Twelve Steps to Normal

by Farrah Penn

  THREE

  THE INTRO TO “WE WILL ROCK YOU” bangs through my skull and into my brainwaves when I wake up the next morning. I’m disoriented for half a second before remembering I’m back in my old room. But the music doesn’t quiet. And it’s unnecessarily LOUD.

  I stagger out of bed, my tired eyes still adjusting to the morning light. I didn’t sleep well. I’m nervous about starting school again, which is ridiculous. I should be bursting with joy. Last night I tried to tell myself I was worrying for nothing, but my mind didn’t drift off until around one in the morning.

  I wander down the upstairs hallway only to discover that the music is accompanied by very loud, very off-key singing. The source is coming from my bathroom, where I hear Nonnie belting lyrics from under the blasting water.

  “Morning!”

  Peach is walking up the stairs. She looks like she started her day hours ago. Her pale hair is tied back in a French braid and she’s wearing a crisp floral blouse with a knee-length, conservative green skirt. She’s even wearing magenta heels that match her lipstick.

  “You look like you could use some coffee,” she says, placing an armload of clean towels in the linen closet.

  “I don’t drink coffee.” I’ve tried, but it tastes like bitter sludge. I prefer mine blended with massive amounts of sugar and mocha, which is less like coffee and more like a milkshake. A milkshake that’s socially acceptable to drink in the morning.

  The music stops and the bathroom door swings open. Nonnie emerges in a pink, zebra-print bathrobe. A shower cap covers her massive curlers, and her glasses are fogged from the lingering humidity.

  She smiles, gesturing toward the door. “All yours!”

  I lock myself inside, eager to make my escape. The digital clock on the counter reads 6:52. Crapsticks. I’m behind schedule. I flip the shower on, annoyed. I make a mental note to tell my dad that since these are his friends, he can share his bathroom with them.

  I’m not in the shower for even five minutes when the water turns cold, further cultivating my irritation. Do these people know our water heater is older than this blessed country?

  When I’m done, I rush to my room and throw on some makeup, keeping it as natural as possible. Unfortunately for me, a colony of zits has invaded my forehead. I consider cutting my bangs to hide them, but then decide against it. With my luck, I’ll end up at school sporting a hack job.

  I turn to the suitcases I’d shoved in the corner of my room. I can’t wear any of the clothes in there. They’re all wrinkled. I resort to my closet and rifle through the outfits I left behind. Most are winter clothes, which definitely won’t work since my weather app is reporting temperatures in the high nineties today.

  The tops I do have aren’t super trendy anymore, but I settle for a coral button-down that allows my lotus charm necklace to peek out. It was a gift from Grams on my tenth birthday, and I rarely ever take it off.

  I’m reaching for my hairbrush when my fingertips accidentally knock the lid off my jewelry box. Amid the thin sterling silver chains and delicate rose gold rings lie tiny notes written on Starburst wrappers from middle school that I’d carefully tucked away. All from Alex.

  I’ve known Alex Ramos since kindergarten—which is about as long as he’s had a crush on me. Even though he was always lousy at hiding it, it never made things awkward. Our friendship was instantaneous.

  Because of alphabetical assigned seating, we sat by each other in almost every class and always got in trouble for talking about Supernatural reruns in the middle of lectures. When we were younger, we’d borrow each other’s A Series of Unfortunate Events books and e-mail each other about our favorite parts, graduating to texting when we both got phones in seventh grade.

  But I don’t want to think of Alex right now. I’m stressed enough as it is.

  I close the lid of my jewelry box and let the sound of my blow dryer drown out my thoughts. When I finish, I’m hit with the scents of salty bacon and warm pancakes. If my father thinks he can win me over by cooking me breakfast on my first day of school, he’s mistaken. Besides, pancakes on the first day of school were Grams’s schtick. She would always make mine with chocolate chips, arranging them into the shape of a smiley face.

  Thinking about how things were sends pangs of nostalgia through me.

  My stomach gurgles with hunger. I went to bed without dinner last night, and now I’m starving. I don’t want to give in to the pancakes, but they smell heavenly.

