Faking Normal (15 page)

Kayla’s feet hit the deck, and she leans forward in her rocker. “Lex, you were going to drive out of that parking lot. And I’m sure Hayden’s ‘attack’”—she makes air quotes—“was anything but. I doubt Mom and Dad will love hearing how their precious, perfect daughter almost
made it
in Hayden’s pickup.”

There it is. Kayla’s still looking for Mom and Dad’s approval, and shoving me under the semi is her method of rising to the top of the sibling heap.

I hate her for this. And hate gives me a voice.

“Kayla, I’m not getting in trouble for what you think I
might
have done.” I look from Kayla to Craig. “And it’s not like you’re a couple of saints.”

“We know that.” Craig puts out his hand to stop Kayla from interrupting. “Look, forget about your parents.
I
was worried about you last night. You should never have left the dance with Hayden when he was drinking. What were you thinking, Lex? Guys misread all sorts of signals—especially
then.”
He sighs. “That’s the real issue. Right, Kay?”

“Yeah.” Kayla actually sends me a kind of sincere look. “We’re adults. We’ve both been stupid enough times to recognize what stupid looks like.”

“You can say that again,” I say, and hear the acid in my tone.

“Well, like it or hate it, I still think you owe Craig an apology for putting him in such a difficult position. For asking
us both to cover for your little date malfunction,” Kayla says.

Bodee looks at me. Apologize, his eyes plead. Make this go away. But I can’t. I won’t. Okay, I am a rat’s ass for not stopping Hayden myself, but this is ridiculous.

“Hayden’s normally a good guy, but he likes to celebrate. I guess most of my guys do. And I used to be one of them,” Craig says. Another look passes between him and my sister. The way they’re acting, it looks like their first time was in Craig’s old pickup truck in the school parking lot. “But that doesn’t mean I want you anywhere near him when it happens. That’s why I ran his butt off last night.”

“Hayden’s the least of my concerns,” I say. Oh, I’d like to push this. I really would. I’d like to point at a certain person who was way more out of control than a slightly tipsy Hayden Harper. But I don’t. I’m not ready. I can’t show my hurts—and look broken—in front of any of them. And all for different reasons.

“Alexi Austin Littrell, what’s wrong with you?”

“Kayla Jane Littrell, none of your
friggin’
business.”

I fight my need to tell Kayla her face might freeze in that indignant twist.

“Look,” she says, “all I want is an apology. Either do it or I tell Mom and Dad about Hayden.”

“Seriously? Are you still in elementary school? And just what are you going to tell them?” I ask.

There’s usually a leverage game of some sort between Kayla and me, but this can’t be one. Because Craig wouldn’t
demand an apology from me. He wouldn’t say these things on his own. Not unless Kayla put him up to it. Maybe she has something on him, too.

My sister is silent for only a moment, and then she hits below the belt. In the one place she’s gambling that I’ll cave. “I’ll tell Mom and Dad your date didn’t go home sick after all. I’ll say he went home because Bodee punched him.”

I juggle fury, worry, and fear, and drop all the balls at once. “You wouldn’t.”

“You know I would.”

“But that’s not fair. Bodee only did it because he thought Hayden was . . .” I stop and take a breath. “You wouldn’t punish him because of me, Kayla. He’s apologized already and—”

Kayla’s face hardens with determination. This is why she and Craig have broken up so many times. Why he just sits there sipping Sprite, letting her twist this. It’s her way or else.

And this time she has me. I can’t allow the
or else,
so I give in just as she knew I would. Refusing to let my voice quiver, I say, “Okay, you win. I’m sorry, Craig.”

And then Kayla bursts out laughing and whips around to Craig, whose face is unreadable.

“Told you I could get her to do it. Told you Bodee was the key, didn’t I? Did you see her face, Craig?”

Not the reaction I expect.

Kayla is in hysterics, bending over and holding her sides. She’s laughing so hard, the rocker scoots around on the deck. “You should have
seen
the look on your face.” She struggles to
get the words out. “Priceless, Lex. Priceless.”

No one else thinks it’s funny. Not even Craig. I don’t know what age you have to start worrying about blood pressure, but right now, I’m thinking it may be sixteen. “What’s going on?” I demand.

