Infinite in Between (15 page)

TWO DAYS BEFORE
Mia left for the Intensive Math Learning Institute, she was picking out the center of a croissant and nibbling the doughy innards pinch by pinch.

“Do you have to eat your croissant like that?” her mom asked, tossing Mia a paper towel.

“Can you take me to the mall today?” Mia asked.

Mia's mom looked up from her phone. Her thinly waxed eyebrows lifted like tiny umbrellas. “You want to go to the
mall
?”

Mia wiped the croissant flakes into the sink. Her mom hated her secondhand clothes. Just like how she hated the rainbow streaks in Mia's hair and her scuffed Docs. Her
dream
was to take Mia to the mall, to transform her into a blond, perky, gym bunny princess, but up until now that was Mia's nightmare.

“I want cute clothes for California,” Mia explained. “And sneakers. I'm going to start running every day.”

Her mom's mouth was open in shock. She was too surprised even to read the text coming in on her phone, which was tight in her hand.

“Can you also book me a hair appointment with Glenda?” Mia
asked. “I'm ready to go blond.”

Mia's mom dropped her precious phone onto the floor. Mia scooped it up and handed it back to her. She was kicking her plan into high gear.

“You've always made fun of sun-streaked highlights,” Sophie said when she pushed open the door to Mia's room the following evening. Sophie had come over to say good-bye. “And a pink manicure? A lavender tennis skirt? Where's my Mia? Did your mom clobber you unconscious and give you a makeover?”

“I bought new clothes for California,” Mia said, brushing her newly blond hair. “My mom took me to the mall.”

Sophie sank into Mia's desk chair. “I don't even know where to begin. Your
mom
? The
mall
?”

“I just wanted to . . .” Mia paused. Over the past year, just as she'd started feeling good about her body, Sophie had gained weight and broken out all over her face and back. “I'm trying out a new look for California.”

Sophie reached into Mia's suitcase, which was open on her bed, and pulled out a seersucker tank top with the tags still on. She draped it across her chest and wrinkled her nose at her reflection.

“You can borrow whatever you want,” Mia offered, but she didn't really mean it. She wanted to be the first to wear her new clothes.

“Like that tiny thing would ever fit me,” Sophie said, tossing the shirt onto Mia's bed.

As Mia folded the tank top and set it back in her suitcase, Sophie said, “I guess it's cool. You'll see how the other half lives. I just hope
you're not going to forget us little people.”

“Of course I won't,” Mia said, shaking her head.

What Mia didn't tell Sophie was that her plan for California wasn't about
seeing
how the other half lives. It was about
being
the other half.

The next day, Mia stepped into the orientation at IMLI. The sky was bright on the walk over, and there were palm trees lining the streets. She'd never been to California before. Whenever her parents went on exciting trips, they left Mia home with her uncle.

Mia pressed her name tag onto her pale pink sundress and tossed her blond hair over her shoulders. There were teachers greeting students at the door. Some pretty girls were sitting by the windows, laughing and chatting with a jocky Asian guy. On the other side of the room a bunch of pale kids were hunched over their phones. Right in the middle, a guy was studying the cheese platter. He was wearing a vintage gas station shirt and his name tag said
Jeremiah
. Not only was he cute, but her name was embedded in his name! As he grinned at Mia, her stomach flipped. His eyes were dark brown with long lashes. He had hair as blue as a blue-raspberry Slurpee, battered Vans, and an eyebrow ring. Total indie hunk.

No!
This was not part of the plan. The plan was about fitting in, not hanging out with blue-haired guys.

As Jeremiah walked toward Mia, she pressed her glossy lips together and thought about Whitney Montaine. Whitney had this way of being friendly to everyone while only truly aligning with the popular people.

“I'm from Kansas,” Jeremiah said, popping a cube of cheddar
into his mouth. “Maybe I'm a dork, but did you realize that
Mia
is in Jeremiah?”

His voice was sleepy. His eyes were chocolate. His breath was cinnamon.

But no.
No.

“Oh,” Mia said coolly. “I hadn't realized that.”

Then she walked away from Jeremiah and toward the pretty girls and the jocky guy. This was her chance for a slice of American pie, and she wasn't going to throw it away.

“YOU COULD WRITE
notes to your future selves,” Jake suggested to his group at freshman orientation. He was trying to help them come up with their ice-breaker project.

“That's dumb,” said one girl. She frowned at Jake. “Like, what would we do with the notes?”

Jake looked around the gym at the other peer advisors sitting with their circles of ninth graders. His group sucked. He was two years older than they were
and
the junior class treasurer, and they weren't showing him any respect.

“You could hide the letters and get them out at graduation,” Jake offered. He wasn't going them to tell where his group had hidden
their
letters, but he could always find another spot. “Or I could keep them and mail them to you in four years.”

“Can't we just do a volunteer thing?” said a short guy. “Like, get it over with.”

After a brief discussion, they agreed to paint a bench outside the school. Whatever. It wasn't like Jake was going to fight it.

