I cocked my head toward him. “What, are you worried that we’re going to hook up or something?”
“No, I mean, if you want to you can.”
“Jess.”
“You’re sixteen, Gem. You’re young and beautiful, and I can’t make any promises about when we’re going to be able to be together again.”
“I can’t believe this. Are we really having this conversation again?”
“Don’t get mad. You have to know how much I care about you. But I can’t ask you to never date anyone. I want you to have fun. Go on dates. Go to the prom. You’re allowed to live.”
I took an exasperated breath. “Jess. I don’t have feelings for Clark.”
“I’m not talking about Clark. I’m talking about you. You have to live life. We both do.”
“Okay.” I finally relented. “If I agree to go on a couple dates with other guys, can we just drop it already?”
Jess nodded hesitantly. “Yeah, we can drop it.”
“But you’ll still be my boyfriend,” I said watching him closely. “No matter what. Nothing will get in the way of that.” And I believed it. I really did. I really, really, really did.
“Hey, sweetie.”
“Hey, Dad.” I dropped my bag on the floor and collapsed on the couch beside him. He was reading a book about the Five People You Meet in Heaven. I hated it when he read death books.
He set it down and peered at me over his reading glasses. “No Jess today?”
I looked out the window at his house. “He’s working.”
Dad nodded approvingly. “That’s my boy.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ll have you know that I applied for a job just last week.”
“Really?” Dad closed his book completely and set it on the coffee table. “What kind of a job is it?”
“It’s a hostess position at Saphhire Lodge. They hire in the spring, and I’ll start in the fall if I get it.”
Dad’s eyes were glowing. “That’s really good, Gemma. I’m really proud of you.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said it in a sarcastic tone, but it actually meant a lot to hear it.
“Gemma.” My mom’s stressed voice sounded behind me, but I purposely didn’t turn toward it.
“What?”
“Would you mind doing the dishes? I have to run. I’m late for work. And put the clothes that are in the washer into the dryer when they’re done.”
I sighed heavily. “Sure.”
She grabbed her jacket off the hook, and just the sound of her zipping it up and grabbing the keys off the kitchen counter annoyed me. “Oh, and there’s a casserole in the oven. Take it out in twenty minutes, and there’s some broccoli in the fridge. You’ll need to cut it up and steam it.”
“Whatever.”
The busy sounds of my mom behind me stopped, and a thick silence came over the room.
“Did I do something to offend you?” she asked, and I could feel her eyes glaring through the back of my skull. My dad too was watching me with strange eyes, and I wanted them both to disappear.
“No,” I said. “I’m fine.”
She continued behind me, “We all have to carry our weight around here, Gemma. And if you think you can just come home and drop your stuff wherever you want and kick your feet up and expect to be served, then you’re wrong.”
“Mom, I said I’m fine.”
“Well, I’m not.” Her voice was louder this time, and a few hairs stood up on the back of my neck as she walked around the couch to face me. “I have been extremely understanding the past couple of weeks that you and Jess have been together. I haven’t asked you to do a thing around here so that you can spend every precious minute of your time with him. But that doesn’t give you any right to come home and treat the rest of us like we’re your slaves.”
“Mom. I’m just tired. I’ll do the dishes and the laundry. I’ll make the stupid broccoli.”
What sounded to me like an apology apparently wasn’t good enough for my mom. “Oh, well thank you very much. Thank you for doing the absolute minimum that is possible to do. You know, I hope that Jess has a chance to see you like this before he gets any more serious about you. I hope he sees how lazy and self-indulgent you really are.”
My jaw dropped. “I’m only lazy and self-indulgent around you because you’re always nagging me. When was the last time you talked to me when it wasn’t just to list off a bunch of chores you wanted me to do around the house? When was the last time you just asked me how my day was?”
“When was the last time you asked me how my day was?”
“You’re so worried about dad dying that you’re not even paying attention to those of us that are still living.”
“Gemma,” my dad said boldly, “that’s enough.”
“You listen to me,” my mom said, ignoring my dad. She was pointing her long, bony finger at me, and behind it was a red face and dark, angry eyes. “Ever since your grounding was over, you have become completely wrapped up in your own world. You’re gone all the time, and when you are home, you are a selfish, spoiled brat. I am not going to sit around here and watch you turn into someone I can’t stand to be around. Either you start treating everyone in this family with respect, or you’ll be grounded for another three months with or without Jess Tyler living across the street. Do you understand me?”
“Perfectly, I sneered and sat back hard against the couch with my arms folded over my chest. I hated her. I hated her. I hated her. I hated the way she clenched her teeth when she yelled at me. I hated the way she slammed the door when she left. I hated the way my dad looked unproud of me as soon as we were alone. And I hated the fact that deep down inside my brain, I knew that she was right.
With every spare minute I had being spent with Jess, I found myself quickly falling behind on my school work. I had a talent for finishing my homework during lunch or waking up at five in the morning to cram for exams, but there was one class I couldn’t fake—the one class that was the most important to me—photography.
