Side Effects May Vary (18 page)

She didn't notice when I took a step back.

“And how are you and Luke?” asked Alice. “How does he even keep his hands off you?”

Celeste leaned in close. “Oh, he doesn't. That's why you guys broke up, remember?”

I didn't hear what else she might have said. I was halfway to the exit before I even looked back to see Alice nose to nose with Celeste, her hands on her hips. From over Celeste's shoulder, Alice spotted me, and I walked faster. I didn't want to be her other half to this. Not anymore.

I'd made it to my car door when I heard her call my name.

I looked up to see her walking across the parking lot as fast as her body would allow. “Wait up!” she said. “Don't leave me in there with those assholes.” She caught up to me, her chest heaving. “Why'd you leave me?”

I shook my head and opened the car door and closed it behind me without a word.

“What the hell, Harvey?” She stood right outside my window. “Talk to me.”

She didn't get it. She really didn't get it.

I rolled down my window and breathed through my nose, trying to harness my anger so it wouldn't slip away, so that she couldn't make me forget why I was so pissed in the first place. “You can't talk like that to people.”

She scoffed. “Oh, come on. Those girls are bitches and you know it.”

I threw my hands up. “So let them be bitches. When you say shit like that, you only make it okay for them to act the way they do.”

“Whatever. You don't get it. Someone needs to put them in their place. And, yeah, maybe I was meaner than usual, but it's not like I get high every day.”

I reached across the car and opened the glove box. Next to my lighter and pocket knife sat a small baggie from this little head shop outside of town called Purple Dragon. I rolled down the window, my fist clenched around the bag. “No,” I said and threw the baggie at her feet. “Alice, you're not high. You're just mean.”

According to the label on the baggie, what Alice and I had smoked had been completely legal pine-flavored tobacco. Honestly, I wouldn't even have known how to get real pot.

Alice picked it up and read the label.

I didn't wait to see the reaction on her face.

For the first time, I left Alice, and the joke was on her. I wanted to laugh, but nothing about it was funny.

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Alice.

Then.

A
fter the pot incident, I gave Harvey a day before I tried to apologize, but he ignored my messages for the rest of the week before calling me back. I don't know what made me so quick to apologize. Maybe it was Harvey rubbing off on me. Or maybe it was the feeling of being holed up in my house, waiting for nothing. Every day, and especially the ones without Harvey, began to lack purpose. I'd always taken for granted the little things like studying for tests or quizzes and the anticipation of Fridays, but now, as I spent my days at home under the watchful eye of one of my parents, I missed those small goals that gave purpose to everyday life.

I lay sprawled out on the couch with my laptop, hunting for the latest social-media-worthy school gossip. The juiciest bit I'd come across was the fact that Mindi was dating some senior named Mike Tule. This amused me to no end because Mike Tule looked like a total tool.

I got up for a glass of water to take my meds. As I settled back into the couch, my phone rang.

“Hey,” said Harvey. He was at work. I could hear the voice on the intercom listing off the Daily Deals.

“Hi. I've, uh, been trying to call you.”

“I'm on my break. I've only got, like, five minutes left.” He sounded distant, like the type of boy who left a trail of confused girls in his wake.

“Oh,” I said, stunned that he was still acting this way. “We can talk later.”

“Well, what did you want?”

I couldn't believe he was still pissed at me. “Didn't you get my messages?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“I apologized.” I sat up and breathed out through my nose, trying to scale back my irritation.

“Oh, come on, Al, I wouldn't really call—” He sighed into the phone. “Just, never mind.”

“What?” I said, my temper climbing. “Don't be a punk. Just say it.”

“You said you were sorry that I was pissed off. That's not how apologies work.”

“I said I was sorry. Jesus.”

“You can't apologize for my feelings and expect things to be better.” He paused. “Especially not when you're the reason for them.”

I knew what he was talking about, but that hadn't been what I meant. I didn't think. “Harvey—”

“No,” he said. “An apology like that makes it sound like you had nothing to do with why I was mad when
you
were what got me all angry in the first place.” His voice rose with each word. “That's not okay.”

