The Sweetest Thing You Can Sing (15 page)

We lie on his couch together and watch the rest of
Game of
Thrones,
having proven to ourselves that it’s fully possible to make out alone somewhere and not let things get out of hand. It makes a nice change to have someone else be more worried about that than I am. If this is hanging out with Gage Cochrane, I think I might be able to get used to it.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

~

WHEN I FIRST WAKE
up I can’t remember where I am. On
TV
Will Smith is lying in an empty bathtub with a German shepherd, listening to undead things howl. The first time I saw this movie it made me dream of people with melted-off faces all night long. The sound of the zombies outside Will’s door would normally still make me nervous, only now I can feel Gage’s body squished up behind mine, his arm draped over my waist and his breathing relaxed but loud. It’s probably not a good idea to like him this much so quickly, but I don’t want him to prove my fears right, I want him to prove the other thing, which is even more dangerous.

Why are you so happy about falling asleep on some guy’s couch?, I ask myself. This is not what the new and improved Serena is supposed to be doing with her time. “Hey.” I sit up and stare at Gage. He looks younger in his sleep, my age, and I remember, with a twinge, that I told him I was already sixteen.

“Gage.” I reach down and touch his leg. He flinches, his eyes popping open like a character out of horror movie.

“Hey,” he mumbles. “We fell asleep.” He rubs his sleepy eyes and begins to look like regular Gage again. “What time is it?”

I check my watch. “1:14.” Uh-oh. It’s not a school night, but I never checked in with my parents. I glance around for my knapsack, wondering why they didn’t call me. Is it possible they didn’t notice my absence?

Then I remember my knapsack must be lying on the kitchen floor, against the wall where I left it. I rush into the kitchen, bend down by my bag, and tug out my phone. There are five missed messages, and I’m obviously in very serious trouble.

“Are you okay?” Gage asks, stumbling into the kitchen behind me.

I nod, my phone stuck to my ear as I listen to my mother’s worried voice and then my father’s angry one. “I never called home,” I tell Gage. There are three remaining messages I need to check, but I’m willing to bet none of them will improve my situation.

“Damn.” Gage taps his forehead like this is something he should’ve reminded me to do. “I better get you home before your folks have a meltdown.”

I listen to the other messages as he retrieves our coats. Both Genevieve and Nicole called to warn me my parents were looking for me. Nicole wonders aloud whether she should tell my parents that I went to Toronto because what if something has happened to me? The final message is another from my mom, and in this one franticness is replaced with irritation which morphs rapidly into acute concern. I am
epically
screwed.

We jump in Gage’s car and he kisses me goodbye while we’re still in his driveway. He explains that he may not have a chance later, what with my parents waiting to flip out on me. “Give me a call and let me know what they do to you,” Gage says when he drops me off. “I can’t believe we fell asleep. They’ll never buy that. It’s the lamest excuse ever.”

A lame excuse that happens to be the truth. My shoulders droop as I trek towards the front door and slip my key into it. I’ve barely taken three steps inside the house when my mother and father descend upon me like a pair of rabid bats.

“Sorry I didn’t call,” I murmur, casting a remorseful gaze down at the floor. “I was hanging out with someone after school. We fell asleep watching
TV
. My cell was in the other room. I didn’t hear it ring.”

I’m particularly stupid to mention another room. Just what room does that make it sound like we were hanging out in?

“Who is
we
?” my father demands, dark circles under his eyes as though I’ve been gone for much longer than one evening.

“The guy from last night. Gage.” If I had a credible lie in my head, I’d tell it, but anything I can think to say doesn’t sound one bit more convincing than the truth.

“The same guy you said wasn’t Jacob’s replacement,” Dad surmises stonily. “You know we have enough on our plate here without having to worry about where you are. Do you have any idea how many people your mother called looking for you? Nobody knew where you were.” His blood is boiling under his skin. He yells louder as he continues. “Or if they did, they certainly didn’t share the information with us, so you can congratulate your friends on their loyalty the next time you speak to them.”