Craig shakes his head, as if he can’t believe he’s participated in Kayla’s little drama. “She bet me an hour-long massage that she could get you to apologize. I only went along with it because I really do want you to be more careful if Hayden’s drinking.”

“Well, thanks for that. I’ll jot myself a little note. Stay away from assholes. Starting with the two of you.” Craig hangs his head, but I don’t care if he’s sorry or ashamed or sad or disappointed in me. I feel boiling mad take over and I don’t care what bridges I burn. “I’d rather be Janna Fields’s maid of honor than yours. I’m out.”

If this is half of what Bodee felt when he punched Hayden, then it’s a wonder he didn’t kill him.

Kayla stands and tries to lighten the mood by side-hugging me. I shove her away.

“Lex, come on, it was a joke.”

“A joke? Craig’s not laughing. I’m not laughing.” I look at Bodee, and his eyes are wide with some emotion I can’t read. “Bodee’s not laughing either. Hey, Bodee, bet you one hundred dollars Kayla won’t apologize to any of us.”

And then I leave them standing there. Let her tell Mom I refuse to be in the wedding. Let her explain why.

I never have any trouble with words when it comes to Kayla.

The rest of the weekend is “pass the peas, share the hymnal, and play nice” in front of Mom and Dad. And ignore everybody else. “Homework,” is the answer I give as I shut my bedroom door and give them, even Bodee, the frozen shoulder.

Hiding out is easy because the text messages and phone calls I expect from Heather and Liz never come. The lack of curiosity about why Hayden and I left the dance so early, or why we never showed at Dane’s, is strange. But no doubt I’ll get interrogated on the way to school today.

“You’re up early for a Monday,” Mom says as I breeze into the kitchen before she even has to yell at me. When she sees my still-damp hair, she says, “Oh, Lex, I wish you’d dry your hair all the way. It’s getting cool outside.”

“Then you’d be telling me I’ll be late,” I say. Early as I am, Bodee is down before me.

Mom shakes her head. “I know a solution for that,” she teases.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’ll get up earlier tomorrow,” I say. And we both laugh.

“Tonight”—Mom’s tone is serious now—“I forbid you to disappear into your room again. No one has that much homework. Right, Bodee?” Bodee’s spoon stops midway between the cereal bowl and his mouth as he ducks his orange head. She continues, “I was thinking maybe the three of us could get a pizza and see a movie tonight.”

“Sure, okay,” I say. A little time spent with Mom goes a long way toward gaining me the space I need. As long as Kayla’s not invited, I’m fine if Mom wants to spoil us with a pepperoni pizza and bags of movie popcorn. “Hey, come on, Bodee. I think I hear Heather.”

Sure enough, the horn blares and Bodee dumps his bowl in the sink as I tell Mom good-bye.

Today’s not just another Monday. This Monday has the potential to be very different. Hayden will be in the hallway and at the lunch table.

“You want me to walk?” Bodee asks once we’re out the door.

“No.”

“They mad at me?” he asks, jerking his head toward Heather’s Malibu.

“Liz won’t be. I’ve never seen her mad. But Heather’s a different story. Depends on what tale Collie told her. And that depends on what Hayden told Collie. So who knows? I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“So that means you haven’t talked to them,” he whispers as he opens the car door and chucks his backpack to the middle of the seat.

I shake my head and slide in after him.

There’s no music blaring from the radio.

But that’s not the first thing I notice that’s different in the Malibu this morning. Cocoa butter or suntan oil—something beachy-smelling—assaults my nose. “What’s that smell?” I ask.

Liz taps a pair of scented cardboard flip-flops hanging from the rearview. “Terrible, huh? I already threatened to recycle the thing.”

Heather stops the flops from swinging. “I like it.”

Something’s wrong. There’s silence where there’s normally chatty banter. Bodee notices it too. “I can walk,” he whispers.

I shake him off. “So what’d y’all do the rest of the weekend?”

Liz shifts the seat belt so she can swivel toward the backseat. “ACT prep. What about you?” Her eyes are curious and careful all at the same time. “Where’d you and Hayden end up Friday night? Heather said you weren’t at Dane’s.”

“Uh, no. Hayden . . .”—lying to Liz is hard because she’d never lie to me—“went home early,” I say. “Bodee and I caught a ride with Kayla.” Heather makes eye contact in the rearview, but I can’t tell how much she knows.

“Did y’all have fun?” I ask before they can question me further.

