“No, you’re still going to prom with Will,” Dad says. “Don’t think I can’t tell when you’re trying to get out of something. You’re not going to make that poor boy suffer more than he already has. Maybe if you spend more time with him and Kasey and your old friends, you’ll remember who you really are.”
“Oh really?” I say with a tightening throat, the acid in my stomach rising. “That’s what you think is going to happen? Who am I, Dad? Who exactly do you think I am?” My fists are as hard as his.
“You’re definitely not this girl who stays out all night doing god knows what with people we don’t even know.”
“This isn’t you, Evie,” Mom says from her shrunken place. “You’re a good girl. We know that. That’s why we’re so worried.”
“So I’m not grounded?” I say, slouching back in my chair. They will not get me worked up. I am beyond this. I am beyond caring.
“Damn it, Evie. Are you even listening?” Dad says.
“Yes, Dad, I heard you. My punishment is I have to hang out with Will and my old friends.”
“How the hell is that a punishment?” Dad says.
“We want to know exactly what you’re doing, where you’re going, and who you’re doing it with,” Mom says, trying valiantly to add some firmness to her voice.
“You’re getting off easy,” Dad says. “Your mother and I are not exactly in agreement about this.”
“So I can’t hang out with new friends?” I say.
“Not unless we meet them first,” Mom says. “We want to get to know them.” Dad looks at her like if it was up to him I’d be locked in my room for a year.
“What about Caleb?” I say. “Can I go see Caleb at the hospital?” Somewhere deep inside, a part of me cringes. How dare I bring him into this? How dare I use him to lie?
“Sure,” Mom says, almost smiling. “I think that’d be good. How is Caleb, by the way?”
Dad shakes his head. “No, Pam. We are not here to chat about Caleb. We’re here to talk about consequences.” He pounds his fist on the table at “consequences,” as if that will make up for the fact that they are so terribly ill-prepared to do this part of parenting. They’ve only ever had two angels as daughters. They’ve never needed to be strict. They’re never needed to come up with a punishment for something this severe.
“Fine,” I say. “So I’m allowed to hang out with Will and Kasey and Caleb and the people from my past so I can stay the same old Evie and never change.”
“That’s not what we mean, honey,” Mom says. “Of course you’re allowed to change.”
“Oh, I’m so glad I have your permission.” I stand up. Neither of them says anything, and I don’t know if it’s from shock at my talking back or because they’re actually so dumb they don’t hear the sarcasm in my voice.
“I’m going to start getting ready,” I say as I put my cereal bowl in the sink. “I’m meeting everyone for dinner at six.” Another lie. “I can still use your car, right, Mom?”
“Yes, we already talked about that, didn’t we?” She doesn’t seem so sure.
“But there is going to be absolutely no drinking,” Dad says. “Right, Evie?”
“Right.”
“We have your word?”
“Yes, Dad. I promise.”
“And you promise to call us for a ride if you do drink?” Mom says.
“Pam,” Dad scolds. “Don’t give her any ideas. Jesus, it sounds like you’re giving her permission.”
“But we don’t want her driving drunk,” she pleads. “I’d rather she be drunk and call us than to drive because she’s afraid of getting in trouble.”
“Are you done?” I say. “Because I have to take a shower.”
They look at me, their mouths slightly open. They blink simultaneously.
“I’m glad we had this chat,” I say, and walk out of the kitchen.
Smart parents would do something. They wouldn’t let me talk back like that. They’d demand I come back to the table. They’d make sure they had the last word. They wouldn’t let me make them look like such fools. But my poor, naive parents don’t know these rules. They give up too soon. They just let me go.
And I think that’s exactly what I wanted. I want to be free. I want to run wild. But a softly nagging part of me almost wishes they would have tried a little harder, would have been more formidable opponents, would have put up more of a fight.
Maybe I actually want them to hold me closer. Maybe I want them to try to keep me safe.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
twenty-nine.
I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT NORMAL LOVE IS SUPPOSED TO FEEL like. Maybe that’s what I had with Will—warm but not hot, comfortable but not thrilling. Our love was safe.
What I have with Marcus is something entirely different. It feels almost dangerous. He makes everything else disappear until I am lost and he is the only one who can find me. I crave him like I still crave pills—like a surge of lightning that lights up every part of my body and soul. I want him to fill me up until there’s no room left for anything else. I want him to consume me.
It seems such a waste of time to do anything besides be with him. Tonight is the worst waste of all: prom with Will. The worst parts of high school plus the most foolishly loyal part of my past, all dressed up and full of expectations I cannot fulfill.
Jenica’s new boyfriend is here to pick her up, corsage and all, and they’re in the living room with Mom and Dad taking pictures, everyone doing their happy-family routine without me. Jenica is doing it all right, this daughter performance. The funny thing is I used to do it even better than her. She was always the surly one while I was the cheerful princess, but now we’ve changed places. I know I should be out there with her; Will should be slipping a gaudy corsage on my wrist and I should be pinning a boutonniere to his suit, and we should be giddy with the spectacle of it all. We should be double dating with Kasey, going out to dinner before the dance, sneaking a little champagne in the parking lot beforehand, just enough to get tipsy but not enough to get drunk. We should dance and be happy, maybe make out in the car before going to the after-party. This is supposed to be a rite of passage. This is supposed to be fun.
