Triggered (4 page)

He doesn't have to worry. Trust me. I'd never do that again. IT WAS SCARY!!!!! I thought I was just going to slide off into the ditch, but then we hit that boulder and almost rolled. I was shaking so hard when I texted Lily. I must have made a million typos.

Constable Cheng looked us over and said he didn't think we needed to go to the hospital, but I made him take us anyway. Not for my sake. For Gavin's. He's such a brave little guy because of all the pain he's endured. Sometimes it's hard to know when he's actually hurt.

My eyes filled up with tears when I said that. I guess I've been under more stress than I realized these last six weeks—but whatever. It worked. Constable Cheng took us straight there.

He insisted on calling Mom even though I begged him not to. I said I didn't want her to worry and that we needed the money. No one's going to pay her for sitting around in the emergency room. But he wouldn't listen. He said it would make me feel better.

What
actually
made me feel better was Mick. I was surprised—but not really—to see him come barreling into the ER. It's when bad things happen that people show their true colors.

Then when I saw him hug Gavin? I can't even think about that without getting misty-eyed again. It was so sweet and so genuine. I felt surrounded by love.

The funny thing is, I really do mean it when I say I'm happy we broke up. We'd gotten used to each other. I almost couldn't see him anymore. Now he walks into a room, and my heart goes crazy. I forgot how beautiful his eyes are. Those little specks of green. How could I have forgotten about them?

And I love how tall he is. Most big guys stand with their heads up and their shoulders way back. They flaunt it. But Mick kind of bends down to your level. You don't feel like you're small or he's doing you a favor. You just feel kind of looked after.

I didn't appreciate that before, but I do now. It's time we got back to normal.

Note to Self

1. Call garage about car.

2. Take early lunch.

Mick

Chapter Nine

Quinn is mooching French fries off my plate again.

“Get your own.” I jab at his hand with my fork.

“Now, now,” he says. “That's no way to impress the ladies.” He lifts his chin in the direction of the salad bar. I turn and see Dalma coming toward us with a tray full of food. He steals half my fries while I'm looking at her, but I don't really care anymore.

“I can sit?” she says. Her hair is so smooth and shiny, it's like metal. Liquid metal, if there is such a thing.

Quinn goes, “Here, take my place” and gets up. “I was leaving anyway.” He's the type of guy who thinks he sounds smooth even with his mouth full.

Dalma asks him to stay, but he shakes his head. He swipes his elbow across the table and brushes the grunge he left onto the floor. “For you, Lady Dalma.”

He bows at her, then gives me a big sleazy wink, tongue out the side of his mouth and everything. “Later, Mick.” She puts down her tray, tucks her hair behind her ear and watches him go. She's wearing little gold hoops. “How he knows my name?”

Because I'm an idiot and told him
about you even though I know he's got a
big mouth
. I don't say that.

I move a chicken nugget around my plate with my fork. “Everyone knows you. You're the new girl.”

“Ah!” She bats her eyelashes. “I am starlet?”

That makes me laugh. Where would Dalma pick up a word like
starlet
? It's something my great-aunt would say.

“Would you like to go to a movie with me tonight?” I don't know where that came from, either.

She pulls back, eyes wide. “Me?”

“Yes.”

“And you?”

“Yes.”

“To movie?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” she says, then laughs. She takes a big bite of salad. Her whole face keeps smiling, even while she chews. She doesn't seem afraid of anything.

Some dressing dribbles down her chin.

I point at it. She looks behind her, then shrugs. “I see nothing.”

“I mean, your chin,” I say.

She squints one eye at me suspiciously. “How I can see my chin?”

This doesn't need to be so complicated.

I take my napkin, reach across the table and wipe the dressing off her face.

In the process, I leave behind a smear of honey-garlic dipping sauce. I probably should have used a clean napkin.

For some reason, this strikes me as hilarious. I cover my mouth and laugh really hard.

Dalma goes, “What? What?”

