Zen and Xander Undone (19 page)

You're like me in this way. You hold back when you should declare yourself, and you're flamboyant where you should be still. Sweetheart, don't make the same mistakes I've made. Don't sell yourself short professionally. Work your tail off in undergrad so that you can get your Ph.D. And don't shortchange yourself personally, either. A lot of people get only one love. Don't squander it.

I love you, my beautiful little hellion,

Mom

 

I fold it back up, careful not to make any new creases, and hand it back to her.

“What do you think that means?” she asks me darkly. “Don't make the same mistakes?”

I have to swallow around the big lump in my throat. “I don't want to take it apart with you, Xander.”

She sits back down on the swing and whispers through smoky breath, “Do you think it means she regretted marrying Dad?”

“I don't know.” I look through Nancy's lace curtains at Dad, who is leaning against the kitchen doorway, nodding uncomfortably at Neil, who is telling him some story about being a mechanic. “She always seemed pretty happy with him, didn't she?”

“Yeah, she did.” She takes a long drag on her cigarette before flicking ash into a flowerpot. “I just wish I knew what it meant.”

This makes me very angry. “It doesn't matter what it means, Xander. That letter isn't even to you anymore.”

“What the hell does
that
mean?” Xander looks pale and hard, so far from who she was a year ago.

I want to hurt her. Maybe then she'll wake up out of this awful nightmare she's become.

“That letter was written to the old Xander, before you started going out every night, and smoking, and doing drugs, and sleeping around.” I measure my words like gunpowder. “If Mom came back alive today, she wouldn't even recognize you.”

I expect Xander to scream at me, but she doesn't. She just rolls her eyes, laughs, and throws her burning cigarette into the rosebushes before marching back inside.

It takes me five minutes to find it, smoldering in dry leaves.

When I get back inside, I find the party already breaking up. “What's going on?” I ask Xander, who is gathering paper plates.

“I'm going home to get dressed, and then Margot and I have another party to go to,” Xander says. She straightens, a teasing glint in her eye. “Want to come?” she asks, knowing that I won't. I hate parties like the one she's talking about, where there are tons of people I don't know expecting me to act the way they act, drink what they drink, and measure myself by how they treat me. If she thought there was a chance in hell I'd take her up on the invitation, she'd never have offered it. Which really makes me mad.

“Hmm. Maybe I will come along,” I say, just to tease her. “If Paul can.”

“I can come,” Paul says eagerly. “I just have to drop off Mirabelle first.”

Adam steps forward, his eyes hard. “That's a great idea. Let's all go see what Xander does in her spare time.”

Xander narrows her eyes angrily at him, but she tosses her hair, the picture of nonchalance. “Fine. Sounds like a great time,” she says.

All the while, Frank is watching our conversation with determined eyes.

T
HAT'S HOW
A
DAM,
Paul, and I ended up sitting on a scratchy log, watching Xander and Margot take beer bong hits under a canopy of stars somewhere in the deep Vermont woods. Topher is holding the girls as they lean backwards, and Frank is pouring the beer down their throats. As he fits the nozzle into Xander's mouth, Frank looks at her almost tenderly. It's a weird combination to force a liter of beer down someone's throat with gentleness. It doesn't match up.

“Booyah!” Xander yells as she wipes the beer from her chin.

I can tell Xander thinks she's being naughty and interesting. That she's sexy like this. But I watch Adam as he watches her weaving around, and there's nothing in his eyes but disgust.

She
is
disgusting like this. Beer has spilled down her shirt, which sticks to her skin in a mess of wrinkles. Her jeans are hanging on her hips, making her look sloppy. She can't walk straight, and she's trying to act cool, but her performance is false and sad. Everyone else at the party is watching her, but not with admiration. They're laughing at her.

For the first time in my entire life, I am ashamed of my sister. She is turning into a loser, and she isn't doing anything to stop herself.

