“Food’s ready!” Claire’s voice pierces through our perfect moment. The leaves shudder.
“Be there in a minute!” my mom calls cheerfully.
She takes her arm back and pats my thigh. “You come out here when you need to think,” she says. “I’m officially leaving this place to you now.”
“But it’s yours.”
“I don’t need it anymore. Sometimes you have to take things back before you can let them go. I just came up to say good-bye. I’m happy now, Bean. Not because Gus died. I know you find that hard to believe. But I’m free now. That’s honestly how I feel. I don’t need to hide up here anymore.”
“But I do?”
“You’re a teenager.” She shoves me a little with her shoulder. “Next time you get mad at me, do me a favor and come out here instead of going into Gus’s room.”
I ignore that.
“C’mon, let’s go get rid of those gawd-awful leftovers.”
She stands and walks bravely across the slanted roof while I crawl behind her.
Back inside, I follow her down the hallway. When we pass Gus’s door, I pause and open it.
“We need to talk about that,” my mom says.
But she doesn’t close the door.
chapter twelve
As we make our way downstairs, the clock chimes its half-song to let us know it’s six-thirty. I follow my mom into the kitchen.
“What’s cooking, sweetie?” my mom asks.
My mom and Claire are like the teen best friends I’ll never have. The kind that paint each other’s nails, do each other’s hair, have sleepovers, stay up late, and sneak drinks from their parents’ liquor cabinet. Okay, well, Henry and I have done that last one. But sometimes I wish Henry was a girl so we could do all that other stuff.
“Leftovers and edamame,” Claire says. Ew. “But later I’ll make popcorn for the movie.”
“Movie?” My mom grins excitedly.
“Yup. And it’s a good one so let’s eat fast.”
“You want to join us later, Beany?” my mom asks. “We could have a pajama party.”
I knew it. They are such teenagers.
“Can I invite Henry?”
“Of course. In fact, invite Sally too. Forget the pajamas. We’ll just have a regular old movie party.”
After dinner I help my mom clean up while Claire makes her stupid popcorn the old-fashioned way on the stovetop. Her shoulders shake extra hard as she jiggles the pan over the burner. The kernels start to pop one at a time, then faster.
“We have the microwave kind,” I say to her back.
“It’s not the same,” she says. “You’re about to enjoy the best popcorn you’ve ever had.”
“Wait for Henry and Sally,” my mom says, coming up behind her and peeking excitedly at the lidded pot like it holds gold instead of popcorn. “Go call them quick, Beany.”
I leave Claire and my mom in the kitchen and call Henry.
“You want me and my mom to come over now?” he asks.
“Yes?”
“Hang on.”
I listen hard while he goes to ask Sally about the spontaneous party. I can tell they’re arguing, the way their voices go back and forth so quickly, but I can’t tell who wants to come and who doesn’t.
“Okay,” Henry says when he comes back to the phone. “We’ll be there soon.”
I wait for him to click off before I hang up, too.
“They’re coming!” I call as I head back to the kitchen.
My mom is standing close behind Claire at the table while Claire pours melted butter over an enormous wooden bowl of popcorn. She jumps back quickly at the sound of my voice.
“What?” I ask.
“N-nothing!” my mom says. Her cheeks are bright pink.
“I didn’t want you to see my secret ingredient,” Claire says kind of quickly.
“What are you going to do, poison me?”
My mom laughs. “Honestly, Bean.”
“Turn around while I put it in,” Claire says.
“Okay, but I’m going to make you eat some of it before I do.” I turn around while Claire and my mom fumble around with something on the counter.
“All right, you can come taste now,” my mom says.
Before I get to the bowl, both my mom and Claire scoop out handfuls and start eating.
“Mmmmm,” my mom says, smiling at Claire. “Definitely the best I’ve ever had. You’ve gotta try it, Bean.”
“Okay, okay.” I take one piece and carefully put it in my mouth. It’s salty and sweet and buttery and—ugh—delicious, even though I don’t want it to be and definitely don’t want to admit it.
“What did you do to it?” I ask. Isn’t arsenic supposed to have a sweet taste?
“Butter, salt, and sugar. Isn’t it perfect?”
“Not bad,” I say.
“You love it. Admit it,” my mom says, grinning at me. She bumps hips with Claire before they saunter off into the other room to set up the movie.
I stay in the kitchen sneaking bites of the popcorn. When the doorbell rings I pick up the bowl and carry it to the front door.
“Welcome!” I say, happy to have someone normal back in the house.
Henry looks at me suspiciously. Sally stands behind him with her yellow hair piled on top of her head. I’m glad to see her, even though she does look insane with that hair. She’s wearing a muumuu-type dress that floats around her, making her look like one of those tacky dolls they sell on QVC, with the big skirts you put over spare toilet-paper rolls.
“Hi, hon,” Sally says. She’s carrying a family-size bag of Doritos. The bag reminds me of Sally’s house. I haven’t been there since the day after Gus died.
“What’re we watching?” Henry asks as they come inside.
“Um. I’m not sure.”
Henry raises his eyebrows doubtfully.
“Sorry. Guess I should’ve asked.”
