One Lonely Degree (14 page)

“Anywhere,” he mutters. “Wherever.” He stands up and brushes past Mr. Ferguson without saying a word.

Mr. Ferguson pats his hair and stares after Jersy, bewildered. I feel every bit as confused as he looks. One minute I’m so relieved about Adam that I could kiss the ground, and the next I feel lonely, thinking about the two months ahead without Audrey.

When I get home, there’s a message from Play Country telling me that they’d like to hire me for the summer, if I’m still available, and to give them a call to let them know when I can start. That messes me up even more, because I’m sure they’ve contacted Audrey too, and I stay up flicking through late-night talk shows long after my parents have gone to bed, trying to shake myself out of it. Samsam naps on the floor in front of me, his paws twitching lightly, as I watch
David Letterman
, then
Conan
, and finally the second half of
Casino Royale
.

I’m so exhausted by the time I go to bed that I fall asleep instantly, but when I wake up I’m already thinking it: I’ll be alone this summer. Maybe it’s my own fault for having one friend at a time, but this is what I’ve always been like. My old best friend, Josephine, moved away near the end of sixth grade, and the one before that, Linnea, started hanging out with all these popular kids that I hated halfway through fourth grade. That time with Linnea was really hard. For about two months I didn’t have anyone to eat lunch with or hang out with at recess. One of the popular girls felt sorry for me and asked me to eat with her and her friends one day, but the next day I couldn’t do it; I didn’t feel like myself when I was with them. It’s not easy being alone but it’s not the worst thing. The worst thing is to be surrounded by people that you don’t feel true around.

Audrey is the closest friend I’ve ever had. Closer than Linnea or Josephine. I’m the closest friend she’s ever had too, the only one aside from her mother that knows her real dad isn’t MIA like she tells everyone but an alcoholic who still comes to visit once a year or so, always with a gift she’s years too old for. I wonder if she told Jersy, and I wonder if he knows about that day back in sixth grade when we found out that our substitute French teacher of seven days had drowned in her pool. Every girl in our class cried— except for Audrey and me. It was
seven
days; we hardly knew her. The boys didn’t know what to do with all the emotion in the room, and we didn’t either. How could it possibly be real?

Later that day I went up to Audrey in the parking lot while she was waiting for her mom to pick her up. We haven’t stopped talking since, and summer feels like a waste without her, like something to rush through to get to the other side.

I start by calling Play Country and telling them when I can start. Then I study like a brainiac for my English, civics, and
science finals. Not so much because I care, but because it gives me something to focus on.

On Saturday Dad gives me an illegal driving lesson (I’m four months too young for a learner’s license) in a public-school parking lot. It’s supposed to be a thrill, I guess, and it’s okay, but Daniel’s more impressed by the experience when he hears about it later than I am. Some nights I watch
South Park
with him, and I must be losing it because Cartman seems funnier every time.

Because I’ve studied so much, the exams are no hassle. I easily recognize the formula for calcium hydroxide and faithfully sketch out a diagram detailing the stages of mitosis. Explaining the main features and functions of the various branches of government is a snap. If it’s possible to lose it and get smarter at the same time, that’s me. If I get any more diligent, I’ll have to invest in a better calculator and sit with the brainiacs next year.

I don’t run into Adam Porter at school during finals. If I’m lucky, I’ll never lay eyes on him again. The relief of that is still with me, but the other feelings stay too. If I could claw them out of my skin like a tumor, I would.

Once Audrey leaves, I’ll be the only person who knows what happened that night. It makes me extra lonely, and thinking about Play Country doesn’t help. Dad’s right, I should’ve applied at an art supply store. I could call Play Country and tell them I’ve found another job, but the thought of putting out another round of résumés solo is even more depressing, and if I stay home with Dad and Daniel all summer I’ll turn into one of those people who write Internet fan fiction and don’t get out of their pajamas until three in the afternoon.

I’m sinking.

