Dying to Go Viral

by Sylvia McNicoll

  When it cleared I was back at the hospital with Scratch and his mother.

  The orthopedic surgeon and x-rays confirmed his wrist was broken just as badly as the first time and that the surgery would be performed at 8:00. I knew I needed to leave before then or Dad would have a major freak-out, wondering where I was. I hugged Scratch goodbye and headed back out for the bus stop, rollerblades tucked under my arm. It had been an awful day, knowing pretty much that Scratch would hurt himself grinding and yet watching him try the stunt anyway. Was that what it was like to be his mother?

  That’s what it’s like for every parent.

  I heard my mother’s voice, a gentle whisper on a breeze. It comforted me.

  Warmth, contentment, I wanted to fall into my mother’s arms, to feel her hug me. For a moment I almost felt ready to go back to her. But then my anxiety returned. I couldn’t go back to that garden just yet. I needed to get home to Dad to start making up for my stupid choice at the end of the week.

  I caught the first bus and felt the stares of the passengers as I sat there in dirty grey sock feet.

  Luckily the bus stopped right in front of my house. Home, I sighed, feeling some of the heaviness inside me lift. Dad’s black jeep stood in the driveway already, the sign Dad was home and not working late. Brilliant Graphics was emblazoned above the spare tire. And my dad was brilliant at everything to do with typeface, colour and design. Just not getting over deaths in the family. I took a breath.

  “I’m here!” I called, pitching my rollerblades in the closet at the front. Quickly, I peeled my socks off and as I padded through the hall, Oreo pounced on my toes. “Ow, ow. Stop!” I laughed. His claws hurt but I loved it. My cat, life. I felt giddy.

  “Just in time. What do you want for supper?” Dad called from the kitchen.

  I found him leaning on a counter, frowning at a message displayed on his smartphone. He ran his fingers through his short, dark hair, making it stick up.

  Since she did watch us, I wondered what Mom thought of our new kitchen. It had been redone last year, cupboards in black, appliances in stainless steel, the counter speckled in grey granite. Dad’s car, his furniture, his desk: things had become darker with every year since Mom’s death.

  It’s very modern but a little sombre.

  I smiled to hear her thoughts, so like my own.

  My brother came out of his bedroom. “Did someone say supper?”

  “Can we have pizza…” I asked, then grinned at Dad, “with anchovies?” I opened the cupboard under the sink

  and threw my sock into the little garbage can. Oreo slid in and around my legs, back to his fifteen-year-old arthritic self again.

  “Why anchovies?” my brother asked, leaning on the counter beside Dad. “Those for Oreo?”

  “’Cause I’ve never had any before and it’s the last time I can try them before I turn fourteen.”

  “Oh come on. Fourteen’s not a big deal,” he moaned. “I’m seventeen and I demand pepperoni.”

  Dad thumbed in a telephone number. “Yes, Mama’s Pizza? Can I have an extra-large, double-cheese and pepperoni, and…” he rolled his eyes at me, “a medium with anchovies.” He gave the pizza person our address and phone number and hung up. “Everybody happy?”

  “Thanks, Dad,” I said. “Just one question. What are anchovies?”

  Chapter 4

  THE BUCKET LIST

  What could I change about Dad and Devon without telling them about my impending death? As we waited for our supper to arrive, I ducked into Dad’s home office next to the kitchen and pulled a sheet of paper from the recycling. On the flip side was a failed attempt at a Sound of Music program. Was it too red, did the header not pop out enough? Dad had to be picky in his job.

  I sat at his desk and doodled on the blank side of the schedule, frowning. The trouble was everything seemed to be about Dad’s job and business, and with every year the colour seemed to drain out of his life. I drew a flower using the black pen that had been lying there. Dad needed blues and greens and yellows and reds. He needed fun. He needed…a girlfriend.

  He certainly does. I heard Mom chuckle. I don’t know how you can achieve that in a week.

  “Neither do I.” Still I wrote it down: Get Dad a girlfriend.

  And what about Devon?

