The Sweetest Thing You Can Sing (7 page)

“Twice is a habit?” Nicole pouts in the back seat. “I can’t believe how judgmental you two are being.”

“How are we being judgmental?” I ask. “We haven’t even said anything to her.” Jacob has probably watched Aya’s video multiple times by now, impressed by how hot her and this blond chick are together. It pisses me off to think about.

Nicole goes quiet. When it’s time for her to get out of the car she zips up her jacket and says, “Well, I’m going to try to talk to her anyway. You two can do what you want.”

Obviously, and I don’t intend to do or say another thing about Aya. She doesn’t show up for school the next day and then I know she’s probably pretending she’s sick, just like I would’ve under similar circumstances. Maybe she is feeling shitty about things, like Nicole said, because she’s not around the following day either.

When she does show it seems like she didn’t stay away long enough because plenty of guys are still talking up the video. On my way out to the portables for civics I pass Aya’s locker where a stocky blond freshman and two of his scrawny friends are hovering around her with X-rated thoughts pulsing in their beady eyes as they ask what she’s doing this weekend.

Aya keeps her eyes on her locker, shoving the textbooks from her arms into the locker and gathering up new ones as swiftly as she can. “What — you don’t like freshmen?” the stocky guy says, jutting out his jaw. “Aren’t you at least going to say hello?”

“Maybe she only likes girls,” a second guy says with a toothy smile.

“I like girls who like girls,” the third guy declares enthusiastically.
“What school does that other chick go to anyway?” He stares down at Aya as he leans against the locker next to hers. “How old is she — that chick you made out with?”

I stop walking about ten feet down the hall and glance back at the four of them, feeling guilty for not taking Aya’s side sooner. No one could mistake the look on her face for someone who’s enjoying herself and I’m thinking that I’ll have to do something about it after all — thinking that I’ve been just as bad as everyone else, although I should’ve known better — when Joyeux Maduka veers over to Aya’s locker. Joyeux gives the freshmen trio the evil eye and says something that makes them shake their heads and look panicked.

Joyeux is six and a half feet tall and the captain of the senior basketball team. He has a reputation for swooping in when he sees someone being bullied so no one ever does anything mean while Joyeux’s around to see it. Apparently he’s real religious too and helps coach at-risk kids in a bunch of different sports. But I can tell you, it’d be easy to forget his soft side if Joyeux was shooting you the evil eye because he looks terrifying when he’s mad. If those freshmen were scurrying away any faster they’d have dust kicking up behind them.

I can’t hear Joyeux and Aya from where I’m standing. I imagine she’s saying thanks and he’s saying, “No problem, Aya.”

I don’t know Joyeux personally but I’ve heard enough to know that he wouldn’t hold some stupid make-out video against her. He’s probably the biggest (literally) gentleman at Laurier.

Aya shuts her locker and cradles her textbooks in her arms. She and Joyeux notice me staring at them at the exact same moment. Aya’s eyes are tired and she instantly looks away but Joyeux holds his gaze a couple of seconds longer. I don’t want them to get the wrong idea about my staring so I amble in their direction, even though I haven’t figured out how to handle this yet.

Joyeux bobs his head at me. He’s so tall that I feel like a child next to him.

“Hi, Serena,” Aya says quietly. “What’s up?”

“Not much.” Anything I can think to say leads back to the video and I don’t want to bring that up in front of Joyeux. “We don’t have class together anymore so I thought I’d say hi.”

Aya’s eyebrows knit together in suspicion. We weren’t buddies in French class so why would I want to speak to her now?

I shift my weight to my left foot and add, “And … you know … Nicole was saying we should all hang out sometime.”

“Nicole?” Aya repeats, puzzled. “Nicole Lapatas?”

“Yeah. I guess she hasn’t talked to you today?”

Joyeux takes a step back and says, “I’ll catch you two later, all right?” With his long legs he’s halfway down the hall in no time. Meanwhile Aya and I are about to be late for class.

I don’t have time to explain but I say, “She will. She told me she was going to talk to you. We have this, like, buddy system going to deal with douchebags. It might help you.”

Aya blinks at me, but her blink doesn’t look at all like it did that night at Wyatt’s. She’s smart, school-edition Aya but with a tarnished reputation and her eyes are drilling into mine like she’s trying to find some sense in what I’m saying.

She pinches her left earlobe, her lips open a sliver. “So I’ll talk to Nicole when I see her,” she says finally. Then she turns and strides away from me before I can say goodbye.

CHAPTER EIGHT

~

IT’S NOT LIKE WE
adopt Aya and become a gang of four. She still hangs out with her other friends most of the time, but she’s definitely into the idea of swearing off guys. Once I get to know her better my hard feelings about how she acted with me at the party fade. I know what it’s like to want people (especially cute guys) to like you. And Aya’s so uptight at school that I understand why she’d want to have a bunch of drinks at a party. Getting hammered can easily seem like a better option than acting like a loser if you’re not good at talking to people.

