Only Everything (11 page)

She plodded down the steps to the kitchen. There was a time when my mother would kiss me on my forehead whenever I came
home. When she’d hug me. When she’d ask to see my homework and ooh and aah over my poems.

I could hardly remember it anymore, but I knew it had happened. I dropped my backpack at the top of the stairs leading to the basement and followed her. She slammed the refrigerator and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I thought you were going to the supermarket,” she snapped.

My throat was tight. Should have seen that coming. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have time.”

“Why? Because you were too busy sleeping around?” she demanded, walking to the cabinet and taking out a box of Ritz crackers. She banged the door shut and went rummaging in the pantry.

“Mom! I’m not sleeping around!” I protested. This was what she was like now. I did one thing wrong and suddenly she was on me like a pit bull about everything. “I have one boyfriend. One.”

“Who lives with a houseful of hoodlums,” she said, emerging with a half-empty jar of peanut butter.

“They’re not hoodlums,” I said with a sigh, leaning back against the counter.

“Don’t you sigh at me!” she shouted, opening and slamming a drawer. “How am I supposed to know what they are or what they’re not? You’re never here! You never introduce your friends to me. I’ve barely said two words to this boy, and now he has you forgetting to go grocery shopping. You have responsibilities around here, Katrina. I can’t do everything myself.” Her body seemed to shake as she spread peanut butter on a cracker. It splintered between her fingers and she flung it into the sink, then reached for another. “Do you even realize that I’ve spent twenty long hours at the hospital? Is it so much to ask that there be milk for my coffee and something to eat other than this crap?”

Tears stung my eyes as she shoved a cracker into her mouth. “I’m sorry. I—”

“Forget it,” she said with her mouth full, gathering everything up in her arms and storming past me. “I’m taking this up to my room.”

“Mom, wait,” I said, my voice cracking. “We can go to the supermarket now. We can still make something. We can get burgers. Or I can make that fried chicken you like?”

She paused at the bottom of the steps, and her head fell forward. For a split second I felt hope. She was going to say yes. We were going to have a normal night. We could buy those biscuits that come in the blue sleeve and maybe even make a salad. Then I would tell her about my first day of school and how shocked I was to be asked back into honors English. Maybe I’d even tell her about Charlie. And Zadie, too, of course. The idea of me, having potential new friends might make her feel better about Ty.

“It’s too late,” she said. “I’m tired.” She looked over her shoulder at me, and I could see the red veins shot through her eyes. “Go make it for your boyfriend.”

Then she stomped up the stairs and slammed her door. I gripped the countertop, a hole where my heart used to be. Two tears slipped down my cheeks, and I let them fall to the linoleum floor.

I didn’t need this. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Well, I’d done one thing wrong, but I’d offered to fix it, and she hadn’t even considered it. Slowly I walked to the bottom of the stairs and glared up at her closed door. Clearly she didn’t want to be around me. Well, that was fine. I would text Ty, then go hang out at the library with Mrs. Pauley until he could pick me up. At least Mrs. Pauley would be happy about my honors English placement. In fact, I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought to go there sooner.

I stomped up to my room, grabbed two pairs of jeans, two T-shirts, and my sneakers, and shoved them into an old Gap bag. On my way back downstairs I grabbed my backpack and then stormed out of the house, making sure to slam the door as hard as I could behind me.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Charlie

“Well, Elaina, you’re never going to believe it,” my father said, dropping his work stuff near the door. We walked past piles of unpacked boxes and bare walls toward the kitchen at the back of the house. The scent of my mother’s favorite beef stew made my stomach grumble.

“What’s that?” my mother asked, smiling as she looked up from the vegetables she was chopping. Her blond hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she wore her favorite red sweater and no makeup. I could tell she’d been unpacking most of the day by the amount of stuff laid out on the counter—pots and pans and ceramic plates, our cow-shaped cookie jar, and about a dozen wooden spoons. “Charlie!” she said, seeing me. “How was your first day?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but my dad cut me off.

“Charlie here made the cross-country team!” my dad crowed, already reaching for the phone on the kitchen counter.

