Over My Head

by Marie Lamba

  I strap Raina in the back seat and climb in the front next to Dalton, sitting on a towel he’s set out for me. “Thanks so much for coming Dalton.”

  “You’re lucky my parents are asleep, Sang. If I get caught out they’ll kill me. If the cops pull me over, I lose my license.”

  “I know, I know.” I clip my seatbelt.

  “Why doesn’t your lifeguard save you?”

  “She loves him,” Raina says. “Did you know that? Tell him. Tell everybody.”

  Dalton sets his jaw and peels out of the driveway.

  I lean my head against the window and stare out at the darkness. A hot tear slides down my cheek. After a few minutes Raina is curled up in the back asleep, her purse tucked under her head.

  I wipe my face and whisper, “What time is it?”

  Dalton looks at his cell. “Almost twelve-thirty. So where exactly is lover boy? Did he push you in?”

  “Please don’t, Dalton.”

  He glances at me and we drive in silence. He pulls up to the curb in the front of my house. “Need help with her?” Dalton asks.

  “I’ll survive. But Dalton, I don’t know what to say.” I feel tears well. “I’m so sorry. About this. About everything.”

  “It’s okay, Sang.” He gives me a gentle smile.

  I nod and wipe my cheeks.

  After I rouse Raina, she stumbles out of the back seat. Dalton pulls away and Raina says, “I’m going to be sick.”

  “No you’re not. I’ve had enough to deal with for one night. Got that?”

  We’re almost at the front door when she says, “No, no. Wait.” I brace myself, but all she does is pull a breath mint from her purse and put it in her mouth.

  That’s when I notice a crumpled piece of paper at my feet. I pick it up and tilt it toward the streetlight. It’s a sign scribbled by Doodles that says: YARD SALE TO SAVE MY UNCLE. Frownie faces dotted with tears surround this.

  Raina takes a few deep breaths and stands taller, looking almost sober. She lets go of me and barely stumbles as she goes to the door and pulls it open.

  We go into the living room and are about to climb the stairs, when I get an eerie feeling and turn. There, sitting silently in the chair by the fireplace, is my dad. He watches us but never says a word.

  Raina passes out in her bed, still wearing her dress. I peel off my wet things and change into a cami and shorts. The dress is probably ruined, just like everything else. I hang it over the shower-curtain rod in the bathroom, then I lie on my bed very still. After a while I hear Dad come up to his room and close his door. He’ll probably never talk to me again.

  I’ll never talk to Cameron again. And I’ll never again tell someone I love him.

  But I’m still here. As bad as things are, as much as my insides feel seared with painful sorrow, part of me is glad of this at least.

  I touch my necklace.

  In the dark I can just make out Jake Gyllenhaal. For me, the ideal guy exists only in a movie photo. I should be crying now, hard. But what point is there to tears? They don’t get rid of the sorrow. They don’t make someone love me. They don’t heal Taoji.

  I pull Doodles’s crinkled flyer from my night table and smooth it out. Why did I have to tell her she was useless? That she could never help Taoji? Even if it is true. Especially if it is true. I’m her big sister. I’m supposed to protect her.

  I look at the tearful frownie faces on the page. And suddenly, for the first time in a long time, I’ve got plans. Real plans.

  Chapter 33

  If I had a cell phone, I would have set it for a 6:45 a.m. alarm, on vibrate, and kept it in my pocket. Then I could definitely sneak out without waking my dad. I’m not sure how he’s going to react to what I’m planning.

  Since last week when Raina and I came back from the party and that horrible fiasco at Trish’s, he hasn’t talked to me. In his eyes, I’ve disappeared.

  My clock reads 6:32. I turn off its alarm before it sounds and I lie in bed listening to the birds sing.

  I stretch and think over the last week. It’s been full of awkward silences. Not just between me and my dad.

  Cameron called a few times from college but I refused to come to the phone. My feelings are too raw and I can’t stop aching inside. Anyway, what else can I possibly say to him? Haven’t I already said too much?