But I am beyond all that. It seems so foolish. I managed to get out of dinner with Will and Kasey and her date, some guy I’ve never met, by lying about having a physical therapy appointment, even though I haven’t had physical therapy in weeks, even though it’s six o’clock on a Saturday night and who has physical therapy appointments then? I know Kasey didn’t believe me, but she didn’t say anything. She wasn’t about to break Will’s heart even more than it already is. He pouted, but he believed my excuse. He had to. What choice did he have? What else would make it bearable to sit at home, waiting, while everyone else he knows is out having dinner with someone they love or will at least make out with later tonight?
But I can’t think about that. If I imagine what he must be doing right now—alone, all dressed up and nowhere to go, still loving me even though all I do is reject him and lie to his face—a tsunami of feelings threatens to drown me. It hurts too much to imagine how I’ve hurt him. And now that I’ve quit the pills, I am no longer immune to pain. It is always there, storming around me like a hurricane, threatening to wipe me out entirely.
I pull Jenica’s old dress over my head. I lace up my black winter boots, the only things beside tennis shoes I can wear with my bad leg. I run some pomade through my hair and sculpt my baby-bird fluff into a kind of faux hawk. I line my eyes with thick black eyeliner and paint my lips blood-red. I walk through the living room where the rest of my family is acting so normal. I feel the mood sour as soon as I enter.
“Are you leaving now?” Mom says as I take her car keys from the hook by the door.
“Yeah,” I say.
“Have a great time, honey.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
br /> “Don’t do anything stupid,” Dad says, not ready to pretend everything’s okay like Mom is. “I’m serious, Evie. I’m still not okay with you taking your mom’s car.”
“I’m meeting Kasey and Will for dinner. They’re good chaperones. You trust them, don’t you?”
“Trusting them is not the issue and you know it.”
“Oh, come here,” Mom interrupts. “Let me take your picture.”
“No, it’s okay, Mom.”
“No really, come on. I want one of you and Jenica together.”
Jenica rolls her eyes as I make my way over. Her dopey boyfriend gets out of the way and I take his place next to my sister.
“You look nice,” I say.
“Thanks.” Her eyes narrow in suspicion at the compliment. She probably thinks I want something.
“Okay,” Mom says. “Say cheese.”
As hard as Mom tries, her forced cheer can’t make up for our lack of enthusiasm. We mutter the most pathetic “Cheese” in history. Dad waits this picture out and sits on the couch with his camera in his lap. He has no desire to remember this moment. He doesn’t want the night marred by any photographic evidence that I was here to ruin it.
I’m struck by the sudden urge to cry. For a moment, I wish Will was here with his arm around me. I wish Kasey was here taking way too many selfies with her phone and posting them to every social media outlet in existence. I wish I was wearing heels instead of these big black boots. I wish my hair was long and curled. I wish my makeup was subtle and pretty. I wish Dad was smiling and proud of his two girls, dressed up like princesses, on their way to a magical evening.
“I have to go,” I choke. “I’m going to be late.” I grab my purse and get out of the house as fast as I can. Only when I shut the front door behind me can I remember who I am now. I am someone who does not want those things. I am someone whose heart is not breaking.
I get in Mom’s car, take Stella’s mix out of my purse, and turn it up so loud that it drowns out any feelings of sadness I have left. I text Marcus to see if he wants to get together before I have to meet Will and Kasey, but he texts back that he’s out with a friend. A surge of jealousy rips through me—he is having fun without me. He is with someone else. Is it a girl? I know these thoughts are ridiculous, but still I can’t imagine him with a life outside of ours together. Maybe because mine is so empty without him.
I drive fast up winding roads into the hills of Berkeley, music blaring, until I find the spot Stella and Cole took me to the night that changed everything. I remember the feeling of being suspended in the back of the van, being completely powerless and at their mercy, and how liberating that seemed. I remember the van doors opening and for a moment feeling like I was flying. I was on top of the world that night. Life opened up in a way I never imagined.
And then, just as quickly, it closed.
It seems perverse that I felt so much hope and possibility in this same spot a handful of weeks ago, that life brightened right as I was ready to say good-bye to it. And now that I’ve been given another chance at it, the possibilities are suddenly frightening. There is too much space around me, too much distance to cover, too many roads and paths and hills and mountains I have no idea how to navigate. This is not why people survive. No one beats a terminal illness just to be terrified of everything.
I roll a joint and smoke the whole thing while I look over the sparkling bay. I blow my fear out with the smoke into the night. This will never be as good as the pills. Nothing will. But I inhale some stillness. Some relief.
The magic of the night with Stella is gone. This is only a hill with a nice view now. What would happen if I kept going, if I released the parking break and flew into empty space? Would I be weightless? Would I be lifted to somewhere better? Would I touch the freedom of that night, just for a second? Would I find Stella?