But I try to be supportive when I’m around Audrey, like she’d be in my place. I’ve already screwed that up once. Her parents let
me come over a few times before she leaves, and we paint her room pastel orange, to cheer her up when she gets back. It looks Willy Wonka-esque, without the candy, and her parents hate it but they don’t say anything.

The last time I see her, we both start to cry and Audrey says, “I’ll e-mail you as soon as I can.” She’s leaving early the very next morning, and her mom’s suitcase is open beside the bed, waiting for last-minute items.

“I’ll e-mail you so much you’ll be bored with me,” I tell her, trying to smile. “And I expect detailed responses to all my pathetic Play Country news.” Tomorrow’s my first day as a trainee team member. I cringe as I picture the next nine weeks, my boobs bouncing around in a Play Country shirt as Suzanne frowns at my lack of team spirit.

“Oh, God.” Audrey winces. “Why did we apply there?”

“Because it’s across from the mall,” I remind her. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“A lot of things seem like a good idea at the time.” Audrey’s face is blotchy, and I bet mine’s the same. “My mom let me talk to Jersy earlier. To say goodbye. I think she knows I’ve been calling him while they’re at work anyway.” She wipes her damp cheeks. “But today was so sad that I wish I didn’t call.”

“What’d he say?” I ask.

“He said summer’s short and that I should just try to have the best time I can. He told me he’d see me when I get back and that I should e-mail him when I can.” Audrey’s shoulders sag as she looks into my eyes. “It wasn’t what he said, so much. It was how his voice sounded—like things were different.”

Between the two of us, I know I’ll miss her the most, and I get this twinge of sympathy for Audrey, wondering if maybe she was right about Jersy not hanging on until September.

Mrs. Lepage’s voice zooms up the stairs, jolting us out of the moment. “Finn, your father’s here to pick you up.”

Audrey pulls the door open and shouts, “She’ll be down in a minute.” She kicks her mom’s suitcase as she shuts the door. “Stupid thing won’t even close.” Her fingers tug at the zipper, but it only shifts a couple stubborn centimeters. “You see.” She presses her lips sourly together and looks up at me. “Maybe I’ll get knocked up with twins by some French guy while I’m away. That’d show them.”

“Some guy in his forties,” I add. “With a wife and five kids.”

“Yeah.” Audrey chokes out a laugh. “They’d probably ship me to Greenland.”

“Yeah.” I peer at the door, but my feet don’t move.

“So I guess you have to go.” Audrey stands up next to the suitcase. You’d think we’d be smiling, what with the overwhelming amount of pastel orange in the vicinity, but her bottom lip is shaking and that makes me feel worse.

“Yeah.” I blink back tears and murmur, “It’s only two months, right? It’d go by in a flash if you were here.”

Audrey nods doubtfully. “I know.” She reaches out and folds her arms around me. “Thanks for everything.”

I hug her to death, feeling guilty for every negative thought I had about her and Jersy The room is so bright that I have to press my eyelids together to keep from going blind. It feels exactly like the summer neither of us will have.

D
a
D F
r
OW
n
S
as
I climb into the front seat. His hands are gripping the steering wheel like it’s a life preserver, and one of his live jazz CDs is on the stereo. “It’s one lonely degree out there tonight,” a woman says, introducing the next song. “So let’s keep the atmosphere warm.” Her voice hangs on the last word, melting it into honey. There’s a smattering of applause as I buckle my seatbelt and watch Dad back expertly out of Audrey’s drive.

My eyes smart and I’m sure I look like shit, but Dad is silent, concentrating on the route he’s taken a zillion times. I wait for him to ask how it went or tell me I’ll be fine, but he just keeps staring out the window like he’s drugged.

“I can’t believe she’s really going,” I say finally. “Now I have all summer alone at that stupid toy store.” Dad gives me two seconds of his full attention and then fixes his stare back on the road. “And we were gonna take the train to Toronto this summer and walk
around Chinatown and Queen Street and check out cool secondhand record stores.”