  Oreo jumped up and sat on the keyboard causing an instant line of X’s to appear. “Get off!” I pushed him over and he decided to box with me.

  “If you only had a week to live, would you be attacking my hand?” I asked him softly. He stared back at me, teardrop pupils large in his yellow irises. Oreo was a tuxedo cat, black everywhere except his belly, paws and chin. A formal look, kind of like he was wearing a tuxedo, hence the name. And he was at least fifteen years old which meant he probably didn’t have that much time left himself. He swiped at my fingers with his paw again. That was the neat thing about animals: they always did exactly what they wanted.

  So why couldn’t people? Take Devon. He hated school and for sure never wanted to go to university, but that was the only thing Dad ever talked to him about. Dad had argued and insisted on it, filling out the application forms with him, both of them yelling at each other as he forced Devon to apply to five universities across the country. The one university that accepted him, though, was a small campus on the west coast, at least a six-hour plane ride away. That would make things tough on both of them once I was gone. And I was pretty sure that Devon wasn’t super-eager to leave his friends behind.

  Get Devon to stay home, I wrote. That would be good, Dad would have company. I added, Make Dad back off about school.

  Then Devon could be happy. But in my mind I saw them sitting together in that funeral home, blaming themselves, already so far apart. We used to go on family trips when Mom was alive. Dad could work on the weekend to make up for it but he would take Wednesday off and we would go to the beach or the Science Centre, when the crowds were smaller.

  We used to be a family.

  Do something together.

  The problem was that, Oreo excepted, I couldn’t tell anyone. I wished I could somehow convince Dad to take time off work, use his credit card, and take us all on a trip to Paris or Hollywood or Disneyland for that matter. But that wasn’t going to happen. These were all places I would never see now.

  “The point is—what can I get us to do together?” I asked Oreo, scratching under his chin. Instantly, I felt the vibrations of his cat engine, purring, such a nice sensation. “I’m sorry I asked for a dog instead of you. You’ve always been a great friend.”

  He licked at my hand, a moist Velcro lick. That felt good too. I would never get enough of life. On my list were four things now.

  Get them talking together. I jotted that down. That made five. They needed to stop yelling, too.

  I frowned at my list. There were so many more things I wanted to do with my life. What else could I squeeze in my week? Maybe just small stuff, like watching another sunrise or sunset. Eating fettucine alfredo. Going to the beach. Making fudge.

  But I had always hoped to achieve something great. I wanted to be one of those Doctors without Borders and maybe go to Africa to help children and then (since I was there), to ride a jeep through the herds of wild animals in the Serengeti. There wasn’t enough time to earn my medical degree now. Probably not even enough time to process a passport. I’d have to settle for something smaller.

  Number six: Perform a random act of kindness.

  I sighed and stared at the first item on my list.

  Get Dad a girlfriend. What did I know about things like that? I’d never even gone out with a boy. Oh sure, Hailey and I had always had mad crushes on different guys—like Aiden, right now. But I’d certainly never acted on a crush.

  I added to the list: Get kissed by Aiden.

  Was that so bad? If I had to die for him and if that could not be changed, couldn’t I at least make an attempt to get his attention before that accident?

  The doorbell rang.

  “Pizza
’s here!” Dad called.

  Seven things on my list now. After today, only six and a half days to achieve them.

  Dad opened the door to the office. “Did you hear me? Supper time?”

  “Uh, sure, Dad.” I stuck the list in my back pocket and followed him into the kitchen where two pizza boxes sat on the counter.

  Devon dashed ahead of me. Last time he had balanced four slices along his arm and then disappeared back into his room with them.

  I slapped his box shut and snatched it out from under him. “Why don’t we eat together for a change?” I said, carrying it over to the table.

  With a pizza slice hanging from his mouth, Devon rolled his eyes. He followed me and, still standing, grabbed another piece.

  “Really, why don’t you sit down and be comfortable,” I suggested. “You’re leaving for school on Tuesday.”

  “Gotta lotta things I have to do.”