As he headed over to get painting supplies, he thought about his own freshman orientation group. It wasn't like they were friends, but
he still felt a connection to them. That was why he went out for peer advisor: to give that experience to a new group of freshmen.

Jake glanced across the gym. His group all had their phones out. None of them were even talking to each other.

Marin Banerjee was another peer advisor, but Jake hadn't talked to her yet. As his group went outside to start painting, he carried some forms over to the guidance counselor.

“Hey, Jake!” Marin said, tapping his shoulder. She was wearing blue shorts and a red tank top with visible bra straps. “Did you hear?”

“Hear what?”

Marin wrinkled her nose and smirked at Jake. He couldn't believe he'd kissed her at that dance. It felt like a million years ago.

“That I'm the last stop,” Marin said, and then she laughed sharply.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Ted dumped me on the last day of school. It was our twenty-one-month anniversary.”

“He did?” Jake asked. Last spring that guy Zach mentioned there was news about Ted. That must have been what he was talking about.

“Which makes me the last stop on the gay highway,” Marin said. “First you . . . and now Ted.”

Jake stared at Marin.

“Yep,” Marin said, nodding. “Ted came out. It's no big secret. I must have that effect on guys.”

Marin spotted a friend, waved, and took off across the gym. Once she was gone, Jake dropped the papers he'd been holding.

WHITNEY WAS WALKING
to homeroom when she got a text from Autumn. They'd just driven to school together and said good-bye ten minutes ago.

Did you see Mia Flint?
Autumn wrote to her.
Kyra and Laurel and I were like, HOLY MAKEOVER. You have to admit she looks good, but still . . . once a freak, always a freak.

Whitney dodged a few freshmen scurrying into their homeroom.

Mia's really smart,
Whitney texted back.
You shouldn't give her a hard time for trying. I'm done with that.

Autumn wrote her right away.
Duh, I was JOKING. You didn't have to go off on me.

“Phones away,” Whitney's homeroom teacher said as she walked in the door. “You should know that by now.”

Whitney slid her phone into her bag and sat at her table, nodding at a few people. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on her breath. Life felt so topsy-turvy right now. Alicia left for college in Ohio last week. Two days later her dad got back from Chicago and rented a condo near Darien, so now she was dragging her stuff
between parents every three days again. On top of everything, her mom and Michael were going to a bed-and-breakfast in Ithaca this weekend. Watch them come back engaged.

After homeroom Whitney pulled out her phone again. She'd gotten another text from Autumn.

I feel like you've changed since we were in the movie together,
Autumn had written.
I heard what you said about me and Zach. Kyra told me.

Whitney had no idea what she was talking about.
What did I say???
she wrote.

You told Kyra's cousin Lucas that I was being incestuous by hooking up with Zach!

Whitney scowled at her phone. People were pushing past her in the hall like she wasn't even there.

I didn't say that to Lucas,
Whitney wrote, steering into a corner.
Besides, Lucas and I are over. You know that. He's a dick.

A second later her phone vibrated.
Hey, it's Kyra writing from Autumn's phone. Thanks for saying shit about my cousin. Happy first day of school!

Whitney barely made it to the bathroom before she started crying.

Yeah, right. Happy first day of school.

ON THE FIRST
day of school, Mia passed Gregor in the science corridor. She'd always watched him, ever since her mom told her that he'd almost died from a bee sting. It was like she knew something about him that other people didn't know, and that was delicious.

But this time something was very wrong. Gregor's cheeks were hollow, his orange hair matted, his collarbones poking through his T-shirt. It was his eyes that killed Mia more than anything. She'd never seen such sad eyes in her life.

Mia wished she could run up to him and give him a hug, but he probably didn't even remember who she was.

ON THE DRIVE
to the Kirkland Medical Complex, Gregor's mom tried to start a few conversations, but he wouldn't nibble. Finally she turned on NPR.

It had been two months since Gregor's dad died of a heart attack while he was running. He and Erica had been training for a father-daughter half marathon. He was forty-seven and jogged five miles every day. Gregor was at music camp when it happened, probably fantasizing about Ava at the moment his dad collapsed in Mount Olive Park. Erica had screamed for someone to call 911, but Gregor's dad was gone by the time the ambulance arrived.

The psychiatrist's name was Dr. Brunner, and his office had white walls, three chairs, and a low couch. Gregor sat in a chair and stared down at the trim carpet. It wasn't like he was here for being in a
good
mood.

“It's concerning me,” Gregor's mom said after they'd all introduced themselves. The doctor's hair was thin, and he had a deep cleft in his chin. “He refuses to talk about his dad. He's quit cello and drums. He's not hanging out with his friends. I see their calls and texts coming in, but he's not answering them. I can barely get
him to go to school every morning.”

She looked guiltily at Gregor, but he kept staring at the ground.

