Changing Fate (2 page)

Mom
comes in my room during therapy the next morning. She sits on the edge of my bed and eyes the dart in my hand, then glances at the large target across the room.

“Well, let’s see it.”

My lip rises on one side. I pull my hand back and throw the dart at the center of the target. It hits its mark and Mom’s eyebrow arches.

“Still the best,” she says. “How are you?”

I shrug.

“I just got a call from the doc. He wants to do some antibiotic treatments through the nebulizer. You know, to prevent winter colds and all.”

A sigh escapes and I nod. I’m actually surprised he didn’t order it earlier.

Mom stands up and walks to the door. “I’ll pick up the new meds after work and you can do your first treatment tonight.” She pauses and folds her arms. “I don’t want to bother you about this so soon, but how are things at school with the other kids?”

I try to fake a smile but she just narrows her eyes and purses her lips. It’s the usual sign that she knows I’m about to lie and she’ll see right through it. “I don’t have a lot of friends yet, but maybe by the end of the week...” Or never.

She exhales. “Please don’t push people away like you did at your last school. You
need
friends. They’ll help you see the happy things in life.”

She’s one to talk. Her only friends were in the karate group back home. “I
am
happy, Mom. I have you and I have my hobbies.”

“As much as I love you, honey, there’s more to life than hanging out with your mom and throwing darts.”

“You’re right.” I say. “I
do
need people. I need them to build awesome structures that I can admire from far away. Maybe one day I’ll get to live in a palace. I’d love to see the Eiffel Tower, you know.”

“Yes, yes. I know. Maybe you can find some rich friends to pay for the trip.”

I laugh. “That’s so wrong, Mom, and you know it.”

“But it might help you make friends even if they don’t use their money to buy your happiness.”

I pick up a dart and aim it at her. “Goodbye, Mom. I’ll see you when I’m ready for breakfast.”

She swipes her hand through the air with wicked speed and leaves the room.
Show off.
She’d totally do it too—knock the dart out of the air if I tried to hit her with it. 

I think about Mom’s suggestion through the rest of morning therapy. By the time I walk into my first period class, I still have it on my mind. I either have to actually make friends or find a way to lie about it so Mom doesn’t keep pestering me. I find my seat and notice that Kyler’s not there yet. The bell’s about to ring and he might be late. Or absent. Not like I should care.

I don’t.

A melodic voice drifts from the corner behind me. My stomach dances in smooth motions. Warmth seeps through my body and leaves a tingle on the back of my neck. I turn around to
find Kyler talking with the teacher. They shake hands and Kyler pivots around, catching my eye before I can look away. Dang. Heat races to my face and my heart pounds erratically.

That’s when I notice the teacher looking back and forth between the two of us. He says something to Kyler that I don’t understand because everything around me is a haze of embarrassment. Kyler walks toward me and a sliver of panic
spreads through my body. Most likely, he’s going to tell me to stop staring and to take a picture of him because it would last longer. Or maybe he’ll tell me to leave him alone, which would be perfectly fine since that’s my goal anyway. Right? It’s my goal. No friends. I repeat it in my head until he stops beside me.

“Hey, Kate. Good to see you.”

I nod with, I’m sure, a ridiculous, dumbfounded look. “You too.” I close my eyes and try to get a grip on reality. Maybe he’ll just walk on by. Even though his voice fills me with a strange hope, he has that freckle on his lip that I refuse to look at. My eyes pop open and I find it. Right there. And he’s speaking to me again.

“There’s an assembly in a few minutes. I’ve gotta go because I’m in it, but I’ll catch ya later?”

Is that a question? Like he’s asking my permission to speak to me again? Maybe my star struck look didn’t scare him…yet. I clear my throat. “Yeah, sure. Good luck with whatever you’re doing in the assembly.”

Kyler’s smile almost has the same effect as his voice. He leaves the room and turns down the hall. A few minutes later, we file toward the auditorium. Before I find a seat, Giana appears and pulls me by the arm. We head
toward the stage, moving closer to a group of people calling her name.

Lots of people, together, like a bundle of friends that are connected in a way I can only imagine. I yank my arm back and Giana stops. “Don’t you want to sit with us?”

I gnaw my lip and consider the consequences. Friends, connections, death, loneliness. My hands are suddenly clammy and my legs tremble. I shake my head. “Sorry, but I’d rather sit alone.”

“You sure?”

I’m just glad she’s not pushing it. “Yeah. Thanks though.”