“Yeah.”
“There she is!” Claire yells when the three of us reach the living room, apparently all invisible except for Sally.
“You look wonderful, Sally!” my mom says. She twists a very red lock of her own, new hair. “I’m so glad you came.”
Sally nods and sits in the middle of the couch, holding the bag of Doritos in her lap.
“I’ll get a bowl for those,” I say, putting the popcorn down on the coffee table and taking the bag from Sally.
“You have to try Claire’s popcorn,” my mom says as I leave the room.
Henry follows me into the kitchen. Already we can hear our moms laughing in the living room. Then the sticky slap of bare feet in flip-flops comes down the hallway.
“Drinks for everyone!” Claire says in a sing-song voice as she makes her way to the fridge and opens the freezer. She pulls out a new bottle of vodka and sets it on the counter. Then she gets three tall glasses from the cupboard.
I roll my eyes at Henry while Claire rummages for cranberry juice and a lime in the fridge.
We wait for Claire to finish and then find some opaque plastic glasses, which we fill with Kool-Aid and some of the vodka. I stand lookout at the door while Henry mixes the drinks. When he finishes, he hands me mine and we go back to the pathetic party in the living room.
Claire is fussing with the DVD player while my mom fidgets with Sally’s hair.
“Oops! I forgot the Doritos!” I say. I go back to the kitchen to find a bowl. When I return, my mom is standing behind Henry, pushing her fingers through his stubby hair. There’s a tube of hair gel on the table. Henry is cringing.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I was just seeing what he’d look like with his hair a bit spikier,” my mom says.
First of all, Henry’s hair is basically a crew cut, so there isn’t much to spike. Second of all, watching your mom play with your best friend’s hair is creepy.
“Well, don’t please,” I say. “He likes it the way it is.”
“Fine.” She takes her hands away, and
Henry quickly darts his head out from under them.
“Come on, let’s start the movie,” Claire says, pulling my mom’s arm and leading her away from Henry.
“What are we watching, anyway?” I ask.
“An Affair to Remember,” my mom says wistfully.
“Oooh,” Sally says from the couch. “I love that movie. Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr.” She sighs.
“But you’ve seen that a million times!” I whine.
“And I could watch it a million more,” my mom says.
I plop myself down next to Sally and lean forward for a big handful of popcorn. Then I take a long, defiant drink from my plastic cup.
Henry follows my lead.
Once everyone’s settled, Claire turns off the lights and starts the movie.
Henry, Sally, and I sit on the couch in our usual positions. Only we’re in the wrong place. We’re in Bizarro World.
Claire and my mom sit on the floor in front of the coffee table, using it to lean their backs on. My mom settles her head on Claire’s shoulder like she’s her date.
I take another drink. And another.
Every time I lean forward for more popcorn I feel lightheaded. I wonder if the joke is lost on everyone but me that we are all sitting here watching a romantic movie about true love when not one of us has ever experienced it and probably never will.
I lean my head back and close my eyes. Sally quietly chews popcorn while the bowl of Doritos remains untouched. Henry fidgets with his shirt and continues to look tortured. Claire and my mom make “aw” and “oh” and “I love this part” noises from the floor.
In the crowded room, I feel very lonely.
Gus’s empty chair looks at me. Why didn’t we do this when you were here? I think. What were we so afraid of?
When the movie is finally over, Claire gets up to fill my mom’s and Sally’s drinks. My head is spinning and I just want to go to bed. But Sally doesn’t look like she plans on leaving anytime soon, so that means Henry won’t be either.
“Come on,” I say to him.
He follows me out to the front porch, and we sit on the steps. It’s hot and humid, and the cicadas are buzzing away. A moth circles the porch light, hitting it over and over again with a quiet thwack.
“That movie was depressing,” Henry says, watching the moth.
It’s true. I know the ending is supposed to be happy, but all I can remember when the movie ends is the pain and frustration I feel when Terry doesn’t show up to meet her true love on top of the Empire State Building. I mean, even though in the end it’s all okay. I can’t get over that moment. My mom insists that it is the most romantic movie ever made and rents it at least once a year, crying the whole way through. Except that this time I didn’t notice a single tear until the end, when there’s no reason to be sad.
“Do you think we’ll always stay friends?” Henry asks. “I mean, after we graduate and stuff?”
“Of course,” I say. “We’re all we have.”
“Seriously though. Even when we’re in college? What if we go to different schools?”
“What makes you think college is going to bring us new friends? If we’re this socially challenged now, college will be even worse, I’m sure.”
Henry flaps his shirt. “What are you talking about?”
“Think about it. We’ve been all the way through elementary school and part of high school, right? We’ve known these people all our lives and haven’t managed to break into the fold. In college, you only get four years. If it’s taken us all our lives to get this far, do you really think we’re going to score a posse in college?”
“You’re crazy.”
“I’m right.”
“Well, if we go to different schools we better stay friends then,” he says.
“Of course.”
“And we’ll meet somewhere when we graduate. Like on July first. Just like in the movie.”
“Definitely,” I say. “How about at the top of the Empire State Building?”
“Right. Naturally.”