“It's understandable,” Dr. Brunner said. “You've been through a major trauma, Gregor. You've lost your father. I'm sure it feels like your entire world has been turned upside down in the worst possible way.”

Gregor examined his fingertips. The calluses from his cello strings were almost gone. He stuffed his hands into his sweatshirt pockets.

“He barely leaves his room,” Gregor's mom said. “I have no idea what he's doing in there.”

Dr. Brunner nodded. “Do you want to talk about that?”

Gregor shook his head. For the past eight weeks he'd been flat on his bed, his hands laced behind his head, listening to Billie Holiday, picturing his dad's casket being lowered into the ground, wishing he himself were dead. He wasn't suicidal, but he couldn't imagine living in a world without his dad.

Gregor looked out the window of Dr. Brunner's office. The leaves were changing. It was the start of the first season that his dad wouldn't be alive to see. Gregor didn't want this season to happen, just like he wouldn't delete the voice mails from his dad on his phone or take down the Post-it that his dad stuck to his mirror the morning Gregor left for music camp. It said:

Gregor—

Stay true to yourself.

Love,

Dad

Dr. Brunner and his mom talked for a few more minutes, and then the doctor rotated his chair toward Gregor.

“I'm going to prescribe an antidepressant for you,” he said. “It won't make you feel better immediately and it won't take away your terrible loss, but it will ease some of the pain. I also want you to start talking to a therapist. I'll give your mom some referrals. Does that sound like a plan?”

Gregor shrugged. He could see his mom wiping at her eyes.

“Did you want to talk about anything else?” Dr. Brunner asked Gregor. “Do you have any questions? I'll be seeing you next week to check in on how you're doing.”

Gregor glanced out the window again. It was getting dark out, the end of day number sixty-one. Tomorrow would be day sixty-two.

DID YOU PASS?????!!

Two seconds later, another text.

DID YOU PASS?! TELL ME NOW!

Zoe had just taken her road test. Aunt Jane had gotten out of work early and driven her to the DMV.

Zoe wrote back to Anna,
Yes, I got my license.

YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Did you just tell Anna?” Aunt Jane asked. She'd offered her the wheel for the ride home, but Zoe said no. She needed a breather from driving right now.

“Do you think Anna would let me
not
tell her?”

Aunt Jane smiled. “What did you say?”

Zoe glanced at her phone. Another text from Anna had just come in.

“She said, ‘Come pick me up now!'” Zoe read out loud. “Can I borrow your car?”

Aunt Jane turned sideways. “You didn't talk to your mom?”

“About what?”

Aunt Jane pulled onto their street. There, three driveways down,
was a brand-new white BMW 5 Series.

Zoe's cheeks flushed. This car was LA all the way, a rich-girl car. Even though it had been more than two years since her mom's screaming fit in London, Zoe still didn't want people to think of her as a spoiled brat.

“Do you see it?” Aunt Jane asked. She was smiling hopefully.

Zoe didn't want to sound ungrateful. “I . . . uh . . .”

“I know,” Aunt Jane said. “But it's the gesture that counts.”

“Holy car!” Anna said when Zoe pulled into her driveway a half hour later.

As Anna slid into the passenger seat, Zoe said, “I know . . . it's kind of embarrassing.”

“Your mom is a movie star!” Anna said. She wasn't usually this amped, but she'd bombed her road test twice and had all her freedom hopes pinned on Zoe. “Why not have a million-dollar car?”

“It's not exactly a million,” Zoe said. She'd pictured asking her mom for a Honda or a used SUV.

“I could get used to this,” Anna said as she slid her hands across the leather seat.

At Book Nook they celebrated with red velvet cupcakes, and piled a stack of books and magazines on the table between them. Zoe was reading
Cosmo
while Anna flipped through a book called
Women in Film
.

“Look!” Anna pointed to a chapter entitled “Women We Adore.” “There's your mom when she was filming
One Precious
. I know it's cheesy, but that movie makes me bawl. I love the New Year's scene.”

Zoe studied the page of candids from the set.
One Precious
was Sierra's most popular movie. It was from a long time ago. She played a baker who falls in love with a blind musician. It was the movie people watched when they wanted a good cry.

“She was so young,” Anna said. “Look at her eyebrows. Did people not pluck back then? I wonder if I'll ever meet her.”

“My mom? Maybe.” Honestly, Zoe couldn't imagine her Hankinson life and her Los Angeles life colliding.

Anna rotated the book so Zoe could see better. In the pictures, Zoe's mom was in various stages of makeup and costume, on set with the director and costars and members of the crew. One man from the crew had his arm around Sierra in several shots. He had brown hair and he was on the short side. Zoe's stomach flipped as she remembered what her mom had said.

“Does it say what that man's name is?” Zoe asked. Her voice felt far away from her body.

“What man?”

Zoe touched the picture of the brown-haired man and her mom, laughing together on a pebbly beach. “Like, is there a caption?”

Anna leaned closer to the page. “Kevin,” she said. “It says his name is Kevin G. Church.”