“I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to sound that way.” I almost said it, that I was sorry for how I'd acted and what I did, but instead I said, “Do you want to write up your own apology and I can sign it? Would that work better for you?”

“I have to get back to work.”

“Fine,” I said. “I'll call you later.”

“I'll be there in a sec,” he called to someone on the other end. “Yeah, okay,” he said to me and hung up.

He was right and I knew it. My damn pride had gotten in the way. Again.

 

About an hour later I texted Harvey and asked him to come over after work. It took him another two hours to respond with a simple “K.”

By the time his key turned the lock, my parents were getting ready for bed, but I waited.

We sat there, and I knew it was me who had to talk first.

“Hey, Harv,” said my dad, peeking his head in from the hallway. “Leftovers in the fridge. And, Alice, don't stay up too late.”

I nodded and waited for his door to click shut before turning to Harvey. “I'm sorry,” I said.

He looked at me expectantly.

I chewed on my lip for a second. “I'm sorry for being an asshole and treating Celeste and Mindi the way I did. And for dragging you into it.”

“I just like you the way you are when it's only us,” he said, his lips pursed, “and I wish you could be that way all the time. And I don't want to be your imaginary friend. I want to be your friend.”

I nodded. “I want that too.” I felt my eyes watering. I couldn't handle him being mad. I couldn't risk dying that way.

The corner of his mouth lifted. It felt so good to see him almost smile. “Okay,” he said.

The tension inside me unwound all at once, leaving me suddenly tired. “Okay, like we're good?”

“Yeah.” His lips split into a smile. “Being mad at you sucked.”

I liked that it was hard for him to be mad at me. And maybe I liked it a little too much.

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Alice.

Then.

I
had no good reasons for wanting to learn how to drive except that I was sixteen years old and I felt the universe owed it to me. I would never go to college or have my own apartment, but I could drive. When I'd put it on my list, I'd envisioned myself on an open road, going ninety, but, admittedly, I wasn't so good at the whole driving thing, so this parking lot would be the closest I'd get to an open road. I asked Harvey to teach me a few weeks after our fight. He'd been stubborn at first, refusing to teach me in his precious little car. When he realized I wasn't going to stop asking, he obliged me, but only if we stuck to the old, abandoned SaveMart parking lot.

I wove up and down the empty lot with Harvey in the passenger seat. I'd skipped out on my usual breakfast of pain meds this morning so that I would be alert. Turning the wheel felt different than—

“Alice, brake!” screamed Harvey. “Now!”

I slammed my foot down on the left pedal, hoping that it was the brake and not the gas. Harvey's Geo came to a jarring halt. I sighed, but not loud enough for him to notice. The wheel felt different than I'd thought it would and I'd turned hard, expecting the car to feel heavy, and then all of a sudden we were about to hit a light pole.

“See?” I said. “We're fine.”

“Fine?” He pushed the gearshift between us into park. “We were almost not so fine,” he said, pointing to the light pole outside my window.

“It's not my fault your alignment's off,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

“My
alignment
is fine, thank you very much. Besides, why couldn't you have your dad teach you this? I don't even get why—just, never mind.”

He couldn't understand why I was even bothering to learn how to drive. That's what Harvey thought, but couldn't say out loud. I knew it.

Leaning over, he touched my leg. I let myself rest my head on his shoulder. His body sighed beneath me. This was good. Recently, we'd fallen into this rhythm where it was okay to hold hands and kiss. He wasn't my boyfriend. Whatever this was felt bigger than that. Normally, that would have freaked the shit out of me, but wherever I was going, I would go without regrets.

For Harvey, all of this was probably cruel. But for me, it was the last meal—all the sweet things that were never meant for everyday consumption.

He kissed the top of my head. “Okay,” he said. “Let's try this again. Put the car in reverse.”

I sat up and pulled away from him like a cat, enjoying the way his touch hit every one of my nerve endings.

Looking over my shoulder, I put the car in reverse. Harvey placed his hand on the wheel, helping me guide the car backward without hitting anything.

“Just make circles around the lot,” he said.

So I did.