  In the end, my appetite wins. As I walk down the stairs, I hear waves of commotion coming from the kitchen. I take a deep breath and remind myself that I’ll be at school during the days, so for the most part I won’t have to deal with them.

  I round the corner, expecting to see my dad at the stove. But it’s not him flipping flapjacks. It’s Peach.

  “I hope you’re hungry!” She says this with enough cheer to fuel a small city. “Your dad’s getting ready for his big day back, too, so I decided to make my famous pancakes.”

  “They’re really delightful,” Nonnie adds. She’s sitting at our kitchen table pouring a glass of orange juice. Her hair is free from the rollers, a curly mass that looks like a gray raincloud sitting atop her head. “Almost better than sex.”

  Peach nearly drops the spatula. “Nonnie!”

  She’s probably worried about corrupting my sweet, innocent ears. I grab a bowl from the cabinet and suppress the urge to roll my eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m familiar with the concept.”

  “This isn’t exactly the breakfast conversation I wanted to walk into.”

  Peach’s face drains of color as my dad joins us in the kitchen. He’s wearing a nice blue button-up and khaki pants. His face is clean-shaven and, if I’m being honest, it’s the healthiest he’s looked in a long time.

  I decide to make this as uncomfortable as possible. If I play it up, maybe they’ll leave faster. “Yeah, I know from experience. I had loads of sex in Portland.”

  Nonnie’s face lights up, clearly amused by this, but Peach looks appalled. My dad takes one look at my deadpan expression and says, “She’s kidding.”

  I don’t bother clarifying. Instead, I grab a box of cereal from the pantry. Bran Flakes, gross. But I’m determined not to give in to the niceness of pancakes. I don’t want to enable them to stay any longer than they have to, and I won’t be bribed with delicious breakfast food.

  I feel Peach watching me as I pour my cereal. To make up for my behavior, my dad decides to lay it on thick. “Oh man, mmmm. This looks phenomenal.”

  Peach grins. She hands my father a stacked plate and passes him the syrup.

  I gulp down my cereal like it’s the most delectable meal on this good earth. Nonnie watches me. She’s still wearing her floppy kitten slippers.

  “Is it your plumbing that’s backed up?”

  I shoot her a confused glance. “What?”

  “You know.” She gestures to her stomach. “Constipation?”

  I almost choke on my cereal.

  “Because Bran Flakes are good for that, you know.”

  Oh my god. I have to get out of here.

  “Fiber helps,” she adds.

  I let my empty bowl clatter in the sink. Like I’d ever take advice from someone who still wears kitten slippers.

  My backpack is sitting by my desk upstairs, but when I come back downstairs I notice my keys are missing from the key rack. Weird. That’s where my dad leaves my set for the old Corolla. After he upgraded to the Nissan last year, the Corolla was promised to me once I earned my license. Since I passed my driving test in Portland, I am now legally allowed to come and go as I please.

  I look on the side table, but they aren’t there, either. They’re also not on the coffee table in the living room. Sighing, I check the clock. It’s almost eight, which means I have thirty minutes to get to school and pick up my schedule. But more importantly, I have to find Whitney, Lin, and Raegan. I know when I see them the craziness of these last twenty-four hours will dissolve.
r />   I pop my head back into the kitchen. “Where are my car keys?”

  My dad chews his bite of pancakes before answering. “I don’t want you driving with your Oregon license. Everything on that car is registered in Texas.” He sets his fork down. “I’ll take you to the DMV and then you can start driving yourself. How’s that sound?”

  He must be joking. I’d rather consume Bran Flakes for the rest of my life than sit through a torturous trip to the DMV with my father.

  “Besides,” he continues, “I let Saylor borrow it this morning. He has an interview.”

  “That’s my car.” I know I sound ungrateful, but I don’t care.

  His face grows serious. “Driving is a privilege, Kira.”

  Now he chooses to play the authority card? Right. He didn’t seem to care how I got to school all those months ago. I’m surprised he even knows I have my license. Aunt June must have told him. She’s the one who enrolled me in Driver’s Ed over the summer.