She's laughing too, but still, I shouldn't leave her like that. I pound on my chest until I can pull myself together, then pick up an unused napkin, dip it in my water and try again. She scrunches up her face the way Gavin would if I was doing it to him.

“My mother. She do this.” Dalma pretends to spit into her hand, then rubs it back and forth in the air.

“Same here.” We both go, “Ew.”

“Look,” Dalma says. “Your friend.”

She waves. I turn and see Jade coming toward us. She usually has late lunch on Thursdays. I lift my hand. It's not quite a wave.

“Chicken nuggets.” Jade nudges me with her elbow, then slides into the chair next to me. “I should have known.” She looks at Dalma. “He can't resist them.”

I don't think Dalma knows the word
resist
, but she smiles anyway.

Jade peels open her tub of no-fat yogurt. She scrapes tiny little blobs off the foil lid, then puts the spoon upside down on her tongue. It's not the most efficient way to eat. The whole time, she's talking to Dalma about the Newcomers Club, her tutor, the dress she's wearing to the spring dance and Kevin Peters. I have no idea why she's talking about Kevin. I didn't even think she knew him that well. I'm positive Dalma doesn't know him at all. I nod and say stuff like “Oh yeah?” and “No kidding,” but basically I'm out of the conversation.

The bell goes. We take our trays and dump the leftovers in the bins on the way out. Jade's only eaten about two tablespoons of yogurt.

“Shouldn't you finish that?” I say. “You'll get hungry.” By which I mean “even skinnier.” It's none of my business, but I'm seriously considering calling her mother about how much weight she's lost. I wonder if she's anorexic.

Jade looks at Dalma. “He always worries about me. It's so cute.” She gives my arm a little slap.

We head down the hall. It's really noisy. People are slamming lockers shut, bombing between classes, screaming at each other about stuff. Rory Steinberg jumps off the landing and practically knocks Kyle Dodds over. That's not as funny as he thinks it's going to be.

It must be hard for Dalma to understand what Jade's saying with all the racket. I'll have to find a quiet place to ask her about tonight. I don't know where she lives yet.

Jade turns to go. “Oh, hey, Dalma. I'm thinking of having some girls over for pizza tonight. Why don't you come?”

Dalma slumps her head to one side. “Sorry. I cannot. I go…” She points her hand at me. “I mean, we go…” she says. I don't know if it's the look on my face or the look on Jade's, but Dalma stops talking.

“Oh, too bad,” Jade says. “Next time!” She twiddles her fingers at us, then runs up the stairs to Chemistry.

I arrange to pick Dalma up at her place at seven.

Jade's Diary

Chapter Ten

April 15

I learned a few things today.

The first is that
MSG
definitely
brings on Gavin's migraines. He had a little tiny bit tonight and boom. Just like that, he was crying and screaming and throwing up. The whole nine yards. It was ugly.

The second thing I learned is that I can count on Mick. I don't know why I keep doubting it. I called him tonight when I realized how bad this was going to be. I was really apologetic about it. I knew he was doing something with Dalma, and she can't have many friends yet, so it was probably disappointing for her too—but what choice did I have? Mom can't be leaving work every time Gavin's sick.

I didn't have to explain that to Mick. He understands. He immediately went, “Don't worry. I'll be right there.”

Twenty minutes later, he was at the door. Poor Dalma. I wonder if she had to take the bus home.

The two of us managed to get Gavin cleaned up and settled down. Then Mick put him to bed. It was so adorable. Light really bothers Gavin's eyes when he's having a migraine, so Mick couldn't turn on the lamp to read him a story. Not that he needed to. Mick's put him to bed enough times that he knows the words by heart. The two of them lay in the pitch-dark, flipping pages, while Mick “read”
Go Dog Go
. So sweet.

Then he made me some toast and positively slathered it with peanut butter. He didn't seem to care about how fat that was going to make me. We snuggled on the couch and, for a while, it was just like it used to be.

That's when I learned the third thing. I can't rush him. I don't want to scare him away.

Note to Self

1. Only fruit and water tomorrow.

2. And be patient!

Mick

Chapter Eleven

Quinn drags his hand down his face. “You're not serious.”