The thing that Aya’s most worried about isn’t assholes bugging her in the school hall (although that makes her crazy too); it’s that her parents would kill her if they ever saw the video. Whenever she mentions the possibility her eyes bug out like she’s about to have a seizure.

“They’re never going to see it,” we assure her. “Don’t worry. You know how much worse stuff is out there? This is nothing. People will all but forget about it soon.” They’d probably forget about it quicker if Aya wasn’t such a good girl type but this is the way these stupid things work. It’s a lose-lose situation. If you’re too much of a good girl people get on your case about it, but if you show the slightest bit of skank they jump down your throat for that too.

It’s different at work. The only things that matter at Total are scanning barcodes, making change, being polite to customers, and balancing your cash at the end of the night. Nobody cares what you act like when you’re away from work because while you’re there you’re interchangeable with any other cashier. Well, mostly interchangeable. There is one cashier girl who goes out with one of the stocking guys, but Mauricio and Ki never get too cozy at work. I’ve never even seen them hold hands.

Today it’s really icy and most people have stayed home rather than cruising over to Total to fill prescriptions or buy toothpaste. When Mom got home she grumbled about sliding all the way home in the car and grumbled again when she found out she’d have to drive me to work because Dad wasn’t home yet.

I know precisely what Mom did after dropping me off, even though I wasn’t there to see it. There’s always something that needs adding to her Swarovski collection and nothing has come in the mail for her for at least a month. That last package had a kangaroo figurine with a baby in its pouch inside. You’d hardly notice the kangaroo mother in Mom’s den display case now. There’s so much crystal in there that it’s almost as blinding as a solar eclipse. In the summer I spotted a receipt for a pair of mandarin ducks on her desk and they cost $164 plus $14.50 in shipping. They were tiny ducks, so I can’t imagine how much an entire display case full of crystal would be worth.

My shift is over and I have a headache (just a regular one, not a superturbo) so I’m waiting outside in the cold air, eyeing every black sedan that gets near the Total end of the plaza parking lot, hoping it’s my dad. If he’s not here in another three minutes I’ll call home and see what the holdup is. Probably just the bad weather.

Here we go. Black four-door. But not my father’s. A guy in jeans and running shoes opens the driver’s side door and gets out. The second I see his hair I realize it’s the guy with the imaginary band who wants to believe in ghosts and may or may not eat Cheerios and may or may not live at home. He’s wearing a light leather coat that obviously isn’t meant for winter and he grins when he sees me. “Cold enough for you?” he asks.

Well, if you’re going to wear a jacket like that naturally it would be. “January,” I say, pricking up my shoulders. “It’s supposed to be cold, right? What can you do?”

He nods as he passes me. “Not a lot.” When he exits the store two minutes later Angela, a woman who just started in the cosmetics department last week, is with him. Like everyone else who works in the cosmetics department, Angela is wearing perfectly applied foundation, eyeshadow, lipstick, and blush. She’s probably almost as old as my mother but looks like a Hollywood actress ready for a photo shoot.

I’m still hanging out in front of the store with my back against the wall, scanning for my dad’s Audi, and I overhear Angela say, “I still can’t believe it. I feel like I should’ve suspected something. Now and then I’d see him walking his dog around the block but he was never around much.”

“I had no idea either,” the guy says. “I guess you never know about people.”

“No, you don’t,” Angela declares. “You certainly don’t.” The two of them have stopped walking and Angela pulls her coat collar tight around her neck. “You say hello to your mother for me, Gage. Tell
her I’ll be booking an appointment soon.” Angela glances over in my direction and waves. “Good night, Serena.”

I say good night back and then listen to her and this Gage guy say bye to each other. It sounds as though the Cheerios and milk were for his mom after all and I catch myself smiling at the thought.

Angela continues teetering to her car but Gage stops, turns, and cocks his head at me. “Are you waiting on someone?”

“My ride should be here any minute,” I tell him. “He probably got held up with the ice.”

Gage arches his eyebrows and folds his arms in front of his chest like the cold is getting to him in his flimsy jacket. “Maybe you should call him,” he suggests, hunching over a little. I see his hot breath on the winter air and it makes me feel the cold in a way I didn’t before. “Make sure he didn’t forget.”

“If he’s not here soon I will.” I cross one leg over the other and bury my hands in my coat pockets. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure I can’t drop you off somewhere?” he asks. I guess it hasn’t occurred to him that his offer could appear creepy rather than concerned. Maybe guys don’t think about that unless they’re somebody’s father or brother. I’m not at all scared of him, but Devin would probably say that I should put my psycho girl act on, or at least have it ready.

“No, thanks. Honestly, I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.” Could it be that he’s trying to get me into his car so he can be alone with me? I shouldn’t feel flattered just because he’s good-looking. I thought I was over that. I
am
over that. It’s just because I haven’t been thinking of him as a real person and suddenly he is. George Clooney doesn’t pull up at Total Drug Mart and offer you a ride.

“Okay,” he says, his hair blowing in the wind as he turns his back on me. “G’night.”

