Calli (9 page)

What she did was wrong, really wrong, but what I did was wrong too. I should come clean about stealing her necklace, but I choke up with the police officer here. I don’t want to be taken away for questions like Cherish. I don’t want Mom and Liz getting into any additional trouble.

“She’s responsive and doesn’t show any major signs of trauma,” Ambulance Guy says to Mom, “but given her age and the nature of her head injuries, I suggest getting her evaluated.”

“Please, Mom. I just want to stay home. Please.”

Mom asks if that would be okay, and Ambulance Guy doesn’t exactly say yes, but he seems to imply it. He tells her the symptoms she should watch for before leaving.

I glance out the window as the ambulance drives away.

There’s still a police car parked outside. It’s only a matter of time before the rumors spread.

Mom squeezes my hand. “Everything will be all right.”

I close my eyes and lean back on the couch and want to believe her.

“Are you feeling dizzy?” Mom asks. “Excessively sleepy?”

The truth is yes, but I tell her no.

Before the police officer leaves, I have to explain what happened again, and I tell the story just like I told Ambulance Guy. The officer has no expression on his face as he writes down what I say. Does he see through me? I feel even sleepier. Dizzier.

I want this to end. I want another sunny morning with pancakes and syrup-flavored kisses.

Things haven’t returned to normal. They’ve gotten only worse.

“Thank you, Miss Donahue,” the officer says, mistaking my last name for Liz’s. I don’t correct him.

Liz walks him out and kisses my forehead after. “Thank God you’re okay.” Her hands are shaking, and her right eye is red and puffy.

“What happened?”

She brings her hand to her eye. “This is nothing. Just got in the line of fire when I pulled Cherish off of you. There was a lot of struggling, even after the police arrived.”

God, I hope I’m not the one who hit her. This situation is a mess. An. Absolute. Freaking. Mess.

I tongue the inside part of my lip and there’s a bloody knot there. When Cherish hit me, my braces must’ve scraped the inside of my mouth. It tastes coppery. “Can I go to my room?”

“You’re not feeling like you’re going to throw up, are you?” Mom asks.

After I honestly tell her no, Mom makes me take some Tylenol and says she’ll come check on me. Sassy follows me down the hall and jumps onto my bed.

My room is torn apart: clothes pulled out of the drawers and the closet, papers everywhere, books knocked off the shelf. There’s a ripped picture of Dub and me scattered on the floor. Boxes under my bed are shredded, including the 3 Musketeers box. The candy wrapper with the necklace isn’t there.

I scour my room and find it on the ground near my trash can. Cherish had come so very close to finding it.

As I think about turning the necklace over to Mom
and Liz, they erupt into an argument. Their voices are loud but their words are too distorted to understand. I do my best to filter the sound out.

I push the box back to its resting spot and return a couple of things to their normal places so it’s easier to pretend none of the badness has happened.

My head pounds. My lip too. When I set my papers and folders back on the desk, I drop an eraser behind it. I look to where it fell and find the eraser plus something pink and rectangular. Unbelievable. I can barely bend down, and it takes all my strength to reach it.

My iPod.

Did Cherish toss it there? Has it been here all along?

My thoughts are broken by Mom screaming something about making a mistake. Liz raises her voice and says something like, “We had no way of knowing!”

I bury myself in Sassy’s fur while I wait for Mom to check on me. Sassy’s feet smell like corn chips.

Mom doesn’t come right away. She’s too busy fighting with Liz. I close my eyes and pray.
Dear God, please let things get better.

MOM WAKES ME UP by rubbing my back. “How’s my baby girl?” Her voice sounds sweet, and it reminds me of how she used to read stories to me when I was a little girl.

I open my eyes and groan. The clock glows 2:00 AM.

“What’s your name and where are you?”

My mother woke me up for more of these questions? “My brain is fine.” I pull the covers up to my neck.

“Good,” she says, blowing out a long breath of air. “You doing okay?”

I’m not.

“Mom? It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

“What do you mean?”

Even with minimal light, I can tell Mom’s rash is red. So red. I close my eyes. They’re on fire and I don’t
want to cry anymore. It makes everything hurt worse. “Nothing.”

“We’ll talk later. Get some rest. Call me if you need anything.” Mom kisses me on the cheek and leaves.

 

When I open my eyes, it takes me a moment to realize where I am. Is my brain really not okay?

It’s ten o’clock. I didn’t set the alarm last night. I’ve missed the bus, missed French, and missed an entire morning of humiliation.

There is no way I can go to school today. Or tomorrow. Or the day after.

I walk to the bathroom and gasp seeing my face. My lip is huge and reddish-purple-blackish. The knot on the back of my head feels huge. And sore.

I check my braces to make sure they’re all in place. My teeth hurt, but every rubber band is where it should be.

When I take off my nightshirt, there are bruises peppered across my back. I look and feel much worse than I did after I fell down at Spar Waterpark. But Dub’s not here this time.

The room steams up when I start the shower. I step in and the water feels warm. Calming. I could stay in here for a while, but then I hear Mr. Hatley’s voice about conserving natural resources. I turn the knobs off as soon as I clean myself up.

