Live Through This (6 page)

“Ouch,” he says. “What happened to your neck? Wait. Don’t tell me. Vampire bite?”

“Actually, curling iron burn. It’s very attractive, I know.”

It’s very painful, too. I accidentally ripped the burned layer of skin off today while I was drying myself after my shower. Mom taped a gel pad over the open wound, which makes it look worse than it is, but eases the throbbing somewhat.

Reece pulls a small rectangular package from under his seat and gives it to me. “Hope you don’t hate it.”

“I’m not going to hate it.”

Even though I have no guesses whatsoever about what it might be, it’s from Reece so it’s going to be perfect. I know it.

I rip into the silver snowflake paper and find . . . a box of granola bars.

“Peanut butter chocolate chip!” I say, making a big deal out of holding it up high so that he won’t realize how disappointed I am.

He’s watching me, grinning probably even bigger than I am. “You eat those every day after dancing, right?”

I nod. “Uh-huh!”

“Cool. I thought so.”

“Well. Yeah. Thank you. So much!”

“You’re welcome.”

He looks from my face to the box and back again like he wants me to tear it open and eat one right now. I hand him the smashed gift bag that I brought for him, and while he’s sliding his hand into the tissue paper, I drop the box he gave me into my backpack.

Granola bars. Reece got me
granola bars
for Christmas.

He pulls out the stuffed giraffe and a huge smile spreads across his face. “Oh, wow. Coley, this is so awesome. You have no idea.”

He seems to mean it, but maybe he’s a liar like me. Maybe we’re both terrible gift-givers and way-too-polite receivers of terrible gifts.

“Are you sure?” I ask. “Is a stuffed animal for a boy weird?”

He shakes his head. “No way. She’s cool. And soft. Like a blanket. You know, the kind of blanket that I would miss.”

I burst out laughing at that.

And now it’s time for me to get over it. Because, okay, he did give me a totally not-great present, but he made sure it
was something that I’d like, at least. It’s really sweet the way he pays attention to things like that.

Reece sets the giraffe on his lap. “I’ll name her after you. Your middle name’s Marie?”

I nod. He must know that from when I showed him my driving permit a few weeks ago.

He stares down at the giraffe. “No, not a Marie,” he muses. “She’s a Sterling. Now the big question: Sleeping with her—creepy or cute?”

“Hmm.” I rub my chin, pretending to consider. “Definitely cute.”

“Cool.” He slouches way, way down, and sits with his body turned slightly toward me and the side of his face pressed against his seat. “That was a good day, wasn’t it? With the giraffes?”

“Of course it was.” I ease into that same position, facing him. “We fed them, I knocked you on the ground, giving us both bruises all over our bodies, and then we ate ice cream. Best day ever!”

“Best day ever,
so far
,” he says. “I’ve always thought that maybe you meant to fall on me. Because, I mean, the way you walk. And dance. You’re so graceful. For you to accidentally trip and take me down with you. It doesn’t seem possible.”

He’s staring into my eyes and I’m getting totally lost. “I promise
you,” I say softly, “it was very possible and very accidental. There should be a law against cracks in sidewalks like that.”

He brushes my hair back from my cheek and my heart kicks into quadruple time.

Oh my God, oh my God.

“Well, see,” he says. “I was kind of hoping you’d done it on purpose.”

“Oh. Then the next time I take you down it will be.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding.

I nod too. We’re watching each other and our heads keep moving and moving and I’m getting dizzier and dizzier and I wish that he would just lean in and kiss me or that I had the guts to lean in and kiss him but he
isn’t
and I
don’t
but I want to, I really, really want to, and I’m going to make myself sick if I don’t stop nodding—

Reece’s door flies open and we jump back from each other.

“Hooray!” Ming grabs Sterling from Reece and makes her dance all over the steering wheel, completely not seeming to notice that she just interrupted what was supposed to be our “quality time.”

“See what Coley got for Reece?” she says to Xander. “Isn’t she cuuuute?”

Reece is still looking at me. “I think she’s beautiful.”