The back of the auditorium is empty and inviting. I find a seat next to the aisle. Students shuffle by, talking to each other and racing to sit next to their friends. A group of guys walk past and when they’re gone, Giana’s standing right beside me. It’s like she keeps appearing out of nowhere. I guess that’s a bonus for being short in a crowded school.

She waves. “Can I sit next to you?”

I stand up and plop in the next seat. “What about your friends?”

She shrugs. “They’ll live. Besides, I don’t like being so close to the stage. The loud noise drives me crazy.”

“Really?” Does she mean it or is she just trying to make an excuse to ditch her friends and sit next to me?

“Yeah, I’m part deaf in one ear and even though it makes things quieter, it also makes everything kind of echo through my brain. I get a headache when it’s loud.”

“From the noise?” I ask.

“I’m not sure. It could be that my ear strains to pick up specific sounds. Who knows?”

I shift in my seat. It’s weird listening to someone else’s problems instead of focusing on my own. “Were you born with it?”

Giana shakes her head. “No, I got in a car accident when I was little. The doctors say I’m lucky to be alive. From what they can tell, after all the surgeries and recovery, the only permanent damage was a loss of hearing and maybe a little stunted growth.”

“A little?”

She laughs. “When you see my parents, you’ll know what I mean.”

When
I see them? Like, she’s already planning on us meeting sometime. I swallow and can’t think of anything else to say. I don’t want her to think I’d like to meet her parents, so I close my mouth and look forward.

A
few minutes later, the red curtain on the stage parts and a girl steps through with a microphone in one hand. Music plays through the speakers and she lifts the microphone to sing a soft melody. The volume grows and grows until another voice joins her. This one I recognize. It melts my heart and covers my skin with goose bumps. Kyler is here, but not on the stage. The students turn in their seats, searching the crowd for him. Fingers point and faces light up, all of them looking my way.

I spin around and find Kyler walking across the back of the auditorium; he comes down the side, passing right by us. My heart
beats hard, pounding like it wants to fly out of my body and latch onto the words that float from his lips. The tune is slow and sung in a different language. It’s not French, but it might as well be with the way he sings it. Just when I think he won’t notice me, his head turns mid-note and a smile spreads across his face. I curl my fingers around the end of the armrest and hold on tight. No one in my whole life has ever looked at me that way. Of all the crushes I’ve had, Kyler is the first to ever make me feel like my dying insides are still alive. 

When
the song ends, I hold onto his lingering words, letting my heart throb, my stomach flip, and my hands tremble. Kyler jogs to the stage to join his choir group and they perform a boring ballad together. But his gaze lingered long enough. I don’t think my heart will ever work correctly again. So much for it being the only thing I can rely on to keep me alive. 

Mom’s advice echoes
through my head. She told me friends would help me see the happy things in life. As much as I don’t want her to be right, she might be. My whole life I’ve wanted to be alone because I didn’t want to hurt anyone else. But there are things I might be missing out on. Like Kyler singing to me, making my pulse spin. Normally, I would’ve avoided the whole assembly, or at least tuned out to listen to my ipod. I would’ve missed his smile, his soothing song. But instead, I’m content, maybe even a little bit happy.

A knot forms in my stomach. I stare at the kid’s head in front of me. Even If I want people in my life, I’ve spent so much time trying to be alone
, I’m not sure I can learn to let them in.

The assembly is a blur. Kyler doesn’t perform any more solos. Once it’s over, Giana turns to me. Her eyes are bright and her
grin is contagious. “I have a great idea.”

“Better than chasing Charlie down the hall?” It’s not going to
be a normal day here without an encounter with Vivian and her gang. Charlie probably won’t try to steal my backpack again either. Yeah, definitely going to miss that.

Giana snaps, “Are you listening?”

I lift an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“There’s a party this weekend and you have to come.”

I shake my head out of habit.

She holds up a hand. “You don’t have to tell me right now. Think about it and give me your answer when you sit next to me at lunch.”

I purse my lips and wonder how she got so good at manipulating people. No, I don’t want to go to a party. And no, I don’t want to sit next to her at lunch. A nagging feeling in my stomach reminds me of my earlier self-doubt. I’ve never been to a party but I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a small part of me that wants to go. 

Giana stands up and I make a sudden decision. Before I have time to think my way out of it, I grab her arm with shaky fingers and pull her back down. “I’ll go.”

She tilts her head. “Are you sure you don’t want to think about it? If you don’t want to go, it’s okay.”

