The Sweetest Thing You Can Sing (19 page)

“Defend my honour?” I smile at him. “It’s okay. My friends got there first.”

“Those are the kind of friends you want to have,” he says with a slow nod.

Absolutely, but they’re also the kind of friends who would disapprove of the two of us. From what Gage said earlier I know he doesn’t really approve himself, and I have to wonder if there’s anyone on the planet who would see us as an honest to God good idea. Even I, with my baby blue scooter future, have doubts, but I’m so glad that we’re sitting together on his couch, being friends or whatever you want to call it, that I’m nearly positive every last one of us is dead wrong.

CHAPTER TWENTY

~

WE’VE PRETTY MUCH CALMED
down, Gage and I, and are sitting on the couch watching
Ghost Hunters
with none of our body parts touching when his phone rings. On
TV
the
TAPS
teams are hanging out in a former morgue where several people claim to have spotted the ghost of a young boy in Victorian clothing. The real life noise makes me jump, which in turn makes Gage smile and touch my shoulder as he reaches for the cordless on the coffee table.

At first he sounds normal. Then his voice tenses. “So she’s gone already? When did all this start?”

Gage looks at me as he listens to the voice on the phone. “Yeah, of course you can,” he says. “It’s just … I have someone here right now, but of course. I’ll see you in a couple of minutes. Call me later when you know more, all right? Bye.”

Gage drops the cordless back on the coffee table, his eyes sombre. “Christabelle’s on her way over with Akayla. Her mom was having really bad stomach pains, burning up with a fever. Her dad just drove her over to the hospital and now Chris and her brother are going too.

“I won’t have time to run you home first,” Gage adds. “We’ll go when she gets here.”

I bob my head and tell him that I hope Christabelle’s mom is okay.

Gage bites his lip and grabs for the remote to switch off the
TV
. “Me too.” His focus has shifted to a group of people I’ve never met. I don’t really know how close he and Christabelle still are but I can’t let myself start being jealous about someone who will be part of his life forever. If we’re ever going to be more than friends again I need to be mature about his life and I guess that means starting now.

“Is there anything we should do before they get here?” I ask. “Is Akayla’s room all ready?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” he says absently. “We don’t have to do anything.” He fumbles around in his pocket for his cell and starts tapping out a text message. “I’m just asking Chris’s brother, Damien, to keep me posted too.”

I’ve heard Gage mention Damien before — he’s one of Gage’s best friends — but I didn’t realize he was Akayla’s uncle. There’s so much I don’t know.

Less than ten minutes later Gage’s doorbell rings and he sprints upstairs, leaving me on the couch with butterflies in my stomach. I hear voices upstairs, but when Gage comes downstairs again less than a minute later only Akayla is with him, stepping in my direction in white socks. She’s wearing two-piece yellow pyjamas under her open pink coat and carrying a pale purple knapsack in her arms while Gage has a large pink and green duffle bag slung over one shoulder.

“We’re just going to dump your stuff in your room and then drive my friend home,” he says, reaching down to put his hand on her hand. “You okay, sweetness?”

Akayla nods and looks me over. “Are you the girl from the store?” she asks.

“She is.” Gage answers for me. “This is Serena.”

“Hi,” I say, smiling at Akayla but trying not to stare too much. She seems tall for four, but when was the last time I knew someone who was four? I really want her to like me and that chases all the words from my head.

“We’re going to drive her home and then put you to bed, okay?” Gage repeats, walking ahead of Akayla and motioning for her to follow.

As they disappear into the hallway I hear Akayla ask, “Dad, is that your girlfriend?”

“She’s just a friend, sweetness,” he says after a short pause. “Like you have friends who are boys at daycare.”

“Only one,” she reminds him, and then I can’t hear them anymore.

When they come back a few minutes later I notice Gage has put Velcro running shoes on Akayla’s feet, probably because it’s easier than pulling her boots back on. She yawns as she shuffles by me and I wonder if Christabelle had to get her out of bed to bring her over. The three of us pile into Gage’s car, and as we back out onto the street I turn to look at Akayla. “You okay in the back?” I ask.

