by Jessica Wood
“What?” I asked suspiciously.
“I know what I want to be.”
“Okay. What?” I was feeling a bit impatient.
He turned back to look at me and grinned. “A kid.” He laughed at his own joke and then he threw a handful of grass on my face.
“Hey!” I spat out a few pieces of grass that had landed in my mouth. “Why did you have to do that?” I screeched, feeling a mixture of annoyance and delight as I ripped up a handful of grass and threw it back at him.
“Because it’s fun.” He laughed as he rolled away from me, avoiding the pieces of grass and dirt that landed in front of him. I tried to chase him down, but he kept his distance, dodging my every attempt to grab him.
After a few minutes of the unsuccessful cat-and-mouse chase, I finally had to stop to catch my breath. We stared at each other, both laughing and panting.
“You’re way too fast for me.” I shook my head, annoyed that not only had he gotten a bit faster than me in the past few years, he’d also grown a few inches taller and stronger.
“That’s because I have superhero powers!” He put his fisted hands on his hips and looked up to his right, mimicking a Superman stance.
I rolled my eyes. “You wish. It’s only because you’re a boy and you grow faster than me. Aunt Betty said that’s normal.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re jealous you don’t have my superhero speed and can’t catch up to me.”
“No, I’m not jealous.” I pouted. “I just don’t know why you had to throw grass in my mouth. I thought we’re friends.” I huffed and turned away from him, making sure he knew I was mad at him—even though I really wasn’t.
“Come on, don’t be like that,” he cajoled.
“Be like what?” I turned to him. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t really like to eat grass.”
“Well, I didn’t see you eat any, if that helps.” He flashed me one of his innocent-but-not-so-innocent smiles. “Besides, I’m only trying to answer your question.”
I frowned, completely forgetting what I had asked him. “And what question was that?”
“What I wanted to be when I grew up.” His face struggled to keep the laughter at bay.
“You want to throw grass into people’s faces when you grow up?” I challenged, knowing he was trying to be a smart-ass.
“No,” he countered, “just yours.” He then bent down, grabbed another fist full of grass, and aimed it at me. But this time, I was ready for him and turned away just in time.
“Well, I hope you enjoy being a kid all your life. That sounds so boring to have to go to school forever,” I teased him.
“But I’d be the smartest kid in my class,” he retorted. “That sounds pretty cool.”
I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help giggling when I pictured an old, adult Jackson sitting in the small school desks with other fourth graders.
“Why do you wanna know that, anyway?” he asked, sounding more serious as he sat back down on the grass. “You know it’s going to, like, take forever before we grow up.”
I smiled at his comment and sat next to him. I envied Jax. In many ways, his life seemed so simple and carefree compared to mine. I liked that he always had a way of reminding me that I was still just a kid.
“Well, I’m turning ten next week, and I’ve been thinking a lot about the future.”
“Oh. So what do you want to be when you grow up?”
“I want a job where I can travel to all parts of the world.” I smiled at the thought.
“You do?” He looked at me and I could tell that wasn’t what he’d expected me to say and it wasn’t something he’d ever thought about.
“Yeah, I think it would be amazing. There are so many places in the world I want to see, but have only read about in the Reader’s Digest and Discover magazines that Uncle Tom gets me every year.”
“Really?” His face twisted into a frown. “I don’t know much about that stuff.” He paused, thinking to himself. “So what’s one place in the world you’d want to go to the most?”
I looked out across the lake and thought about it. “If I had to pick only one, the one thing I want to see most is an aurora borealis.”
“A roar-what?”
I giggled. “An aurora borealis. Some people call it the Northern Lights.”
“What is that?” He looked at me with interest.
“I’ve only seen pictures but it looks magical. It’s a natural phenomenon that happens in the sky in places that are in high altitudes. I don’t really understand the science behind it, but I have tried to read a lot about it. An aurora borealis occurs at night, and when it happens, the sky is suddenly lit up and filled with bright reds, greens, yellows, and blues across the sky, and they’re swirling around like they’re dancing in a lava lamp. It sounds so cool to me.”