“Oh. Just a sec,” Xander says, and stumbles over to lean on a tree while she throws up. She sounds like an animal. “There went my birthday cake,” she slurs. She's trying to be funny, but no one laughs, except Margot, who doubles over and stumbles into Topher, who seems only too willing to catch her.

“So, this is a great party,” Paul says, and takes a tiny sip of vile wine. I'm sipping beer, but I don't like the taste of it. I'm not even sure I should be drinking alcohol with all the Motrin I've been taking. I probably shouldn't even be here. My back is aching, and I want to go home, but Adam is our ride and he isn't showing any signs of letting up his watch over Xander.

I look around at the other people here. There are about a dozen pickup trucks parked around the gravel pit. We must be somewhere near the quarry in Barre, and we're surrounded by mountains of white sand piled high. There are ghosts of dump trucks parked in the shadows, and I can't help imagining sinister men behind the wheels, watching us.

I don't know any of the other people here, but they all seem to know Xander. Judging from the girls, this must be where she gets her recent fashion sense. They're all wearing ripped jeans that are too tight, and skimpy tank tops without bras, and studded belts, and ankle boots or platform sandals. They look to be in high school, but there's something used up about them, like they've already done too much living.

Xander stumbles over to us, a stupid smile on her face. “Hey, guys. Having fun?”

“Sure,” Paul says. He's trying to sound sincere for my sake, but I can tell he's as nervous about being here as I am.

“How much longer do you plan to stay?” I ask Xander.

“It's my birthday” is all she says, and she weaves away, kicking up gravel. She turns her ankle and almost falls over, but Frank catches her.

“I don't like this,” Adam says.

Another pickup drives up. The heavy beat of a bass guitar vibrates through its metal as it parks right in front of us. People shout hello, and flock over to it. From the driver's seat emerges a short man with a slant of brown hair on his head. He's wearing a denim jacket, and his jeans look two sizes too big for him. There's a huge smile on his face, and he shouts, “Who wants to get happy!” People crowd around him, and he starts taking money with one hand and handing out tiny paper envelopes with the other.

“Oh, shit,” Adam says.

“What is that?” Paul asks me. He's scared now.

He's going to think I'm some kind of horrible, drug-abusing slut-cake. “Paul, I've never been to a party like this in my life.”

“Your sister has.”

I follow his gaze to see Xander triumphantly walking away from the circle of people, holding one of the envelopes.

I bolt off the log, but I don't get to her as quickly as Adam does. He pulls her by the elbow away from the glare of headlights, leaning close to her, speaking soft and vicious. “What the hell is that?”

“It's fine!” Xander yells, and jerks her arm out of his grip.

“What's going on here?” Frank says to Adam as he slicks a hand over his oily black hair, like he's some authority figure and Adam is some abuser of women. He must think backwards like this all the time. “Let go of her.”

Adam ignores him. “Just stop, okay, Xander? Stop and take a look at what you're doing!”

“Oh god, what a cliché!” She throws back her head and laughs like she's howling at the moon.

“Xander,” I say. I advance toward her. “If you take whatever's in that envelope, I swear to you, I'll tell Dad.”

This sobers her up. “Don't you dare, you little—”

“She's right.” I turn to see that Margot is standing right behind me, her hands on her hips. “You told me, you
promised
me, you'd never try that stuff again, Xander.”

I never expected this. I thought Margot was the one pulling Xander into her spiral, but now I see maybe it's the other way around. Topher is standing next to Margot uncertainly, watching the scene, his pretty blue eyes scrunched in confusion. He looks at Frank like he needs a cue about how to act. When he sees the deadly steel in Frank's eyes, he hardens up too.

I look at Paul, who has stood up from the log and is watching the scene warily. He glances at me, and his eyes tell me that whatever happens, he'll back me up.

I really like that guy.

“Let's just go, okay?” Adam pulls on Xander's arm again.

Xander yells, “No!” just as Frank steps forward and says through his teeth, “I said let go of her.”

Frank throws down the beer bong angrily and it cracks against the gravel.

The party goes quiet.