  Now Taoji has a direct phone line to his hospital room. Dad jotted the number on the notepad by the kitchen phone and calls him every other day. Since his illness isn’t a big secret anymore, Dad passes the phone around to everyone. Even Doodles gets on the line and blabbers about how much better she is than everyone else in her swim class. Hari asks Taoji how he’s doing. Raina tells him how much she cares. I stand by, listening. But all I can think of is his transplant. How we are all waiting for Taoji’s body to accept it by producing white blood cells. But how each day the blood counts come back zero. No white blood cells. There’s still time for it to work. But what if, after everything he’s been through, it doesn’t?

  So when everybody else has spoken to Taoji, and the phone is handed to me, I refuse to take it. I mumble about how busy I am and leave.

  I know how it looks.

  I pull open my shades and see the sun rising in the sky. Good. Bad weather would have been a disaster. Quickly I get dressed and shake Raina until she opens her eyes. I open my drawer, pull out the rest of my pet-sitting money, and scoot around the edge of Raina’s bed. Tomorrow she’s going home. Already Raina’s clothes have been picked up off the floor and plucked from the doorknobs of my closet. They have been folded and neatly placed in her suitcase. Soon her cot will be folded up and put away. Sure, my shins will be happier. But I’ll miss her mess. And her.

  I tiptoe past my parents’ bedroom door. I don’t know why. They’ll figure it out soon enough. Actually, it’s a miracle they don’t know by now. But Mom has been busy working by day and vegging out by the TV at night. And Dad has been cramming for a test most of this week, spending lots of time at the library, and avoiding me.

  I go into Doodles’s room and poke her. “Come on, goofball. It’s show time.”

  “Hmm?” She sits up and stretches, just as I hear the squeak of car brakes outside.

  I peer out the window. “Holy crap,” I say. “Somebody’s already here.”

  “Awesome!” she says, suddenly wide awake.

  “Shh. Go get Hari. And don’t forget the moneybox. Here.” I shove my cash in her hands. “Stick this in it.”

  She gives me a huge grin.

  I rush downstairs and outside, just as a lady is opening the back door to her SUV. “Where do you want this?” She pulls a large box from the seat. Next to this are several bags of clothes.

  “Anywhere along the drive, I guess.” I pull out a bag and set it down next to the box. “Thanks for bringing this stuff.”

  “Don’t mention it. It’s a great cause. I hope it helps.”

  “Thank you, Mrs.…”

  “Borghi. I live a block away. I got your flyer.” She pulls the flyer Doodles, Raina and I designed and handed out. We gave out at least a hundred. It explains that the drop off of donations is between 7 a.m. and 9 a.m. and that the sale starts at 8 a.m. I’m not sure how much of a response I’ll get. Even though I did run an ad in this morning’s paper, too.

  Two more cars and a minivan appear. Hmm. Maybe we’ll at least do better than Doodles’s sad yard sale.

  The drivers pop open their trunks and wave. Dalton gets out of his minivan and calls me over. “Hey, Sang. I’ve got three tables for you to use. Also two bikes to sell and a bunch of skateboards. Help me get them out.”

  We set up tables as three more drivers pull up. Two are driving vans, and out of these come an incredible stash. A TV, a computer, office chairs, weights, books and several boxes of DVDs.

  Doodles springs out the front door. “Whoa! Awesome.”

  “Get Raina and Hari out here, now,” I say. Dalton and I start emptying dropped off bags onto tables. Mrs. Borghi starts looki
ng at stuff other people brought.

  A few more cars pull up.

  “You know, Sang,” Dalton says, “I think this yard sale thing is going to be huge.”

  “We’ll see. Thanks for helping.”

  “Yeah, right. I’m a real lifesaver.”

  “No. Seriously, Dalton. It means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me.”

  “Hey, no big deal,” he says. He turns toward the box of books, but not before I catch sight of his smile. This makes me smile.

  “Hey,” somebody shouts, “how much for this surfboard?”

  “Surfboard?” I rush over to a newly donated pile of stuff. “Um…”

  “Forty-five,” Hari says, looking ruffled and unshaven.

  “Would you take thirty?”

  I’m about to say yes, when Hari says, “It’s for a good cause.”

  The man nods and pulls some bills from his wallet.

