Wake

by Abria Mattina

  The machine beeps and the message comes to a stop. I think I might like Ava.

  Thursday

  Grounding really is a useless punishment, especially in Smiths Falls and especially when it doesn’t apply to my friends in Port Elmsley. Frank thinks nothing of letting me go visit Luke. I have a feeling he’s only going to enforce my sentence if he thinks I’m setting myself up for a relapse into sheer idiocy.

  We end up on the floor of Luke’s garage with a bucket and sponges, washing second-hand windowpanes.

  “I kind of want to set a deadline for this,” Luke says. “Time-to-beat, kind of thing.”

  “Let’s aim for Victoria Day.”

  Talk turns to summer plans. Luke wants to save up for a car, but is also considering a motorcycle.

  “I miss my bike.”

  Luke chuckles. “I thought your parents were happy you aren’t riding that thing anymore.” My dad in particular has a strong dislike of motorcycles. He doesn’t like risks. That’s why he’s always lived in small towns, works a nine-to-five gig that depresses him, does the same thing every weekend and always orders the same food at his favorite restaurant. He’s a creature of controlled habit. It’s obvious where Frank gets his personality from, and he’s no fan of my bike either.

  “They’ve already shipped me out of the province. What more can they do?”

  “You know, before you moved here Frank told my brother you had turned into a pretty wild chick. I thought Frank was full of it, but now I’m starting to see what he means.”

  “Don’t look too closely. You’ll spot horns.”

  When I get back to decent cell reception on the drive home, my phone goes haywire on the dashboard with alerts for missed calls and texts. I pull over to answer it, just in case it’s an emergency, and find they’re from Jem.

  I guess you’re volunteering tonight, if you’re cell’s off, is the most recent text. Before that he sent Call me, please, and You didn’t give back my album.

  Crap. I forgot it. The album is still sitting in my desk drawer, under a box of tampons to keep Frank from snooping.

  I leave my car running in the driveway and dash inside to get the book. It’s not a broken promise if I give it to him today. I slip it into my backpack as I head back downstairs and Frank asks where I’m going at nine o’clock at night.

  “Gotta return a library book. It’s overdue.”

  He lets me go without a word, and it makes me wonder. I pause on the threshold and call into the living room, “I made a study date after school tomorrow.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, for Social Studies.”

  Frank comes to the hall with a disgruntled expression on his face. “And you can’t get your work done in class hours? You have spend extra time and make an appointment with that kid?”

  I give him a tight smile and start to close the door behind me. “I won’t be gone long.”

  Turns out I’m not really grounded. I’m just not allowed to see Jem.

  *

  When I get to the Harper house, Elise answers the door. She’s wearing a Belleville Quidditch Tournament 2008 t-shirt and pajama pants. I expect her to turn me away at the door, given how I spoke to her last time we met, but she holds out her arms for a hug of all things.

  “Uh…okay.” I give her the hug and apologize for making her cry.

  “You were mad at him, not me, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then we’re cool. Just remind me not to ever piss you off.” She turns with a giggle and tows me inside by the hand.

  “I came to give Jem’s photos back.”

  “Oh, great,” she chirps. “He’s asleep already, but I’ll make sure he knows you dropped it off.” She rocks back on her heels and asks if I want hot cocoa.

  “Nah, I don’t want to keep you up.”

  Elise rolls her eyes, “It’s nine-thirty,” and goes to the kitchen to turn on the stove. Elise shows promise as a food scientist. She figured out Jem’s favorite milkshakes, and she has a very precise method for mixing the chocolate powder and milk so it doesn’t turn out chunky or flaky. My mug is human sized. Hers looks like something out of Brobdignag. I set the photo album on the kitchen island.

  “I think it’s really cool what you did, shaving your head and all.”

  Elise beams. “Thanks. I raised nearly eight thousand to do it,” she says proudly. “I didn’t tell Jem I was doing it beforehand. It was a surprise.”