I start stuffing my gear into my duffel bag. I should never have mentioned it.

“She called you when you were already at the movie with Dalma—and you actually left?” He wipes the ice off his blades and laughs.

“Jade's playing you,” he says.

I'm meeting Dalma in a few minutes by the flagpole. I don't want to talk about this now.

“Seriously. She's playing you,” he says again.

I give my duffel bag a shove. “How?” I say. “Come on. Tell me. How?”

Quinn looks at the ceiling like he can't believe he has to spell this out for me. “It's so obvious. She sees you with someone else, and immediately she's got some big crisis only you can solve.”

“Her little brother had a migraine,” I say.

“And you're the only one who can help? Where's her mother?”

“Working.”

“Her father?”

“Who knows?”

“What about a relative…a neighbor…nine-one-one?”

I grab my shoulder pads and ram them into my duffel bag.

“I should have said to Jade, ‘Call nine-one-one. I'm going to a movie.' That's what you're telling me?”

Quinn stands up and zips his fly. “Yeah. Sorta. She's not your problem anymore.” He sniffs his T-shirt. Even from here I can tell it's rank, but he puts it on anyway.

“She's pulling your chain, Mick. Trust me. You keep responding to her, she'll keep making crap up.”

I've got my helmet in my hand. I consider slamming it into his head but put it away instead. “She didn't make anything up,” I say. “I was there. I saw Gavin. He had a migraine.”

“Maybe he's in on it too.” Quinn leans over the sink to check his so-called sideburns in the mirror.

“He's four years old. You think a four-year-old can make himself throw up? Go pale? He's a preschooler, Quinn, not Ryan frigging Gosling.”

“Fine. Whatever.” He turns and looks right at me. “But you don't think this is a little strange? You're out on your first date in—what?—three years, and suddenly Jade absolutely needs you to drop everything and rush right over?”

I close up my duffel bag. There's no point arguing with him.

“What can I tell you, Quinn? Coincidences happen. If she needs help with Gavin, she needs help with Gavin. I'm not going to desert her.” I grab my jacket. “I gotta go. Dalma's waiting.”

“That's what I'm talking about. How long you think she's going to wait while you're off looking after your ex-girlfriend's little brother? You're not the only guy around here interested in her.”

I push open the change-room door. “Thanks for that, Quinn.”

“Dude. Just trying to be your friend.”

I walk through the rink. I wave across the ice at the coach. Jade has always said Quinn didn't like her. Maybe she's right.

Then I think about last night, and I wonder.

No question about it. Gavin was really sick when I got there. He must have puked five times. Jade might have been able to handle it herself, but she was worn out. I could see that. Anyone could see that. Dalma and I could go to a movie another time.

I lay in the dark with Gavin until he fell asleep. I checked my phone. It wasn't that late. Dalma had said I could drop by any time before eleven.

When I came out of the bedroom, Jade was sitting on the couch, folding laundry. Her Chemistry book was open on her lap. I felt sorry for her.

I'd never felt sorry for her before. I'd just figured that's the way she is. The perfect little A student. But then I saw her there on a Friday night, cleaning up, studying, taking care of Gavin—doing all the stuff she has to do just to survive—and I thought, Frig. No wonder she called me.

“GooGoo asleep?” she said.

I nodded.

“Good. Give me a minute, I'll be done here soon too.”

I sat down on the couch next to her. She can't do this alone anymore, I thought. She needs help. Problem is, who's going to help? Her mother's working. Her dad's a deadbeat. Gavin's dad is too. They can't afford to pay anyone. Even the doctors don't do much good. Jade says they just tell her to be careful about what he eats, make sure he gets enough sleep and give him a headache pill as soon as the migraine starts—it'll only last a few hours. Lot of help that is. Someone still has to look after him. I don't see any solution.

I closed her textbook and put it on the coffee table. One thing she didn't need to be doing was studying on a Friday night. That much I knew. I started folding towels. It was the only thing I could think to do for her.

She went “Aw…” and patted my arm.