  “Pay over here!” Doodles yells. She’s set up her rickety card table and has a firm grip on the moneybox.

  Hari pulls car keys from his pocket. “Watch out, I’m moving our cars onto the street to make room.”

  Raina steps out the front door and looks amazed at the activity. “Sang, it’s only like seven fifteen. People are buying already?”

  I look at the line forming by Doodles. “I think she may need some help with the cash.”

  “I’m on it.”

  “Where should I put these?” Dalton says, holding a set of leather suitcases.

  I turn around. Piles of donations crowd both sides of the drive. “On the grass, I guess.”

  The road in front of our house is packed with parked cars. I hurry to set items on the tables but the tables are quickly filled.

  “Wow, Sang, how many flyers did you put out?” Megan says. She’s holding the waffle maker. “Here. You can sell this too. Where should I put it?”

  “I don’t know. Anywhere.” My dad is going to lose his mind when he sees all this.

  “Don’t worry. I’m here all day to help and David is coming soon.”

  “We’re here,” Anna says. She’s with Jackie and Monique. “My Mom and Dad are putting their folding tables up on the grass. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah. Very.”

  “Tell us what you need,” Jackie says.

  “Unload,” I say. “Arrange. Fast.”

  There’s some yipping as Poopsie comes bounding over with Mrs. Schnapps. Even at this early hour, Mrs. Schnapps is wearing a smart robin’s egg blue dress with matching hat and pumps. “So sorry to hear about your uncle, darling.”

  “Thank you,” I say. I give Poopsie a good rub. “How you doing, girl? Huh?” She wags her tail fast.

  “What he’s going through must be dreadful,” Mrs. Schnapps says. “I’ve been telling just everyone I know. And I have a few things to bring over. Some treasures from my past travels. If that handsome strong boy of yours is around, could he just come over and get them?”

  “Dalton?” I call. “Could you help?”

  “Having a transplant,” Mrs. Schnapps says. “What a brave man your uncle is.”

  This reminds me. “Excuse me for a moment.”

  In the basement, I grab the box that was shipped to me a few days ago. I carry it on my hip up to the family room and find myself face to face with Dad. He’s still in his white cotton night suit and his hair is sticking up.

  “What is going on?”

  I think about just walking by him. Or pointing out that these are the first words he’s said to me in nearly a week. I drum my fingers on the box.

  “What is all that junk doing on my yard?” he says. “And who are all these people?”

  “It’s not junk. And those are people who care.” I walk past him, out the door, and stop. Amazed. Even more people. People everywhere. All over the driveway. All over the lawn. It’s like the mall just before Christmas. In between the people is an unbelievable amount of stuff. My friends move fast unpacking boxes. Setting up bikes. Displaying clothes. The road is clogged with cars. Many are dropping off stuff. Many more are just stopping by to shop. The road is so full, cars are slowly circling the block looking for a place to park.

  I bring the box over to the money table, where Doodles and Raina are working hard collecting money and making change.

  “Sang, we need labels,” Raina says, handing a woman some bills. “I’m not sure how much to price things. I know what they should be in rupees, but in dollars I’m rubbish.”

  “Labels. Right.” I rip open the box and take out flyers, bumper stickers, and buttons. “Give these out to everyone.”

  “I’m taking one,” Doodles says and pins a “Donors Give the Gift of Life” button onto her wrinkled T-shirt.

  “Sang? Where should I put glassware?” Jackie says.

  “On that table by the mailbox.”

  “Hey, Sang,” Monique calls. “Somebody just pulled up with about fifty pairs of women’s shoes, still in their boxes. How much should they be?”

  “Uh, five each?” I race inside to get labels and pens.

  “Sangeet,” Mom says. “What in the world?” She’s already dressed in shorts and a tank top, and is slipping on a pair of sandals.

  “Labels, Mom. Fast.”

  “In there.” She points to the closet by the washer.

  “Right.” I pull them out. Thrust a stack into her hand. “Help. Please.”

