The Survival Kit (5 page)
Authors: Donna Freitas
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Death & Dying, #Love & Romance
OVER YOU
The smell of coffee was strong through the house. Monday morning arrived and with it a feeling of deep dread. Chris and me in a fight was one thing—people at school were accustomed to our spats, and all couples fought, especially when they’d gone out for so long like Chris and I. Our stalemates had always ended with us making up and usually making out in the hallway by Chris’s locker. These public kissing sessions were like an official school bulletin that Rose Madison and Chris Williams were back together again. But this time was different. We hadn’t spoken since Friday, and today would mark the first occasion I’d walk through the Lewis High School hallways as just Rose and not Chris Williams’s girlfriend. Who I was without him, I didn’t really know and I didn’t feel ready to find out either.
As if this were a day like any other, I got Dad’s travel mug ready and made sure he ate his breakfast before sending him off to work. But afterward, as I stood under the scalding water of the shower, I wished that I could erase Friday night and replace it with a different outcome or that I’d just imagined my breakup
with Chris and today everything would go back to normal. As I was getting dressed, my phone vibrated and Chris’s face filled the screen. I stared until it stilled. Was it good or bad that he was calling me? It vibrated again and I closed my eyes, thinking I should pick up, that maybe if I did, we
would
make up and everything would be okay again, and finally on the fifth ring, I reached for it. “Hey,” I said as if nothing was wrong.
with Chris and today everything would go back to normal. As I was getting dressed, my phone vibrated and Chris’s face filled the screen. I stared until it stilled. Was it good or bad that he was calling me? It vibrated again and I closed my eyes, thinking I should pick up, that maybe if I did, we
would
make up and everything would be okay again, and finally on the fifth ring, I reached for it. “Hey,” I said as if nothing was wrong.
“Rose,” Chris said, his tone quiet and even.
Nerves rattled my stomach. “I’m glad you called. I thought about calling all weekend because I’m worried that maybe we were too hasty, breaking up like that on Friday.” I was rambling but I didn’t care. “I don’t know what happened the other night, I just—”
“I’ve done some thinking, too,” he interrupted. “I’ve been patient and I’ve tiptoed around your needs and stuck by you through all your craziness—no music because it makes you sad, no sex or even kissing for god’s sake because you don’t want to be touched, no football games because you don’t want to go back to the stadium, no talking to the cheerleaders because you quit and feel awkward, no drinking because of your dad’s drinking. No this, no that.”
My body grew cold as I listened to Chris’s list of my hangups and the various other things I’d been avoiding since spring. “You’re right. It isn’t fair.”
“No, actually, Rose, I get it, to a point. Your mother dying is a huge deal and who am I to understand what you’re going
through and how you need to get through it? What I
was
right about, though, was telling you that we needed space, because obviously we do.
Obviously
that’s what you’ve wanted all along or you would have disagreed when I first brought it up.”
through and how you need to get through it? What I
was
right about, though, was telling you that we needed space, because obviously we do.
Obviously
that’s what you’ve wanted all along or you would have disagreed when I first brought it up.”
“But I was confused and I was having a hard night,” I said, my hand balling up into a fist.
“When
aren’t
you lately?”
aren’t
you lately?”
Like a fish searching for air, I opened my mouth then shut it again and there was a long silence.
Then Chris said, “The reason why I called is because I want my jacket back.”
I felt slapped. “What?”
“Don’t make this more difficult than it already is,” he said.
“But—” I started, but didn’t know how to finish.
Chris’s football jacket was so symbolic of our relationship and of who I was that returning it felt almost impossible. I’ll never forget the first time I wore it. We were on our second date, at the diner where all the football players went after their games.
“Turn around,” Chris said to me, holding his jacket in front of him by the bright-blue-and-white-striped collar.
“Really?” I asked, excited by the gesture. My face flushed from happiness and I tilted my head a little to watch as Chris slipped one bulky sleeve up my arm to my shoulder and then the other so I could shrug myself into the rest. My fingertips were just barely visible at the ends. It felt like Christmas, putting on
that jacket, and wearing it said to everyone that I, Rose Madison, was Chris Williams’s girlfriend.
that jacket, and wearing it said to everyone that I, Rose Madison, was Chris Williams’s girlfriend.