“That does sound really cool.” Jackson looked up into the sky. “So where do you go to see an aurora—the Northern Lights?”
“Aurora borealis. I think there’re a lot of places you can go, like Canada, Alaska, Norway, and Iceland. But the place that I saw in a magazine that looked so cool was this town called Kakslauttanen, Finland.”
“Ka-what?” Jackson stared at me in confusion. “How do you even remember these names or know how to pronounce it?”
I grinned, knowing how much of a nerd I must have sounded to him. “I kept that page of the magazine and have it in my desk in my room. I look at it sometimes when I want to daydream.”
“Oh. So what’s so special about this Kaka-whatever place?”
“Well, from the article I saw, they have a resort there where you stay in these private room-size glass igloos in the middle of a national park, and you can look out from anywhere in your room and watch the Northern Lights overhead as they swirl around all night.” I let out a wistful sigh. “It just sounds so amazing, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, that really sounds cool.”
For several minutes, we sat there next to each other in silence as we looked out onto the lake, enjoying each other’s company without saying a word—it was a level of comfort that I only felt with him.
Then I felt a pang of guilt as I thought about my mom. “I also want to be able to take care of my mom when I grow up.”
“You will,” he assured me with a smile. He turned and met my gaze. Even though it was dark, his emerald eyes seemed to twinkle as he looked at me. Like his smile, they were warm, inviting, genuine. They always seemed to be able to comfort me when I needed it.
“Thanks.” I tried to return his smile.
“So how is she lately?”
I shrugged. It wasn’t something Jackson and I talked about very often—mostly because it wasn’t something I wanted to talk about very often. I missed her and wished things were different, but no matter what I did, I always seemed to feel guilty where she was involved. I felt guilty when I thought about her because I was just reminded that I wasn’t there for her when she was sick. I felt guilty when I tried not to think of her, too, because I felt like a bad daughter for trying to enjoy my life without her.
“She’s about the same,” I finally said. “Aunt Betty says she has rebounds, so she’s been in and out of the places that are supposed to help her.”
“Oh.” I could tell Jackson was uncomfortable when we talked about my mom because I was always sad when we talked about her.
“Aunt Betty said that my mom had to go back to different places to try to get better. And that was why I can’t live with her. The people who made me live with Aunt Betty and Uncle Tom won’t let me move back with my mom until she’s able to get completely better.”
“I see.” Jax looked at me and then looked away. I could tell he wanted to say something but didn’t want to hurt my feelings. He made that same face when I would bring him a lunchbox item that he didn’t really want to eat but didn’t want to hurt my feelings by telling me. Sometimes he’d eat it anyway to make me happy. Other times, I’d seen him try to throw it away when he
didn’t think I was watching.
“What are you thinking?” I finally asked.
“Nothing,” he said quickly.
“No, tell me. Come on.” I pushed out my lips in a pout. “I’m not going to get mad, I promise.”
He looked at me before asking, “Okay, you promise?”
I nodded.
“Well…” He paused. “I like that you don’t live with your mom, and you live with your aunt and uncle.”
I felt a little hurt by his words. “Why would you want my mom to be sick?”
“No,” he said quickly and shook his head. “I don’t want your mom to be sick. I … I just like that you live next door, and not far away from me.” He bowed his head and began to shift uncomfortably. “I would really miss you.”
“Oh.” The hurt I felt moments ago was gone, and a warm feeling across my chest took its place. “I would miss you too, Jax.”
“You would?” His whole face lit up as he met my gaze.
I smiled. “Yeah. Of course. You’re my first and best friend. I would miss hanging out with you.”
“Best friend?” He smiled, but the gleam in his eyes wasn’t there anymore.
“Yes. Best friends forever.” I beamed at him, feeling so lucky to be able to share my secrets with him.
