Romancing the Dark in the City of Light (21 page)

Moony stares at his lap and huffs.

“But I won’t. For the next five minutes anyway. And I appreciate your not saying anything about last night. I’ll get firmly back on the wagon after I get through this. With, like, seat belts and harnesses and all. Everything’s truly and deeply effed-up and I just have to deal. I
will
deal, okay?”

Moony says, “It
is
that guy, isn’t it?”

“Who?” she asks, knowing full well.

“The dodgy Egyptian football guy. From the flea markets.” Now he’s really frowning.

“Egyptian?” Kurt’s not Egyptian, is he?

“Summer. Stay. Away. From him.”

“I know. You’re right.” That’s the simple solution, she thinks. But she’s already tried that and didn’t do so well.

“Want to come over?” asks Moony.

“Yes.” She rubs her eyes. “But all my work and stuff is at the apartment, and I have to get busy. My first final is tomorrow. Call me?” She’s so glad she told him.

He nods but looks disappointed. They kiss cheeks a little awkwardly, and part.

In the taxi on the way home, Summer vows to cut off all contact with Kurt. Not answer his phone calls. Walk the other way if she sees him. Never talk to him again. If only he didn’t have that knack of showing up and being so persuasive. He said she disgusts him. Keep that in mind, cupcake. That he’s a bad influence on her is an understatement. She glances around the street when they stop.

Nope, not here. But if he were, she’s not sure she would succeed in ignoring him. Even after all he’s done to her. It’s easy to say now, that she’ll avoid him, but it doesn’t seem to work that way.

She’s got to get away. Time and distance between them is the answer.

As she enters their apartment building, Kurt’s leaning against the corner of the building across the street.

FORTY-FOUR

Summer rests heavily against the elevator wall as it ascends. Kentucky sings into her earbuds,
Said this love affair is crowded, either darkness goes or I do
. Her phone vibrates, displaying Kurt’s number. She silences and ignores it.

Once inside she takes her phone out of her coat pocket. Three texts from Kurt read:

Call me.

I really need to see you.

I really, terribly, need to see you. To talk to you. Please.

She closes her eyes. Part of her wants to answer. What if it’s something truly important? But three of them piled up there one after the other remind her he’s a creeper.

Fine. She’ll turn off the phone and keep it off.

Escaping Kurt is critical. She underestimated him.

She’s got to do it for Moony, too. It would be impossible to explain, but she can’t focus on him, or even be around him now. If she can get free of Kurt’s corrosive, poisonous influence, then she can concentrate on Moony

Summer shuffles into Mom’s marble bathroom, takes a deep breath and says, “Mom, I need to buy an airline ticket.”

Mom’s putting on makeup. The steamy air smells like rosemary and eucalyptus spa shower gel. Mom sets the mascara wand on the edge of the dressing table and turns to look at Summer standing in the doorway.

“To where?”

“To San Francisco. Um, I thought I’d call Aunt Liz.”

Her eyes pop wide. “For when?”

“As soon as finals are over. Like Saturday.”

“You’ve talked to her already?”

“No, I’m asking you first.” It’s not that Mom and Liz don’t get along, but they aren’t really that close. If Summer had a sister, she would talk to her all the time.

“Christmas is a week and a half away. I told you we’re going skiing! With the Menendezes. And I was hoping to celebrate your graduation with a little get-together first.”

“I really have to leave here.” Summer realizes she’s twisting her hands and stops.

“And what will you do in California?” Mom purses her lips.

“I don’t know. Maybe some volunteer work. With like, kids. Aunt Liz will have some ideas.”

“You want to spend Christmas with her. And leave me here alone.”

“No, not that. I … If … It’s complicated.”

“Try me.”

Summer hesitates. “I—I think I won’t last until Christmas here.”

“What on earth do you mean?” Mom squints at Summer with her jaw set. “Are you flunking out after all?

“No!” Summer takes another deep breath. Just tell Mom the truth. “I don’t know. I’m worried. Maybe. There’s … it’s a guy, here, actually, that’s messing me up.”

“A guy? Do you mean your handicapped friend?”

“No! I met him … not at school.”

“How do you mean he’s messing you up?”

“Like, he always wants to drink. I’m not drinking now. I’m in a … sort of fragile place.” Her voice squeaks. She’s plucking at her throat.