My mom stopped chopping. “You tried out for cross-country? You hate running.”

I lifted my shoulders and slid onto one of the stools at the kitchen island. “It’s just something to do after school.”

“Well, that’s great, but are you sure it’s something you want to spend your time on?” she asked, handing over a few carrot sticks. “Won’t you be busy enough with your schoolwork and band and—”

“Don’t try to talk him out of it, Lanie,” my dad barked as he held the phone to his ear. “Look at him! He’s beaming!”

My mom and I exchanged a knowing smile. Really it was more my dad who was beaming. She reached over and ran her thumb down my cheek, then gave it a pat.

“Well, if you want to run, then I’m proud of you,” she said. “Wait till your brothers find out!”

“Christopher!” my dad said into the phone. “Glad I caught you! You’re never going to believe this. Charlie made the cross-country team!”

My dad chuckled and put the phone on speaker, placing it down on the counter. The sound of Chris’s laughter filled the bare kitchen. My cheeks turned red. Then my phone beeped. It was a text from Stacey.

DO U LIKE MOVIES? WE SHOULD GO TO THE MOVIES.

I sighed and blanked the screen.

“I’m sorry,” Chris finally said. “But that’s funny.”

“What’s so funny about it?” I asked.

“Oh. You’re there? Wait . . . he was serious? You really joined the cross-country team?” he asked.

“Yes. And if you laugh again, I’m gonna drive out there and dead leg you,” I replied, crunching into a carrot stick.

My phone beeped again. A list of movie times for the local theater this weekend. My mother glanced at it and her brow wrinkled.

“Like you could,” Chris scoffed. “But seriously, that’s awesome, man. Good job. We can finally call you a Cox.”

My last bite of carrot felt like a rock going down my throat. I reached for the glass of water my mother was drinking from. “Thanks a lot.”

My father took him off speaker and they chatted for two minutes. Then he hung up and called Corey. This time, he left it on speaker from the moment it started ringing.

“Hello?” Corey said.

“Hey, Corey,” I said, jumping off my chair to get closer to the phone. “Dad’s about to tell you that you’re not gonna believe it, but I joined the cross-country team.”

“Damn right!” my father said, clapping me on the back.

There was a pause. “Wait. What?”

“I joined the cross-country team,” I said. “You can laugh now.”

“Well, you’re right, I don’t believe it,” Corey said flatly.

I glanced at my father. His happy grin faltered.

“You, Charlie? Come on,” Corey said. “That’s not possible.”

My face burning, I grabbed the phone and hit the talk button, then brought the receiver to my ear. I saw my mother and father exchange an alarmed look.

“What do you mean, that’s not possible?” I said, gripping the phone so hard my knuckles turned white. “Is it that hard to believe I could somehow be a jock? That I could be like you guys?”

“That’s not what I said,” Corey replied.

“Screw you,” I blurted.

“Language!” my mother admonished as I handed the phone back to my dad.

“I’ll be in the garage.”

I grabbed my drumsticks from my backpack as I stormed across the foyer and out the side door into the cool, brightly lit garage, the
dry scent of cardboard boxes permeating the air. My drum kit was set up in the corner. I sat down behind it and started to play as hard and as fast as I could.

But it didn’t make a difference. I kept hearing their words over and over in my head.

You’re never going to believe it.

That’s not possible.

We can finally call you a Cox.

And Chris’s laughter, like a bass line beneath the chorus.

I closed my eyes and kept drumming, trying as hard as I could to pound it out of my head, until my mother finally called me in to dinner.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

True

I clomped up the creaky stairs to the second floor of my new home that afternoon, wincing with pain as each step seemed to radiate inside my head. There were a few doors off the west-side hallway that I hadn’t noticed this morning. At some point I was going to have to actually explore this house. If my head didn’t explode first.

From the direction of my mother’s room came a clatter, then a crash. I rushed down the hall and found her in a heap on the floor with a lamp next to her. The room was still dark. There were ten bottles of wine strewn about the rugs. Crumbs covered the bedspread, and a half-mauled hunk of bread lay on one pillow.

“Mother,” I muttered, bending to grab her under her arms. “Have you been in bed all day?”