His hand’s reaching for the car door handle when I call, “Hang on.” I whip out my cell, my pulse sprinting like I’m on the verge of drama.

“Hmm?” He looks over at me fast.

How dumb that I feel sorry for him in his spring jacket. He probably just gets warm in his winter one when he’s in the car, like Devin did. That’s no reason to feel sorry for someone.

“Can you just wait while I call to see if he’s coming?” I ask. Dumber still, I don’t want him to know that I’m talking about my dad rather than a boyfriend.

I’ve already hit speed dial when he says, “Sure.” He smiles again,
and I don’t think he can actually be any older than twenty. His dimples look boyish. Sweet.

I hope he’s not about to spoil things by giving me some line about how if we were together he’d never keep me waiting.

Dad answers on the third ring. “Serena, oops! I’m supposed to be out in front of the drugstore now, aren’t I?”

“Yup.” I push my hair back behind my ears. “But —”

“I’m grabbing my coat as we speak,” he interrupts. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry. Someone here is going to drop me off. I’ll be home in a few minutes. Bye, Dad.”

Crap.
Bye,
Dad
. I’m such an idiot. So much for my ride actually being some cool boyfriend.

“So where do you live?” Gage asks as I approach his car. I start to give directions, but he cuts in before I can finish. “Sorry, I’m Gage. I guess I shouldn’t have offered you a ride without introducing myself first. I just didn’t like to see you standing out here in the cold, waiting.”

At least he didn’t tag on the rest of the cliché about the benefits of being his girlfriend. “I’m Serena,” I say. I finish giving my address and walk around to the passenger door. Once I’m inside the first thing I notice is that there’s a child seat strapped into the back seat. Then I think about how I’m in a strange guy’s car and how potentially that’s a seriously bad idea. Okay, he’s not a complete stranger because he knows Angela, but what does that prove? I hardly know Angela myself.

Gage sees me looking at the child seat but doesn’t mention it. “Angela lives in my neighbourhood,” he explains. “There was a growop just three houses down from hers. They had homemade booby traps on all the windows and doors set up to give anyone trying to get in an electric shock.” He shakes his head. “Crazy. The guy had a pug he’d walk around the neighbourhood. It looked like a puppy. I talked to him a couple of times. He seemed like a regular guy.”

“I heard about that on the news,” I tell him. “We had a robbery in our neighbourhood two years ago. They took all the electronics and stuff while the family was asleep upstairs. At first they thought the cat was stolen too but it’d just gotten out when the robbers broke in. She came home the next day.”

Gage scratches the side of his nose. He’s driving nearly as slowly as my dad does when the roads are icy. Jacob liked to speed all the time, not that I’m comparing them. I know that we’ll end up at my house safe and sound and that I don’t need Devin’s advice, but I promise myself I’ll never get in a car with anyone I don’t know again. Hopefully that promise will stop fate from throwing some other bad thing my way. Most of the time I don’t think I believe in fate but when I find myself thinking things like that, I have to wonder. Maybe I’m hedging my bets.

“I guess everyone needs alarms now,” he says. “It’s too bad.”

Sometimes my mom brings up how she used to walk to school with her sister every day when she was six and her sister was eight. She says it like it’s a highly disturbing fact; she would never have let Morgan, Devin, or me walk to school when we were that young.

But who wants to go on and on about how bad and dangerous things are now? Not me. “Did you watch that ghost
DVD
your friend gave you?” I ask. “Was it any good?”

Gage smiles. “You probably wouldn’t have liked it. One family wouldn’t believe their son about the bizarre things he was seeing in the basement. He really started losing it. In the end they had to have him hospitalized.”

“You see,” I tell him. “Ghosts suck. They don’t care if they’re tormenting you. It’s all about them.”

“Self-centred.” Gage laughs. “The bastards.” I’ve never met anyone with the name
Gage
before. I still don’t like that he’s good-looking, but aside from that he seems okay. Someone who makes all those trips to Total for his mom can’t be too much of an asshole.

“So what happened to the son? Was he okay in the end?” I wish Gage would tell me something about his real life. If Jacob had never happened I’d probably do something stupid like lean in close to him once we’re in my driveway. He might kiss me, like those other guys did, and then act like it was nothing the next time he walked into the store.

I’m better off without that kind of stuff happening in my life. Completely. This is just a hormonal challenge. I can absolutely get through this. I have to. I’m not going to spend my life stuck in a vicious cycle.

Gage tells me he doesn’t know what happened to the kid after that. We’re almost at my house and I know I can trust myself not to do something stupid but I wish I didn’t have the stupid ideas in my head in the first place. My cheeks are hot. I imagine what Gage would look like undoing my buttons. No, I’m not wearing any buttons. He could unzip my coat then. What does he look like under his jacket? I’ve never seen him without a jacket. Does he have basketball player arms?

George Clooney, Mr. Lapatas, and now Gage the drugstore customer with no last name. Thank God no one can read my mind.