Moving Neutral (4 page)

“Casey,” she screamed into the phone after it buzzed once. “What happened?”

“Listen, I might have to hang up,” I warned her, my voice already starting to break. “I crashed my car into our garage last night, and my parents found out I was drinking. They’re saying I can’t go on Saturday.” The words all came out in a rush, and I felt tears in my eyes. “What am I going to do?”

Madison didn’t say anything for a second, and I felt the tiny hope I’d reserved start to disappear. I don’t know what plan I hoped she’d have, but I’d hoped for something, at least. If she couldn’t come up with a way to get me out of this, I didn’t have a chance.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “We’ll think of something. We have three whole days. A lot can change in three days,” she said it to be encouraging, but I could hear the hollowness in her voice. “I can’t go without you,” she said. “I spent all night talking about our backstage passes. Matt said he can’t wait to see the photos on Facebook.”

After everything the night before, I didn’t think I could feel much worse. But now our whole school would know that Madison and I weren’t really meeting up with Moving Neutral. I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter. Nine weeks. Six days. Then I’d never have to come back to Rockland again.

A single tear slipped down my cheek, and I brushed it away with the sleeve of my sweater. Outside, I heard the door click as someone tapped their ID card to the lock.

“Madison, I have to go,” I sighed.

“Okay, Case, we’ll think of something, I promise--” Her words seemed to float away as I set the phone into its receiver just as the Troll came back into the room.

“All set,” she chirped to me, grinning. “Now where are our numbered dividers?”

It was going to be a long summer.

The next two days were a haze. I spent them almost entirely in my mom’s office under the watch of Sylvia the Troll, who had clearly decided that her ticket to a job offer after graduation was keeping an eye on me. An even stricter eye than my parents had.

Every once in a while, when she left me alone, I would call Madison, but we hadn’t made any progress. Any school-year excuse that I could have made up -- study group, review session, field hockey match against another school -- was out of the question during the summer. She suggested pretending that I was going to work at the coffee shop on Saturday, but when I’d broached the idea with my parents, my dad just shook his head, as if he knew exactly what we were trying to do.

As it got closer to the concert and we still hadn’t come up with a firm plan, our ideas devolved.

“Just run away,” Madison whispered to me in a stolen phone call on Friday morning. “You’re eighteen. They can’t do anything about it. You can stay at my house for the rest of the summer. My parents won’t even care.”

It was actually a tempting suggestion. Maybe if my parents thought I’d disappeared, they’d realize how grateful they were to have me around. Maybe in context, this little incident with the car wouldn’t seem so bad.

“What if you pretend you have appendicitis?” was her next suggestion, only slightly more ridiculous.

“I had it when I was seven.”

“Okay, food poisoning?”

“How would food poisoning help?”

“Please,” Madison said it like I was being dense. “It would be way easier to sneak you out of the hospital than out of that stupid house.”

I couldn’t help myself -- I laughed. She was right. My bedroom was on the second floor and the stairs led right out into the living room. There was no way of getting to the front door without passing my entire family.

“What about a window?”

I paused. We had an alarm system, but my parents usually didn’t turn it on until they went to bed. And there was a window in my dad’s home office that was pretty secluded from the rest of the ground floor. It had screens, but I had scissors. It actually wasn’t a bad plan.

“I’d be grounded for the rest of my life,” I said reluctantly, turning the idea over in my head like a shiny coin, wondering if it would land on heads or tails.

“You already are, right?”

She had a point. I didn’t have much to lose.

I had one thing, though. “What if they don’t let me go to Columbia?” I whispered.

Madison choked back a laugh. “Please, Casey. Do you know the only people on earth more excited about you going to Columbia than you are? Your parents.”

We didn’t say anything for a moment, letting the idea sink in. I’ll think about it, I murmured, only half out loud. Listen, Mad, I’ve got to run. I hadn’t heard that familiar click yet, but the timer told me we’d been on the phone for almost two minutes, and Sylvia was bound to be back soon.

Ok, Casey, listen. If you can get out of the house, I’ll swing by your block at six, okay? I’ll wait down the street so your parents don’t notice. In front of the yellow house, got it?

I hung up the phone without answering. Suddenly I wanted to get home right away. I had some serious planning to do before the following afternoon.

Saturday was bright and clear, the kind of June day that makes you feel like summer is never going to end. I played soccer outside with Trevor all afternoon, coming back into the house sticky with sweat. He sat at the kitchen table as I poured us both glasses of lemonade.

You know what I want for my birthday? Trevor asked me. World Cup soccer for my Playstation.

Your birthday isn’t for another month, Trev. Besides, isn’t it more fun to play soccer outside?

He groaned as if I’d just told him the world was flat. Casey, you can’t play soccer outside during the winter, he explained, his voice emphasizing the last three words as if they were painfully obvious.

I grinned. Right, I said, trying not to laugh.

If it weren’t for the concert, being grounded wouldn’t have even been so bad. I didn’t mind sticking around the house on the weekends, and I’d miss Trevor when I finally left for college.

But then I thought about Blake Parker, and a pang hit my stomach. I had to get to the concert. No matter what it took.

The night before, I’d cut three sides of the screen away from one of the windows in the study, just enough for me and my overnight bag to fit through. My dad hadn’t gone into the room all day, and I figured I was probably in the clear.

I snuck a glance over at the clock on our kitchen stove, trying not to make it too obvious. It was three o clock. I had three more hours to try to sneak out -- three hours to decide if I was willing to give up any remaining chance of having a fun, relaxing summer. My parents were adamant about keeping me from the concert as punishment, but they seemed to be softening on other things, like my trip to California to see Brett. I was giving up any hope of convincing them if I snuck out tonight. Any hope of going to one last high school party before college started, or even sleeping late on a single weekday this summer. When they realized I’d snuck out, I would be toast for the next two months.