“Keep it,” Chris told me. “I like it better on you.” He smiled and I got up on my tiptoes, placed both hands against his chest, and gave him a long, slow kiss. We barely noticed the whistling and catcalls from his teammates sitting in a nearby booth.
But now this memory hurt because I knew exactly what
not
wearing it would mean to everyone at school, and this made my heart ache. Returning his jacket made our breakup more real somehow. “Chris, I—”
not
wearing it would mean to everyone at school, and this made my heart ache. Returning his jacket made our breakup more real somehow. “Chris, I—”
“Bring it,” Chris said, his voice sharp. “Today.”
A deep breath pushed my chest out involuntarily. “Okay,” I said even as tears stung my eyes and streamed down my face. “If that’s what you want.”
There was another long pause and he sighed into the phone. “It is.”
I heard a click and Chris’s picture disappeared from the screen. The jacket I’d proudly worn for two years stared at me from the back of my desk chair, where I always put it at the end of the day, and I grabbed it. Before I left the house I took out a big canvas shopping bag from under the kitchen sink. The letters
Chris Williams
stitched into the wool caught my gaze and I gave his name one long last look and then shoved the jacket inside.
Chris Williams
stitched into the wool caught my gaze and I gave his name one long last look and then shoved the jacket inside.
Krupa was waiting by the school entrance when I arrived. “Rose, how
are
you?” she asked, her brown eyes pooled with concern.
are
you?” she asked, her brown eyes pooled with concern.
“Really glad to see you,” I said, and I held out the bag with his jacket.
She peered inside. “Wow. So this is a done deal.”
“I guess. I don’t know. I’m too upset to talk about it right now.”
“Okay. Let’s just do this. We’ll make it quick and get it behind us.”
I loved how Krupa said
us
, as if Chris had broken up with her, too. I glanced left, then right, feeling anxious. “Ideally without attracting too much attention,” I muttered as we began to navigate the packed hallways, thick with athletes, the bag bouncing against my hip with every step. A few of the cheerleaders nodded hello but I pretended not to see them. I hoped that luck would be on my side and Chris wouldn’t be at his locker—I didn’t want a scene. Instead, I found Tony standing there, a giant wall blocking my way, and I almost turned around right then.
us
, as if Chris had broken up with her, too. I glanced left, then right, feeling anxious. “Ideally without attracting too much attention,” I muttered as we began to navigate the packed hallways, thick with athletes, the bag bouncing against my hip with every step. A few of the cheerleaders nodded hello but I pretended not to see them. I hoped that luck would be on my side and Chris wouldn’t be at his locker—I didn’t want a scene. Instead, I found Tony standing there, a giant wall blocking my way, and I almost turned around right then.
“You can do this,” Krupa whispered, and gave me a little push.
At least there was no sign of Chris.
“Hiya, Rose,” Tony said after flashing Krupa a big smile. “What did you do to our captain this time? He was upset all weekend. You two and your little spats.” He laughed, and if I had to bet, Tony was thinking that by football practice this
afternoon he’d be yanking at Chris’s arm, trying his best to pull us apart so they wouldn’t be late. Tony’s big hazel eyes were full of teasing, but then he saw my face and his expression changed. “Are you okay?”
afternoon he’d be yanking at Chris’s arm, trying his best to pull us apart so they wouldn’t be late. Tony’s big hazel eyes were full of teasing, but then he saw my face and his expression changed. “Are you okay?”
“I have a favor to ask,” I said, and took the bag from my shoulder, offering it to him, hoping he would just take it so I could leave.
“That’s Chris’s jacket,” Tony said. “Why would you give it to me?”
I stretched my arms out farther, my muscles growing tired from holding it up. “He asked for it back. Would you make sure he gets it? Please.”