After toweling dry and getting dressed, I walk out into the living room and see Mom and Liz talking to Michelle, the caseworker. She’s sitting board straight on the edge of the recliner. It’s a stark contrast to how Cherish always sits in it. Seeing Michelle here can’t be a good sign.

“Oh, great, you’re up,” Liz says in a forced cheerful voice. Her hair is spiky from pulling at it, but her eye looks better. It could be because she’s masked the bruising with eye shadow, liner, and mascara.

Michelle smiles at me and I smile back, though I wonder if it actually looks like I’m smiling since my lip is puffy. Mom makes me sit down.

The loveseat dips from my weight. “Sorry for sleeping in.” Sassy comes to see me, and I stroke her back. My hand is so damp that her fur sticks to my fingers.

“You needed your rest.” Mom excuses herself and walks to the kitchen. She comes back with a glass of milk and a banana for me.

“Thanks.” My mouth is way too sore to eat the banana even if it’s overripe, but I sip the milk. The coldness slides down my throat. I feel so uncomfortable sitting here that I take another sip of the milk even though I don’t want any more. “Where’s Cherish?”

Mom looks at the floor, and Liz chews on her lips. Michelle’s voice is flat when she answers. “She’s in custody at the juvenile justice center.”

Cherish deserves to be in trouble for what she did to me, but even I can recognize this seems excessive. “For how long? When is she coming back?”

“The upcoming hearing will decide her placement, but regardless, she’ll be relocated so you don’t have to worry about seeing her again,” Michelle says with a look that I’m sure is supposed to be reassuring. It’s anything but reassuring. I’m not going to see Cherish again?

My words rush out. “Things got way out of hand. I don’t want to press charges or anything. We can make it work between us.”

“It’s more complicated than that, Calli,” Mom says quietly. “Cherish hit a police officer before she was arrested.”

That’s not good. Not good at all. “How long will she be. . .” I can’t even bring myself to say “locked up.”

“A while,” Michelle says.

I’d been afraid about Cherish erupting, but I never thought it would come to this. Never. She’s in jail now, like her mother.

I wanted Cherish out of my life, right? For my life to return to normal. But there’s no way life will go back to the way it was. With Cherish or before Cherish.

Regret overwhelms me, not just shock and resentment. I never should’ve destroyed her work. Stolen her necklace. Mouthed off. I wasn’t the sister Cherish needed. No. Not at all. I haven’t even been the daughter I should be or the friend or the girlfriend. I should confess all of this, but my throat feels dry. So terribly dry that not even another sip of milk will help. It feels like the air has been vacuumed out of my lungs.

I can’t breathe. I wheeze. Cough.

Mom rushes over to me. “Breathe, baby girl. Breathe.”

I suck in a wheezy breath.

Liz picks up the phone. Is she going to call 911?

I manage to croak out the words, “I’m okay.” Another lie. The wheezing turns into bawling and then my mouth fills with excess saliva. I race down the hall in case I retch. I hang over the toilet but nothing comes out except more tears.

Mom and Liz rush after me.

It’s easier to breathe, and I repeat that I’m okay, really, and that I just need to be alone for a little while.

Mom reluctantly agrees after asking me more silly health questions. “Call us if you need anything,” Liz says.

I lie down on the vinyl in the bathroom in case the feeling of getting sick returns. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. Maybe more. Maybe less. I overhear Michelle say something about a hearing and that she’ll be in touch. Then the front door clicks open and she leaves.

Right after, Mom brings me a glass of water and Liz passes me a moistened wad of paper towel to press against my forehead.

They tell me things like, “I love you.” “You’ll be okay.” “Everything is fine.”

I don’t deserve any of it.

“YOU CAN’T KEEP BLAMING YOURSELF!” Liz practically shouts. It takes me a minute to realize I’m not dreaming this and I’m not the one she’s talking to.

“What kind of mother am I? If I had only. . .” I can’t hear whether Mom finishes her sentence or not, but the sound of her sobbing carries through the hallway and my open door a moment later. They’re in the room next to mine. Where Cherish lived before
merde
hit the fan.

Liz’s voice is softer when she responds but still loud enough for me to overhear. “Thinking like this isn’t going to change a damn thing. It’s not going to make you any healthier either.”

Following this comment, there is silence. I hope Liz is hugging Mom, comforting her. I want to do the same. To hug Mom tight and tell her she’s a good mother. That it’s okay she isn’t perfect, and that she shouldn’t blame herself.

I crawl out of bed. I don’t want to do this. I have to.

The sun is starting to rise. The soft amber glow in my room is enough for me to be able to search under my bed without having to flip the light switch on. I retrieve the necklace and weave it between my fingertips.

My mouth feels dry and my lungs clench like they did yesterday. I breathe through my nose and exhale slowly before moving.

Mom looks startled when she sees me. Her eyes are wet. Red. Liz is so disheveled it’s like she’s been electrocuted. Even Sassy appears distraught with her unkempt fur and floppy, wagging tail.

“What’re you doing up this early?” Mom asks.

“I heard you and Liz arguing. . .”

Mom furrows her eyebrows when she looks at Liz. “Sorry. We couldn’t sleep and started organizing.”