How to Be Brave (6 page)

“You can cross something off your list now.” Liss takes a sip of the Frappuccino and then hands it to me. “Like for real.”

“But we're going to do this again, right?” I open the lid and lick off some whipped cream. “I mean, if we don't get caught.”

“We're not going to get caught. And
yes,
we'll do this again.”

“Okay, cool.” I hand the Frappuccino back to Liss, take out the list, and cross out
#11. Cut class
. “But why do I feel like I haven't actually accomplished something? All we did was walk down the street. And even if we get caught, so what? I want to
do
something.”

“Well, let's look at that list again.”

I hand it to Liss and she rereads it and then bites her nails while she tries to devise a plan for our next step.

I stare out at the sea lions. One is rubbing his back against the rocks like a giant cat. He rolls over and exhales onto his belly. He blows a big sigh out his nose. What a life. Not a care in the world. Oh, to be so lucky.

And then, I feel someone staring at me. You know that feeling, like a tiny little spider is crawling up your neck? I look behind me, and lo and behold, someone
is
staring at me. A girl my age with long, black dreads, ripped tights, and big ol' combat boots. Her big brown eyes are locked on me, and even though I sort of frown at her to make her stop staring, she doesn't stop. Instead, she smiles.

I turn my gaze back to the sea lions. “Freakazoid warning,” I mutter to Liss. “Upper bleachers, three o'clock.”

Liss snaps her neck to look at her. Then she hurtles back around and pretends to point at the sea lion, who has now made his way back into the water. “I know her,” she whispers. “That's Baseline Evelyn. She just moved here. She goes to Webster.”

“Wait. How do you know her?” I whisper back. “And what does that mean? Why ‘baseline'?”

“We have PE together. And ‘baseline' because she has to take drug tests every month to prove to her parents that she hasn't used.”

“Shit.” I take a bite of my croissant. “And I thought I had problems.”

“Could be your entry into item number twelve.” Liss shrugs, slurping up some more Frappuccino.

“Hm. Indeed.”

I look back over my shoulder. Evelyn's still staring, but now she's also pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and she's pounding them rhythmically into her fist, waiting for me to do something.

So I do something. I wave.

“What are you doing?” Liss asks.

Before I can answer, Evelyn has dropped her cigarettes in her bag and is stepping down across the benches toward us and sits down next to me. “The sea lions are nice, right?”

“Um, yeah,” I agree, not knowing what else to say.

“You're Evelyn, right?” Liss puts her hand out. “We have gym together. This is Georgia.”

Evelyn takes her hand and shakes it and then nods at me. “I followed you here, you know.”

I laugh and Liss laughs and Evelyn laughs, but I'm not sure she knows what she's laughing about. I know that I'm laughing because that's just fucking weird.

“Um, okay,” I say. “All the way from Webster?”

“No. I spotted you at CVS. Then I followed you to Starbucks. Then I followed you here.”

“Why'd you follow us?”

“Why not? Had nothing else to do. I mean, you two look cool, I guess. And it was obvious you weren't going to school today. But it was a little too obvious.” Whoa, this one's honest. “You look like a couple of convicted outlaws, looking over your shoulders every two minutes.”

“What? Us?” Liss pretends she's offended. “No way!”

“Really?” I am actually offended. “It's that obvious?”

“Yes, it is that obvious.” She puts her hand into her bag and pulls out a pair of brand-new sunglasses. “Oh, and I got you these.” She hands them to Liss.

They're bright red and the tag is still on. “Hey, are these the ones I was trying on at CVS?”

“Yeah, you looked good in them.”

“Awesome.” Liss rips off the tag. “Thanks!”

“Wait,” I say. “Did you steal those?”

“I admit to nothing.” She reaches back into her bag, and this time she pulls out a cigarette. “Here, do you want a smoke?”

Liss reaches out to take one even though she doesn't smoke, and the teacher's pet in me yells,
Red light, red light!

“I've never smoked before,” Liss admits.