“You’re broken up for real?” he asked, plainly surprised by this, and when I didn’t respond he began to shake his head side to side. “Don’t put me in the middle of this. Besides, you guys always fix things.” Tony stepped away as if suddenly afraid to be caught near me, giving me a clear path to Chris’s locker, so I pushed past him. A sudden hush fell over the other football players standing nearby, watching us, their eyes like tiny knives sliding into the soft skin of my back. Reaching into the bag, I removed the jacket, folded it neatly, and placed it on the floor in front of locker 49, the number Chris wore on his football jersey, and left it there like a tribute.
“Let’s go,” Krupa said, pulling me away. “Everything is going to be okay,” she encouraged as we headed down the hall. “And remember, you are not alone. Don’t forget. You have me.”
“I know.”
“And just think,” she went on, steering us toward our locker, “before long, football season will end and it will be all hockey, all the time on the weekends for you and me.”
“Oh goody,” I said, mustering a laugh.
“Look on the bright side: we won’t have to worry about running into football players at the rink, right? And I’ll do my best to—” Krupa stopped suddenly, mid-sentence, switching gears. “Um, we should get to class.” She yanked me in the other direction so of course I needed to see what she didn’t want me to.
Chris Williams was across the hall from us, his expression unreadable. He shook his head at me, whether in anger or sadness or something else I wasn’t sure.
My eyes sought the floor.
Gently, Krupa urged me to follow her. “Rose?”
I breathed deep, in, out. “Let’s go or we’ll be late,” I said, and just like that, another day of school officially began, as if nothing had changed, nothing at all—nothing except for me—and for the rest of that week I tried to get used to it, the fact that I was no longer Chris Williams’s girlfriend, but a different girl, a different Rose, and in truth, I had no idea what this meant.
FAN OF YOUR EYES
On Saturday afternoon I found myself alone with Will Doniger. Silence stretched between us, the only sound from the bumping of his truck as we drove along back roads, the seat bouncing our bodies with sharp jolts as the wheels hit yet another pothole. The inside of the cab was intimate, as if made for conversation. We were sitting barely a foot apart, but it may as well have been miles. Will was face front, both hands on the wheel, his eyes straight ahead, which allowed me to study him with impunity. The white T-shirt he wore made his tan from all that yard work look even deeper, his jeans were frayed in places and dirt was smudged across the knees, and there was a leather cord tied around his left wrist. His hair fell in waves to just below his ears, so it had that perpetually messy look that only a guy can carry off well. He hadn’t said a word since we left the house. Maybe he was angry about my bailing on him last Saturday or maybe he was just a quiet guy. Either way, he seemed comfortable with not talking.
I sighed, long and loud, glancing over at Will to see if he
noticed or might try to strike up a conversation. He didn’t, and I turned my attention to the scenery outside the passenger window.
noticed or might try to strike up a conversation. He didn’t, and I turned my attention to the scenery outside the passenger window.
The Touchdown Diner appeared on our right, with its familiar painted signs that advertised three pancakes for three dollars and eggs, toast, and hash browns for two. I couldn’t quell the sadness that accompanied the possibility that Chris and I might never go there together again. With this thought the silence became overwhelming.
“So,” I began, trying to think of what in the world we might have in common to discuss. “How long have you been doing the landscaping thing?” This was the reason our paths crossed so I figured it was a good enough place to start.
“Four years,” was Will’s distressingly short response.
“Four years,” I repeated. “Hmm,” I murmured after another long pause. This was going nowhere fast. “So … were you, what, twelve then? That’s kind of young, isn’t it?”
“I was thirteen,” he replied, further proof that he was not only a man of few words but more like two or three tops.
“Thirteen is pretty early, though, right?”
“It was for my dad’s business. I was already used to working for him.”
I was startled by how easily he brought his father up in conversation—I certainly wasn’t able to do this yet with my mother. “That would make you, what, seventeen now?”
“Yup. Seventeen.”
Oh my god. You know things aren’t going well when you resort to basic math as a means to further discussion. Just as I was beginning to despair, Will asked, “You?”
“Me?” I wasn’t sure what he wanted to know.
“How old are you?”