“I have a project due tomorrow, and Ms. Delrose is going to hate me.”
Jess, who now sat with Drew and me at lunch every day, took a bite out of his peanut butter sandwich. “Why would she hate you?”
“Because she thinks I have some miraculous gift, and I’m about to prove her wrong.”
Drew shook her head. “Not possible, Gemma. You really are gifted. Have you seen her stuff, Jess?”
Jess glared at Drew. “Really, Drew? Are you forgetting that I had photography last semester with Gemma? Ms. Delrose barely knew the rest of us in the class were even alive.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”
“It’s true though.” Jess wiped a crumb off his lip. “I love that one you took of your parents.” He turned to Drew. “Her dad keeps it on the table by the couch and looks at it all day.”
Drew smiled tenderly. “That is so cute.”
“You guys,” I said sternly, “you’re forgetting about the real problem here. I have a project due tomorrow. I can’t just turn in the same picture of my parents. I have to take some new stuff.” I stole one of Jess’s potato chips. “I swear I’ve lost my touch lately. I’m just not feeling inspired.” I had to admit that I’d been plagued with thoughts about my self-evaluation last winter and how I thought my photos were so great because I was alone. Now that Jess was in my life, my work had been slacking. I was beginning to think I was going to have to choose between Jess and a future career.
“Take some pictures after school,” Jess said. “And when I get home from work, bring them over, and we can look at them together. I bet they’ll be better than you think.”
But that was easier said than done. Because when Jess and I were alone together, it wasn’t exactly like homework was at the top of our list of things to do. We were in h
is kitchen because our moms had collaborated and decided that neither one of us was allowed in each other’s rooms now that we were dating. My freshly printed photographs were scattered over Jess’s kitchen counter, and Jess and I sat close on the bar stools talking and laughing and, of course, kissing.
“Looks like you two are getting a lot of work done in here.” Jess’s mom, Caris, was suddenly behind us at the sink, and we both jumped and looked at the mess of photos.
“We are,” Jess moved the photos around with his hands. “This one is really good, Gem. I especially like the lighting.”
Jess’s mom looked amused as she pulled an apple from the fridge and headed back upstairs.
“You’re mom is so great,” I said as I watched her disappear into her bedroom. “My mom would have flipped if she walked in on us kissing.”
“Your mom is normal. Besides, she has a lot to worry about right now.”
“So does yours. She can’t find a job, and she’s moving in a few weeks.”
“Your dad is dying of cancer, Gemma.”
“I know that, Jess. But that doesn’t mean she has to be so horrible to live with.”
“Don’t get mad at me.”
I turned to the photos hypnotically and pulled them together into a pile. “I know, I’m sorry. I don’t know what my issue is lately. For some reason, I am just so angry at her. I don’t even like to be around her. Ever. I just hear her voice, and it’s like nails on a chalkboard. She asked me to do a few chores the other day, and I got all mad, and we got in this fight, and then she said that she hopes you see this bratty side of me before we get too serious. It kind of got to me.”
Jess twisted the tips of my hair in his fingers. “I’m well acquainted with your bratty side, and I still like you.”
“Why am I so mad at her?”
“How long have you been feeling this way?”
I searched my memory. “The last time I remember really having a good conversation with her was in ninth grade. It was after a dumb thing I’d done at school. She came into my room a couple hours later to talk. I thought she was going to lecture me, but we just sat on my bed for like an hour talking about how she’d done something similar when she was younger. It was such a great conversation.” I pulled at a loose fingernail on my pinky. “But she was different then.”
“Did your dad have cancer then?”
“Yeah, I guess he did. But I didn’t know it yet. It was a month or so before they told us.”
“So your mom knew about the cancer, but you didn’t.”
“I guess so.”
“And your mom was still normal then.”
I looked at Jess. “What are you saying?”
“I’m not saying anything.”
“You think I’m the one that’s changed.”
“I never said that.”
“You think for some strange, twisted reason I’m mad at my mom because my dad has cancer.”
“I definitely didn’t say that.”
“Why would I be mad at her for that?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s not her fault that he’s sick.”
“Nope.”
“But you’re right, that’s when it all changed.”
“I’m not right. I never said that.”
“Maybe I should see a therapist.”
“I’m not going to say anything. I’m officially out of this conversation.”
“Maybe I should call Lauren and find out who her doctor is.”
“I’m ignoring you completely now.”
I buried my face in his shoulder. “What is my problem? I’ve been so awful to her. She must hate me.”
Jess brushed his hand over my hair. “She’s your mom, Gem. She could never hate you.”
“Should I talk to her? I don’t even know what I would say.”
“I don’t think you need to say anything. Just go back to being your usual self. Minus the bratty.”