Evelyn shrugs and lights a cigarette while she speaks. “Whatever. I don't care. There's a first time for everything. Just know that it'll hurt the first time. Like sex. Shit. All good things hurt the first time.” She shakes her head and exhales. Plumes of cinnamon-scented smoke swirl around us. “I never realized that before saying it aloud just now. Life. What a fucking joke.”

Jesus. Who is this girl? Why did I have to wave her over? Me and my big ideas. “And
ahem,
smoking is not on the list,” I mutter to Liss. I try to catch her eye to impart a guilt trip, but she's camouflaged by her brand-new sunglasses.

“What list?” Evelyn says, taking a drag and handing it to Liss. “Is that what you were reading? What kind of list is it? Can I see it?”

Liss sucks on the cigarette and instantly coughs, a low, barking cough like someone's hit her in the chest with their fist. “Shit! Ouch. What is that?”

“Oh, cloves. Yeah, probably should start you on something lighter. But nothing tastes as good as cloves. They're more expensive, but what the hell, you know? I don't buy that much shit, so I splurge on the good stuff.”

Evelyn takes the cigarette back from Liss, who's still struggling to catch her breath, and she presses it between her lips, lets it hang there like it's a lollipop. “So, this list? What is it?”

“It's nothing—” I try to say, but Liss interrupts me with the full story.

“It's this thing she's doing—I mean, we're doing—where we try things we haven't done before.” Liss reaches out to Evelyn. “Here, let me try the cigarette again.”

Evelyn laughs and exhales more smoke. “Like cutting class and smoking?”

“Well, kind of.” I shrug. “There's other stuff on there. But, yeah. Just, like, new stuff.”

“Well, cool. Let me see the list.” Evelyn eyes my bag.

What the hell? I turn to Liss and shake my head. We only just met her. This girl is crossing all kinds of boundaries.

I expect Liss to read the horror in my face, but instead she exclaims, “Show her!”

“What? No, it's personal … I mean, I don't want to—”

“Aw, I'm sorry.” Evelyn straps her bag over her head and stands up. “I didn't mean to barge in on your day. Shit, I'm sorry. I'll go now—”

“Number twelve,” Liss whispers to me. She places the sunglasses on top of her head and catches my eye. She's got that totally honest, optimistic, hopeful Liss grin on, the one that sometimes makes me believe that the world is inherently good and wonderful and rainbows and daisies, the one that makes me expect the best from people.

Shit.

“Okay, fine.” I sigh and reach into my bag.

“Really?” Evelyn sits back down. “Cool. Let's see it.”

I hand her the list, which she unfolds and scans closely. She places her cigarette on the bench, careful not to drop any ashes on it. “Wow, man. You tried out for cheerleading?” I nod yes, and she asks, “How the hell was that?”

“An unfortunate experience, to say the least,” I say. “One that I was more than happy to cross off the list. I am absolutely ready to move on.”

“Okay, well, yeah, let's see here. Skinny-dipping, nice. Skydiving, cool. Trapeze? Sure, whatever. And tribal dancing? Fuck, yeah! Totally hot. Can I do that with you guys?”

“Well, um, sure.” I turn to Liss, who has reached for the cigarette to take another inhale. She's now simultaneously swallowing down a cough and nodding enthusiastically.

“The more, the merrier,” she says with smoke streaming out from her mouth. “Why not?”

“Actually, this shit is kind of awesome. Like, fishing? That's just like, cute, you know? And flambé? What's that?”

“It's where you set food on fire with alcohol to cook it,” I say. “The Greeks do it a lot.”

“All right! Yeah, I like it. Can I hang out with you guys while you do some of this shit?” Evelyn takes back her cigarette, which is now just a small butt. “I mean, I can easily get you some pot. We could do number twelve this afternoon, if you guys want.”

“Um, well, we were thinking about going to the Art Institute…” I say.

“Fuck, yeah!” Evelyn gets excited. “I've got some kick-ass brownies back at my place. Edibles are the way to go. Let's get high and go see some art!”

Oh boy. I'm not too sure about this.