Still, it felt like a no-brainer. This was the first Moving Neutral concert within driving distance of where we lived, and I’d been looking forward to it since we’d bought the tickets in March. Without the concert, even if I had a few weeks at the end of the summer without being grounded, it wasn’t much consolation.

Trevor was eating an Oreo cookie, splitting it and licking out the filling. Finally he set the two cookie halves on a napkin. Can we watch a movie?

Sure, I said, following him into our living room. I found the remote control sandwiched between two couch cushions, and hit the button to turn on the DVD player. What do you want to watch?

My mom was upstairs folding laundry. My dad had left to go to the grocery store, and would probably be back fairly soon. The more normal I could make this day seem, the greater the chance they would let their guard down.

This one, Trevor held out a brightly colored DVD to me. I barely registered the title. Some movie for kids about a boy who becomes a skateboarding champion.

Sure, I said, taking the disc out of its case and slipping it into the DVD player. Want to go make us some popcorn?

Trevor whooped and ran out of the room, his socks skidding on the hardwood floor as he raced to the kitchen. I pressed the button to start the movie, watching listlessly as the previews began. Sitting down on the couch, I checked my watch again. Two hours, forty five minutes. I tried not to hold my breath.

My dad popped his head into the living room right before the movie was about to end. Guys, we’re going to do pizza for dinner, okay? Leave around six?

My breath caught. The last thing I needed was for my parents to be yelling at me to get into the car for dinner just as I was trying to sneak out the back window.

Dad, I interjected, trying to think of a good reason for delaying. We had lunch really late, and we just ate a ton of popcorn. Right, Trev? Aren’t you stuffed?

I looked at Trevor, hoping he would agree with me. He gave me a bewildered look and then nodded.

Could we go a little later? I asked my dad, twirling the remote in my hand.

But definitely pizza, right? Trevor cut in, looking like he was about to say he was ready now. Pizza was his favorite dinner, I was lucky I’d gotten him this far.

Okay, my dad conceded. Seven o clock, on the dot. I want you guys waiting at the door.

Sure, I grinned at him. By seven o clock, I’d be on the border between New York and Connecticut. With any luck, they wouldn’t notice until they called me down for dinner and I wasn’t there.

I turned my attention back to the movie, ruffling Trevor’s hair with the hand that wasn’t on the remote. I could feel my breath returning to normal, but my legs were still shaking. I pulled my feet up onto the couch, wrapping my arms around my knees. The kid in the movie was about to win the all-California skateboarding competition, and for a moment I thought about Brett.

He would understand. And who knows, I thought to myself, maybe I’d be able to visit him during the school year. Brett was headed to Brown in the fall, and Providence was a lot easier to get to than Los Angeles.

Trevor looked up at me as the movie’s credits started to roll, as if to ask me, what next?

I’m going to go get cleaned up before dinner, I said. I’d been banned from the phone and email, so there wasn’t a better excuse I could think of to get some alone time.

Trevor shrugged, taking the remote control from me and pointing it toward the television to change the channel. He didn’t look back at me as I left the room, creeping like a ghost up the stairs.

An hour later, it was 5:55, and I was staring down at my watch, trying to make it go slower. I could hear my parents talking in their bedroom at the end of the hall, and for a moment, I thought about sneaking out the front door, bypassing my crawl-through-the-window escape plan. But our door was made from heavy, old wood -- to close it with enough pressure for the door to stick, you needed to slam it hard against the frame. I knew the noise would send someone to check what happened, and I couldn’t risk it. I had to be down the block to Madison’s car before anyone started to look for me, or else our plan was shot.

I could hear Trevor still watching television as I walked down the stairs, as softly as I could, skipping the steps that I knew were creaky. Tiptoeing down the hall towards the den, I kept my feet silent on the hallway rug, slowing my pace whenever I hit sections of wood floors between the rooms.

I was inside the den in under a minute, mentally patting myself on the back for my stealthy trip. Over my shoulder was an overnight bag that would last me through the weekend or longer -- a few changes of clothes, a credit card that I was only allowed to use in emergencies, and three hundred dollars in cash that was part of what I’d saved for college. My plan was to stay at Madison’s until my parents had calmed down, and I wasn’t sure how long that would be.

I set the bag down on my father’s desk chair, and pulled back the wire screen that I’d cut away from the window, just big enough for me to fit through. I picked up the bag and tossed it through the opening, hearing it make a satisfying thump as it dropped onto our yard outside. Taking a deep breath, I started to pull my body through.

What are you doing?

I almost hit my head on the top of the window. Planting my feet back on the ground, I turned and saw Trevor, standing in the entrance to the den.

Trev, please. Just go back to watching television, okay?

Where are you going?

I’m going out with Madison, I’ll be back before you know it, I promise.

He looked confused, as if he were considering whether or not to yell to our parents. You’re grounded, he said, his voice trailing off like he was trying to reconcile it with what he was seeing.

Please.

Trevor looked hard at me as I held my breath, wondering if he was going to turn me in. For a ten year old, he had a pretty intense stare.

Suddenly his face broke into a grin. Will you buy me the World Cup game if I don’t tell?

Extortion, I thought. But a fifty dollar Playstation game was a pretty small price in this case. I pretended to consider it for a moment. Deal, I told him, exhaling for the first time.

Trevor nodded, as if we’d just completed a business transaction. See you later, he said, turning and walking out of the room.