No!” he yells.

  I’m humiliated and angry with myself for putting him through this. I shouldn’t have brought him here. I shouldn’t have shown him this life. It isn’t ours.

  “Come on,” I say, standing up.

  He screams, sweeping the crayons off the table. I bend quickly, grabbing them and tossing them back on the table. My anger is bubbling up. Evan has to stop. To leave.

  Kendra and Cameron stay out of it, and I’m glad. Most people don’t. They try to comfort him or tell me how to parent him, but they only make it worse. I take a calming breath, trying to stay in control of the situation. Evan’s cries and shrieks fill the room.

  Marcel walks in from the living room to pause in the doorway, watching wide-eyed.

  “Get up, Evan,” I say, even-toned, and take his arm.

  “Not. Going. To!”

  So I scoop him up as he kicks at me. I pin his arms, and without a word, I carry him all the way outside and wait at Cameron’s car. I hate restraining him like this. I hate other people seeing him like this. Because this isn’t him. This isn’t what he’s about.

  I hug him to me, cradling him to my chest. Wishing he had a mom who could do this for him all the time. I whisper into his hair. “Don’t cry,” I say. “Please don’t cry anymore.”