Twelve Steps to Normal

by Farrah Penn

  “Only if we can Netflix an obscure movie we’ve never heard of and reenact all the cringeworthy scenes.”

  She laughs. “Absolutely.”

  My hand slides to my pocket, which is empty. I quickly check my purse. Crap. I left my phone in my car. If I don’t text my dad to check in, he won’t hesitate to revoke my newfound freedom.

  “My phone’s in the car,” I tell Lin. “I have to update my dad or I’m at risk of being grounded.”

  “That’s very authoritative of him.”

  “I know,” I say, but for some reason I smile. “I’ll be right back.”

  Lin raises her cup. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  I wander down the hallway and toward the front of the house. When I open the front door, I freeze. Jay is standing on the porch, but so is another girl I don’t recognize. He takes an automatic step back. The other girl appears unfazed. Her honey-blond hair is perfectly straight despite the humid evening, and she’s wearing a top that’s tighter than a lid on a pickle jar.

  “Kira.” Jay fiddles with his left earlobe. It’s a nervous tic. I noticed that he did it a lot during tests our freshman year. “Jennifer stopped by with more beer.” He holds up a twelve-pack.

  Oh. This is Jennifer.

  “I better go.” She eyes me like I’ve interrupted something. “I didn’t realize I was holding you up.”

  I don’t want Jay to think I was looking for him, so I let my keys dangle from my fingers. “I left my phone in the car.”

  I step around them and walk down the porch steps toward the driveway. When I glance back, Jennifer is still standing there talking to him. The whole image makes my stomach churn. How long has he been out here? Why was he nervous? I mean, it’s not like they were doing anything, but it doesn’t exactly seem innocent.

  I haven’t talked to Jay since Tuesday’s history class when he put my name in that hangman puzzle. I feel guilty. I know it wasn’t my fault, but still. If Whitney is overreacting about Jennifer, she would definitely overreact if she saw my name written in his notebook.

  And since when did Jay start talking with older girls? And when did he start accepting beer from older girls? He’s always had a reputation for being a star student and star basketball player. Breck’s the one who’s notorious for flirting, not him.

  After I grab my phone and lock up, I head back to the house. Jay is still on the porch, but there’s no sign of Jennifer. He gives me a small wave as I come closer.

  “So,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “You’re on beer duty?”

  He shrugs. “I thought we could use more. The night is young.”

  I’m not standing very close to him, but I’m close enough to smell his cologne. It’s a little overpowering, something that’s musky and unfamiliar. He’s wearing a black button-down with a pair of jeans. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in a nice shirt before. It’s like he’s stepped out of a J. Crew ad. It feels… wrong.

  “Whitney’s looking for you.”

  His amused expression deflates a little. “I figured,” he says, opening the front door. “Better go.”

  He’s distant again. I step inside behind him, but instead of feeling uneasy at how weird our friendship has become, I feel a little irritated. He’s acting like being with Whitney is a chore. Which is annoying. Even though we’re not on the best terms at the moment, Whitney is one of the most caring people I know. She’s witty and kind and pretty, and if he can’t appreciate all the great things about her, why does he even bother?

  Jay goes into the kitchen to deliver the rest of the beer, but I make a right into the living room. Lin is scrolling through something on her phone when I come up and stand next to her.

  “I ran into Jay outside,” I blurt before I can think about what I’m doing.

  Lin slides her phone in her pocket and looks at me. “You did?”

  “He was with that girl. Jennifer.”

  Lin’s eyes dart across the room to where Breck and Whitney are still sitting together in the love seat. Her head is tipped back in laughter, her brown hair spilling down the open back of her dress.

  Lin sighs. “Don’t tell her.”

  I frown. “Doesn’t that go against best friend code?”

  “Trust me. She’s already thinking the worst. It’s better if she doesn’t have confirmation.”

  “They were just talking,” I say, but I don’t know why I defend him.

  Lin looks at me like I’m as transparent as a glass of water. “Do you believe that?”