Don’t think don’t think don’t think don’t think
. “Yes.” The word tumbles out and I almost sigh in relief. “I’ll go. Tell me the time and place and I’ll be there.”

“You want a ride?” she asks.

A ride. A friend. A connection. Maybe this is how to let people in. I bite my lip and nod.

“Great.” She whips out a pen and paper from her purse. “Write your address here and I’ll swing by around eight on Friday.”

The pen trembles in my grasp, but I squeeze it tight and write down my new address. Mom will be so pleased, and hopefully I will too. This may end up worse than Vivian sabotaging my first day of school, but all I can do is hope for the best. It’s the same thing I go through every night when I close my eyes.

Hope for the best and prepare for the worst.

Mom
didn’t have time to get my meds, so we head to the store Wednesday evening. Nothing exciting happened at school. Not that I can expect much since I try so hard to have it that way. My psychology teacher talked about fathers. Father-son relationships. Father-daughter relationships. At least I can say I don’t have one of those. 

“How was school?” Mom asks.

I shrug. Maybe I look like my dad.

“Are there any cool kids in your classes?”

Another shrug. Or maybe I sound like him. How weird would that be?

“Did you sit by anyone special?”

I barely hear her question. My hair might match Dad’s. It’s been a while since I’ve looked at his picture. Kind of hard to do when it’s hidden under my bathroom sink.

“Kate.”

I blink and turn to face Mom.

“What’s on your mind?” She flicks the turn lever and we enter the parking lot to the local grocery store. The asphalt is wet from the afternoon storm, the looming clouds hovering low. We wait as an elderly lady shuffles toward her car.

I wonder why Dad really left. Mom hates talking about it, but sixteen years is a long time to wait for answers. “Were you and Dad having problems before I was diagnosed with CF?”

Her fingers tighten around the steering wheel. “I thought we’
d talked about this.”

“No,” I say, cautious
ly. “Every time I want details, you change the subject.”

She parks the car and turns off the ignition. Her gaze pierces the windshield. “Marriage is hard, Kate.”

I groan, sick of vague responses. “Even harder with Dad?”

“He was in his final months of residency. Life was stressful. Besides, we never saw each other
. He barely knew you.”

“I was two years old. He had to know me a little.”

She runs a hand through her hair. “He spent more time in the hospital than with either one of us.”

“So…he didn’t leave just because of my diagnosis?”

Mom finally looks at me, her expression hard. “He said it was the last straw.”

Or just the best excuse to bail out of personal responsibilities. “You’d think he’d understand more since he
is
a doctor.”

“That’s just the problem. He understood too well.” Mom takes a deep breath. “It scared him.”

He could deal with the problems at work but he couldn’t deal with them at home. Maybe he felt like work would never end. He’d leave patients at the hospital just to come home to a permanent one. That’s all I was to him. Another patient. So he left. No custody battle. He gave Mom everything she wanted, except a husband. He didn’t want anything to do with me, just gave up his parental rights and walked out the door. Mom refused child support so every link between us was severed.

“We’re doing okay, right?” Mom asked.

I still remember when Dad stopped by eight years ago. As much as I hated him, part of me wanted to see him. But I never did. “Sure, Mom,” I say, my voice flat. “Everything’s great.”  

She nudges my chin with her fist. “Let’s pick up your prescription and get something yummy for dinner.”

I force a smile and get out of the car.

After we pay for my bag of meds, Mom leads us past canned foods and cooking ingredients. When we reach the aisle containing every random necessity, she stops in front of the nylons and picks up a nude pair.

“Since when do you wear those?” I ask.

“Since my boss moved me up to office manager.”

I grab her arm. “Really? But you just started working there.”

Mom
laughs. “They needed someone right away.”

“What happened to the previous guy?” Not that I’m complaining. My mom could use the steady income. It’s better than karate lessons and part time accounting work.

She exchanges the pantyhose for a darker pair. “Apparently he thought the company’s money was good enough to fund his upcoming cruise.”

I lean back. “No.”

“Not to mention the last few trips with his wife and three kids.”

How convenient. “Good thing he got caught. And even better that they picked you for the job.”

Mom’s gaze lands on a pair of tan nylons. I grab the nude color that matches her skin and toss it into the cart.

“You sure?” she asks.

“Unless you want to look like you only tan your legs. It’s up to you.”

She pushes the cart a few steps and grabs some bronzer makeup. “I could make my face match.”