I sit for a long time, long enough to listen to most of the CD, long enough to finish an imaginary physical therapy appointment, long enough to finish a nice dinner on a nice date with a nice boyfriend, long enough to use up the time until I said I’d meet Will and Kasey. My head is pleasantly cloudy, but I’m afraid of it wearing off too soon, so I roll another joint to smoke on the drive back down the hill, to fortify me for the inevitable. Even as I’m doing it, I know it’s a bad idea. But it’s either that or risk sobering up too soon.
There are few streetlights up here and the roads are windy and steep. My vision is blurry and my reflexes are slow. I am finding it hard to stay inside the lines of the road. One wrong turn and I would run right into one of the hillside mansions. I would make a garage out of their living room. I could keep going, straight through, and fly through their million-dollar view.
As I drive around a sharp turn, I barely avoid crashing head-on into another car. The sound of its horn in the quiet night jolts me awake. I am vaguely scared, but not enough to stop driving. I know I’m a menace. I could hurt someone. I could hurt myself. I should care, but I don’t. I smoke through my fear and my shame until I make it to the bottom of the hill, still alive. Just barely.
I consider turning around when I see the crowd in front of the rented banquet hall where prom is being held, all the clumps of bare-shouldered girls with tiny purses, all the guys in matching black suits. But the night is just a cloud now, just a puff of smoke. I am not bothered by it. So I park and limp my way to the entrance, only half here. The other half of me is gone, sleeping.
“Evie!” Kasey’s voice cuts through the manic chatter of my classmates. There she is near the door, flanked by vague girls I used to call my friends, and their wholesome athlete boyfriends. Will is off to the side, poking at his phone the way people do to avoid looking lonely. He looks up and smiles—hopefully, sadly—and shame tears through my haze of pot smoke.
I realize how stoned I am as I walk toward them. It takes extra concentration to coordinate my legs. I don’t know if I should look people in the eye or not. My face feels like it’s put on crooked. My stomach growls with hunger and I feel briefly nauseous. I can’t remember the last time I ate.
“Hi,” Will says, leaning toward me out of habit, either for a kiss or a hug, neither of which he gets. “You look nice.”
“Thanks,” I say. “So do you.” It’s true, he does look nice. Will always looks nice. Everything about Will is always nice.
“I like the punk thing you’re doing,” a girl I used to consider my friend says. “You look cool.”
“Oh,” I say. Is that what I’m doing? “Thanks.”
“Want some?” another someone says, discretely pulling a flask halfway out of her purse. I grab it and gulp down almost all of it.
“Jesus, Evie,” Kasey says, disgusted.
“I’m thirsty.”
“Shall we go in?” says Kasey’s date, some guy from Skyline High she met at a party a month ago who I know nothing about.
In another life, I would have been squealing with the other girls about how beautiful the place looks. But in my condition, the fake Eiffel Tower and cardboard painted to look like old brick looks gaudy and cheap. The blaring hip-hop doesn’t help the attempt at Parisian ambience.
“The lights are so pretty,” someone says, but they’re nothing more than white Christmas lights.
“Are there snacks here?” I think I say, but no one answers, so I wonder if I actually said it out loud or if I just thought it.
Will’s holding on to my waist like he’s afraid I’m going to run off, and he’s probably smart to do it. I want to find somewhere to hide. I don’t want to dance. I don’t want to wait in line to take overpriced pictures with multiple cheesy background selections. I don’t want to stand around with these people I have nothing to say to.
Not to mention that I don’t think I’m capable of standing much longer. My legs are wobbly. Every beat of the too-loud music threatens to tip me over.
“I’m going to sit down,” I manage to say out loud.
“Already?” Will says. “Don’t you want to dance?”
/> “My leg hurts.” I know he can’t argue with that.
So we sit. Will does what he does best and holds court, talking to everyone who comes by in his charming talk-show-host voice. I do my best to smile, but I’m not capable of much more than that.
I watch people dance, mostly badly. The good dancers are too aware that they’re good, and are just as comical for taking themselves so seriously. I laugh to myself until Will looks at me weird and I shut up. I watch girls sizing each other up, shooting daggers at each other with their eyes. I watch guys checking out other guys’ girlfriends. It’s all so predictable, all this posturing. If it weren’t for the different dresses, everyone would look exactly the same.
Will’s voice chirps next to me but I have no idea what he’s saying. I text Marcus I miss you and I don’t care if Will sees.
“You look great,” everyone tells me.
“Are you sure you don’t want to dance?” Will keeps asking me in between greeting the visitors to our receiving line.
People offer me their hidden flasks and I drink instead of talking.
My phone buzzes. I miss you too, it says, and now everything is all right with the world.
“Let’s dance!” I say, suddenly sick of sitting. I stand up too fast and the room swirls around me. The Eiffel Tower turns to rubber and the strings of lights get tangled.
“Uh-oh,” Will says, catching me like a true gentleman. “Ha-ha,” he says, his straight white teeth sparkling in the low light. “Did someone have a little too much to drink?”
I choose to ignore his patronizing tone. “Come on,” I say, and pull him onto the dance floor next to where Kasey and her date are dancing. I see Jenica across the room and she actually looks happy. It’s weird to see her out of the house, in a different context than our family. She actually has a life in the real world. She’s someone besides my bitchy sister.