***
November 1994
Ten Years Old
A pair of hands grabbed me from behind, causing me to shriek and drop the pristine Charlotte’s Web book in my hands.
“Happy birthday!” Jax jumped up in front of me with a big grin on his face.
“Thanks,” I said absentmindedly as I quickly bent down to pick up the book. I brushed off some dust and examined it to make sure the corners were not damaged. I let out a sigh of relief; it was still perfect.
“What’s that?” He eyed the brand new book in my hand.
“It’s a birthday gift from my mom.” I ran my hand across the cover and smiled. “It’s a first edition copy of Charlotte’s Web, my favorite book.”
“Oh really? I thought you hadn’t seen her in a while.”
The truth of his words stung.
“Aunt Betty gave it to me this morning before school.”
“Oh.” He scrunched his face. “How do you know it’s from your mom, then?”
“Aunt Betty said so.”
“Oh.” He didn’t say another word, but I knew what he was thinking.
I was thinking the same thing. Did my mom really get me a present? Did she even remember my birthday? Or was this gift really from Aunt Betty and Uncle Tom?
“That’s a nice gift,” Jackson said in a rush of excitement, quickly changing his tune when he noticed the frown on my face. “You love to read so your mom must have really been thinking of you.”
“Yeah.” I flashed him a smile, but a part of me felt sad. I looked back at the book in my hand, and the cover looked a little less glossy and pretty than it had a minute ago. I realized then that I’d never mentioned Charlotte’s Web to my mom before during any of my visits.
“Here’s your lunch.” I pulled a brown paper bag from my opened locker and handed it to Jackson, trying to change the subject.
“Oh. What did Aunt Betty pack today?” Jackson grabbed the bag from my hand and dug into it without waiting another minute.
I shrugged and followed him toward our next class together. “I think she made that roast beef panini you really like.”
“God, she’s the best!” His eyes lit up like it was Christmas. For as long as I’d known Jackson, his parents weren’t home very much. His dad was a professor at University of Pennsylvania and his mom was a corporate attorney at some big law firm in Philadelphia. They both worked long hours and always gave Jackson money for lunch. But Jackson had gotten sick of school cafeteria food years ago and I had started giving him half of the lunch Aunt Betty would make me. When Aunt Betty discovered this, she started to make two lunches every morning so that there would always be enough for the both of us.
“So wha does da buffday girl want to do today?” Jackson asked with a mouthful of the roast beef sandwich.
I laughed. “Jax. It’s only ten thirty in the morning. We still have two more periods left before lunch.”
“What? I’m hungry?” He shrugged and took another large bite of the sandwich.
I shook my head. “Just don’t eat half of my lunch when it’s actually lunchtime because you’ve finished yours.”
He gave me a sheepish smile. “Well, no promises there.”
I giggled and punched him playfully on the arm.
“So seriously, though, what would you like to do today after school?”
I frowned, feeling a heaviness in my heart. “I’d like to see my mom today for my tenth birthday; I’d like my mom to smile and hum to me while she braids my hair.” I paused, realizing how bitter I sounded. “Never mind. I don’t have any plans.” I walked a little faster ahead so he couldn’t see the moisture in my eyes.
“Wait—” He ran after me. “It’s your birthday. Why can’t you do that? I can see if Maria can take us if your aunt and uncle can’t get out of work to take you.
I couldn’t help but smile at Jackson’s offer. “Thanks … but that’s okay. Aunt Betty said that it’s not a good idea to visit her right now.”
“What? Why not?”
“She says my mom’s been really sick and her doctor doesn’t think I should see her at this time.”
“Oh.”
I watched Jackson put the rest of his sandwich back into the paper bag. “That sucks, Clo. I’m sorry.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me in for a hug.
I was going to resist, and had for just a second, but as soon as he wrapped his arms around me, I knew that it was exactly what I needed at that moment.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Spring 1998
Thirteen Years Old
It was the call no one is ever prepared for. It was the call no one ever wants to receive. It was the call no one ever wishes upon even their worst enemies.