CHAPTER 6

I
t’s the day of our trip and every single person in my family is stressing me out. Mom’s panicking because, like usual, she waited until the last possible second to pack her clothes. Tony keeps yelling at us kids to help load the vehicles so that we can “get on the road already!” Bryan’s stomping around and muttering to himself about “this goddamned family” while Jacob, Emma, and Zach battle fiercely over who’s sitting where and which movies they should watch during the drive.

The only things keeping me from losing my mind are texts with my friends.

Ming: I’m soooo sorry about last nite. The engine was running - we thought you were leaving! You forgive me, rite?

Me: I suppose I forgive you ;)

Dia: Have fun in Canada! We should all do something after you get back!

Me: We should!

Reece: Au revoir

Me: Adios!

Reece: Sawatdi (I looked that up. It’s Thai)

Me: Nomistay! (from my yoga video. I probably spelled it wrong)

“Coley!” Tony yells over his shoulder on his way out the door. “Please put your phone away and tell your mother we’re about to leave without her! Let’s go, kids. Outside.”

They all file out.

“Hey, Mom!” I call.

She comes around the corner with her purse over her shoulder, dragging her suitcase behind her. “I heard. And I’m ready.”

I shove my phone into my coat pocket, and Mom follows me. Outside, Tony has started up the minivan and the triplets are piling into it. Bryan is standing next to his car with the driver-side door open, staring at the ground. I wait at the top of the driveway, suddenly not sure where to go.

“Nicole, you’re riding with Bryan?” Mom asks in a tone
suggesting that my answer had better be yes.

“I
can
,” I say.

I glance at Bryan to try to gauge if it’s what he wants, but he just climbs in and slams the door.

“Here’s your permission letter,” Mom says. “You have your passport?”

I nod and she wraps her arms around me. “Do something about your brother, okay?” she whispers, even though no one except me can hear her. “He needs you. You’re the only one who can get through to him.”

That used to be true. “I’ll try.”

She lets go and tucks my hair behind my ear. “What does Yoda say? ‘Do it or do not do it. There’s no such thing as try’?”

“Something like that.”

I sit next to Bryan and before I’ve even closed my door, he shoves into reverse. Emma waves at me out her window and I wave back.

“What’s Mom’s deal?” Bryan asks.

“She gave me a travel permission letter for you to show the border guards. And botched a
Star Wars
quote.”

He rolls his eyes and turns up the music—the same angry-sounding stuff that’s been coming from his room all week. Louder and louder and louder. It’s bass kicking my back through the seat. It’s an awful voice screaming syllables
instead of words. It’s treble stabbing my brain.

We ride this way for over an hour. It’s the total opposite of silence, but it feels even lonelier somehow. Every so often, I sneak glances at Bryan’s profile. The skin all around his eyes is dark and puffy, his jaw and cheeks are stubbly, and his mouth is turned down. It’s as if he’s given up.

Noah: r u gonna bring me some nice Cubans from bc

Me: Sorry. I’m not spending 10 years in jail over illegal cigars for you :)

Noah: chicken id do it 4 u

Ming: I’m sure you’ll be kissing in canada! . . . you still never told me what Reece gave you????

Me: Thats your punishment. You can never know! Mwhahaha

Reece: Nomaskaar (That’s goodbye in Bengali. Looked this up too, in case you couldn’t guess)

Me: See ya! (New Zealand)

Reece: LOL. Yadalanh (Apache for “farewell”)

About twenty miles before the border, Bryan finally turns down the music. “Do you need me to stop?” he asks.

“I’ll be fine for a while.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him slide his hand into his shirt pocket and pull out a joint and a lighter. Fantastic.

It isn’t like he doesn’t know the deal. If you want to get in and out of Canada with as few issues as possible, you turn off your radio, remove your sunglasses and hat, and be extra-polite when answering the guards’ questions—even if they happen to be in the mood to be stern toward you. You do
not
get stoned less than thirty minutes before trying to cross.

Bryan breathes in deeply and holds the joint out for me.