I got home that night five minutes before ten, which was also five minutes before my curfew. If I was going to improve things with my mom, I wanted to start out on the right foot. But she was at work, and on the counter was a note from her saying that I was grounded all weekend for going to Jess’s house without cleaning my room. I squeezed the note in my hand and threw it in the garbage. I could start being nice to her some other time.
Chapter 20
Jess’s birthday was March 27, and for some reason, it always seemed to fall on a Wednesday. On Jess’s seventh birthday, we had just made our way up our street from school when we saw his dad’s car parked in the driveway. I remember Jess growing stiff and telling me I should go inside but I didn’t, and that was the first day I saw Jess’s dad drunk. I remember him rambling something off about Jess not doing enough around the house. Being the idiot six-year-old that I was, I came up with some smart comment about how it was Jess’s birthday and he should treat his son less mean. Real bright. After Jess pleaded again for me to just go home, I did, but not before I heard Jess’s dad call him some profane names and slam the door behind them. I had been trying to make up for Jess’s lost birthdays ever since.
So this year, being the first time that we were actually a couple on his birthday, I planned a whole romantic night out on the town. I made reservations at the nicest restaurant on main street. I bought us tickets to a local concert in town that was showcasing an up-and-coming band called Star Crossed, and for a present, I got him a really nice baseball hat, two CDs that he’d been hinting about, and four bags of his favorite bulk candy from the grocery store.
But when I woke up on Wednesday, March 27, there was a text message on my phone from Jess. He was sick and wasn’t going to school today. But he asked me to come over to his house as soon as I got home.
After school, I dropped my heavy backpack on my front porch and headed directly across the street to Jess’s house. The For Sale sign was weathered and covered in dried drops of brown rain. I couldn’t believe that no one wanted to buy this house. It was perfect.
Caris opened the door when I knocked. “Hi, sweetheart,” she said as she let me in.
“Jess is in his room. I think he’s feeling better now that he got last night’s dinner out of his system. Poor kid, sick on his birthday. But he’ll be happy to see you.” She motioned for me to go on ahead. “Oh, and Gemma? Don’t tell your mom I let you into his room. We’ll just make this one exception.”
I smiled at her and followed the staircase up to Jess’s room. When I opened the door, he was laying on his side on top of his bed. With his back toward me, he looked so small, so boy-like. I didn’t know it was possible to love him more than I already did, but as I stood there watching him sleep, I proved myself wrong. I couldn’t bear to wake him, so I quietly stepped back through the door and closed it gently behind me.
In the room next to Jess’s, Maggie was sitting in the middle of her bedroom, drawing on a pad of paper. I invited myself in and sat cross legged next to her on the floor. “Hey, Mags.”
She looked up at with me, unaffected by my presence, then turned back to her drawing, “Hey, Gemma.” Her voice was small and sweet, and her long, blond hair floated down the nape of her back. It took me a minute to figure out how old she was these days. I couldn’t believe it when I realized she was already nine.
“What are you drawing?”
She sat up and shrugged. “A castle.” She picked up a different colored pencil and went back to work with absolute focus. “Are you here to see me or Jess?” she asked as she pulled a purple pencil from the box.
I smiled at her innocence. “Both.”
“Jess threw up in the bathroom. It was gross.”
I pointed to one of the flags on her castle. “I think that one should be green.”
She considered my suggestion but colored
it purple anyway. “Vivian’s at Brooke’s house,” she offered. “They’re best friends but probably won’t be when we move.”
“That’s sad,” I said, and for whatever reason, the thought of it made me want to cry. “I bet you have some good friends you’re leaving behind too, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Maggie’s mouth was pressed into her propped up knee. “I don’t like moving very much.”
“I don’t either.”
Maggie looked at me in the eyes. “Have you ever moved before?”
“No. But I can’t think of a worse family moving than you guys.”
“Are you going to miss Jess?”
“Very much.”
“He’s going to miss you too.”
“Oh really?” I couldn’t keep my eyes from smiling. “How do you know that?”
“He spells your name with my alphabet cereal.”
A small puff of laughter escaped from my mouth. “Why is he playing with your food?”
“When I’m eating it at the kitchen table, he sits next to me and pulls letters from the box. He always spells your name.”
“Always? This has happened more than once?”
“Mmm.” Her mouth was back at her knee. “All the time. He’s been doing it forever.”
“Hey.” Both Maggie and I turned around to see Jess standing at the door. His hair was mussed, and his face was slightly pale. He was resting his head against the door pane for support. He looked at Maggie with a tired smile. “Are you telling secrets about me in here?”
“My lips are sealed,” I said as I stood up and walked over to him. “But you should know that I know that you have a really big crush on me.” I wrapped both of my arms gently around his waist as he pulled me in and pressed his lips against the top of my head.
“You figured me out,” he said softly.
“How are you feeling?” I asked as he took hold of my hand and led me into his room. He laid back down on his bed, and I sat on the quilt beside him.
“Like the makers of Hamburger Helper are serial killers.”
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