“They didn’t know,” I tell him.

Mom furrows her eyebrows as she glares at me. “What?” she squawks, deciding to join in the fun. Mom’s in her long-sleeved yellow cotton pyjamas and slippers so I have to wonder how upset she can really be. It looks like she was just about to climb into bed.

“They don’t know Gage,” I explain. “They didn’t know I was with him. I thought I’d just be there for dinner. I’m telling the truth — we fell asleep watching
TV
. We weren’t doing anything wrong.”

“Not calling is wrong,” Mom says shrilly. “You know how much we worry, Serena.”

I’ve already heard this from Dad, and I know they have reason to be mad, but coming from my mother’s mouth the lecture rings a little hollow. She spends all her evenings in the den doing eBay research, surrounded by her countless crystal friends. That’s what I’ve interrupted tonight, hours and hours of nothing.

“You worry about Devin,” I say. “Not about me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Dad shouts, his left eyebrow pulsating. “Your mother has been making phone calls about you all night, worrying herself sick. We can’t have another one of you going missing!” Dad’s chin wobbles, making me wonder if he actually might break down and cry.

Maybe his display should be enough worry for me, but I stare at my mother in her yellow pyjamas, her face pale and weary-looking the way it always is after she’s removed her makeup for the night, and feel a fraction of the frustration with her that I imagine Devin used to. Why
act
so worried when you know you won’t do anything about it, Mom? Save your strength.

“I’m surprised you even noticed I was gone,” I declare, scowling at her. “What happened? Nothing to bid on tonight?” Did Devin hate me this much when he told me to stuff my face? Where do these awful feelings come from?

Mom’s hand sails through the air and connects with my cheek. The pain registers first. My own hand rises to touch the smarting cheek. Then I feel ashamed. No one’s ever hit me before. I shouldn’t have pulled an attitude, but she didn’t have to hit me.

My father glances at my mother, shocked. She turns and pads swiftly away in her slipper feet, leaving Dad and I alone in the hallway.

Dad looks in my general direction but avoids my eyes, embarrassed. Is he embarrassed for me or for my mother? I’m embarrassed for all of us. I want a new family composed of people who don’t say and do mean things to each other or turn into addicts. I want to call Gage and ask him if I can spend the next two and a half years of high school sleeping on his couch. Falling asleep on his sofa with him was the calmest I’ve felt in … I don’t even know.

“You’re all right,” Dad says quietly. “You have no idea how worried she was …” His voice trails off.

There’s nothing left for me to say. I stare past him, at the wall, and kick off my shoes and unbutton my coat. Then I edge past my father, my cheek throbbing, and stuff my coat into the overcrowded hall closet.

My parents would never know I was missing from glancing into the closet, that’s for sure. My brothers’ old coats take up more room in it than mine do. If Devin had to steal from us why didn’t he take some goddamn coats?

“Are you going up to bed?” Dad asks in a brittle voice.

I nod without turning back towards him and stick my hand up to wave good night.

“Good night, Serena,” he says to my back. “See you in the morning.”

***

The next morning I lie in bed until my bladder’s about to burst. Then I bring my cell into the bathroom with me and check messages again while peeing. I texted Nicole last night to let her know I was home and there’s a reply asking for details.

I creep back into my bedroom, dive under the covers, and weave fragments of the truth into a new fiction for her. I can’t tell her about Gage now. That would mean admitting my original lie, and after what happened with my parents last night I’m not ready to have my friends angry with me too. Once I’ve got my story straight I call Nicole and thank her for covering for me.

“I almost didn’t,” she says. “I was starting to think something happened to you downtown. Why didn’t you call me or Genevieve back last night? Izzy called me too — said your mom called her looking for you. It sounds like she was calling everyone. I bet she even called Jacob.”

“I hope not.”