She kicks out one of her feet in front of her and nods suspiciously.

“Dad,” she says loudly. “Dad?”

“Quiet voice,” he advises. “I’m right here. What is it, Akayla?”

“What’s wrong with Grandma?” she asks, her face long.

“We don’t know yet,” Gage replies, his eyes on the road and his tone patient. “They’re going to check her out at the hospital and find out. Then they can fix her up and your grandpa will bring her home again.”

“Tomorrow?” Akayla asks.

“Soon,” Gage says. “As soon as she’s better.”

Akayla doesn’t have any follow-up questions for now. I watch her turn her head to gaze out the window. “Will you call me tomorrow and give me an update?” I whisper to Gage.

“If you want,” he replies. “Sure” would’ve been a better answer, but he must be stressed out. Me being fifteen is the least of his problems tonight.

Soon we pull up in front of my house and I unbuckle my seat belt, peer into the back seat, and say, “Bye, Akayla. Nice to meet you.”

Akayla points her big brown eyes at me. “Bye.”

“See you,” Gage says, looking at me like my presence isn’t really registering. “Thanks.”

For what? I don’t ask. “See you,” I say back.

I trudge towards my house, my head spinning with everything that happened tonight. Inside I kick off my boots and wrestle my coat into the closet. Some older, unused jackets are piled in a messy heap on the closet floor. Maybe this is as close as my mom got to the idea of cleaning out our closet.

I hear
TV
voices and discover my father lying on the living room couch with a glass of red wine beside him on the coffee table. An egg cup full of green olives accompanies the wine, and somehow this makes me sad. My dad’s big treat for himself is an egg cup of green olives. Shouldn’t there be more? Maybe he should have an affair. Live a little.

“Where’s Mom?” I ask.

“In bed,” he says, hoisting himself up on his elbows. “One of her headaches. How was your night?” He smiles like he’s in the mood for company, but it’s Genevieve or Nicole I really need to talk to.

“It was okay. Kind of quiet.” I point down at his olives. “Can I take one?”

“Sure. Work away.” He points to the
TV
. “I’m just watching
NCIS
here. It’s a pretty good episode.”

I nod at the
TV
. “We were watching
Ghost Hunters
.”

“I thought you didn’t like those paranormal shows,” Dad says, arching his eyebrows.

“Gage likes them.”

“Ah.” Dad smiles again, and now I’ve really had enough.

“Gotta go,” I tell him, grabbing another olive. “I owe Genevieve a call.”

I scurry up to my room and sit at the foot of my bed clutching my cell and debating who will take the news about Gage and me better. I settle on Nicole, who answers on the second ring. “Do I look older than my age?” I quiz.

“You mean, like, every day or what?” Nicole says. “Because obviously if you have your makeup done and stuff you can look older. Why? Are you getting a fake
ID
?”

“No. Someone at the store told me I looked older.”

“Some perverted old guy?” Nicole guesses.

“Not really. He was about nineteen.”

“Oh, okay, but listen,” Nicole says, “I was just about to call you anyway because you have to hear this craziness — Liam just got in touch with me to say he’s having a party next weekend.” I can hear the angst in her voice but can’t tell whether it’s angry angst or excited angst. I wait for Nicole to plow forward and give me another clue.

“Can you believe he had the nerve?” she huffs. “He said he didn’t want me to hear about it from someone else and that I should feel free to come because he always thought it was stupid the way things ended with us.”

Okay, so she’s outraged. I remember the day she fell and messed up her leg and sympathize utterly. “If he thought the way things worked out was so stupid maybe he should’ve had your back when everyone was forwarding the video around,” I say.

“That’s exactly what I told him. He said every time he got near me I was shooting him bad vibes and staring at him like I wanted to saw his balls off.”

I lean back against my bed and pull off my socks. “He said that?”

“Yup.”

“So does he think your vibes have changed — why’s he calling now?”

Nicole growls into the phone. “He’s decided — just now, mind you — that maybe it was hard for me and that he should be big about things.”