Liss is nodding and Evelyn is nodding and I'm just sort of stunned by the sudden turn of events. I wanted this. I asked for this. But to be high in broad daylight on the streets of Chicago? Is this what my mom meant by
do everything
?

“Hey, who's this Diana Askeridis?” Evelyn asks. “Why are you dedicating this to her, anyway?”

“Oh, that's my mom,” I mutter. “She died a few months ago.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. How'd she die? Like, car accident or something? She was young, right?”

“No.” I can't talk about this. Not now. I look at Liss for help.

Liss explains it for me. “She was diabetic and had kidney and heart failure. She was fifty-six.” It sounds like a coroner's report.

Evelyn shakes her head. “My condolences. Really. That just sucks big-time.”

A security guard who can't be too much older than us jumps up the steps, pointing his finger. “Hey, ladies. You can't smoke here. You should know that. It's a family place.”

“Oh fuck, sorry!” Evelyn throws her cigarette on the ground and digs her heel into it. “Man, you're right. There are like, kids here and shit.”

“You could also watch your language.” The guard frowns at the dead cigarette. “And don't leave that there.”

“Oh, yeah, right. Sorry.” Evelyn picks up the crushed butt. She turns to us. “Shall we get out of here, then?”

Evelyn hops down the benches toward the exit. I say a silent good-bye to the sea lions, wishing with every cell of my being that I could be inside the pool with them, swimming in circles, safe and confined, with no opportunities for illicit drugs or other illegal activity to tempt me. Actually, wait a minute. Maybe that's the last thing I should be wishing for.

Liss takes my hand in hers and squeezes it. “You know it's going to be okay,” she whispers. “We're just going to have some fun, that's all.”

Deep breath, Georgia.

Try it all once, Georgia.

And when you do, think of me.

This is what it was like

at the end, when the sepsis

invaded her brain,

and she didn't make sense anymore.

She spoke of colors and light

and when I told her I got straight A's

she said,
Of course you did, you're in kindergarten,

they give A's to all the kids.

And then she caught herself and said,

I'm proud of you, honey. You keep working hard, okay?

That last day, when she no longer made sense,

I squeezed her hand and she squeezed it back,

and it was the last day she knew it was me.

The next day she was intubated,

and she hated it, the tubes down her throat,

in her arms,

in her wrists.

She screamed and yelled and ripped them out.

Until finally,

they had to strap her to the bed.

Until finally,

the sedatives wore her down.

Until finally,

she wouldn't wake up.

Until finally,

she was done.

A quiet nurse who was older than my mother

shook her head.

This is usually how it goes,
she whispered in a thick foreign accent.

The infection goes to the brain, incites the worst kind of anger.

And then when it wins,

there is nothing else left.

In the end,

there was nothing left

of her.

*   *   *

Evelyn lives a few blocks away in a small two-bedroom apartment on the twelfth floor of a high-rise that overlooks the city. She tells us that her dad left her mom a long time ago and that they had bought the place long before “everything went to hell and she couldn't afford to move anywhere else. The building's nice, but this apartment's a tiny little shithole.”

We head over there so she can grab her “stuff,” and she's right. It is a shithole. There's crap everywhere, laundry and dirty dishes and wrinkled magazines from 2004. “My mom's a stewardess, so she's never here.” In her room, Evelyn kneels on the floor and reaches underneath an open space of an old wooden cabinet. She pulls out a crumpled paper bag. “She's always on my ass for doing this shit, but she's always getting high, too. My feet just stay on the ground when I do it.”

Evelyn stashes the bag in her pocket. “We shouldn't eat these here. We should get to the museum first, otherwise we may never find our way there.” She laughs.

“I don't want to get too messed up,” Liss says, and I want to hug her. She's just as big a dork as I am.

“Me, neither,” I add quickly.

“Oh no?” Evelyn raises her eyebrow and then nods. “That's cool. Just eat one bite, then. You'll be all right.”

We leave her apartment and walk over to the 151 bus. It takes us alongside Lake Shore Drive, where people are running and sunbathing on North Street beach, even though it's sixty-five degrees and the middle of September. I guess we're not the only ones cutting today.