  I’m not sure. It’s like my life has been divided into two phases and I’m still living in the pre-Portland phase. That Jay was completely committed to our relationship. He was friendly, sure, but he wasn’t intentionally flirty. I never felt like he was untrust-worthy.

  Now I’m not so sure.

  Lin lifts her cup to her lips and says, “You see what she’s doing right now, right?”

  I turn my gaze back to Whitney. She has one hand resting on Breck’s knee, and it looks like she’s whispering something in his ear. He cracks a smile and playfully nudges her waist with his elbow. We’ve all been close friends for a long time, but the whole room must be seeing what I’m seeing. And what I’m seeing doesn’t appear innocent.

  “They’re stuck in some type of jealousy loop,” Lin says. She adjusts her frames before turning back to me. “I don’t think they’ve cheated on each other, but it’s like… I don’t know. Some kind of validation?”

  I’m so confused. “What do you mean?”

  Lin thinks for a minute. “It’s like they’re sending each other a message saying that they could each easily be with someone else, but at the end of the night they’ll leave together. They always do.”

  I run my tongue across my bottom teeth. That doesn’t seem very healthy, but it’s not like I have the right to judge other people’s relationships. All I know is that was never how I felt with Jay, like I had to prove myself. Whitney shouldn’t have to, either. She deserves better.

  My insides turn cold. If I think she deserves better, then why would I want Jay back at all?

  The question immediately dissolves when I hear Whitney yell, “Kira! Lin!” from across the room. Lin gives me a strict look that says, this stays between us. I nod, even though I feel weird about the whole thing.

  “Comeer,” Whitney giggles, motioning us closer. She’s clearly drunk because this is the most enthusiastic I’ve seen her act toward me since I came back. “Hey!” She says way too loudly once we’re standing next to the armchair.

  “That’s it,” Breck says, attempting to take her cup away from her. “I’m cutting you off.”

  Whitney pulls her arm away just before he can grab her drink. “Nope.”

  I look around, but there’s still no sign of Jay.

  “Hey!” Whitney says again, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “I was try’na tell Breck… remember that one night in fourth grade when we spent the night at your house? And played truth or dare?”

  I’m so surprised she’s directly acknowledging me that it takes me a moment to think back. There were a lot of those times, so I nod like I know which one she’s talking about.

  “And you dared me to eat a whole box of Thin Mints? Remember I did it?” She turns to Lin. “Remember?”

  “She so didn’t,” Breck says, egging her on.

  “Shut up!” she squeaks. “I totally did. Tell him, Kira!”

  Now that she’s mentioned it, I do remember that night. Whitney, Raegan, Lin, and I moved the couch and coffee table to separate corners of the living room so we could spread our sleeping bags across the area rug. It was my idea to play truth or dare. We made Lin eat ice cream with ketchup on it and Raegan had to ding dong ditch Mrs. Riley from across the street. Whitney didn’t follow through with her dare, though. She left half a roll of Thin Mints behind before falling asleep.

  I can’t tell if Lin remembers this, though. She stays quiet.

  Pieces of stray hair are stuck to Whitney’s forehead. Some of
her mascara is smudged, but she doesn’t seem to know. Or care.

  I think about what Lin said about the both of them trying to prove themselves to each other. It makes me sad. I wish she didn’t feel like she has to do this, but Jay obviously isn’t worried about finding her anytime soon. It’s like they’re playing these stupid games to test each other’s commitment.

  Then a thought occurs to me. What if she’s testing me? I know what she wants me to say, even if it’s not the truth. But maybe that’s what she needs from me for us to be close again. And that’s what I wanted, right? To make amends with her, to finally be best friends again.

  So I take her side.

  “She did,” I tell Breck. “I was there.”

  Breck looks impressed by the lie. Whitney gives him a smug grin. I know this was the right answer, but somehow I don’t feel like I’ve won.

  SEVENTEEN

  THE NEXT WEEK IS A whirlwind. Even though The Wavettes have taken over my after-school schedule once again, it’s nice to have something familiar to focus on. Plus I get to watch Raegan’s co-captain skills in action, which are much tamer compared to watching her lead the school with her presidential duties.

