It dropped into the gutter almost immediately.
I groaned as I watched it make its way down the edge of the lane.
“Nice gutter ball, Lacey,” Sydney piped up, laughing. Sam rolled his eyes. “It took me
forever
to learn to bowl,” he told me. “Here.” He got up and touched my arm lightly. “I’ll show you.”
I picked up my ball and we walked to the lane. “Put your arm back,” Sam said.
I grasped the ball tightly and did what he said, stepping back with my left foot, like Sam had showed me. I was just about to ask him what to do next when I felt his warmth right behind me.
“Like this,” he said softly, his breath grazing my ear as my cheeks flamed. He was so close that I could feel him, yet not close enough to be touching my back. Every single hair on my body was standing on end. He placed his right hand over mine, and I was so electrified by his touch that I nearly dropped the ball. Thankfully, I didn’t.
“Okay, now,” he said. “Let’s do this slowly once to practice. Don’t let go.”
I knew he was talking about the bowling ball, but for a second, I wanted to tell him not to worry, that I would never let go. I glanced around and realized that everyone was watching us.
Slowly, with his right hand resting on mine and his left hand gently clasping my left hand, Sam guided my right arm forward, urging me, “Step forward with your left foot, like I showed you.” He took the step with me, his much longer left leg shadowing my leg and his arm guiding mine forward.
“Just like that,” he said in my ear. Then he cleared his throat loudly, glanced around, and stepped away, as if he’d just noticed that everyone was staring. “Um, nice job, Lacey,” he said. “You’re a natural. Now let’s try it for real.”
I knew my face was on fire. I glanced around and quickly returned my attention to the ball and the lane in front of me. I closed my eyes for a minute and tried to center myself. Repeating Sam’s words in my head, I stepped back, then stepped forward, slowly swinging my right arm in one fluid motion.
I watched as the ball rolled slowly down the lane. It seemed to take forever, but this time, it didn’t roll toward the gutter. In fact, it went straight down the middle. At the last second, it veered to the right and hit near the center. It knocked over seven pins!
I leapt up, ecstatic. I knew it wasn’t exactly a strike, but it felt pretty good to me.
I wanted to see if everyone had noticed, but before I even had a chance to look around, Sam put his arms around me. And then, in front of everyone, he kissed me like it was the most normal thing in the world.
• • •
Two hours later, we had bowled two games, and I had gotten a little bit better. I even knocked over all ten pins on two tries. Still, I was by far the worst bowler in the group. I didn’t care. What I cared about was that we
were
a group. All of us, who had nothing in common except for the biggest thing, had talked and laughed and had fun.
After we had changed back into our street shoes, we all thanked Donna and walked outside. The sun had gone down, and there were just a few remaining streaks of light in the sky to the west, the last remnants of the day. With the sunshine gone, a chill had set in, and none of us were dressed warmly enough. I shivered as we stood in the parking lot, looking at one another.
“That was fun,” Cody said.
“Yeah,” Mindy agreed.
“It
was
fun,” Kelsi said after a minute. “But we didn’t really talk about anything.”
She was right. It just hadn’t seemed like the time or the place to bring up sad stuff when, for once, we were having fun without thinking about it.
“Maybe we didn’t need to,” Cody said. “Maybe it’s cool to hang out with each other sometimes and not have to talk about it.”
“Yeah,” Kelsi said. “All you guys want me to do is be myself. It’s kind of nice.”
After exchanging goodbyes and saying we’d see one another in school tomorrow, we started drifting toward our cars.
“Need a ride?” Sam asked, putting his hand lightly on my shoulder.
Sydney, seeing this and apparently deciding that she couldn’t bear for someone else to be happy for a millisecond, jumped in. “I’ll drive her home. I’m going there anyhow. Obviously.”
Sam and I exchanged glances, and I shrugged.
“Okay,” Sam said. I’d been kind of hoping he’d insist on driving me. He kissed my cheek and walked over to his Jeep. I watched him go, feeling a lot warmer than I should have in the evening air.
“Let’s go,” Sydney said, clapping her hands together. “It’s cold out here.”
I followed her and Logan to her car and climbed into the back. Sydney started the engine, and as we sat there for a minute to let it warm up, she and Logan whispered something to each other. I ignored them. Finally, Sydney pulled out of the lot.
“So,” she said, glancing at me in the rearview mirror, “what’s up with you and Sam?”
I knew it was coming. I took a deep breath. “We’re going out, I guess,” I said. The words tasted sweet in my mouth. “But then again, you knew that,” I heard myself add. “What are you talking about?”
