Spiral (12 page)

C
herie is alone at the kitchen table, typing on her laptop, when I come downstairs. It’s noon, and the house feels practically empty. Is it Saturday? Sunday? I’ve lost track. I think it’s New Year’s Eve. I always lose track during the Christmas Break. All I do know is that I don’t have to be in school, or my mother would have had me up much earlier.

She looks up at me with contempt, and I’m immediately reminded of my argument with Jim the night before.

“Hi,” I say, trying to smile at her.

Her eyes quickly drop to her screen, and she ignores me. I walk around the table and reach into the refrigerator for some orange juice. Her cellphone rings, and she promptly answers it. Her voice is all sunshine and flowers.

“Hello? Oh, hi, Chris. Yes. Yes, I am. Thank you, that’s kind of you. I’ll be okay. 1:30? Of course! Okay. Yes, I’ll be ready. Thanks, Chris, see you soon.” She hangs up on Chris and types out a text message.

My mind spins briefly.
Who is Chris? What’s happening at 1:30?
Suddenly, it comes together. “Are you still doing that New Year’s Eve thing?”

She ignores me again, keeping her back to me, and resumes typing on her laptop. When I look down at her screen, I see she is posting something on her blog. The font is too small to read.

I swallow hard and consider ignoring her back, but some gut instinct urges me to apologize. “Look, I, um – ”

“Save it, jerkoff,” she huffs, and she slams her screen down, swipes the computer up into her arms, and heads for the basement.

I’m stunned and don’t know how to respond to that. “Excuse me?”

She spins around and glares at me. “I heard everything you said last night. You’re a real asshole, Jack.”

I smooth the back of my hair and feel my cheeks burn with shame. “Yeah, about that – I’m really sorry –”

“No, you’re not.” She spits the words at me like fire, and I’m growing defensive. I try to remember she needs extra patience. “We’re not family. We’re not even friends. Why would you care what happens to me?”

“Cherie, I really didn’t mean it – I was just mad,” I try to say, but she waves me off.

“I said save it, Jack. I don’t need your apologies, or your fake sympathy. I am not anyone’s
problem
!” She scoffs, “You don’t really think I want any of this, do you? I don’t want your stupid family moving into
my
home and getting in
my
space!”

It’s becoming harder to have patience now. “Please don’t talk about them like that.”

“Just shut up, Jack,” she hisses, and I actually find myself complying. She’s practically shouting as she steps forward, her teeth flashing and her eyes wild. “Don’t talk to me – ever! Don’t pretend to care, don’t act like you understand what I’m going through, and just don’t speak to me! Is that clear?”

I nod, and she turns toward the basement. She stops in the doorway and looks back with hatred. “We have one month stuck in this house together before we move. You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.” With that, she disappears and slams the door behind her.

That night, at a New Year’s Eve party at Frank’s house, I’m immediately surrounded by the kids from school who haven’t seen me since the start of break. Their attention is overwhelming, and I have to dodge a myriad of questions about Cherie and the chaos at home. I’d never been a really popular kid before, but now it feels like everyone is trying to be my best friend. Of course they all only want to talk about the one person I wish to discuss least in the world.

“What’s Cherie like?”

“Are you really dating her? That’s just a rumor, right? Frank said it was a rumor.”

“Is she pretty in person?”

“Sorry about your aunt and uncle. It’s so nice of you to be there for Cherie – you’re such a good boyfriend.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone you were dating Cherie Belle? That is so cool!”

One meddlesome kid asks, “Is that why you broke up with Katrina?”

Automatically, I look up and find Katrina just feet away, glowering at that question. Pouting and huffing, she walks past me and the nosy guy, making sure to roughly slam her shoulder into my arm.

“Katrina – ” I try to call out, but she ignores me and storms out of the room.

It’s almost 11 before I find a chance to pull my real friends aside and tell them that I have to move. Frank shakes his head, Josh’s eyebrows raise, but neither of them seems terribly surprised.

“When?” Frank asks.

“February,” I say quietly. “Over break.”

Frank’s jaw drops. “But that’s in, like, a month! That’s – it’s too soon!”

Josh nods and harrumphs, “Better make the best of the time we have I guess.” He hands me his half-empty beer.

Frank is less easily comforted. He grumbles, “There’s got to be another way. It’s junior year. There’s just gotta.” I’m too clouded over with misery to tell him not to say anything to anyone. Shaking his head, he walks away and over to his girlfriend, who looks from him to me as he relays the news. Then she’s off, going directly to a group of girls with the information. Pretty soon, the whole junior class knows about it, and kids are coming over to pry further.

I curse under my breath, swallow the beer in my hand, and prepare for another round of questions.

On TV, Cherie sings a duet of “Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” with Caz Farrell in Times Square before the ball drops. I drink more beer and cheap champagne than I should. When the ball drops, Frank sheds a drunken tear as he hugs me, Josh razzes me about how in love Cherie and Caz look, and Katrina asks me to go upstairs with her. I look at the TV, watching Cherie exchange hugs and kisses with her celebrifriends. She and Caz hug extra-long. Without a second thought, I take a swig of my beer and follow Katrina to the guest bedroom.

T
he month that follows is a whirlwind of chaos as my mother files and registers and calls and books and altogether drives all of us crazy to pick ourselves up and make this haphazard move across the country. Sometimes I feel like she is possessed by some woman who actually believes this move is a great idea and that everything is going to be just fine, which has become her mantra.