“Oh. Sixteen. This past summer in July,” I said, and automatically thought of how difficult my birthday was without Mom.
“How’d it go?” From Will’s tone it was clear he knew what I was thinking.
“Well,” I began, trying to decide how best to answer. “It was sad. Really difficult.” I paused. “No, it sucked actually. It completely and totally sucked. I didn’t even want anyone to notice it was my birthday.”
“Sounds about right,” Will said.
I glanced at Will sitting there, relaxed, his left arm stretched out over the top of the steering wheel, his right hand resting on the gearshift, barely a few inches from my knee. He put on his signal and we turned down a dirt road with a canopy of trees on either side. The leaves were already turning bright yellows and oranges and my eyes settled away from him and onto a big maple ablaze with cherry-colored foliage until it disappeared behind us. “Really?”
“The first birthday is the hardest, but it’ll get easier.”
I turned to him again. “I want that to be true.”
“You just have to go through it. The sadness. There
is
another
side.” He looked at me for the very first time since I’d gotten into his truck. “I mean it,” he said.
is
another
side.” He looked at me for the very first time since I’d gotten into his truck. “I mean it,” he said.
“So, are you? To the other side, I mean?” Broaching the subject of his father so directly made me nervous—I didn’t want to overstep. But maybe Will was more ready to talk about this subject than I was. At least it was something he seemed willing to talk about, as opposed to our stilted conversation from before.
“I’m getting there. Doing my best.” He paused. “You seem to have a lot of support. You know, like from your boyfriend.”
“My boyfriend?” I said, surprised by Will’s comment even as I realized that saying the word
boyfriend
made me feel a pang of regret—I’d have to practice adding the “ex” before it would come naturally.
boyfriend
made me feel a pang of regret—I’d have to practice adding the “ex” before it would come naturally.
“Yeah. Chris Williams,” he said.
“Oh. How did you know?” I asked, and immediately felt stupid. Of course Will knew. Everyone at school did. He gave me a face that said something like,
Come on, I’m not blind
. “Okay, okay. That was a dumb question. People always know what Chris Williams does. Or did. God, that came out wrong. You know what I mean. Whatever.”
Come on, I’m not blind
. “Okay, okay. That was a dumb question. People always know what Chris Williams does. Or did. God, that came out wrong. You know what I mean. Whatever.”
“I see you with him,” he said.
“You see me—” I started, then realized what he meant. “At my house, when you’re working and Chris picks me up for school. Of course. Do you and Chris know each other well?”
He shrugged. “Not really. Only enough to say hello in passing. We’re both seniors.”
I nodded. It was strange to be having a conversation with Will about Chris, almost a relief to talk about him out loud as if everything was still the same.
“Last week you walked to school,” Will observed.
My eyes immediately dropped from Will’s face and I studied his hand on the gearshift, the way it tensed when he moved. “You noticed?”
“I did.”
“Well, to be honest, actually,” I stuttered, preparing myself to say out loud what came next. “Chris and I broke up,” I confessed, and there it was, out in the open for the first time to someone other than Krupa. It sounded so final. Though I could tell Will was waiting for me to continue, now it was my turn to play the silent one, knowing that he would let the subject drop rather than pry.
Soon the bumping and bouncing of the truck along the road became our only background noise, the trees radiant, their colorful leaves luminous in the sunlight. It wasn’t long before we turned into the dirt parking lot of the farm, pulling up alongside a long rickety wooden shed with one wall open to the cool fall air surrounded by cornfields as far as the eye could see.
“We’re here,” Will said, the truck shuddering and coughing before it quieted. Suddenly, he looked at me straight on, his gaze
steady and holding mine. Then just as abruptly he turned away, opening the driver’s side to hop out. His stare was long enough for me to notice the color of his eyes. They were dark blue, like the ocean, shimmering and deep and almost impossible to see through to the bottom.
steady and holding mine. Then just as abruptly he turned away, opening the driver’s side to hop out. His stare was long enough for me to notice the color of his eyes. They were dark blue, like the ocean, shimmering and deep and almost impossible to see through to the bottom.
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