  We step outside together. I didn’t think it was possible. There are even more people. More cars. More stuff. Against our tree leans a mattress and box spring. Beside this there’s at least fifteen bikes. Ski equipment. Ice skates. Jackie has taken charge of grouping items. On the right side of the lawn are baby goods, including strollers, monitors, and toys. Two tables feature electronics, such as stereo systems, DVD players, toasters, and blenders. There’s a huge collection of books. And no sooner does a man set out his complete set of Star Trek novels, than David appears, offering to purchase them all.

  Mom puts her hand to her throat. “Sang, please explain.”

  “Mom,” I say and slap her on the back. “Welcome to our donation yard sale. We sent out flyers, and—”

  “No!” Color drains from her face. “You didn’t tell everybody we’re poor.”

  I laugh. “No, but we did tell them about Taoji.”

  “Oh, Sang. You know how private your dad is about all this. How superstitious. And what will the neighbors make of this racket?”

  “Look around, Mom. These are the neighbors.”

  Sure enough, Mom spots Mrs. Schnapps, the Sterns, the Waltons and the Wolfgangs.

  She and I frantically start pricing. Hari and Dalton and David help carry heavy purchases to people’s cars. I stick an “All Computer Games $1 each” label on a box, when Raina comes up to me.

  “This is so incredible. The sale hasn’t even officially started and already we’ve made nearly a thousand dollars.”

  “No way.”

  “Can you help with the cash? I need to use the bathroom.”

  Doodles is in heaven handling wads of one-dollar bills, counting out coins. I sit in the chair next to her and start taking money from customers.

  “I want to do all that,” Doodles says. “Raina let me.”

  “Here,” I say and push the box of flyers and stickers and buttons to her. “Your job can be to hand these out. When you think about it, it’s the most important job here.”

  “How do you figure?”

  The lady next in line says, “Because someone might hear about your uncle and other people like him, and decide to become a donor. And then they can save a life.”

  “Cool,” Doodles says. “Hear that, Sang? I’m saving lives.” Doodles tries to hand the lady a button.

  “No thanks. I have one at home. Here.” She hands Doodles a bill.

  “Wow, a fifty,” Doodles says waving it like a flag.

  “Put it in the box,” I say. I notice the lady doesn’t have anything in her hands. “What are you paying for? One of the large items?”


  “Nothing. It’s just a donation. I think what you are doing here is fantastic.”

  “No way,” Doodles says.

  “I’ll share a little secret with you,” she says. “Three years ago I had a bone marrow transplant. Keep up the good work. And best of luck to your uncle.”

  “Thank you,” I say and wave as she leaves. She looks like she’s around my mom’s age. She looks healthy.

  “Daddy, did you see that lady?” Doodles asks.

  My dad stands next to the line of customers, his hair damp from a shower.

  “She gave us a fifty and didn’t even buy anything,” Doodles says. “Want a button?”

  He looks at the button, juts his jaw out, and cuts through the line. I watch him weave through people and go to his car. I do a few more transactions and look back. His car is gone and another car is taking his spot. I look at my hands and sigh. I guess deep down I was hoping Dad might be okay with this. But he’ll never change. Never see me as anything but a disobedient and disappointing little girl.

  “I’m back,” Raina says and leans over to whisper in my ear. “Cameron just called.”

  “This early? Why?”

  Raina squats near me. “He came home this weekend hoping to talk with you, and he just heard about the sale. Wanted to know what he could do to help.”

  I cross my arms.

  “Maybe you should call him,” Raina says. “He sounded really sorry. I don’t think he wanted to hurt you.”

  “Thank you,” I say to the next customer.

  “Honestly, I think he does care for you, Sang,” Raina says.

  “Here,” I say, standing. “You can have your spot back.”

  I spend the next half hour or so arranging stuff on tables, stacking books, and answering questions. I thank people for stopping by, and try not to think about Cameron. I’m folding a baby dress and looking out at all my friends working so hard, and all the neighbors and strangers who so want to help. Everybody is saying such nice and caring words.

  Suddenly there is my dad, and I can’t believe what I’m seeing. He’s actually handing out donuts and bottles of juice to Hari, Dalton, Megan, Doodles, Raina, and all my friends who have been helping.

  I hug the tiny dress to me as Dad walks over. “Want one?”