When I remind her how all of my SAT scores and my college applications have our current address listed, she informs me that she can call the admissions offices and take care of the change in the morning.

“The acceptance letters will find their way to us, honey. Everything will be just fine,” she nearly sings.

As I ask her for more boxes for my things, she says, “Of course, dear, I’ll go to the post office tomorrow to get some. Not to worry, everything will be just fine.”

One day, I catch her obsessively cleaning out the bottom shelf of one of the kitchen cabinets, wiping what seems like the same spot over and over, muttering curses to herself. I offer to help her and she jumps in fright, as if I snuck up on her. Throwing off her rubber, yellow gloves, she shies from my hands, which are reaching out to steady her. Before I can wonder if she’s finally on the verge of cracking, she breaks into tears and runs to her room, slamming the door and hysterically whimpering, “I’m fine! Everything is going to be fine!”

That’s just my mom. The twins begin to have goodbye ceremonies with different friend groups every night the week before we leave. It starts with the cheerleading squad, who come over with a pizza and cans of frosting and pretzels and lots of tissues. It starts out as a night I wouldn’t mind hanging around, until the tissues come out. The next night, a few girls from their hometown come by with shoe boxes of ticket stubs and postcards and pictures. The next night, a mix of freshman and sophomore girls from my school fill my living room and play a DVD slideshow of pictures from the past couple of months that’s set to a mix of Kesha and Lady Gaga songs.

I’d be jealous of all the attention they’re getting if it wasn’t so nauseating and disingenuous. The twins started coming to school with me when they moved here in October. These girls that keep coming over have known them for precisely four and a half months and can’t possibly be the true friends forever they claim to be. Katrina used to say some of those girls latched onto the twins in an effort to get closer to me, and I never believed her before this week. Now those same girls are throwing themselves at me like they have nothing to lose, and a few of them are actually pretty cute. I marvel at all of the opportunities I ignorantly missed out on these past couple of months.

The one all-girl party I do attend is, of course, Britney’s. When her kindergarten friends hold a party to bid her farewell, there I am, holding her coat, watching her throw herself around the bouncy castle with all of the other five year olds. I’m an anomaly to the moms and dads, who don’t quite understand why I’m there and not my mother. I have to explain that my mom is chaperoning the twins’ ski party out in Orange County and that my step-dad is taking Brenton to a laser tag party with his friends. They nod knowingly but are still perplexed. That’s when I turn my attention back to my little sister and the parents continue to stare, wondering, whispering. I’m used to it, and they should be by now, but they’re not, so I breathe deeply and try to be patient.

Cherie, however, is the only one who isn’t drawing attention to us anymore. She generally flies in and out of the state for different premieres and interviews, so she is barely around, and the gaggle of gossipers are even more scarce. When she is present, she keeps to herself in the basement or is chauffeured to some red carpet event by Danika. I vaguely remember hearing that she has a movie to promote or something. Every now and again I secretly hope we will be forced to sit together and talk, and maybe I’ll have the chance to apologize. The longer we go without speaking or seeing each other, though, the less I have to say and the more I begin to forget about her.

The evening before we leave for California, I’m sitting in the middle of my barren room, which has been stripped of all of its furniture and posters. Another moving truck will come in the morning to pick up the rest of our boxes. My childhood home has never looked sadder.

I examine the map Jim’s printed for me, which details our route for travel to California. I’ve never been on a road trip like this before, especially not as a driver. It’s a little intimidating, but the alternative was leaving my car in the hands of strangers on some train ride and joining the RV of Hell. Even Brenton begged to ride with me instead of with the collection of misfits riding together in the RV Jim has decided to rent and captain. My mom almost caved when Brenton threw himself at her feet, but then he got the flu and threw up at her feet a few days later. Now she wants to watch him every minute of the trip and reneged on her original promise, only allowing him to stay in the one hotel room we are renting for Britney and me.

Naturally, Princess Cherie is flying out to LAX in the morning. She would never ride in a rented RV like a commoner. Her handlers actually flew in to New York last night just to make the trip back out with her tomorrow. Betsy picked her up earlier for a “dinner meeting,” but I never heard of a dinner meeting requiring a limo and an entourage of hair and makeup people. Either way, she’s out of the house for the night, and I won’t have to see her.

There’s a knock on my door, and I call out, “Come in.” The door pushes open, and Claudia comes inside.

“Ready for tomorrow?” she asks, pointing to the map. In Brenton’s place, Mom gave me Claudia as a co-pilot. Not my first choice, but at least it’s not Chloe.

“Yeah, looks easy enough,” I say. “Did you need something?”

She smiles and sits down next to me. She fiddles with a corner of my sleeping bag. “Are you nervous?”

“It’s just a couple of highways,” I say with a shrug, trying to sound confident. She is putting her life in my hands for a few days, after all.

She laughs. “No, I mean about moving. To Hollywood. Isn’t it crazy?”

I nod. “Yeah, I guess a little.” I’m confused; Claudia never tries to talk to me, let alone have heart to hearts.

“We’ve been out there to visit a bunch of times. It’s nice and all, but I don’t really know if I want to live there. They’re all probably rich and snobby at school.”

“School will be weird, I guess,” I say.

“Yeah,” she sighs. “It sucks; we feel like we just got settled here in your school, you know? We made so many friends already.”

I tilt my head and raise my eyebrow at her. “I’m sure you guys will be fine; you’ll make lots of friends again, especially with Cherie around.”