“He’s a little late,” I declare. “Or is he?”

“He’s
a lot
late,” Nicole says. “A
day
late would’ve been a lot late.”

“Hmm. Yeah. Maybe next time he’ll figure it out faster.”

“With someone else.” Nicole’s voice cracks as she adds, “
Perfect
. I wasn’t good enough for him to bother his ass figuring things out months ago.”

“You know it’s not about you. It’s him.” I know exactly how she feels, and I also know it’s not something she feels all the time, but I wish the two of us (and maybe even Genevieve and Aya) could quit having these lapses where we blame ourselves for other people’s bad behaviour.

“I know,” Nicole says. “I know.”

And
I know
I desperately need to tell someone about Gage, but the timing is wrong. So I keep my mouth shut until Nicole and I are done and then I do an entirely unexpected thing and dial Morgan’s boyfriend, Jimmy. Morgan’s safely occupied, at the MuchMusic studio doing an interview with the next Lindsay Lohan / Miley Cyrus wannabe (I saw the commercial for the interview while Gage was flipping channels earlier) and I know instinctively that Jimmy will keep my secret.

I’m blushing as I confide about Gage’s issue with me being fifteen, and sweating lightly as I admit he has a four-year-old daughter. But Jimmy could be a crisis counsellor; he guides me through the conversation with unprecedented cool, pausing to ask questions and let me fill in backstory.

Finally he tells me that if I want to have a future with this guy I should think about coming clean to my friends. “And by
future
I mean whatever you want that to mean, Serena! But if you want to continue to have some kind of relationship with Gage, don’t you think you should stop hiding it?”

I tell Jimmy about Genevieve, Nicole, and me — our battles with Laurier savages and our unofficial pledge to steer clear of them. I wince inside as I explain because Jimmy’s a guy himself and I know he’s no savage.

“It’s good to protect yourself when you’ve been through a bad relationship,” Jimmy says. “Personally, I always fell for the most savage boys imaginable during high school. Disaster, Serena! Disaster! But with you falling for Gage so soon after you’d sworn off boys, I can’t help but wonder whether you’re in a phase where you enjoy a bit of drama.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” Jimmy continues. “But promise me if drama has something to do with it, that you won’t
lose
yourself in it. Drama’s like chocolate. Best in small amounts.”

I don’t think that liking Gage is rooted in a need for drama. If it’s rooted in anything unhealthy it’s more likely related to twentynine pounds of former chunk and a deep, aching craving to be wanted the way Noah wanted Allie in
The Notebook
. But I don’t want just anyone to want me that way. The desire’s entirely restricted to Gage. He even makes me want to watch
Ghost Hunters
,
and if I thought I’d never wrap my arms around him again I’d spend the rest of my life remembering how it felt to hold him because I never want to let that feeling slip away. Even remembering it is better than nothing.

“I think I’m in love,” I whisper. “I feel almost sick.”

“Serena?” Jimmy’s voice is as soft as down feathers.

“Yeah?”

“How come you called me instead of Morgan? Not that I mind, I’m glad you called, but you know Morgan would’ve been happy to talk to you too.”

“I know.” I can’t begin to explain my reasons. I don’t know how to tell Jimmy that his boyfriend’s too perfect, too sure of himself, and on top of that, in some twisted way confiding in Morgan would feel like betraying Devin. “I guess you’re easier to talk to. Talking to my brother about relationships, um, we’re just not like that in my family.”

“Mine neither,” Jimmy says. “It’s too bad, isn’t it? But look! If it
is
love it won’t burn out from not being able to touch him for two months and it won’t be extinguished by your friends either. Trust me, you need your friends to talk to at times like these. They keep you from going off the rails.”

I promise him I’ll tell Genevieve and Nicole. I do mean it, but a revelation like that can take time and I end up seeing Gage again first. Christabelle’s mom is back from the hospital after an appendectomy, recovering nicely, and Gage and I do a repeat of our skating and diner date. After he’s finished his chili cheese fries he says he’ll drive me home and I ask if he’s afraid to be alone with me now that he knows I’m fifteen.