  She takes my hand again and pulls my away from the kitchen, up the stairs to her room. Her little legs have to scurry to set a brisk walking pace.

  Walking into Elise’s bedroom is like walking into an art gallery. Every single inch of the walls and most of the ceiling is papered with posters. They’re squished so close together that none of the wall is visible in between. Most of them are pictures of Harry Potter characters, but Justin Bieber has his section of wall space, right next to Paramore. Too bad her brother’s musical taste hasn’t rubbed off on her. I’d gladly put a stamp of approval on her Jagged Little Pill poster, though.

  Elise skips over to her bookshelf and comes back with an orange vinyl photo album. She proudly shows me the photos of the event where she shaved her head. She did it in what looks like a high school auditorium, up on stage with hundreds of people watching.

  “It was a contest,” she said. “Eric and I organized it at our old high school. We figured the people who actually knew Jem would be inclined to donate more. The two people who donated the most got to cut my hair.”

  The photos show Elise’s balding occurring in two stages: first, a girl cut off her long ponytail. There’s a shot of her holding it up proudly. Then, a guy used to electric razor to shave the rest clean off. The whole thing got people really pumped, from the look of it. In one photo she’s posing, sans hair, next to a giant get well card with about a thousand signatures on it.

  “Mom and Dad didn’t know we were doing it, either,” she says. “We told them we were visiting Celeste.” There’s a nice shot of her and Eric in the car, relishing the scheme and their success.

  “What did they think?”

  “They were shocked.” Elise absentmindedly touches her hair. “But they were really proud of us.”

  “Jem must have been, too.”

  “Not right away.”

  Elise flips ahead to the page she wants. It’s a picture of her and Jem in what looks like a hospital lounge. Jem was sitting in a green recliner with an IV pole parked next to him. Elise was on the armrest with an arm around her brother’s neck, posing for the picture. She was completely bald, except for a faint shadow across her skin that hinted at hair beginning to grow. Elise had a grin on, but Jem’s face was totally blank.

  “He didn’t like it that I did that.”

  “Why not?”

  “I think he really liked my long hair and how girly it made me.” Elise shrugs. “He used the word ‘ruined,’ if I remember right.” Elise flips the page to the next photo. This one was taken from behind the recliner and to the left, and it doesn’t look like Elise or Jem knew the picture was being taken. Not much of them is visible, but Elise is on his lap instead of on the armrest and their arms are wrapped around each other’s shoulders.

  “He was pretty upset, actually. We thought Mom and Eric were gone at that point.”

  We both look up at the click of a door opening down the hall. It’s at the far end, near the library. Elise shelves her album just as Jem comes within view of her bedroom door, bleary eyed and shuffling his feet.

  “I thought you were asleep?” she says.

  Jem ignores her question and speaks to me: “I heard your car outside. I thought you’d come up.”

  “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  “She brought your photos back.” Elise steps forward and gives her brother a hug. “You look tired.”

  “I should go.” Jem doesn’t need to be kept up by a late-night visitor. Elise gently tugs at his waist, trying to coax him back to his room.

&nb
sp; “No, stay,” he says to me. If I still had any doubt, the worried look on Elise’s face tells me that staying isn’t a good idea. I put a hand on the back of Jem’s shoulder and gently usher him along the hall, back to his room.

  “Okay, but not long.” Jem’s shoulders sink a little, but he doesn’t complain. Elise bullies him back into bed and graciously leaves us alone to say goodnight.

  “What’s the playlist for tonight?”

  “Whatever helps you fall asleep fastest.” I switch off the bedside lamp and Jem sighs in the darkness.

  “I tried calling you.”

  “I know.”

  “Were you volunteering?”

  “I was in Port Elmsley. Crappy cell reception.”

  “Oh.” He doesn’t sound happy. “Did you have fun?”

  “I did. Luke’s thinking of buying a motorcycle.”

  “Show me a picture of your bike sometime,” he says. “I don’t believe you drive a Harley.” My eyes are beginning to adjust to the dark. I can just make out his teasing smile.