“You can do that anytime,” Dad tells me. “The city’s not going anywhere.” That’s the exact same response he gave Daniel that night in the restaurant, and a lightbulb flicks on in my head: this is no different to him. This is me wanting to play some useless video game.

“That’s not the point.” My voice is prickly. “The whole summer is ruined, Dad. We were gonna go to Ontario Place and Wonderland and the sidewalk sale here and everything.” I can’t believe I have to spell it out for him. He knows Audrey and I were Siamese twins until Jersy came along.

“It’s two months,” Dad snaps. “Get a grip, Finn.” My skin burns as I turn away, shocked. He was always the one who understood about Audrey. “She’s not moving to New Zealand, for God’s sake.”

His words sting so much that I want to rip his CD from the stereo and fling it out the window like a Frisbee. What I do is different. I scowl and stare decisively out the passenger window, ignoring him with all my energy.

When we get home, I unbuckle my seatbelt and slam the car door shut behind me. Dad marches upstairs without another word, and I hold my head high, pretending I don’t care. Samsam’s sitting in the family room with my brother, and he gets up and comes over to me like he knows better.

“Your face is all red,” the Anti-Me says, glancing up from his video game.

“Shut up.” I sit cross-legged on the floor and bury my face in Samsam’s fur. “How come you’re not in bed? It’s almost ten-thirty.”

Daniel casually guns down an assortment of mutant soldiers. “I don’t know.”

It’s not like my parents to forget. That’s one thing they’re
actually strict about when it comes to Daniel. He always has to be in bed by nine-thirty.

I get up and go into the kitchen, Samsam trailing behind me. I fill his empty water bowl and head upstairs. The hallway is dark and my parents’ bedroom door is closed. Someone’s pulling dresser drawers hurriedly open inside. “I can’t be around you at the moment,” my father says. “Just let me do this without another argument.” The bed squeaks and the closet door opens and shuts as I stand frozen in the hall, listening to the sound of my mother crying. Her sobs are ragged and low, and the desperation in them makes me tiptoe back downstairs and into the room where my brother is mercilessly annihilating an entire army.

“You told them, didn’t you?” he says, his voice full of blame.

“I didn’t tell them anything.” I stretch out on the couch and fold an arm across my face. “I think they’re asleep.”

“They’re not asleep,” he says scornfully.

Of course they’re not. “Just play your game,” I tell him. “They’re not coming to get you.” Mom’s sobs echo in my head, filling me with dread.

“They’re not asleep,” Daniel repeats. The firing from his video game has stopped, and I swing my arm away from my face and look at him.

“Whatever,” I say. “They’re not coming.”

Samsam barks from the kitchen as the front door slams shut. Daniel and I turn instinctively towards the hall. Samsam barks again, and I call his name, the real name we never use anymore. He pads anxiously into the family room, but he won’t sit down. I have to push his ass down to the ground like when he was a puppy.

My heart’s beating fast, like something bad is about to happen. I wait for the sound of footsteps on the stairs, but they don’t come and finally I look at Daniel. He’s watching me, waiting for me to
take charge somehow, and that freaks me out almost as much as everything else.

“Maybe you should go to bed now anyway,” I say, throwing a hint of authority into my voice.

“Okay,” he says, his eyes worried.

I watch him go and then lie on the couch with my hands folded over my stomach, waiting for Dad to come home. I thought they were doing okay, even with the weird hand-holding and stuff. I thought Tuesday nights were working, but now my stomach’s churning. Samsam stretches out on the carpet beside me, and I think about switching on the TV or going up to bed but I don’t. I shut my eyes and dream I’m an Egyptian mummy, my bones dissolving into dust. My legs won’t move and my eyelids won’t open. An eternity settles over my body, and when I wake up it’s five-thirty and coffee’s gurgling in the kitchen.

I stumble into the hall, following the noise. Mom’s leaning against the kitchen counter in yesterday’s clothes, and the second I see her I realize that I expected to see Dad. “What’re you doing?” I ask numbly.