“Haven’t you been gossiping about it all day?” I asked her.
Sydney huffed indignantly. “I don’t gossip,” she said. “How dare you accuse me of that?”
I laughed. “Right.”
Sydney nudged my brother. “Lacey, I don’t want to burst your bubble or anything, but it can’t last, you know.”
“What?” I looked at her face in the rearview mirror. I had no idea what she was talking about.
“I mean, it’s just not a logical match,” she said.
“What on earth do you mean?” I asked.
“Well,” Sydney said slowly, like she was talking to a child, “you have to admit, it’s not like you have anything in common. Other than your dead fathers.”
The way Sydney said the words sliced into me.
“You barely know him,” I said after a minute. “How could you possibly say that?”
“Think about it,” she continued. “You’re brainy. He’s hot. And you’re up against Summer Andrews. I mean, do you really think he’s going to choose you over her in the long term?”
I had just opened my mouth to reply when my brother spoke up. “Syd, leave her alone.”
Dead silence. I was as taken aback as Sydney was. Logan never came to my defense. Not anymore. And certainly not against Sydney.
Sydney sputtered for a second. I knew she was flailing for a retort.
Logan sighed again. “We’ll talk about it later, Sydney,” he said with more finality than I’d ever heard in his voice.
“But—”
“Not now,” Logan said. Then he turned and looked out the window, effectively ending the conversation.
I turned and looked out the window too, biting my lip and trying not to smile. I didn’t know what had just happened, but somehow, Logan seemed to be back on my side, even if only a little bit.
• • •
Even though I knew she was just being a jerk, I couldn’t shake Sydney’s words. They had wormed their way into my brain, making me wonder if I was being naïve to believe that what Sam and I had was real. Maybe Sydney was right. I didn’t want to think that the only reason Sam liked me was because he saw a reflection of his own pain. But maybe that was all it was.
Mom actually made it home for dinner that night, so the four of us sat down to a meal that she had “cooked”—spaghetti with sauce out of a jar and a bagged salad.
“This is nice,” Mom said as we chewed in silence. Tanner slurped a noodle noisily and looked up, the faintest trace of a smile on his face. “You know, we hardly ever eat together anymore.”
“Maybe it’s because you’re never home,” Logan said.
Mom sighed heavily. “Logan, someone has to support this family. You know I’d love to spend more time with you. It just isn’t able to work out that way right now.”
Logan was silent for so long that I thought he was going to let it go. And for a moment, I was very relieved. Dinners together were so rare that I didn’t want this one to be spoiled by a fight. But then Logan said slowly, “That’s bullshit.”
Mom flinched, like she’d been struck. “What did you say?”
“I said it’s bullshit,” Logan said.
Tanner and I exchanged glances. “Logan,” I said as my mom gaped at him. “I really don’t think–”
“Shut up, Lacey,” he cut me off. “I’m so sick and tired of everyone tiptoeing around the truth.”
“Young man,” my mother began. But her voice was shaky and lacked conviction.
“Don’t ‘young man’ me,” my brother snapped. “You don’t have the right anymore.”
“I’m your mother,” she said.
Logan shook his head. “My mother disappeared last November.”
I hated the way he was hurting my mom, but despite myself, I agreed with him. I wanted to defend her, but I couldn’t. I held my breath.
“You know, you can’t run from it, Mom,” he said. “Dad’s dead, okay? Dead, dead, dead.”
“Logan!” she exclaimed. There were tears welling in her eyes.
“You keep acting like if you just work enough, if you just avoid your family, if you go out and have fun and play tennis and keep your hair perfect and your clothes ironed, it will all go away,” he went on. “But it won’t. You’re just lying to yourself. You can’t make everything perfect, because it’s not. Dad is dead, Mom. He
died
. I watched him, okay? I watched him die. You can’t pretend.”
My mom was crying and I felt a tightening in my own chest. There were tears in Tanner’s eyes too, and he made a little choked sound before setting down his fork.
Logan wasn’t done. “You don’t even act like a mom anymore,” he continued. “You remember what it used to be like? Huh? Do you? You used to ask us about school. You used to joke around. You used to be fun. You used to care. But now all you care about is forgetting. You think that’s how Dad would want you to be?”
My mother was sobbing full force now, but Logan didn’t seem to notice. His face was red, and his hands were clenched into fists, like he was waiting to defend himself against some unexpected attack.
“Logan,” I began.