“I don’t smoke,” I say, staring straight ahead out the dirty, rain-splattered windshield. “And I have to tell you, I was really counting on not getting arrested at the border today.”

“Jesus, Coley. Relax. I don’t have any more on me. I’m not an idiot. Plus, everyone knows BC Bud is the best. I’ll just buy it when I get there.”

“You do that.”

He opens his window a few inches and the wind blows his hair all around. He needs a haircut. “What’s your problem?” he asks. “I drive better when I’m stoned. So what? And don’t act like you’re so above it. I’ve seen you smoke before.”

This is one of the first official conversations between the two of us since he came home with Heather for a couple of weeks back in July, and wow, am I hating every second of it.
“
That
was a one-time, never-going-to-happen-again occurrence,” I say.

“It was hilarious is what it was. You stared at my carpet, I swear, for an hour, like you’d never seen anything so awesome in your life.”

I don’t answer. We’ve never talked about it, never even admitted out loud that it happened. At the time, I was about to start ninth grade and Bryan was about to start his freshman year of college. I was upset because it was his last night home before he left for the University of Connecticut, so I decided to get high with him. He told me I needed to smoke a lot since it was my first time, so I took hit after hit until I lost count. Then I laughed, cried, pretty much lost the use of my limbs, and fell into a restless sleep filled with hallucinations. The truth is, I haven’t gotten over it, I will never get over it, and the pungent smell of Bryan’s weed now is threatening to take my mind to a place that I don’t want it to go.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said to me that night,” Bryan says in a more pleasant tone than before. “You know, after we talked about how I could have gone to school near home if Tony hadn’t basically forced me to go to his old school?”

I wish he would
drop
this. “I don’t remember anything that I said aside from your hair looking plastic like a Fisher-Price toy.”

“You also told me, ‘You don’t have to do what Tony wants. We can run away. We don’t need him or his money.’ ”

“And, obviously, I was high,” I say.

“That’s the thing, though. You were right. We don’t need him. We don’t need anyone. I mean, we have dual citizenship and could even go back to New Zealand if we wanted to.”

“Sure. Let’s do that, after Mom’s moved us halfway around the world to get away from the man who threw her at walls and broke her ribs and arms.”

“Okay, fine,” he says, shrugging. “Not New Zealand then. But I’m just so over this, you know? Mom and Tony can have their perfect little family without us and we can take off. I’m ready to start over.”

“Well, I’m not.”

He stares at me, shocked. “It was your idea in the first place!”

“That was over a year ago. My big brother was moving across the country and I was about to start high school. It was scary. But you know what? I got through it and I don’t hate my life. I’m on an awesome dance team. We made State last year and we’re going to do it again this year. I have a lot of friends—”

“Like this Reece guy? Is that who you keep texting?”

I place my phone in the car door pocket. “Despite what Mom and Tony might have you believe, his name isn’t ‘This
Reece Guy’ or ‘That Reece Kid.’ It’s just Reece.”

“All right. So is ‘just Reece’ your boyfriend or what?”

I don’t want to talk about that, either. There’s no way for me to know if Bryan’s going to make fun of me or be all protective older brother-ish about it. I have no doubt that the only reason he defended me and told Mom that she should let Reece meet up with us is because it was the opposite of what she and Tony wanted.

“Why did you and Heather break up?” I ask, avoiding his question entirely.

Bryan groans. “Coley, come on.”

“Just tell me. You bailed on us for Thanksgiving to be with
her
family. What happened between then and last week?”

“She’s a bitch and I hate her,” he says, running his hand roughly over his hair. “End of story.”

“I’m sure she’s always been that way, but that didn’t keep you from forcing her on us during your vacations last year.”

He glances my way, chewing his lip and narrowing his eyes like he’s trying to process what I just said. Like he really had no idea all this time that I couldn’t stand his girlfriend. Which, I guess, makes sense since it isn’t like I was ever rude to her like she was to me.

“I thought she was the one, you know?” Bryan says. “And the thing that sucks the most is that she got to decide it was over and
I have to live with it. Do you have any idea what that’s like?”