  I cross my arms. “You could have asked me.”

  His eyes harden. I know I’m pushing it. “I figured I would drop you off on the way to work.”

  Anger slides up my veins. I’m going to be the only junior whose parent still drops them off curbside along with the rest of the freshmen and sophomores. No way. I refuse to look like a loser on my first day back. Besides, juniors and seniors have their own parking lot. That’s where everyone hangs out before school starts. I can’t just waltz up without a vehicle. I’ll look pathetic.

  This was my one opportunity of freedom. I can already picture my dad hounding me at the DMV about everything I learned in driving school. And—oh no. Will I have to retake the test? If I do, it’ll just be another hassle that he’s caused me.

  “I’ll give you a ride after breakfast,” he tells me.

  I am so not ready to endure another car ride with him. “I’m walking.”

  Before he has the chance to argue, I head out the door, slamming it loudly behind me.

  FOUR

  I DON’T WALK. AT LEAST, not all the way. I text Lin from the bus stop, and she happily agrees to come get me.

  As I wait for her in the humid morning sun, I can feel my hair frizzing in the damp air. What a waste of a blow dry. I use a hair tie from my wrist to pull it back into a ponytail. Trickles of sweat fall down the back of my neck. I silently curse my dad. If he’d let me drive, I wouldn’t be standing here melting like the Wicked Witch of the West.

  It doesn’t take long for Lin to arrive, and when she does I seek haven in her air-conditioned Explorer. It’s her mom’s car, but Lin’s allowed to borrow it if her mom doesn’t need to run errands.

  Lin squeals and launches over the armrest to pull me into a hug. I squeeze back, swelling with happiness. Her straight black hair is a few inches shorter than the last time I saw her, and she’s wearing the same deep-purple cat-eye frames that she’s worn for ages. She also has on a blouse that’s patterned with daisies. For as long as I’ve known her, she’s loved wearing anything with a fun pattern. Her lips are slathered in a sassy shade of pink lipstick and her eyes are lined in heavily winged eyeliner. I remember how strict Mr. Pham used to be about her makeup, but I wonder if that’s changed since I’ve been gone.

  “I’m so glad you texted!” She pulls back onto the road. “What happened to your car?”

  “My dad won’t let me drive until I get my Texas license,” I say. It’s part of the truth, anyway. “How have you been? And everyone else? I feel like I’m so behind.”

  Lin’s smile fades a little. “Uh, well, same I guess. Raegan is President of Leadership Council this year—oh, but you probably knew that. She posts, like, a zillion status updates about it. But I’m still a part of Academic Decathlon and Earth Club. Oh, and the dance team is getting new uniforms this year—at least that’s what Whitney and Raegan told me.”

  I nod along, but something feels off. Lin nervously flicks her gaze over at me every few seconds like I’m a chemistry experiment and she’s studying me for a reaction. It feels awkward. I don’t want it to feel awkward. WHY does it feel awkward?

  “What about you?” she continues. “How was Portland?”

  “Lonely,” I admit. “I made one friend the entire time I was there. It wasn’t home, you know?”

  “Yeah.” Lin has lived here her whole life, too. We’ve never found Cedarville’s small town constraining. “How’s your dad? Is it weird being home with him?”

  Weird is an understatement. The current state of my living environment is borderline bizarre. For half a second, my brain wants to spit out the truth. I want to tell Lin how Saylor stole my car and about Nonnie’s funky cat slippers and how Peach’s personality is like a creampuff, sickly sweet. I wish I could tell her how strange it is having a dad who’s acting like, well, an actual dad.

  But I don’t.

  “Yeah,” I say instead. “It’s weird.”

  Lin adjusts the collar of her daisy-covered blouse, suddenly growing quiet. I can tell something else is on her mind. Or is it me? Maybe I should have texted her sooner. I guess I expected things would naturally pick up where they left off.

  When she pulls into the parking lot, I’m relieved to see a sea of people I know. Familiar faces! Recognizable territory! I never thought I would be so happy to see the plain brick walls of this school again.

