Kasey Screws Up the World (12 page)

The clack of Mom’s heels on the hardwood floor came to a halt when she entered the kitchen. “You’re. Cooking?” The question dripped with anger, an accusation hidden in her words. She said it like the act of cooking held an ultimatum. And it did.

I was resorting to bribing my parents for information.

“I thought I’d do something nice.” The words felt cheap on the way out of my mouth, and I bit my lip against the guilt of another lie, even if this time there was also some truth behind it. I set the spoon down and wiped my sweaty palms against my jeans. “Is Lara joining us? I wasn’t sure, so I made enough…” I angled my arm in the direction of the pot.

“Us?” Mom stood in the doorway as if she couldn’t cross the threshold and get close to me. Until the accident, the way her hair fell in curly crinkles around her shoulders used to light up her face. Now, nothing could prevent her from looking hardened and sad. Dad hung back behind her, busying himself with rearranging the keys on the key hook like the coward he’d become. I knew I did that to them. My dad’s joking persona, my mom’s happy façade, I erased both of them in one fell swoop.

Mom’s question disarmed me and I set the spoon down. Us. Eating dinner together. Before the accident that wouldn’t have been a miracle. But lately the only people who ate dinner together were my parents and my sister. I’d confine myself upstairs, ignoring my growling belly, until I heard the clatter of dishes hitting the sink and footsteps signaling their retreat into their rooms. Once I knew the coast was clear, I’d tiptoe downstairs and scarf my own dinner, my only company the sound of myself chewing.

“Joining you, I mean.” I swallowed thickly. It didn’t matter if I ate dinner with them or not. What mattered was the answer to my question. “Where is Lara, by the way?” I tacked a small laugh at the end of my sentence, trying desperately to appear casual.

Yesterday after I got home from school, I had raised my hand to Lara’s door and took a deep breath before I tapped my knuckles against it, softly at first. When no answer came, I considered retreating back into my room, but then I remembered how Ali had promised to tell her about the blog, which meant I had to intercept her sabotage. Telling Lara about it on my own terms was the only way to stay in control. Chickening out in emailing Finn was one thing. Without him, I was right back where I started before the cruise, alone. And emailing him wouldn’t change that. But Lara would always be my sister. Without her, I felt like only half of a whole.

I squared my shoulders and knocked again, this time loud enough for Lara to hear on the other side.

No answer.

I pressed my ear against the door only to receive silence in return. I thought back over the last few days and realized I hadn’t seen her since she’d told Mom about her fake doctor’s appointment. And today was Saturday so she couldn’t even use the class excuse. Her suitcase, her laptop, and all her fake-school related folders were gone too.

“Where is she?” I repeated, spinning to confront the stove so they couldn’t see the emotion creeping onto my face. The heat from the pot would be my cover story for the flush draining my cheeks.

“She’s been staying over at the sorority,” Mom finally said. I took her answer as a small victory, despite the invisible barrier that kept us on separate sides of a battlefield. Her feet remained planted in the hallway.

“She’s going to be a Delta Gamma just like your mom.” Dad patted Mom’s shoulder. He had her back. And only hers.

“I think this will be good her.” The way Mom spoke, it sounded like a warning, as if I better get on board and think so too. “It will give her something new to focus on.”

Except she couldn’t have joined a sorority, not when she wasn’t enrolled in college. Whatever way she chose to spend her days, it now included her nights too.

TRUTHENIZE

Posted by Kasey at 9:45 P.M.

Saturday, September 6

Past Mood:
Contemplative

SAT Word Of The Day:
Palaver. Definition: Taking the chat out of chat room.

Lara, if you’re reading this…well, I just hope you are.

Lara spent the day in dance rehearsals, first with Mom coaching her privately, then with the talent show contestants. Finn and I attended every ship activity available. Now that I knew there were options for me outside dancing, I wanted to try everything. We lost the Name-That-Tune trivia game to an elderly couple who’d been alive when music was actually invented. We oohed and ahhed at the ice carving demonstration and failed miserably at recreating our own mini replica with an ice cube and a bread knife. We took a galley tour of the kitchen where I realized I was more a fan of eating food than I was of preparing it. By the time dinner rolled around, I wasn’t sure who was more exhausted, Lara or me.

“I just wish she’d back off for one day,” Lara said, stepping out of the steamy bathroom. “I single handedly helped the dance team win Regionals. You’re going to Nationals because of me. I know I can win this talent show.”

Any other person might have been exaggerating about single handedly helping a team get to Nationals. But Lara had choreographed all the routines herself using a variety of creative moves we hadn’t seen in any of our competitors. She was right. If she were better than them, she’d be better than any of the other people on this ship.

Including the cast of
Next American Dance Star.

I tore the brush through my wet hair a little more aggressively than I’d intended, murdering several strands of hair. “She’s just trying to encourage you. Mom means well.”