“Lmee ’lone,” she muttered. Her breath smelled like rotten grapes. I maneuvered her back onto the mattress and flung the covers over her legs. Her hair was matted in places, and puddles of drool marred one pillow.

“I would leave you alone, but I have something to tell you,” I said, leaning my hands into the foot of her bed. “I matched up my first couple today!”

“Fabentastical,” she said, then hiccuped. “Now kindly leave me.”

She flung one arm over her eyes, the other hanging loosely down the side of the bed. The bread chunk slid down the pillow and rested against her elbow. I glared at her prone form. This morning she’d basically ordered me to get my mission over with as quickly as possible, and now she didn’t even care that I was a third of the way there?

“Fine. I’ll go. But can you please tell me one thing?” I asked, pressing the heels of my hands into my temples as hard as I could.

She rolled one limp hand around, prompting my question.

“What do humans do to get rid of headaches?” I asked.

Aphrodite flung her arm off her eyes and reached under the heavy covers. She drew out a full bottle of red wine and thrust it toward me. “Drink this.”

“Wine?” I took the bottle from her, and her arm dropped onto the bed with a
thwump
. “Really?”

“It will cure you,” she said, rolling onto her side. Her nose pressed against the crusty bread, and she didn’t even flinch. “I pwahmise.”

Her tongue fell out of her mouth and she hiccuped, then started to breathe heavily. Passed out. I turned toward the door, popping open the bottle. When I brought it to my nose and sniffed, my stomach grumbled in anticipation.

I’d always had a taste for red wine, but I’d never used it for a headache. I’d never had to try it. I tipped the bottle toward my mouth and chugged half of it down, then drew my arm across my lips. It was appropriate, really. This was a celebration. Right now, Stacey and Charlie were out there somewhere, falling in love, all
thanks to me. Their lives were going to change for the better, all thanks to me. And most importantly, Orion was now one step closer to freedom and a nice, long life. With me.

I walked down to my room and stood at its center, staring at the timer on my desk. It still ran, the red sand slipping at a frantic speed from top to bottom. I felt sick at the sight of it. Part of me had hoped that the sand would have reset, indicating I’d done my job. But that was illogical. They weren’t in love yet. In a few days’ time, I was sure the timer would turn and I’d get a new deadline for couple number two. At least, I hoped that was true.

Deadline. What a horribly appropriate term. I wished I could simply point my fingers at it and turn it myself. I took a swig of wine and tried.

Turn!

Nothing happened.

Turn!

The sand kept right on slipping.

Frustrated, I flung my hand at the timer. “Turn!” I shouted.

A pencil on the desk surface shifted half a millimeter. I held my breath, my heart slamming against my chest like a charging rhino. I tried again, this time focusing my energy on the pencil. I raised my hand and whispered.

“Turn!”

The pencil shuddered.

I took a startled step back. Outside the window, the back gate of a truck crashed closed. My powers. Were my powers starting to work here? Could I get them back?

Suddenly the constant throbbing inside my skull didn’t seem so bad. If I could get my powers back, I could be done with this
so-called mission in a snap. If I could get my powers back, I’d unite a hundred couples and return to Mount Olympus a conquering hero. No one would ever dare doubt me again. Not Zeus, not my father. No one.

Zeus. Zeus had specifically said I had to match three couples without my powers. He’d taken them from me. So why did they seem to be returning? Had he allowed this to happen? If he hadn’t, then how could I have possibly done what I’d just done?

I knew one thing for sure. If Zeus hadn’t decided to return my powers, he would
not
be pleased to know that they were working again. That I had somehow regained them without his help, without his permission. Any indication that his power was not absolute would send him into a mighty rage.

Slowly I let my eyes trail toward the timer. I was dying to try the pencil again, but if Zeus was watching right now, I could be in deep trouble. As could Orion. I wanted to run to my mom, to ask her what this meant, but she was dead to the world. Besides, I wasn’t sure I could trust her. I wouldn’t put it past her to tattle on me to Zeus, make it like this was my fault, like I was purposely circumventing him. She would do anything to get home to Mount Olympus. Even betray her daughter.