I feel a dull sting in my palm and realize that I've been standing in strike pose, fists clenched, my fingernails digging into my skin.

Suddenly Adam wraps his arms around Xander, and he's nuzzling her hair, whispering at her. “Please don't do this. Please, Xander. You've got to come back to us. Please?”

He leans his head down on her shoulder and rests it there.

Her voice is cold crystal shards. “Why are you
crying?
”

Adam lifts his head and looks in her eyes. “My god, Xander.
Why aren't you?
”

Her whole body jerks straight as a lightning rod, and for a second all she can do is look at him. Her mouth is open, her eyes defensive, her hands working into fists and out again as she tries to think of what to say. Finally she scoffs and pulls away from him.

Adam points at the envelope she's holding. “Xander, this isn't you.”

“It's just X, Adam,” she says weakly.

“Come home, Xander,” he says. He takes a careful step toward her and gently works the envelope from between her fingers and drops it on the ground.

I glance at Frank, who doesn't seem to understand anything about what Adam is doing. “Listen,” he says, “she doesn't want to go home,” like he's defending her rights.

“Oh, shut up, Frank,” she says. “You don't know what I want.” She casts a shameful look at Margot, who is staring at the ground. Margot can't have missed Frank's possessiveness over Xander, and she must understand what it means.

Xander's eyes travel all around, and her face changes.

Everyone is watching us.

I forgot they were even here.

The guy who came with the ecstasy takes a few short steps toward us. “Hey, there's no need to cause a stink about this.”

Adam walks right by him, pulling on Xander, who finally starts to follow him, her head down, face looking confused. “Let's go.”

“I said let the girl go.” Frank squares himself against Adam, a threat in his eyes.

“It's fine, Frank,” Xander says, resigned. “Leave it.”

“No. This guy shouldn't be pushing you around.”

“He's not,” I hear Paul say, and turn to see him reaching a hand toward Frank to try to reason with him. Everything about Paul is cool and calm, but he's tall, much taller than Frank, who takes a step back from him. He doesn't understand what Paul is trying to do. Paul takes another step toward Frank, and another. “Adam just wants—”

Out of nowhere, Frank's fist shoots into Paul's face, and suddenly Paul is sprawled flat on the ground, dazed.

I'm aiming my foot at Frank's chest before I even register how mad I am. And I
am
mad. All the pain and frustration and rage of the past year courses through me as I fly through the air toward Frank. When my foot crashes into him, it feels so good, I have to smile.

He falls down so easily underneath me, it's almost like I'm dreaming about this. Before he can catch his breath, I'm in strike pose again, and I stand over him, ignoring my screaming back, my foot poised directly above his larynx. “Adam, get the car,” I say.

Then I'm grabbed from behind.

“What do you think you're doing to my friend?” I hear the words spat into my ear. The breath is warm and harsh.

“Leave her alone!” Margot screams.

I try to drop down as I've been trained to do, Release from Bear Hug, but my back is twisting and pulling apart, and no matter how I move I can't relieve the pressure on my spine. I make myself breathe steadily, and from the corner of my eye I see who's holding me.

It's Topher, the meek little farm boy. He's holding me like they hold calves when they're branding them. He tightens his grip and I scream.

It hurts so much. “Please. My back” is all I can say.

“Let her go,” I hear Xander growl. I've never heard her sound so dangerous.

“Did you see what she did to Frank?” he says, his voice cracking like a little boy's.

“Please. You're hurting me,” I whimper.

I've never felt like this.

I've never been helpless.

His arms clamp together even harder.

I cry out. Tubes of pain stretch and twist all through my spine. It's a deep, terrible sting, like Mom said.

“
Just relax,
” Mom whispers at me. “
He doesn't want to hurt you.
”

“Let her go,” Xander says, “or I swear to Christ I'll kill you.”

She says it calmly, like she's stating a simple fact. I glance at her, and I see she's holding a rock in her fist.

For the first time, his grip loosens a little. The small motion sends diamonds of pain all through me.