“I know. But ever since the scholarship, she puts so much more pressure on me. It’s making me nervous. I just keep thinking…what will happen if I screw up? Everyone will be so crushed. They’re all counting on me, you know?”

I nodded, but I didn’t know. Because Mom never put as much effort into my dancing as she did for Lara’s. I could have been practicing too, following the same routine while she coached both of us. Maybe that was my problem. Lara didn’t wait for fame to find her, she made it happen. If I didn’t do the same, I’d be stuck as Alternate on the dance team for my last year of school.

“It’s great, Lara. Really. Most parents wouldn’t be so encouraging about their kids’ dream. She’s got your back one hundred percent. I think you have an advantage over everyone else. You have support.” My voice cracked on the last words.

The creases in Lara’s forehead faded into a smooth plane, and she nodded at her reflection in the mirror.

After we’d dressed—me in Lara’s satin halter and denim skirt, her in a slinky yellow sundress—we headed to the Internet café. Well, she headed, I skipped. I couldn’t wait to email Denise and tell her about the Newlywed Game.

Lara sat down at the only available computer and I had to wait for the person next to her to finish checking his stocks before I could get on. A quick glance at Lara’s screen revealed she’d received a bazillion emails from the dance team girls. I bounced on my toes, imagining all the emails waiting for me, even if they were just
reply alls
to the entire team. When I signed online, there was an unread email from Denise. And nothing else. Well, unless you counted the spam about a penis enlargement drug. I refreshed the page and scrolled all the way down, just in case. But the dance team girls didn’t have time to miss me, not while they were busy missing my sister.

I swallowed hard and moved my mouse over to Denise’s email, but stopped on the Compose New Message icon. Before I could talk sense into my fingers, I clicked the icon. My fingers had a mind of their own as they typed in Ali Montauk’s email address and a way-too-cheery “Hey you!” into the subject.

The cursor blinked at me in the blank message body. What the hell was I doing? Ali and I weren’t friends. She was Lara’s friend. Sure, there were a few times we hung out at parties but it was always in a larger group of my teammates. In fact, sometimes I wondered if she even remembered I existed. The devil on my shoulder pointed out maybe it was time to remind her. Lara had graduated and I’d never get promoted from Alternate unless I gave Ali a reason to promote me. She’d been nominated for co-captain by the previous co-captains, much like Lara had the year before, but the additional spot wouldn’t be filled until after the Rec camp this summer where we’d be judged on our choreography skills, leadership tendencies, and our ability to whip campers into shape. Highest score would get the spot. Since I wasn’t confident in any of those categories, I had to rely on the old fashioned method of groveling to earn my keep.

Ali,

Hey! It’s Kasey Fishbein. From the dance team
.

I considered deleting that second sentence, but left it in.

I just wanted to say I miss you girls! I can’t wait for counselor duty—

Counselor duty sounded so stuffy. I backspaced over it.

I can’t wait for Rec camp—

That wasn’t any better.

I can’t wait for all the fun we’re going to have this summer! I’m sooooo excited about going to Nationals this year. We’re—

I was part of the team, yes, but I had no role in us making Nationals, so it might sound desperate if I included myself in the “we’re.” I should start small, get her to remember me before I worked on getting her to upgrade me to full team member.

The team’s going to kick butt! Tell everyone I said hi!

Love,

No, not
Love
. That was weird.
From
? Too boring. I went with an old standard.

Sincerely,

-Kasey

My heart pounded as my mouse hovered over the send button. The
s-end
button. An end to the past. An end to being nonexistent. An end to the old Kasey, the one always left behind. Squeezing my eyes shut, I clicked. I sucked in a few deep breaths to calm my raging pulse, but the only thing that really helped was reading Denise’s email.

Hey K,

Seriously, is the week over yet? I’m dying here without you! And I’m getting fat and it’s your fault. I’m so bored I baked every kind of dessert I could think of and I have no one to share the goodies with. Please, come back or at least put me on a diet!

There’s been some updates on the boy front. I’m pasting our conversations below.

[Conversations redacted. Sorry, blog readers! I made a promise I intend to keep.]

So as you can see, we’re clearly destined for each other, lol. He just doesn’t know it yet! In related news, I got a new pink leotard that will hopefully leave him speechless, or at least keep up our current one-word pointless conversation thing we have going.

Give me something to go on here, K! Let me at least live vicariously through you.

I hit the Reply button and typed, “
Wow, with conversations like that, you two will be engaged by the end of the month, haha. How’s this for vicarious? I met a cute boy. He’s—”

Lara tapped me on the shoulder. “We gotta go. Dinner’s in two minutes and we’ve used up nearly half our Internet time.”

My eyes flew to the tiny clock at the bottom of the dashboard. I’d wasted so much time emailing Ali instead of my best friend. I tacked on a quick “more later!” to the end of the email and hit send, knowing I was leaving Denise hanging.

I just didn’t know it would be the start of a “leaving her hanging” trend.