I take the bronzer and put it back. “You don’t want to scare everyone.”

“If I wanted to do that, I’d just wear some of this.” She rubs her finger on a lipstick sample and applies the dark purple color.

“That’s gross. Do you know how many germs you just spread on your lips?”

“Probably not half as many as you’re touching on that cart.”

I grimace and reach into my bag for a sanitizing wipe. Before I open the packet, I rub my finger on the bright pink lip sample. “Here, Mom.” She lifts her head and I smear it on her cheek.

Her eyebrows reach high. “Now you’re asking for it.”

I step away and tear open the wipe package with a laugh. “Wouldn’t want to get me sick, would you?”

Mom leans toward the lip colors and I unfold the wipe in record time. She digs into a crimson red and comes at me.

I catch her by the wrist. “Mom.”

“It’s a good color, Kate.” She pauses and looks at her finger.

“Red?”

We laugh so hard, I snort. Somewhere between my hysteria and trying to get a wipe out for Mom, I catch sight of curly brown hair. Freckles. Coming my way. I toss the wipe to Mom and duck behind the cart so Kyler won’t be able to see me.

“What are you doing?” Mom asks. “I didn’t even get any on you. You look fine.”

“Shh.” He can’t see me—not with my Mom. Not with anyone. As much as I want to hear his voice, I don’t know what to say.

Mom glances over her shoulder and turns back slowly. Her lip curls up on one side. “Someone you know?”

“Can he see me?”

She checks again. “Hurry. Pretend like you’re looking at something on the bottom shelf.”

I reach for a bouncy ball as Mom walks off with the cart…leaving Kyler standing three feet away. He’s holding two cans of shaving cream, studying the front of each. I could try to run before he notices me, catch up with my mom. She probably thought this was a good chance to
trick me into making friends. I put the bouncy ball back on the shelf and turn to leave.

“Kate?”

I pause for a second then remember how much I like his voice. I turn around with a smile. “Hey. I didn’t even see you.”

“Yeah, it’s like you came out of nowhere.”

My cheeks burn and I try to clear my throat. “Probably because I’m short.”

“That’s not a bad thing. Sometimes I wish I could hide that easily.”

I want to ask him from what, but it’s not the right time…and he probably wouldn’t tell me anyway. He doesn’t even know me. “So, grocery shopping, huh?”

“Yeah. My dad’s here somewhere.”

I lean my weight on one hip. “My mom just disappeared.”

He
chuckles and my heart goes into overtime. “Funny how they do that,” he says. “I have to find him soon, though. I’ve got voice lessons in a little bit.”

“No wonder you’re so good at singing.” I bite my lip. He isn’t supposed to know
I’m thinking that.

“Thanks.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. “Dang. I forgot I had the grocery list. Dad’s probably lost.”

“You always come shopping together?”

He looks to the side and the paper crinkles in his grip.

Maybe I said the wrong thing. He might hate the fact that he’s shopping with his dad. I need to say something to erase the crease in his forehead—something that will keep him talking. “How long have you been in singing lessons?”

His shoulders relax. “Only a few months.”

“That’s great.” Except my voice doesn’t sound like it’s great. It’s hollow and forced. I’ve isolated myself for so long now, I’m not exactly sure how to respond, or what else to talk about.

“How long have you been fighting?” Kyler asks.

I tilt my head. Fighting? “Oh, karate.”

He nods and his curly hair springs up and down.

“I took lessons when I was younger but I don’t do it much anymore.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

I chuckle. I’m not sure I even used a real move on Charlie when I took him down. It was instinct, like a ravenous monkey.

“I’m surprised Vivian actually told him to ste
al your backpack again,” Kyler says.

I raise an eyebrow. “He didn’t
have
to listen to her.”

Kyler
’s lip pulls up on one side. “Charlie’s just adventurous. And he likes getting chased by girls.”

A man with short brown hair approaches Kyler from behind and stops. His eyes are familiar. 

I say, “I think your dad’s here.”

Kyler spins around and the man lifts his chin in greeting. “You left me with those chickens,” he says in a low voice. “I didn’t know which one to choose.”

Kyler throws the list in the cart. “It was good to see you, Kate. I better get going.”

“Sure.”

As Kyler walks away, I hear him say, “Come on, Pops. Let’s go sort out those hens.”

I grab the bright red lipstick and scan the aisles to find Mom. Not only does she owe me a yummy dinner, but with a stunt like that, she
’s going to get one back. The lipstick will go great with her new nylons.