Buried (16 page)

 
The rain was like that most of Saturday night.

Around midnight I began the essay. It was about giving back to the community. My education is my past, my present, and my future. Sounds good. Therefore I blah, ba-blah, ba-blah. Sounds nice. After I graduate, a significant part of my free time will be devoted to blah, ba-blah, ba-blah.

When I finished, I didn't look it over too hard. Did I even care? I didn't know. What would I do at college? I didn't know. What did I care about? I couldn't see beyond today's list. Today's list had ten items plus add-ons.

14

Sunday LAUNDRY DAY

WHEN I WOKE, IT WAS NEARLY NOON, and the political round tables were wrapping up and the weatherman was the first thing on the news. Gert was gaining strength and heading for New England. I didn't pull up the shades, didn't even look outside. I still had work to do. A bowl of Swiss muesli would power me up for everything I had left. The bios still weren't done. Mr. Springer was probably right about me not turning them in. The application needed to be finished, and I needed to do the essay over, or at least add to it.

The cupboards were stocked with unprocessed organic food. I felt strong and safe just looking at the boxes and jars lined up in straight rows. The cookie jar was filled with my homemade muesli. It had organic oats, powdered oats, raisins, dates, walnuts, flax seeds, and cinnamon. Way easier to make than granola, which had to be cooked to a crisp.

I sat at the table grinding away, studying the organic milk carton. It said the dairy farm had happy cows and that meant healthy milk. I was about to swallow another mouthful of muesli when I felt a small but definite movement on my tongue. I spit it out and looked into my bowl. Something moved between the lumps of dates and walnuts. I stirred my spoon around, revealing several pointy ends that wriggled away from the light. Scraping away more, I saw that they were all tail. Worms. Maggots. How many bites had I taken? Bitterness filled my throat and I gagged it all onto the table, over my bowl and splattering the application envelope. How many bites? Why didn't I count? I gagged again. I should have counted.

In the bathroom I brushed my teeth and wondered what Liz would say if I told her. She'd say: There's a reason the health-food stores keep nuts in the refrigerator. There's a reason companies process foods.

I spent the afternoon sprinkling food on the counter to search out maggots. If a bag looked good, it went into the fridge. Oats and walnuts bad, the flour good. Fruit good. By the six o'clock news, the cupboards were bare again, but the fridge was full of bags and jars.

The weatherman was very grave. Probably Tuesday.

He insisted that people get duct tape, buy flashlights and batteries. I wasn't going out. I hadn't written my letter to Mom, and the post office wasn't open anyway. No, I wasn't even going to look out the window.

15

Monday SHOPPING DAY

AT SCHOOL IT WAS ALL I HEARD. “Gert's coming.” “Batten down the hatches.” “We're gonna get slammed, man!” When the bell rang for lunch, I saw Liz go the opposite direction of the cafeteria with Jenna. I headed to the library. Just as I opened the door, Ms. Frost touched my elbow.

“Claudine, we need to talk about that scholarship. You haven't done anything with it and I know a student who could use it and he'd get it into the mail by . . .”

I knew I wanted it, but I didn't even know why anymore.

There was a seed of something inside that said,
Hang on to it, Claudine. You will want it later
.

“No, I've got it—” I patted the backpack in my hand. “Well, it's not here, but it's done.”

“If you're serious about this, we need to go over it before tomorrow and put it in the mail. Why don't you stay after school and we can talk a minute?”

I moved toward the library door.

Her hand was on mine. “Claudine, look at me.”

I turned away, not daring to meet her eyes. They'd be full of concern.

“Claudine, let's have a meeting with Mr. Springer tomorrow morning before school.”

“Why?”

“Because he's concerned, and he understands, too.” I shrugged.

“I heard about your Mom going off with a new boyfriend.”

“That's just a rumor.”

“Mrs. MacPhee has offered to have you until your mom gets back, or you can stay with me. Whatever you decide.” She handed me a drab yellow Post-it with her number scribbled on it. “Call me. Don't lose it; it's unlisted.”

“Thanks.”

“And don't forget the meeting. Seven-thirty in my office, and bring the application. Deadline tomorrow.”

“I've got it. No problem,” I said.

I sat in the library at the window that overlooked the field. A line of cross-country runners jogged along the field. I counted them as they disappeared into the woods.