“Not really,” Liz says. “Ray and I are over.”

“Again,” Heather adds.

“Oh, Liz, I’m sorry,” I say. Naked Ray isn’t a bad guy.

“Don’t be. I know it’s the right thing. We both agree this time, but it’s still hard to break a connection that’s been so . . . He’s practically a part of my family, you know? And now we have to find some way to act like it’s normal not
being
together. So it’s going to feel awful and klutzy.”

Yeah, I do know.

“Because this time,” she says with a firm look at Heather, “it really is over.”

Looking at Liz more closely, I see the extra layer of foundation, the extra under-eye cream, that’s fighting the puffiness. This decision cost her some tears. I want to reach out, but I don’t.

“I’ll
believe it’s over when I see it.” Heather’s tone is sharp.

“At least you and Collie are still together,” I say for no particular reason except to make conversation and because I know they are.

“Nope,” Heather says bitterly. “We are totally over too. Guess we all had Friday nights that sucked.”

Liz doesn’t react. This isn’t new information to her. Collie tried to call me on Saturday and again on Sunday, but I rejected his calls. Guess I know the reason now. I’m glad I didn’t pity him and pick up. These breakups are probably why I haven’t heard from Liz or Heather this weekend. Splitsville requires phone time between best friends, with no time for second-best friends.

“What happened?” I ask as she catches my eye again in the rearview.

Bodee cracks his knuckles, and I silence him with a glance.

“I found out he slept with someone,” she says.

Maybe I
should
call Collie. Oh God. This is a nightmare for Heather.

“One of my friends. Or at least that’s what he said,” she adds.

“Do you know, uh,
who
—,” I ask. The words eke out past stiff lips and a sluggish tongue.

“She doesn’t,” Liz answers for Heather. “We spent half of last night trying to put the pieces together. Trying to figure out the one. I told her it wasn’t
me
. And it definitely wasn’t
you.
Who would do this to her?”

The car swings dangerously close to a car parked outside the bank. Heather corrects and the tires squeal. As she slows down she says, “Sorry. I’m just so pissed. Why would he even tell me? Bodee, you’re a guy. Why do guys do that?” she demands in a brittle voice. “Spill their guts to their girlfriend that they screwed some girl, one who just happens to be my so-called friend.
Right.
And then refuses to tell who it was.”

Bodee remains quiet. He looks at me for help, but all I can manage is a shrug. And then I stare out the opposite window. I know why guys screw other girls. Or at least I know why one of them did.

Because he told me why.

“I’m so lonely,” he whispered as his mouth smothered mine.

Lonely.

A reason to cheat. A reason to take.

I don’t share this with Heather. She probably just needs to scream and throw things.

“Collie’s a jerk,” Liz says. “Thank goodness you didn’t sleep with him. High school guys don’t know what or who they want from one second to the next. No offense, Bodee.”

“I’m not sure many of us know what we want from one moment to the next,” I say, so Bodee doesn’t feel obligated to defend his half of the population. “Not that I’m excusing Collie. He’s an ass for doing this, Heather. And the girl he slept with is an ass too. But, well, maybe it’s for the best that he finally told you.”

Heather stays silent.

“While we’re on
asses.”
Liz looks pointedly at me, and my heart skips a beat. “Hayden. Lex, I hope you’re not mad that I sent Coach Tanner after him when y’all left the gym. You don’t
like
him like him, do you?”

So I have Liz to thank for Craig’s timely appearance. “It’s okay. I don’t,” I assure her.

“Good. That’s one less thing to worry about,” she says as we pull into the school. “After the way he was drinking, I don’t want you with him anymore.”

“Me either,” Bodee says under his breath.

The space marked 164, the scene of Hayden’s crime, is not visible from the underclassmen lot where we always park the Malibu. It’s closer to the football field and we’re on the cafeteria side, but my chest tightens all the same.

Heather opens the car door and slings her purse over her shoulder. “All right, girls, let’s make a pact. No. More. Football. Players.”

“No more football players,” Liz and I say together.

“I like that rule,” Bodee murmurs.

Of course he does.

It’s been my rule. Heather’s break with Collie means we’re safe from whatever Hayden tells Collie about Friday night. It means that if there’s a showdown between the football team and the Kool-Aid Kid, then Heather and Liz might side with us.