“And you!” he exclaimed, turning on me. “You think that by being Little Miss Perfect, you can fix everything,” he accused. “Well, you’re as stupid as she is!” He nodded in Mom’s direction. “You don’t even have a clue. You think you’re so much better than me just because you make straight As and you take care of everyone and you never cry. But you know what? That’s really screwed up.”
“What?” I choked out.
“You’re such a phony,” he spat.
“Shut up,” I whispered. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, well, what are you going to tell me?” he mocked. “I mean, you seem to have all the answers, right?”
“I never said I had all the answers.”
Logan snorted. “You didn’t have to.” He pulled his napkin off his lap, balled it up, and tossed it onto the table. “Thanks for the great dinner. This has been fun.”
He got up and strode away without another word. We all watched him go, shocked into silence. Then we all looked at one another.
Tanner was the first to move. As he stood up from the table, he knocked his milk glass over with his elbow. It crashed onto the floor, shattering into a hundred little pieces. His eyes filled. “Sorry,” he whispered.
“It’s okay, honey,” my mom said, her voice pinched. “I’ll take care of it.” Tanner darted out of the room. I could hear his footsteps on the stairs, then the slamming of his bedroom door.
Silence settled over us. My mother and I looked at each other, then down at the floor, where the shards of shattered glass reflected the light.
“We’d better clean that up,” my mother said. But she didn’t move. She just kept staring at the glass, like she was wondering whether it would really be possible to ever pick up all the pieces.
chapter 17
I
told Sam about the fight the next day, and he said that sometimes people don’t think before they speak, and that Logan probably hadn’t meant the things he said.
“But he did mean it,” I said as we sat across from each other at McDonald’s after school, sharing a large chocolate milk shake in alternate slurps. “And the thing was, he was right.”
“About what?” Sam asked.
“About everything,” I admitted. “I mean, all the things he said about my mom were the things I’ve been thinking. Maybe he was right about me, too.”
“Or maybe Logan was just telling you the way he sees things,” Sam said, “which doesn’t necessarily make it right.”
On Friday night, he and I went out with Brian and Jennica to the movies, and as we sat in the darkened theater, with our fingers intertwined, I thought how nice it was not to feel like a third wheel for once. I hated that I needed another person to make me feel like I belonged. But if I had to have someone at my side to help me fit, I was glad it was Sam.
On Saturday, Sam had practice for a soccer league he’d joined in town. He asked me if I wanted to come sit in the park with a few of the other girlfriends while he kicked the ball around with the guys, and I agreed instantly. It wasn’t that I wanted to spend every waking second with him or anything. It was that I was avoiding my house. It was even more silent than usual, which was weird, because Mom was actually home. Logan’s words had evidently penetrated; she had come home every night before seven, and she canceled her Saturday tennis plans to catch up on some housework. That was a first.
Sunday, Jennica and I went to the mall and then got sundaes at Brigham’s. We talked about guys, and for the first time in ages, I had something to contribute. I told her what Sydney had said earlier in the week, and she reassured me that Sydney was just jealous and mean. I knew this, but even with Jennica’s words of comfort, I still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Sam didn’t call on Sunday night, which was weird, because he had started calling me every night so that we could wish each other sweet dreams. But I tried not to read into it; he was probably just busy.
On Monday morning, though, he wasn’t in first period. As the final bell rang, and his seat remained ominously empty, a funny feeling settled over me.
“Where is he?” Jennica mouthed as she glanced at Sam’s seat, then at my confused face. Mrs. Bost had already started class and was babbling something about vectors, but I couldn’t seem to tune in.
“I don’t know,” I mouthed back.
My phone vibrated a moment later, and I snuck a look. Jennica had texted im sure theres an explanation. I nodded and looked away, trying to focus on Mrs. Bost. But I had a feeling that something was wrong.
At lunchtime, I snuck outside to call Sam, but his voice mail picked up on the first ring. We weren’t supposed to talk on our cells at school, but I left him a quick message asking him to call me when he could.
He wasn’t in sixth period either, and he hadn’t called back. I tried him again as I was getting my books out of my locker after school, but his phone still went straight to voice mail. I was so busy agonizing over the reasons behind his absence that I didn’t even notice Cody approach until he was right in front of me.
“Hey,” he said. His hands were jammed in his pockets, and he looked nervous.
I stopped at my locker and looked at him. “Hey.”
“So, um,” he began. He coughed and looked down. “Are we on for tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” I asked.
“Well, it’s Tuesday, isn’t it?” he said. “Are we still having a meeting?”