  “Fine, I’ll show you.”

  The back of Jem’s hand brushes my leg as he feels for my hand in the dark. “Will you stay a while? I’m not tired, really.”

  I laugh and tell him he’s a bad liar.

  “Come on, Kirk.”

  I let go his hand and walk around to the other side of the bed. He falls asleep faster if he’s being touched, anyway. I sit on the edge of the mattress and rub circles between his shoulder blades.

  Jem sighs. “Do you want music?”

  “No,” I say softly. “Just sleep.”

  It takes only a few minutes for his breathing to slow with slumber. I keep my hand on him a while longer, until he starts to make that snuffling sound. It’s not quite a snore, that snuffling. Jem just twitches his nose in his sleep.

  I circle the bed to collect my backpack off the floor. My eyes have fully adjusted to the dark now, and I can see the innocent expression he lets show in sleep. His lips are slightly parted and I can hear the breath sliding over his teeth.

  I consider taking his hat off for him, but he’s touchy about keeping it on, so I leave it. Then I think of how if I’d met the healthy Jem Harper, we probably wouldn’t be as close as we are. He wouldn’t have given me the time of day, and I would have thought he wasn’t worth my attention. I certainly wouldn’t have ever gone to dinner with him, kissed him, or told him about my long series of life-altering mistakes. This is a strange thing we’ve got going on, he and I.

  I kind of miss kissing him. His enthusiasm was flattering, and it never felt like a means to an end. And he had such soft lips.

  Those lips close now as he swallows in his sleep. I have a guilty thought: that it would be nice to kiss him again; but I refrain. We’re in friendship limbo—lips are off limits. But he’s asleep. He would never know.

  Very softly, I kiss Jem’s relaxed lips. His skin is warm with sleep, and even though he’s too far under to respond, it feels nice. I pull away carefully, wary of waking him, but then his mouth twitches.

  Jem smiles in his sleep.

  Friday

  It’s a nice day out, sunny and warm enough to skip wearing a sweater. I head out to Port Elmsley and find that Luke is a little more enthusiastic about the weather. He’s mowing the lawn in shorts with his shirt off, like it’s August already. He waves when I pull in and something about his eager grin makes me nervous. Then I get the sinking feeling that he’s trying to impress me.

  I get out of my car and he powers down the mower. Luke tries to give me a hug but I take a step back and gesture to the house. “Is it cool if I hang out inside until you’re done? Is your dad home?”

  “Sure, if you want. Dad’s not home, though.”

  I can’t help but appraise Luke. He’s still got some of that adolescent gangliness, but mostly he’s long bones and subtle muscle. It’s odd—he has absolutely no hair on his chest, not even below his navel or around his nipples. Then I start wondering if he’s vain enough to shave it like a swimmer or model, or if it’s just genetic.

  Suddenly I wonder what Jem looks like under his shirt. I bet he doesn’t have hair (at the moment) either.

  Luke catches me looking and smirks. “See something you like?”

  “You just remind me of someone I know.”

  He doesn’t like the sound of that. “Yeah? Who?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  Luke pokes my cheek and chuckles. “You’re blushing.” I am not God damn it…

  “You got a crush I don’t know about?”

  “If you don’t know about it, there’s a reason.” I don’t feel comfortable hanging around the Thorpe house if it’s just the two of us, but I can’t put my finger on why. Luke and I have hung out before when no one else is around, but now I’ve got a bad feeling. I make my excuses to get back to Smiths Falls—I have plans; homework; anything. I just don’t want to be around Luke when he’s half naked and clearly trying to tempt me. Maybe that’s the feeling in my gut—guilt about my promise to Mom that I’d behave myself.

  *

  I park in front of the house, get out of my car, and stand there leaning against the door. I don’t want to go in yet. I can see the flicker on the living room window that means Frank has the TV on already. He’ll ask me how Luke is and I’ll have to make something up. All that stretches in front of me is an evening of cooking dinner and doing homework.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket and even if it’s Paige calling to complain about Chris, I’ll take it. But it’s not a call, it’s a text message from Jem.