  “Jade is right. Sit,” Dad commanded.

  Devon’s eyes narrowed as he dropped to a chair. He kept eating.

  “Slow down.” Dad slapped his arm on the table. “Stop inhaling the food.”

  I grabbed some plates from the cupboard and slid one under Devon’s hand. Dad peeled the pizza from Devon’s arm and put it on the plate. I brought glasses of water to the table and placed one next to each plate. Dad flung some napkins from a bag at each of us.

  When I finally sat down, I realized there were dark worm-like shapes on my piece. I used my fork and knife to score a bite. Uh! I coughed. The worms tasted salty and gritty.

  “What I can’t understand is why you ordered anchovies when you hate fish,” Devon said.

  I felt my face get hot, I started to gag.

  “What? You mean you didn’t hear me?” Dad started to laugh. “I told you what anchovies were!”

  I nodded, covered my mouth with my hand quickly and swallowed the impulse to throw up. So much for my first new experience. I hated everything to do with fish which included catching them. That was one thing I didn’t miss from our early family days. We would head off way too early in the morning, watch Mom or Dad jab a hook into a wriggling worm, and sit for hours waiting for something to happen. Then when I did feel the tug on the rod, I hated pulling the fish from the water, watching its desperate flapping in the boat. Seeing those black eyes already looking dead. The nauseating waves, the smell of seaweed, the oily fish taste—

  “Yum,” I said about the anchovies now, “these are different. Want to trade a piece?” The red disks of pepperoni beckoned from Devon’s box.

  “Do I look like I’m crazy?”

  “Same as always.”

  “Mmm. Mmm! This is the best pizza ever.” He licked his fingers loudly.

  I peeled a little fish off and flung it at him.

  He threw some crust back.

  Dad held out his hands. “Stop, now!” One more anchovy flew across, and Devon ducked. Smack, the anchovy stuck to Dad’s forehead. He closed his eyes.

  It could have gone either way. Dad could have chosen to be annoyed. If he had grounded me even for a day, it would be a huge chunk of the rest of my life. Instead, I saw his shoulders shake, his eyes pop open, his mouth widen into a grin and then heard his laughter bubble up from his belly.

  “Sorry, Dad.” I giggled, too, as he wiped the anchovy from his face.

  “Uh huh. Here, Oreo.” Dad dangled the fish in the air for a second while Oreo circled and acted coy. Then gingerly a white paw reached up and scooped it.

  Dad put a pepperoni slice on my plate and took an anchovy piece for himself. Most of the fish went to Oreo. It was a pleasant evening. I couldn’t remember it being as much fun the last time. I couldn’t remember it at all. I closed my eyes, trying to freeze frame this moment in my mind forever.

  Chapter 5

  OVER MY DEAD BODY

  “Anyone for a cup of hot chocolate on the deck?” I asked, after we cleared up the pizza plates. “I want to watch the sunset.”

  “It’s hot out. I’ll have a beer instead,” Dad said.

  “Me, too,” Devon said.

  Dad chuckled. “You wish.”

  Devon headed to the fridge. “Dad, I’m going away to university in a week.”

  Dad closed his eyes for a second. “Fine. Just one.”

  Devon brought two green bottles of Dad’s favourite imported beer from the fridge. Dad and Mom had enjoyed it in St. Martin on their honeymoon, he had once told me. I mixed up some chocolate milk and warmed it in the microwave. I wished we had marshmallows but settled for sprinkling cinnamon on top. Sipping from the cup as I sat in my deck chair facing the escarpment, I watched the sky turn gold. An orchestra of crickets chirped a sunset concert.

  “This is nice,” Dad said. “Don’t know when we’ll be together like this again.”

  Devon sucked back deeply from his bottle. “Every night if you like.” He raised his beer in a toast.

  The sun slipped down behind a hill and the sky blushed pink. Gold and charcoal streaked across the blush. The cinnamon on my tongue tasted spicy but also a little bitter. “Yeah, if Devon weren’t going away for school, you two could have lots more quality man-time together.”