  Lin parks, but she doesn’t get out right away. “Um,” she starts, her voice hesitant. “Before we go in… there’s something you should know.”

  Lin is suddenly serious. Lin is never serious. Well, except when she’s running through her decathlon flashcards. I wonder if she’s worried that I won’t be in National Honor Society with her. I’m pretty confident I can bring my grades up this year. That’s the plan, anyway. Or maybe she thinks I won’t be rejoining Earth Club? But that’s ridiculous. We had tons of fun freshman year.

  “What is it?” I finally ask.

  “Whitney… kindofstarteddatingJay.”

  She says this all in a rush, like ripping off a Band-Aid. I feel my jaw go slack. No. I can’t have heard her right. My hearing must be temporarily impaired from Queen’s greatest hits blasting through the hall this morning.

  I stare at her. Her expression hasn’t changed.

  “She—what?”

  Lin turns off the Explorer, but she doesn’t look at me when she repeats it. “She started dating Jay.”

  My heart sinks like a brick in a bathtub. That absolutely cannot be right. Whitney used to make fun of Jay’s buck teeth in sixth grade, and then she made fun of the crush I developed on him freshman year. It seemed like she only approved of him because he made the basketball team. But, to be fair, this did put him on the radar for a lot of girls at school.

  That’s why I know she would never in a million years date Jay. I mean, he’s my boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend. But still. Isn’t that girl code or something?

  “How did—wow.” I shake my head. I’m pissed. Did they not think I was ever going to come back? “I can’t believe she’d do that.”

  “Well,” I catch the defense in her voice, “I mean, you did break up with him. Before you left and all.”

  There’s hurt in her words, as if I moved to Portland and left everyone behind because it was my choice.

  “I never wanted to break up with him. What was I supposed to do? Make it long distance?” She knows how I felt about that. Even she agreed it wouldn’t work. “I didn’t know when I was coming back.”

  “So you can’t really be surprised that he moved on,” she argues.

  My stomach feels like it’s been drenched in battery acid. I understand her point, but I didn’t expect it to hurt this much.

  Lin sighs. “Look, I’m sorry. I know it sucks.”

  “Nobody was going to tell me?” I wonder how long they’ve been together without me knowing. Does he hold her hand in the dark movie theater and make tiny circles on the inside of her palm? Do they send each other good night texts? Have they made out? Or worse—

  I swa
llow. No. I can’t think about that.

  “It’s not like you told us anything, either.” Lin folds her arms. “After you left, you pretty much dropped off the face of the earth. You never replied to our texts or answered our calls or anything. It was like you were suddenly too cool for us.”

  Hurt creases Lin’s features. She’s not wrong. I did stop replying, but only because it hurt me too much to see them moving on without me.

  I’d sulked alone in my misery when Lin texted me details from homecoming. The pictures that Raegan and Whitney would send from dance practice made me physically ache. The “we miss you” group texts that came through when they got together at the mall on weekends made me seethe with jealousy. I wanted to be there so badly, and I thought distancing myself would make the pain easier to deal with. Turns out, it just made me a crappy friend.

  “I’m sorry,” I say softly.

  Lin shrugs. She won’t look at me.

  “I am. I never thought I was too cool for you guys. It was just hard seeing you have fun without me. I didn’t know how to deal.”

  Lin picks at her light-pink nail polish. “I guess I understand that. The whole situation with your dad… it sucked.”

  Lin was with me the morning I got the call from the police station. We’d been in the kitchen making cinnamon rolls per our usual tradition when she spent the night. My dad wasn’t home, but I didn’t think twice about it. He’d been drinking less the last two weeks, which was why I asked Lin to spend the night in the first place. I assumed he was on a coffee run.

  When the officer told me to come down to the station, I panicked. My anxiety levels skyrocketed, and I couldn’t process anything else he was saying. But Lin gently took the phone from me and when she hung up, she told me we needed to go. All I could think was please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead. I’d already lost Grams. I couldn’t imagine losing anyone else.