  Surprisingly, my house is much tamer, too. It helps that Peach finally landed that bakery job in Claremore, which is a twenty-minute bus ride from Cedarville. She wakes up at four o’clock every morning to be at work at five to start prepping for the day, so my mornings are now Peach-free. This also means my dad is now in charge of breakfast, and I’m much more partial to his chocolate chip pancakes.

  Because of the craziness of my Wavettes practices this week, I haven’t had time to get help with algebra. On the rare occasions Mrs. Donaldson allows us to work on homework in class, Alex leans over and tries to help me. But we always end up discussing the latest episode of Crime Boss or getting in a heated round of Would You Rather? where one of the answer choices is always Mrs. Donaldson.

  “Would you rather nail your own foot to the ground or live with Mrs. Donaldson for a year?” I asked him on Thursday.

  Alex adjusted his beanie before answering. I decided I liked the beanie. It was strangely fitting, like the way he always wore those double shirts.

  “Ugh, I’d probably nail my foot. At least it’s over with quickly.”

  “Really? You wouldn’t want to have resounding dinner debates on the latest mathematical theories?”

  “Pass.”

  “She probably makes a mean pi.”

  He laughed. I always feel a swell of pride when I make him laugh.

  I’m sitting with everyone at lunch on Thursday when Alex walks by our table with a lunch tray in his hands. He gives me a small smile when he sees me, nodding in my direction. I wave back.

  Jay leans over and steals one of Breck’s chips. Unlike the button-down he wore to the party, he’s back to wearing his letterman jacket over a Cedarville Basketball T-shirt.

  “So what are this year’s Spirit Week themes?” he asks Raegan.

  Raegan closes her notebook. “I can’t officially announce them until next week.” She throws us a smug grin. “But they’re awesome.”

  Even though all of us went to Breck’s party, Raegan doesn’t seem mad. But she also didn’t ask about it. I make a mental note to ask her to hang out this weekend—if she has time. It’s the least I can do to put an effort in our friendship, even if she isn’t holding grudges.

  Breck tosses a Cheeto at her. “You’re no fun.”

  Raegan glares at him. “Excuse me, do you know how hard it is to run an entire school while your mother’s experiencing pregnancy-related hormonal episodes?”

  Lin glances up from her flashcards. “You’re not exactly running the entire school—”

  In typical Raegan fashion, she ignores this. “It’s exhausting. Plus, I’ve been YouTubing birthing videos—”

  Breck plugs his ears. “I don’t want to hear about the placenta!”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Who said anything about a placenta?”

  He points a finger at Raegan. “She was about to!”

  “I wasn’t, but you shouldn’t be so squeamish. It’s a natural part of the birthing process.”

  Colton looks genuinely confused. “What’s a placenta?”

  “Dude.” Jay shakes his head, then leans over and quietly explains in what I can only imagine is the worst kind of detail.

  “And people eat that?” Colton says in the middle of swiping one of Whitney’s fries.

  She glares at him. “You would probably eat it, Colton.”

  He freezes mid-chew. “That’s disgusting.”

  Breck glares at Whitney. “Dude, stop talking about it.”

  “You’re going to make some woman very happy one day,” she remarks. “Especially if you keep calling them dude.”

  Lin laughs. “Who wouldn’t vote for him for Homecoming King?”

  I pull my water bottle away from my lips. “You’re nominated?”

  “I can’t help that the people like what they see.” Breck grins. “Beauty and brains, right, L?”

  “Dear god,” Lin mumbles, shaking her head.

  “Get you a man who has both.”

  “Your narcissism is up here.” Lin raises her hand above her head. “And I’m going to need you to bring it down here.” She gestures, lowering it near her shoulder.

  I almost forgot about homecoming. It’s a few weeks away, but still. I haven’t mentally prepared myself for flying solo.

  I catch myself glancing over at Jay, wondering if he’s regretting going to homecoming with Whitney this year now that I’ve returned. A twinge of loneliness flickers inside me when I remember him whispering how beautiful I looked in my gold gown the night of the homecoming dance, and how he held the small of my back when we posed for pictures together. I wonder if he misses those moments, too.