“I bet she did,” Nicole says again. “She sounded a bit mental on the phone. And here I was thinking you were kidnapped by some psycho and that I could’ve been holding up a police investigation.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, the blanket pulled up to my chin. “I guess I went a bit mental myself, talking to all these homeless people and thinking bad things about what Devin could be doing. It was pretty rough.” It feels wrong to be using Devin as my cover, but I did think those things yesterday, before Gage showed up and made me forget them for a while. “It got so I didn’t have the energy to ask anyone else. But I didn’t want to go home either so I shut off my phone, walked to the movie theatre just off Queen Street, and sat there eating fast food and watching movies until the theatre closed.”

“You walked around the city at night by yourself?” Nicole says. “That must’ve been scary.”

“I didn’t think about it. I was lost in my own head. And then I caught the last train home and had to cab it back to my house.” I take a deep breath as though just remembering last night is draining. “My parents freaked. My mom, she hit me.” Real tears spring to my eyes.

Why did things have to get so bad between us? Why couldn’t she have tried harder to talk to me instead, like she would’ve before Devin left?

“That’s awful,” Nicole says in a stunned voice. “I didn’t think she was like that. I mean, I know you’ve said she’s sort of unstable but …”

I’ve never used the word
unstable
; that makes my mother sounds crazy, and I don’t believe she’s crazy. Severely messed up, but not crazy. A tear squeezes out of my eye, slides down my cheek and over my chin. “She was worried,” I say. “Not that that’s any excuse.”

“I’m sorry,” Nicole says softly. “Can you get out of there for a while? You can come spend the rest of the weekend at my place if you want.”

“I don’t have a ride. Could you phone Genevieve and ask her to pick me up?” No way am I
asking
my parents for permission to leave, but I need to get out of here. The place feels toxic and it makes me feel toxic too, like I’m being slowly poisoned.

“I’ll call her now,” Nicole tells me.

Forty minutes later the doorbell rings. I dash out of my bedroom, my knapsack (packed with a change of clothes, pyjamas, and my toothbrush) over my shoulders. “That’s for me,” I announce as I tear into the kitchen. “I’m spending the night at Nicole’s.”

Mom’s sitting at the table in front of a partially eaten piece of toast and Dad has his hand on the coffee pot. “Hold on there a second, Serena,” Dad pleads. “We want to talk to you.”

“My ride’s waiting.” I motion to the door.

“Serena.” Mom looks uncertainly up at me. “You don’t know what it’s like to have a child go missing.”

I had a brother go missing, but I guess that doesn’t count. I stare blankly at my mother. I’m not going to make this easy on her after what she did.

“I’m sorry about last night.” Mom glances at her hands on either side of her plate. “Won’t you sit down with us and have some lunch. It’s almost twelve and you haven’t eaten.”

“I’ll eat at Nicole’s.” I swivel on my heel and walk out into the hall, before I can say something I’ll regret. My eyes sting as I battle with my coat in the closet. “Somebody should throw out all these stupid old coats!” I shout as I jerk the front door open.

I’m shaking a little as I throw myself into Genevieve’s Honda. The car smells like warm cinnamon and my shoulders immediately begin to relax. Genevieve’s long red hair looks slept-on and stringy and she’s not wearing her watch, which is almost as much a part of her as her left arm. “Open the glove compartment,” she commands. “I picked you up a Cinnabon for breakfast. I know you love those.”

“Thanks.” I cringe at the thought of how many calories must be packed into a single Cinnabon. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Nicole told me what happened at home. It’ll do your parents some good to see they can’t walk all over you.” Genevieve brushes her fingers across her lips. “No crumbs?” she asks. “I had mine on the way over.”

“No crumbs. You’re good.”

Genevieve reverses as I bite into my Cinnabon. The cream cheese frosting floods my system with joy, almost as much as lying on Gage’s couch with him last night. I wish I could share some of the details with Genevieve but I know she’d only tell me that I’m being ridiculous and will just get screwed over in the end.

“He already has a kid with someone else,” she’d say. “Do you want to be the mother of his next one? C’mon, Serena, smarten up!”

I don’t need to hear her say it; I’m already hearing the lecture loud and clear in my head. Gage is my guilty secret and I’m glad at least he’s a happy one.