  “Uh huh.” Dad used a skeptical tone. “Too late for that. Only one school in the whole country desperate enough to take him.”

  “Only one university, you mean.” Devon guzzled the rest of his beer down and plunked the empty down on the patio table. “Well, that’s it for me.”

  “Don’t go so fast.” I grabbed Devon’s arm. “Dad, you know lots of kids work a year or two and then go to school as mature students. Grades aren’t so important then,” I told him.

  “There aren’t many jobs around for unskilled labour,” Dad grumbled.

  “Really, Jade. Don’t bother,” Devon shook my hand off. “Aiden’s picking me up in ten minutes.”

  That hadn’t gone well. Should I work on goal seven instead? I could rush out and fling myself at the boy I had lost my life for.

  Only if I wanted to die early at the hands of my own brother instead.

  “Don’t come in late,” said Dad. “I’m making waffles in honour of Jade’s birthday. Early.”

  “I’m getting up to watch the sunrise,” I told Devon.

  “Oh man, you’re really carrying this turning fourteen thing too far. See you.” Devon left the bottle on the table for someone else to clear away.

  I bit my tongue—no need to give Dad another reason to snarl at him.

  As Devon slid back the patio door, Oreo slipped out and leapt for my lap. The door closed behind him.

  “Dad, do you think you could lighten up on Devon?” I said, stroking Oreo’s head. Rrrurrrr. He purred instantly.

  Dad rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You’re right. Nothing I tell him in this last week will toughen him up enough for the real world, anyway.”

  “We’ve had more ‘real world’ than lots of kids.” I told him gently.

  “I’m sorry. I suppose that’s true.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “But only in some ways, Jade.”

  We both stopped talking then and stared at the darkening sky. After a moment of silence, I perked up and said, “I’ve never seen a shooting star before.”

  “Never? Well it’s August—a good time for it. Let’s switch off the lights in the house. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” Dad went inside for a second and the balcony light flicked off. That was better.

  As the few clouds on the horizon blended into the darkness, a sliver of a moon appeared. I stared hard at the pinpricks of light scattered over the sky, looking for one to move let alone shoot. Every time I blinked, I thought I saw a twinkle. Something flashed on and off, red and green, as it moved across the sky. “What about that one Dad?”

  “It’s a plane,” he answered.

  I watched it fly across the sky anyway. “Why don’t you ever go out, Dad? On a date, I mean.”

  He turned to look at me. “What? Where did that come from?”

  “It would be nice to have a woman
in our house.”

  “You mean besides you?” He smiled at me.

  I nodded. Oreo leapt from my lap and padded down the stairs to the yard.

  Dad sighed. “How am I supposed to meet anyone, Jade? I work with a bunch of guys and one young girl all day. And I want to be around for you and your brother at night.”

  “I don’t know. The Internet, maybe. Can’t you make your own hours?”

  “Yes, as long as I get a ridiculous amount of work done in those hours. People who work for themselves have the toughest—Look over there, quick!” He pointed straight up.

  Happily, I was looking that way when a flash of light streaked across the sky. “That was a…?”

  “Yup. You really have to watch for them. They’re gone in a flash.”

  “A flash of brilliance though.” That’s how I wanted to live my last week, too. I leaned back against the chair, smiling in awe. I’d never seen one before, now I was hungry to see more. I kept my eyes trained on the sky so hard the stars blurred. “Dad, don’t you miss Mom. I mean, don’t you get lonely?”

  “No, Jade. Not as long as I have you.”

  Well, that was the point exactly. He wasn’t going to have me in a week. I had to help him find someone and fast. Who did I know that was old and single? Someone whom I liked too.

  Another star streaked across the sky.

  “Over there, Dad!”

  “Cool, huh?” He sipped at his beer. “They’re meteoroids really. They become meteors when they enter our atmosphere. Meteorites once they hit earth.”

  An idea suddenly shot through my brain much like the meteoroid that had just flashed though the sky.

  “Dad, you know that barbecue they’re having at the high school for all the freshmen and their parents?”