  Bored. Wuu2?

  Absolutely nothing.

  Would your brother kill me if I came over?

  Yeah, Frank probably would. But then he’d feel bad about it, because of the whole cancer thing.

  Meet me at the park?

  20 mins.

  I get back in my car, smirking at the absurdity of it all.

  We’re not doing this right. I don’t think we were this friendly before we were friends.

  His answering text makes me smile: Shut up, I miss you. He could have said he was bored or had nothing better to do, or wanted a favor from me, but he didn’t. He misses me.

  And that freaks me out.

  Jem: May 12 to 19

  Friday

  I get to the park before Willa. It’s just a square plot of land next to the library with a swing set and a sandbox. I take a seat on the bench across from the swings to wait. It’s almost dinner hour, so the park is empty of children. I watch the swings swaying on their chains and wonder if Willa would ever let me do something storybook stupid like push her on them. Probably not. That’s not what barely-friends do, anyway.

  I’m startled out of my imagination by the thump of Willa’s foot landing next to me on the bench. She climbs over the backrest instead of just walking around and drops down next to me.

  “Do I have to teach you how to use a bench?”

  Willa gives me a dry look and says, “Are you sure you’re qualified? You can barely drive standard, can you really handle a bench?”

  “I can too drive standard.”

  “Don’t think I didn’t notice how the shifter grinded after you drove my car.”

  “You’re so full of shit.”

  Willa takes a piece of gum out of her pocket and puts it in her mouth. I thank her for offering me some and she says, “Open your mouth.” I’m not dumb enough to fall for that one. Eric spit his gum into my mouth when I was ten, and once is enough.

  Willa offers me a hard mint instead. I smile. It’s a little bit flattering that she carries these around in her pockets for me.

  I bet she carried them for Thomasina too, before she killed her.

  “So you were bored?”

  “Shitless.”

  “My brother is sending me to group therapy.”

  “Damn,” I say, because she sounds unhappy about it. But really I’m thinking that it’s probably a good thing for her to get some help.

  “It gets wo
rse.”

  “What?” More antidepressants? Suicide watch?

  “It’s held in a church.” She makes a noise of disgust and rolls her eyes. I take it she’s not religious. The subject has never come up, but I don’t want to make any assumptions.

  “Do you pray?”

  Does she think she’s going to hell for killing Thomasina?

  Willa looks at me with an expression of gentle scolding. “That’s an extremely personal question, Jem.” If I didn’t already know she was serious, her use of my first name would have done it.

  “Is the subject of religion altogether off limits?” Because I’m curious now, damn it.

  “I hear your mom and brother go to church.”

  “You heard? You were just randomly talking about my family?”

  “Small towns.” She smiles. “Makes you miss the privacy of the city, doesn’t it?”

  “Ironic, isn’t it, that the more surrounded we are by people, the more isolated we become.”

  “That’s not irony, that’s human nature. We’re hard-wired not to be able to visualize any group of humans greater than the size of the natural herd.”

  Are we hard-wired to put each other out of our misery, too?

  “You sound incredibly pretentious when you channel Darwin.”

  “Shut up or I’ll help you de-evolve.” Willa pushes herself off the bench and goes over to the swings. For a moment I think that I might actually get to push her on a swing, but she stands on the seat instead of sitting and pulls on the chains, rocking the swing side-to-side instead of back-and-forth.

  “We had swings like this at the park by my house in St. John’s,” she says. “But they weren’t used much. Teenagers used to wind them up around the top bar until they were unreachable.”

  I stand in front of her with my hands in her pockets, watching her rock.

  “Is that why you don’t know how to use it properly?”

  “I loved doing this when I was a kid.” She pulls harder on the left chain, widening her arc. “I would pretend I was a surfer. Then I saw the ocean and tried it. The whole thing is grossly overrated.”