 
I drove by the Community Center and saw that Liz's car was there. I couldn't go do the group thing. I couldn't see her now. Matt wasn't there anyway. I came around the breakwater and saw his car parked with the nose pointing toward the ocean. I pulled in beside him. The ocean was swelled and bursting close to the shore. The water was greener, and a warm wind blew with an undercurrent of electricity.

He stood in front of my car and banged once on the hood. I got out, and we walked to where the waves broke.

“I guess you didn't go to group either,” he said.

“Not today.” I let a wave soak the bottom of my pants. “Does it help? I mean did it help before?”

“Before Dad drove drunk out of his mind into a stone wall?” He worked his bare feet into the sand. “I'd told Frost I'd try it, and I didn't think I'd go more than once, but I did. And now with relatives here and the funeral and the hurricane, I just wanted to be alone.” I felt his eyes on me.

I worked my feet into the sand, too, and took a look at him. His curls almost made me forget that I had a million things to do.

 
When I got home, I went to Mom's room and wrapped myself in her quilt and slept with Moonpie at my shoulder. Branches thrashed the side of the trailer, and I woke up and lifted the shade. Trees and sunflowers bowed down for the arrival of Gert.

I turned on the light and brought my binder into the bed.

 
I stopped writing and noticed my toes. The toe ring was gone. Did I lose it at the beach with Matt? I saw us digging our feet into the sand while we talked, but I couldn't remember if it had been on my toe at the time. Why did it matter anyway? It was just a toe ring.

Maybe it mattered because my mind wouldn't hold on to things the way it used to; it was operating independently, like someone else was making the decisions.

16

Tuesday DUST/POLISH DAY

I COULDN'T BE LATE FOR THE MEETING with Ms. Frost and Mr. Springer. I slipped the light-as-air shirt over my head and let my hair out of its clip. The new jeans that had been stiff the first few days now felt like new skin. I needed something else. I reached into Mom's bedside table for her perfume. I dabbed the scent on my wrists and neck and breathed deeply. I was transported to a pool party at Candy's last summer, when Mom fell into the pool and I jumped in and saved her. She made a big deal about it, calling me her angel and her baby girl and a gift. I don't know if she would've drowned. Probably not.

But I'd had my first flutter of suspicion that maybe Mom couldn't take care of herself after all. That maybe she was headed for a fall.

Moonpie's meow startled me. I bolted from the room to find him pawing the door. He cowered as I came toward him. That only made me want to scare him more, but I yanked open the door instead. A steady, insistent wind blew off the ocean and whistled through the metal roof. I ran outside and up the stairs to the deck. Between the big cottages, I could see the surf kicking up in front of the seawall, and cars parked alongside. Yellow slickers dotted the wall where people sat, hoping for a spray. The rain was a steady patter of fat, cold drops.

Inside, I checked over the Post-its: I had to remember the application and to let Moonpie out. I had to do those things. But I also hadn't finished the chores from the three days before.

Maybe I could stay home and hang out in Mom's room. I felt closer to her in there. Anyway, other people would skip on a day like this. Liz would stay home. Her parents wouldn't let her out of the house, I knew that for sure. But the hurricane wasn't here yet; it was just a bad storm. I checked off what was done, brushed my teeth, and decided to skip feeding Moonpie. I swished and checked my brushing job in the mirror. My heart thudded in my chest.

“Mom?”

She smiled back at me, but something was different. Something wasn't right.

“What is it, Mom?”

Her blue eyes grew dark and her skin paled. Her lips parted as she shook her head.

“Talk to me, Mom.”

“Walk away,” she said. “Just walk away, Claudine.”

I backed out of the bathroom, ran to the kitchen, and grabbed my backpack. The car keys weren't where I'd put them, and I didn't want to be late for the meeting with Ms. Frost and Mr. Springer. Why hadn't I put THAT on the chart? It took exactly fifteen minutes to get to school, and I hadn't computed extra time for the storm. How could I have lost them? I lifted the backpack and heard the keys jingle. I flew down the steps and tripped over Moonpie, who was crouched on the middle step, squinting up at me through the rain. For a second I didn't know what to do with my muddy hands and knees. I checked my watch. If I didn't leave now, I'd be too late for the meeting. But if I didn't wash, I knew I'd never make it through the day.

Inside and under a hot spray, I watched the dirt run down my legs, through the silver anklet and between my toes, where Mom's silver toe ring shined. The toe ring. I looked around as if the shampoo and conditioner would tell me how I had found it. I looked back at the water running clean around my feet and turned it off. I put the mud-stained jeans back on, prepared for the skin-crawling sensation.