“That doesn’t mean you have to leave.” Mom frowns with a modicum of concern. “Sounds like it would be a very good idea not to see this person.”

Summer rubs her forehead, trying to loosen the piercing tightness. “I can’t avoid him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can always avoid someone.” Mom pauses. “I think this is about running away. Summer, you can’t keep changing location every few months, by force or choice. You must stay here and deal with your life.” She narrows her eyes. “And graduate.”

Mom’s right. She does want to run away. But she has to make Mom understand that it’s for a very good reason. Summer shakes her head. “But, I don’t think I—” She pauses, then says softly, “Mom, graduating will be moot if I’m not around to inherit.”

“What do you mean ‘not around’?” Mom demands.

“I mean…” Summer stares at the marble floor, pulling her fingers one by one. “I don’t know. Just in case I’m, like…” Summer looks Mom in the eyes, silently pleading for her to understand. “… hit by a truck or something.”

“I give up.” Mom waves her manicured nails.

No such luck.

“Ask Dr. Garnier about it. And I certainly hope you told her about your father. But right now, I don’t have time for this nonsense. I am so tired of it! This is how it
always
is with you. You’re given opportunity after opportunity—on a silver platter no less, yet you refuse to do anything. To live your life. When I think of those African village girls who would die for your opportunities.” She looks at her watch. “I’ve got to be in Neuilly in twenty minutes, and then Geneva tomorrow, for the week. We’ll talk about it later.”

Summer knew this would be an exercise in futility. She about-faces and slumps out.

“Summer?”

“Yes?”

Mom breathes in through her nose as she massages her lineless forehead. “I am sorry about the way I told you about your father. It wasn’t the right time or place.”

Summer keeps a neutral face. She won’t acknowledge the apology, and since Moony said the same thing, it’s the second time in one day she’s heard that. But she appreciates it.

Back in her room, with a credit card, Summer buys an e-ticket on Air France for a flight to San Francisco early on Saturday the twenty-first, in six days. Somehow, she’ll get through this next, last week of school, honor Dad’s anniversary by passing her two finals on the seventeenth, and then grab her passport and just
partir
. Her big suitcase is in the
cave
in the basement. She doesn’t want to go down there, it creeps her out and who knows who could be lurking. So she empties an old duffel bag filled with tennis racquets, packs a few things, and puts it under her bed. Then she sits down and tries to study.

FORTY-FIVE

On Monday, Summer drags herself out of bed and calls a taxi to take her to school for her European History final exam. Other than a brief, “Hope you’re feeling OK. Good luck on finals,” text to reassure Moony, she keeps her phone turned off. When she sees the questions, she knows she’ll probably flunk it. Just like a bad dream. She may pass her trigonometry test, thanks to Moony. Might bring her overall grade in there up to a C minus.

As Summer is leaving, she passes by her English class and the teacher sees her.

“Summer?” She motions her in. “You were absent when I handed back the Dante papers. I have yours here. Do you check your PAIS e-mails?” She hands it to Summer.

“I guess not enough.” Summer tries to smile at her teacher. “Hmm. ‘D plus,’” she reads aloud.

Ms. Chang tilts her head. “You had some interesting observations, but it was supposed to be three times that length for starters. I’m afraid you’re failing this course. There’s still the final on Thursday. Do you want to discuss it?”

“Uh, not really. Not at all in fact,” Summer says, crumpling the red-marked paper. “Gotta run, thank you, Ms. Chang.” Run. That’s a laugh. She can barely lift each foot.

Okay, maybe she won’t be able to salvage the semester.

That familiar cold in her middle sinks heavily all the way through her. She did try. More than she has for years, for sure. Just not enough. Time or effort. She’ll just have to deal with all that when she gets to the US. She can figure out another way to graduate, and then to get into some idiot university. To make Mom happy anyway.

She trudges out of the room and clips some girl in the hall, causing her to drop a big leather bag. It’s skinny, beautiful Jacqueline.

“Summer!” she says.

“Hi,” Summer says. “Sorry. Just escaping Ms. Chang.”

“What?” Jackie’s wearing a yellow wool jacket with white fringe and a short black wool skirt. She has big, bright gold hoops in her pierced ears.