“I guess we're getting close to the end, right?” asked Harvey.

I took my foot off the break, letting the car roll to a stop.

“Your list.” He shook his head. “I meant your list. There's not much left on it, is there?”

“Oh,” I said and pressed my foot down on the pedal again. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess not.”

“It's been almost a year.” His voice was void of emotion. It'd been almost a year since I was diagnosed. I wanted to go back in time and examine every single decision I'd made to see what might alter my path.

There were a few more things to do before I could go from is to was, from here to gone. I'd figured out every little detail of the remains of my list, except for one thing. It was for Harvey. I wanted to give him something, something he could take with him and keep forever.

Part of me felt like I'd failed Harvey. When I made my list, I'd wanted to do something for him. I didn't know what. And I wasn't sure what would be big enough, important enough. But now I was running out of time—the one thing I'd never been able to control—and it seemed that my good deed for Harvey would be my one incomplete resolution. It was the thing that plagued me at night like a dripping faucet. But, in a way, I preferred to keep it like that because when the list was done, there would just be the waiting. Waiting for the moment when my body would say no more. I hoped that
this
—this whole year of us being together, whether we were planning or kissing or fighting—was good enough for him. I hoped he'd never forget this year of his life. No, our life. Because, thanks to Harvey, the year I died had become the year I lived.

I made another lap around the parking lot, my foot getting used to the gas and the brake. “What would be on your list, Harvey? If you knew you were going to die.”

He reached over again and cupped his hand around the back of my neck. “You,” he said. “Being with you.”

I nodded, blinking for a second too long, trying to make his words last a moment longer.

“I don't know how, but I'd want to make sure my mom was okay. And your parents too. I'd quit my job too, like fuck-this-I'm-out-give-me-all-the-gourmet-cheese quit my job.”

I laughed. We were so different. Harvey wanted good. He wanted to leave the ones he loved in a good place. I'd just wanted the last word. But I wouldn't be sorry for that now. It was too late for sorry.

“And, maybe,” he said, “I'd want to find out what the deal was with my dad. Just so I could know once and for all.”

I nodded. There had to be answers to his questions. But Harvey was never very good at getting what he wanted. Even when we were kids and he stumbled upon his mom's Christmas present hiding spot, I was the one to dig through them and find the Rollerblades he'd asked for every year for the last three years.

Without warning, my mouth went dry and my head began to pound to the point of dizziness. I hit the brake and slid the car into park.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “Give me a sec.” An echoing pain spread through my body. I concentrated on the dashboard to stop myself from bursting into tears as I breathed in and out through my nose.

Harvey came over to my side and opened the door. “Come on,” he said. “Let me take you home. Maybe we'll start watching a few of those movies Dennis gave me.”

He helped me out of the car and walked me to the passenger side.

“Thank you, Harvey,” I said.

“For what?”

I sat down, taking a deep breath. “For always saying yes.”

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Harvey.

Now.

T
he last day before spring break was always torture. It was even worse than the last day of school because teachers were still trying to teach. Thankfully, though, today was a half day. But that still didn't change the fact that I was fourteen minutes into second period and my ass was already falling asleep.

Last night, I'd gone to Debora's house to help get stuff ready for the senior luau put on by the student council every year before spring break. After making a few signs, we ran out for caffeine and that's when I saw Alice and Eric. I thought that having a girlfriend would soften the blow of Alice not choosing me, but it didn't work like that. Debora was great; she just wasn't Alice. Mr. Ramirez droned on about the meaning of “full faith and credit,” putting all of us to sleep. I watched the door, ready for the bell to ring so I could escape. Dennis's head bobbed in the window. He motioned for me and mouthed,
Now
.

I shrugged my shoulders.

Not kidding
, mouthed Dennis, his eyes wide and his face manic.

I raised my hand.

“Something to add to the conversation, Mr. Poppovicci?”

I hated my last name. “No, sir. I need to go to the restroom.”

Ramirez thought for a moment, then held out the hall pass. “Make it quick.”

I took my backpack and ducked out the door with the hall pass in hand.