“I’m glad that’s settled,” I say. And I really hope that it is. Because even though my mom says she’s happy now, I don’t want to ever feel trapped like her. Or Gus.
Henry leans back on his elbows, which rest on the top step. A second moth joins the first, and they do a sort of dance, taking turns thwacking into the light.
“They’re like us,” Henry says.
“Who?”
“The moths.”
“Why?”
“Hopeless.”
I lean back next to Henry. Inside, our moms and Claire are playing a drinking game. A quarter smacks against a counter and my mom yells, “Drink!” God, they are so juvenile.
The moths bump bump against the light.
Maybe he’s right.
chapter thirteen
We sit for a long time, not talking. Just listening to the inside noises. I don’t want to go back in there. I pick at a scab on my knee and watch a speck of blood ooze up. Henry pushes the cuticles back on each finger.
“Let’s go for a walk,” I say. I have no idea where we can walk this late at night. There’s noplace safe around here anymore.
“We can’t,” Henry says. “There’s nowhere to go.”
“Then let’s sneak up to my room. Anything. I can’t stand sitting here watching the bugs fly toward the light another second.”
We creep back into the house, careful not to let the screen door slam.
Our moms and Claire are still partying it up in the kitchen. We could’ve slammed the door and they wouldn’t have noticed.
I climb the stairs first. In the upstairs hallway, Gus’s door is closed again. Instead of going to my room, I stand in the doorway, staring at the grain in the wooden door.
Henry comes up behind me. “What are you doing?”
I open the door. “She keeps shutting it.”
“Who?”
“My mom. Or Claire, I guess.”
“I can see why.”
“Why?”
“It’s spooky,” he says. He steps back, as if saying the words makes it even more so.
“Well, I’m keeping it open. My mom might want to shut him out but I don’t.”
“Bean, just leave it.” He puts his hand on the doorknob.
I ignore him and go inside before he can close the door. The room feels even more still and stopped in time than it did before. A light breeze sends the white curtains dancing gently. But the room is starting to smell stale, even with the open windows.
The sides of my mouth quiver. Gus is fading.
I sit on the edge of the bed. I don’t try to hide my face from Henry when I feel my tears come.
“Hey,” he says from the doorway. “Are you okay? Why don’t you come out of there?”
I shake my head. It’s not spooky in here. It’s just empty.
There’s no ghost.
No bits of Gus.
He got out of here at last.
I move back on the bed and rest my head on the headboard. I still feel a little dizzy from the vodka.
Henry slowly forces himself into the room and sits down next to me. His sweat smells sweet.
I lean my head into his neck and feel his friendship folding into me.
The corner streetlamp shines through the open window and turns the objects in the room to shadows.
Henry sighs heavily next to me. I imitate him. He does it again so I do too. We laugh a little. Then he slowly reaches for my hand. In the dark, I can just make out the shadow of our hands together. I feel a slow warmth spread up my arm. It feels foreign and familiar at the same time.
I squeeze his hand lightly and close my eyes.
“Thanks for being my best friend,” I say.
He squeezes back. “No problem.”
I listen to the rhythm of his breath and feel his hand in mine. I don’t dare open my eyes, or speak, or move. I want to just be. Here. With Henry.
* * *
“What the hell ar
e you doing in here?”
I jump a mile at my mom’s voice. A sweaty hand slips out of mine. My head has been resting on Henry’s shoulder.
Henry stands up in a flash. My mom flicks on the light and blinds us. Squinting, Henry tries to get his footing.
“We fell asleep, that’s all,” I say, standing up.
“In here?” my mom asks.
She doesn’t look like a teenager anymore. She looks like an angry, old adult. She looks suspicious. She looks like … like Gus used to when she came home late.
Claire appears behind her in the hall. She gives me a disapproving look.
“We weren’t doing anything!” I yell. “We came in here to get away from you!” I hope Claire realizes I mean that in the plural.
“Oh, really?” My mom wobbles a little. I can smell the alcohol on her breath.
“Yes! This is the only peaceful room in this entire house if you want to know the truth!”
Henry fumbles with his shirt, which has come untucked. The gesture does not help our case, clearly, as my mom glares at him.
“I am so disappointed in you, Beany. And in here of all places. That’s it. I’m moving all this crap out of here tomorrow.”
“What? No! You can’t do that!”
“This is … this is sick, you in here. On this bed!”
“Sick? What do you think we were doing, Mom? We fell asleep!”
“I’m supposed to believe that?”
“Yes! I’m not you!”
She steps back, her mouth open.
It’s as if my words just punched her in the face.
She raises her hand as if to slap me back with a real hand, but Claire grabs her shoulders and holds her. My mom has never hit me before, but I’m sure if Claire hadn’t grabbed hold I’d be toast. It’s like the anger she’s held inside her entire life has come bubbling up to the surface, and it is directed at me. It’s all because of me, whatever she says.
“Everything all right?” Sally’s voice calls from downstairs.
No one answers.
My mom steps back into the hall and lets Claire embrace her.
“Overreact much?” I say.
“I can’t believe you would do this.” She looks from me to Henry. “I thought you two were just friends. If I’d known, I would have—”