“Take your earbuds out,” Summer mouths and points.

Jackie does. “I never see you around.” She slings the big bag back over her shoulder.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Aren’t you a Kentucky Morris groupie? Sad news about him, huh?”

“What?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Her big brown eyes are wide with dismay.

“Heard what?”

“He died last night. Hanged himself while in Bangkok. The Triage the Darkness Tour. He left a suicide song and everything.”

“You’re—you’re joking.”

“No, I wish.”

Summer clutches her middle and bows. “Oh, no.”

The avalanche has slammed over her. It’s swirling and hurling her, and there’s not enough air.

“Are you okay?”

If the brilliant, talented, successful, and beloved Kentucky doesn’t think life is worth living, then what is she supposed to do? Like in cartoons when Wile E. Coyote gets frozen, one little tap breaks him into a thousand pieces.

“Shattered,” she says.

“Yeah, I know, right? Hard to believe that someone with so much going for them would take their own life,” says Jackie, twirling her hair around her finger.

Summer mumbles, “Actually it’s not.” If people knew the truth, they would say that about Dad. People said it about the star high school basketball player in Little Rock who shot himself. Almost everybody who commits suicide
had so much going for them.

“Well, I know what happened. To cause him do it. They say he just broke up with Lou Lou Banal.”

Summer contemplates scuff marks on the waxed floor then looks up. “It’s not just one thing. He’s been thinking about it for a long time.” She pauses as bits of his lyrics play in her head. “A long time.”

Jackie blinks at Summer, pauses two beats. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Now?”

“About Moony.” Jackie’s heavy perfume curls around Summer’s head, making her sniff.

“Okay.”

“You and Moony have been hanging out, outside of school some.”

“Yeah?” Summer flicks at her backpack strap. Kentucky’s song “Come and Go with Me” is playing in her mind and it’s hard to concentrate. Where’s Jackie headed with this?

“He likes you a lot, you know,” Jackie says in a soft voice.

“Uh…”

“Do you like him?” Jackie fastens her large brown eyes on Summer’s. It’s so third grade.

“Of course I like him. He’s … my best friend.” People are filing around them in the hall, so they step closer to the lockers.

Jackie tosses her long shiny hair behind her. “I mean, you know, like, physically.”

“Did he ask you to ask me?” Summer demands. No way Moony would. Jackie’s being nosy. But Jackie’s looking out for him, too.

“You know him. He would never do that. He talks about you a lot. I just know.”

They stand there a few seconds while Summer doesn’t answer. She loves him, and yes, she does want him. She’d be so psyched to believe that what Jackie says is true. But it makes everything worse. Even if he hasn’t yet figured it out, she knows: she’s the most terrible thing that could possibly happen to him.

“So, do you?” she asks.

“No,” Summer says, touching her nose ring and closing her eyes. She hugs her notebook against her chest and opens her eyes. “I do love him.” Jackie frowns like she thinks Summer’s lying. “It’s not because he’s … not perfect! It’s complicated and none of your business.” Now Jackie gives her a snotty, disdainful look. “What, do you want to jump his bones?” Summer demands, which she immediately regrets.

Jackie says coolly, “I already have.”

Summer opens her mouth but nothing comes out.

Jackie smiles. “It didn’t work out, but I care very much for him.”

“Oh, good for you.” Summer hates her.

Jackie narrows her eyes. “Don’t you dare lead him on, or even think about messing with his heart.” Then she pivots and marches away in her high-heeled boots.

“Or what?” Summer whispers.

FORTY-SIX

At home in her room that night, Summer tries to watch a movie. Thank god Mom’s gone because she doesn’t want to talk to or see anyone. She’s so exhausted, yet it’s hard to sit still. Moony keeps popping into her head, how Jackie said he loves and wants her. How
she
wants Moony, but how she can only deeply disappoint him.

She also can’t stop thinking about Kentucky Morris. She loves him, too. His music is mournful, sometimes angry or even just a tad whiny, but it transmits so clearly and beautifully to her that she’s not the only one. That he knows how she feels. And struggles. She cannot fathom that he checked out. Hanged himself. And abandoned her!

She does understand why he wanted to, though. Totally.

Then the truth of his decision hits home. He’s a brilliant guy. He hasn’t deserted her, he figured out the answer.