“Yeah,” I said, feeling good for the first time today. “What do you want to do?”
Cody shrugged. “I dunno. I’m supposed to watch my sister, Sarah, tomorrow afternoon. She’s ten. Think we could go somewhere where I could bring her?”
I nodded. “Sure. I’ll talk to everybody.”
By that evening, I had gotten in touch with Kelsi and Mindy and we had agreed to meet at the ice rink at Plymouth Center.
I told Logan, who reluctantly agreed to try to come, even though we were barely talking to each other, and I asked my mom if I could take Tanner, too, since Cody’s sister was about his age. I thought it might be good for my little brother.
“Whatever you want,” my mom said with a shrug. I wasn’t even one hundred percent sure she heard me.
That evening, I called Sam once more and left another message. And then, because I didn’t know whether I should be hurt or worried, I went onto our local newspaper’s Web site to check for traffic accidents. There hadn’t been anything serious enough to be covered. Sam wasn’t lying by the side of the road somewhere. Just to be sure, I searched the site for his name, but nothing came up.
I swallowed my pride and sent Sam an e-mail, telling him that the group was meeting the next day at four at the ice rink if he wanted to come.
The next morning, I checked my e-mail as soon as I got up, but there was no reply from Sam. He wasn’t in school all day either. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong or why he couldn’t call me back. Why was he avoiding me?
After school, Sydney drove me and Logan home, and we picked up Tanner to take him to the ice rink. Cody, Kelsi, and Mindy were already waiting for us when we got there. Cody’s little sister Sarah turned out to be a tiny girl with long, frizzy hair. She talked a mile a minute and sounded like a miniature adult.
“Hi, you must be Lacey,” she began rapid-fire, without taking a breath. “I’m Sarah and my brother told me about you and I love ice skating, so he thought I’d want to come along, and my dad died, but it’s not like we have to just talk about that, because there are lots of other interesting things we can talk about too, like ice skating or school or sports or something, and is that your brother over there?”
She finally paused for breath and cocked her head inquisitively.
I followed her eyes to Tanner, who was hanging back from the crowd. He had brought his own knee pads and helmet and didn’t seem the slightest bit worried about appearing dorky. The only thing I’d been able to get out of him when I asked why he’d come prepared was, “Dad always told me better safe than sorry.”
I nodded at Sarah. “Yeah, his name’s Tanner,” I said. “He doesn’t talk much, though.”
She nodded wisely. “Some kids don’t talk much after their parents have died,” she said. “But I’ve always talked, and when my dad died, I just started talking some more, and now I talk all the time, and I think it drives my brother and my mom crazy, but I can’t really help it, you know, and maybe if I talk enough to your brother, maybe he’ll talk back to me, and we can be friends, even though he’s a year older than me, but we go to the same school. I see him on the playground at lunch and he’s usually by himself, even though kids like him, but he’s really quiet, and maybe we can hang out sometime.”
I blinked at Sarah a few times, trying to keep up with the words pouring out of her mouth. “Um, yeah,” I said. “That sounds good.” I glanced over at Tanner, who was carefully pulling on his bright blue knee pads. I felt sad for him. I looked back at Sarah. “I think he could use a friend.”
I expected another torrent of words, but instead she just said, “Me too.”
I watched as Sarah went over to Tanner and said something to him. He looked at her blankly, then nodded. She launched into another long-winded sentence, which I couldn’t hear, and when she finally paused for breath, I watched as Tanner searched her face for what felt like an eternity and then finally broke into a hesitant grin. I was startled; I hadn’t seen him smile in a while.
Feeling relieved, I went to pick up skates for Tanner and me at the counter.
Ten minutes later, all of us were out on the ice.
“Where’s Sam?” Kelsi asked as we inched along, trying to get our balance.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“You told him about the meeting?” Mindy asked in a soft voice.
“Yeah,” I said. “I mean, I left him a message. He hasn’t called back.”
I looked up, expecting to see judgment or pity on their faces. After all, they knew Sam and I were going out, and now he wasn’t even replying to me. But they only looked concerned. “Well, it’s not really the same without all of us here,” Kelsi said. “When you talk to him, tell him we missed him today, okay?”
Kelsi and Mindy partnered up after a few minutes, and, holding each other’s hands and giggling, they picked their way around the rink. I stopped and just watched them. Before I’d put this group together, they’d hardly known each other. And here they were, laughing on a Tuesday afternoon, just weeks after Kelsi’s mom had died, when she might otherwise have been at home, wallowing in grief.