But it was the call I was about to receive that day.
It was an idle Wednesday afternoon, much like any other during a school week. I was at home doing my homework and waiting for Jackson to come over after he was done with his track practice.
I was working on my pre-algebra problem, sitting at the coffee table in the living room while MTV’s Total Request Live was playing in the background. Carson Daly was talking to a few people from the live studio audience at the moment but I knew he was about to reveal the sixth most requested music video of the day. I had my fingers crossed that it would be Savage Garden’s “Truly Madly Deeply,” my favorite song. I’d been calling and voting every day for several months now to make sure it was getting enough votes. I’d even had Jackson call and vote from the phone in his house every day—okay, so most days I’d had to call for him, but to me, that was merely a technicality, and at the end of the day, “Truly Madly Deeply” was getting at least two votes every day. It was number six yesterday and being the loyal fan that I was, I didn’t want it to fall to seventh place. So I was anxiously waiting for Carson to announce the video that was in sixth place.
Just then, the telephone started to ring. I walked over to the kitchen counter to grab the phone, my eyes never leaving the TV screen.
“…and number six on TRL today is…” Carson started to say. I held my breath as I picked up the phone to answer it.
“Hello,” I said absentmindedly into the receiver, my focus still on Carson.
“… “Truly Madly Deeply” by Savage Garden!”
“Woo!” I cheered out loud as the music video started on the screen.
“Chloe?” I heard Aunt Betty’s voice calling out to me.
“Hey, Aunt Betty. Sorry about that. My favorite song just came on.” My body started swaying with the beat of the song.
“That’s nice, honey,” she said in an eerily soft voice. “Um, so I wanted to let you know that I’m on my way home right now.” There was a rawness in her voice that
gave me pause and I immediately felt my entire body tense up.
“What is it? Is something wrong, Aunt Betty?”
“I’ll be home soon.” I noticed she didn’t answer my question.
I felt a wave of panic prickle down my body. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Is Uncle Tom okay?” I asked her in quick bursts of alarm.
“Y—yes, we’re both fine. We’re not hurt.” Her words stumbled out and I could tell she was flustered and anxious about something.
“What’s wrong?” I looked at the clock and realized Jackson hadn’t shown up yet. “Is it Jackson? Please don’t tell me it’s Jackson, Aunt Betty.” I felt my chest tighten with worry as the thought of something happening to Jackson tore at my insides.
“No, honey. Please calm down. It’s not Jackson.” Her voice was overly soothing and strangely disconcerting, inducing the opposite effect she’d probably intended.
“What is it, then? What are you not telling me?”
“I just exited the freeway, so I’ll be home soon. We can talk then.”
I searched anxiously for the meaning behind her words, trying to piece together a logical explanation for her odd behavior. It was clear she had something to tell me, but she didn’t want to say it over the phone. She says she’s okay, Uncle Tom’s okay, and Jackson’s okay … so what else can it be?
Then, as if clarity had smacked me against the face, another person came to mind. Suddenly, a wave of apprehension swept through me.
“Is it my mom?” I cried out, my voice rising an octave higher.
There was a brief silence before she answered, and yet it felt like a lifetime.
“Honey, I’ll be home in less than two minutes,” she insisted. “Just wait for me, okay?”
My stomach twisted in agony, knowing her response was no different than saying “yes.” Something had happened to my mom and it must not be good news if Aunt Betty wanted to tell me in person.
As the overwhelming flood of fear and anxiety began to consume my thoughts, I tried to think back to the last time I’d seen my mom. It’d been almost a month ago when I had visited her at the long-term rehabilitation facility she was staying at. She was nearing the end of her three-month stay, and she looked healthy, sober, and happy. I had updated her on everything that’d been going on with me since the previous time I’d seen her. She had promised me that after she left the rehab facility, she wouldn’t need to return to one again. She had promised me that she felt like she wasn’t sick anymore. She had promised me that I’d be able to move back in with her soon.