Dennis waited for me a few feet down, out of breath.

I stuffed the hall pass into my back pocket. “Dennis, what's going on?”

“They—” He shook his head and waved his hands around, searching for words. “Outside the gym there's this—damn it, just come with me.”

I followed him and we cut through the auditorium to the other side of the school.

“I wish you would stop and tell me what you pulled me out of class for.”

Dennis didn't stop walking. “It's hard to explain.” He was acting weird. Like, weird for Dennis.

“Well, try. Now,” I said.

He rubbed his hands down his face and groaned. “They made some kind of, like, shrine to Alice, like a memorial.”

I froze. “Wait. What?”

“It's fucked up, man,” he said, his nostrils flaring, his eyes wide.

I couldn't connect the dots. “What do you mean a memorial? Who's they?”

“Like the type of memorial they would have given if she
had
, you know, died. Candles and pictures. The type of stuff you see on TV, but worse. And I don't know who
they
are, but I have three people in mind.”

I stuffed my hands into my pockets to stop them from shaking. “Shit. What—”

“I couldn't find her,” said Debora bursting through the main entrance at the top of the aisle.

I turned to Dennis. “You sent
Debora
after Alice?” I whispered. “Do you have dementia?”

“I had to get you out of class. I saw her in the hallway. Game-time decision,” he said, his hands held up in defense.

“Okay. Okay. Let's go.” I turned to find Debora behind me. She nodded, her lips pressed in a thin line.

We ran out of the auditorium and into the athletics wing, trophy cases lining the walls. Dennis ran ahead, and I followed him to the farthest end of the hallway where all the old, dusty, sun-stained trophy cases sat untouched.

We stopped in front of the last case. Every surface was covered in cloth. Old, dying flowers had been thrown across the surface. There were candles; those idiots could have started a fire. And pictures of Alice. Her eyes had been crossed out and things like
bitch
or
whore
had been written across each print.

I shook my head. “No,” I said. This was too cruel. And low. My stomach twisted. I was horrified by the possibility that anyone could even be capable of something like this. This was wrong. Even by Alice's standards.

Part of me wanted to let Alice see this and feel this, like maybe she needed to. But the other part of me—the bigger part of me—wanted to fix it all for her. And maybe if I fixed this, I could fix us.

“So sick.” My voice peaked on the word
sick
. “It's just sick. I can't believe Luke and Celeste would do this. I mean, I can, b-but . . .” My voice trailed off. I might have been mad at Alice, but I couldn't let her see this. There was no question.

“Those assholes,” gasped Debora.

I looked at her, a little shocked. I'd never heard her swear before. It sounded awkward, almost.

“I searched everywhere,” she said, “but I couldn't find her.”

“What do I do?” I asked. She would know what to do. She always knew what to do.

“Nothing. We get a teacher,” she said, like it was so obvious.

“No,” I said. “No. We can't do that. If we get a teacher, then the administration will find out, and they'll call Bernie and Martin and then Alice would really freak out.”

“Harvey, not only is getting a teacher the right thing to do, but I don't know how else we'd get this case cleaned out. It's locked.”

Sometimes I had to remind myself that she was my girlfriend, and I don't think that's how it was supposed to be.

Dennis stood behind her, shaking his head.

In any other world, Debora would have been right, but things were tense enough between Alice and Bernie. This would be one more thing.

“Okay,” said Debora. “We'll try it your way, but no promises. I'm going to try to find the key to this case. Dennis, you stand guard here. Don't let any crowds congregate. We don't want to draw any attention to this. Harvey, you find Alice.”

With her clipboard tucked beneath her arm, Debora speed-walked down the hallway.

“Wait,” I said and jogged to meet her. “What about your senior luau?”

She ran a hand over her normally smooth but currently frizzed hair. “It'll be fine. I've got a few freshmen helping.”

“Thank you?” I didn't know what else to say.

She smiled for a second. “Find Alice.”

I had no clue where Alice was, but I had to find her. A bad dream, this was a bad dream. The kind where your feet are stuck in quicksand and your throat is dry and you can't scream because if you could fucking scream it would all stop.