Logan and Sydney made their way a little more quickly. It looked like Sydney was leading Logan, who was a bit slower, dragging him by the hand and chiding him when he couldn’t keep up. Still, he appeared content.
Cody was off in his own world, whizzing across the ice like he was on the Olympic speed skating team. Each time he passed, his cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were focused straight ahead. I wondered if he was doing more than exercising; it looked like he might have been getting something out of his system.
I skated alone, and it gave me time to think about Sam—and about my dad. The anniversary of the accident was fast approaching, and it seemed like I should be in a different place. I knew that what I had done with setting up this club was good; it seemed to be helping. And I knew that was something I had to do: help other people come to terms with a parent’s death, like I had. But still, the emptiness loomed inside of me, big and cold. I’d never felt so lonely.
While the rink was cleared temporarily for the ice to be Zambonied, I sat down and closed my eyes. No one was paying attention to me. Kelsi and Mindy were talking about some sophomore guy Mindy liked. Logan and Sydney were cooing at each other in the corner—I was afraid they were going to start making out any minute. Cody had disappeared to the other side of the rink, where he apparently knew three girls in skating outfits.
And for the first time in ages, I heard Tanner’s voice loud and clear for more than a few words at a stretch as he talked to Sarah.
“What happened?” I heard him ask. I strained to hear, feeling a little bad that I was eavesdropping.
“My dad was in the military, in Iraq, you know, which is really far away, and we couldn’t see him very often because his job was dangerous and he had to be gone for a long time,” Sarah was saying, speaking at the speed of light. I glanced over and was surprised to see my little brother staring at her with rapt interest. “I was always scared that something would happen to my dad, because I heard about Army guys getting hurt, and he always told me not to worry because he’d be here forever, so I tried not to worry. But he was supposed to come home on March sixteenth, and it was March ninth, and I was really excited and I was making him a big picture of our house so he could see what everything looked like while he was gone, and I was outside doing the drawing, and two military men pulled up in the driveway.”
“Military men?” Tanner repeated.
“Yeah, they were wearing really fancy uniforms with lots of ribbons and stuff, and I think they were really important,” Sarah babbled on. “And they called me ‘little girl,’ even though I’m not that little, and they looked really serious, and they asked if my mom was home, and I said yeah, and I asked what they wanted, and they wouldn’t tell me, but I had a bad feeling about it, so I ran and got my mom, and they whispered something to her and then she just started crying. I didn’t know what to do because I’d never seen her cry before, and she fell down on the driveway, and they didn’t know what to do either; they just stood there looking down at her and saying it would be okay, and they could help her.”
“Oh,” Tanner said softly.
Sarah went on. “I went and got Cody, I don’t even remember what I said, but I think I was screaming really loud, and he came out of the house and bent over and hugged my mom, and he asked the military men what was wrong, and they told him that my dad had died, I heard them tell him that, and then he started crying too, and I started screaming again, because I didn’t know what else to do, and I wanted to ask them if my dad was in heaven, and I wanted to ask my mom that too, but she was crying, and the military men looked mean, and I didn’t know what they’d say, and besides, they were treating me like a baby.”
Tanner was quiet for a minute, and my heart sank for Sarah. She had opened up to him the way I had to Sam, and my brother wasn’t going to answer her, simply because he couldn’t.
But then, my brother spoke, which surprised me so much that I nearly fell over. “I believe in heaven,” he said quietly. “I know your dad has to be there. Because he was doing the right thing when he died.”
I heard Sarah sniffle a little. “You think?” she ventured.
I was afraid Tanner wouldn’t answer. Then he said,
“Yeah.”
They sat there in silence for a moment, and when I was pretty sure that the conversation was finally over, I peeked my head around a chair to take a look at them. Perhaps Tanner, having spoken his entire word quota for the past three months, had gotten up and left, or spontaneously combusted from the mental exertion.
Instead, they were sitting side by side in companionable silence, staring out at the Zamboni making its slow loops around the rink, smoothing the surface of the roughed-up ice. I waited for Sarah to say something more—affter all, she seemed to be overflowing with words—but she didn’t seem to have anything else to say. After a minute, she put her head on my brother’s shoulder. He paused and then put an arm around her shoulders. From the back, they looked like miniature adults. I could hardly believe it was my little brother, the one who hid in his room, watching TV and obsessing over animals.
Maybe, I thought, he was better off than I’d given him credit for. Maybe he’d get better with or without my help and concern. Maybe I was wasting my time fearing for his mental health.
Maybe he didn’t need me at all.