  He takes a huge bite of his sandwich, and a few crumbs stick to the bottom of his lip. When he catches me staring, he gives me a perplexed look like, What?

  I sigh. I sincerely doubt it.

  There is no one in the house when I come home after Wavettes practice. A note from Peach sits on the counter, saying she’s taking the late bus back from Claremore because she’s catching up with some old friends. My dad is most likely working late. I have no clue where Nonnie could be, and I’m betting Saylor is working a shift at 7-Eleven.

  It’s quiet. Oddly quiet. I can’t remember when the kitchen and living room were void of any type of commotion.

  I heat up a plate of pizza rolls and watch an old episode of Crime Boss. I find myself wishing my dad were around to make fun of Agent Dane Lizar’s soul patch or how corny the explosions are in the early seasons due to low budgets. Instead Wallis thumps his tail on the rug, watching me with bated breath as I finish off my pizza rolls.

  My cell phone rings. Margaret—Social Worker flashes across the screen. A rush of panic envelops me as I pause the TV. My first thought is She knows. I don’t know how, but someone must have alerted her about the recoverees. Dread overpowers the panic. What if she’s calling to send me back?

  I try and keep my voice level when I answer. “Hello?”

  “Kira, hi! This is Margaret Garcia.” Nothing about her tone seems off. “I just wanted to call for a quick check-in. How is the transition going?”

  “Oh! It’s good! Great!” I blurt, then quickly want to smack myself. I need to bring down my enthusiasm. I don’t want to give her any red flags. “My dad really seems to be keeping his promise about getting back on track.”

  “I’m very glad to hear that,” Margaret says. “Now, we usually schedule an in-house check-in. Just to drop by and make sure you’re in a good environment.”

  I force myself to keep calm. I cannot, cannot allow her over here while Nonnie, Peach, and Saylor are still around. There’s no way she’ll believe that them being here is a good environment for me.

  “Oh, I’d say my environment is more than good. My dad’s been working back at Cedarville Elementary, and I’ve been gett
ing back in the swing of things at school. And with dance, too. We’ve got a lot of stuff keeping us busy.”

  There’s a pause at the other end of the line. “It’s great to hear you’re adjusting so well.”

  I hold my breath, waiting for her to continue.

  “Well, you’ve been through a lot, and I want this transition to continue to be smooth. You know you can call me if you suspect any signs of trouble?”

  “Yes. Yes, I do. And I will.” I’m eager for this call to end. “Thank you.”

  “Of course,” she replies. “Don’t be a stranger. I’ll follow up soon, okay?”

  I tell her okay, and we both hang up. My heart pounds all the way through the end of the Crime Boss episode. It’s not that I’m lying to her. I’m just not sharing the entire truth. Everyone here has remained sober, and I don’t need to worry her, or worse, get myself sent away again when I’m only trying to bring things back to the way they were.

  When the episode ends, I turn off the TV and put my plate in the dishwasher. I have a ton of homework to do, including reading the rest of The Crucible for English. I go upstairs, flop on my bed, and force myself to try to absorb what’s happening in the play.

  The front door squeaks open, interrupting my thoughts. I’m setting the book down on my nightstand when I hear two hushed voices arguing downstairs. I get out of bed and crack open my door.

  “It’s times like this when I could use a drink,” my dad’s saying, his voice heavy and sad. “I think I’ve moved past the pain of losing her, and then it sneaks up on me.”

  An uncomfortable sadness rises in my throat. I know he’s referring to Grams.

  “Adam.” That’s Nonnie, stern and unforgiving. “You do not need dependency like that, you hear?”

  My dad’s voice is hoarse, defeated. “It was easier when she was around. She really understood Kira. Much more than I do, and now she’s so distant—”

  Wallis begins to bark, drowning out the rest of his words. I had no idea my dad felt that way. Sure I was close to Grams, but we also had our own relationship. We bonded over food and Crime Boss and little stories about each other’s day. His presence in my life is just as important as hers was.