Canary (20 page)

Ali shrugged as if to apologize for not being able to drink, and I shook my head. Jenna, however, drank from her cup with a sly grin. When pressed by the boys to say who, she pretended to take a key and lock her lips.

We went through all the typical questions, then those that bordered on outrageous, the boys trying to get information out of Jenna, Ali, and me.

Jenna said some funny ones, such as, “Never ever have I peed in the shower,” to which we all slowly took sips and cracked up when we realized everyone had.

I kept my questions pretty tame, asking things like if people ever cut class or thought certain teachers were cute.

We played for a while, filling our glasses for a second time and coming to the bottom of them when the questions started to turn more serious.

“Never have I ever thought I was better than everyone else on the basketball team,” Jack said, looking straight at Luke. We all stopped our talking, our cups frozen in our hands.

Jenna raised her eyebrows at me.

I shrugged. I had no idea what was going on.

“Yeah, that's a no,” Ali said, trying to break the tension that had developed.

We remained still, watching Jack and Luke stare each other down. The two of them had been clashing lately on the court, battling for playing time, but from what I saw from the stands it was usually resolved by the end of practice.

Jenna hiccupped, and we all laughed nervously.

Jack continued to stare Luke down, as if daring him to take a sip.

“What do you want, man?” Luke asked. “What kind of question is that? I'm not going to take a sip.”

“Okay, if that's the way you want to play,” Jack said. “But I thought we were supposed to tell the truth.”

Luke glared at him. “Never have I ever,” he started and paused, not taking his eyes off of Jack. “Never have I ever said, and I quote, ‘I hope Kate's loser brother Brett doesn't come back from Iraq.'”

My eyes widened.

“Wow, Luke, that's harsh,” Jenna said quietly, letting her breath come out slowly as she shook
her head.

“What kind of question is that? What are you talking about?” I asked, confused. I moved my gaze from Luke to Jack. The vodka made me a bit lightheaded, and it was hard for me to understand what was going on.

“Why don't you tell her, Jack?” Luke gestured
toward me.

Ali stood up and grabbed Luke's hand, trying to pull him away.

Dave and Jenna stared, watching everything.

“Come on. Let's put this fire out and head to bed,” Ali started.

Jack interrupted. “No, wait a minute. What kind of bullshit thing was that to say?” He balled his hands into fists.

“Yeah, what did you mean?” I stood, my voice rising. I looked at Luke and then at Jack. “Jack, did you say that?”

He took his cup and dumped it into the fireplace as if finishing it would be like taking a sip and agreeing to Luke's statement. He took a step in Luke's direction.

Luke let go of Ali's hand, moving closer to Jack.

“I'll tell you what it is,” Luke said. “It's the same type of bullshit you keep trying to spread about me thinking I'm better than everyone else on the team. I know you believe that.”

“I'm going to be sick.” I broke away from everyone and ran out of the room.

Jenna and Ali tried to follow me, banging on the door of the bathroom after I locked it.

I heard Jack on the other side too. “Let me talk to her alone.”

“I doubt she wants to talk to you right now,” Ali shot back.

“Shut up and just go somewhere else.”

I didn't want to talk to anyone. I wanted them to leave me alone, to go away so I didn't have to try to understand what Jack said or see Jenna with that look of pity on her face. Large, hot tears burned their way down my cheeks as I tried to erase what Luke had said about Brett. I stared at the shower stall.

At some point Jack fought the girls off, and they left after promising me they'd come back if I wanted to talk. It was now only Jack and me.

“Kate, come on. Open the door. I want to explain.”

“Explain?” Fresh tears ran from my eyes. “Is there something to explain?”

“How can you think that? What happened out there was stupid. Luke is jealous. Let me in. I want to talk with you.”

“How do I know you're not saying things about Brett?” I asked, my tone harsh.

“You know I wouldn't say something like that.”

I wanted to talk to him, but everything had been turned upside down lately. I leaned against the door. I heard his body shift on the other side and realized we were sitting back to back.

“Then what happened out there?” I finally asked.

“Nothing. Luke was being an asshole. He's trying to make me mad.”

“But why would he say that?” I needed to know.

“Some people know how to hurt other people, I guess.”

“You hurt me. If what Luke said is true, you—”

“It's not true. I never meant to hurt you. You know that, right?”

“It's just . . .” I tried to find the courage to go on.

“It's just what?”

“You don't understand. I try to talk about Brett, and you never want to listen. No one cares about what I'm trying to deal with.”

“I'm sorry. I'll try to listen more. If that will help, I'll do that for you.”

“You shouldn't have to,” I said. “You should want to.”

I didn't try to talk to Jack anymore. Instead, I rested my head against the door, feeling the hard wood behind it. I hoped he was telling the truth. I hoped he would try to listen more. I fell asleep in that position, too tired to try to figure out if what Luke said was a lie or the truth. I was glad Jack didn't try to get me to come out and even more glad when, in the morning, I opened the door and he was still there, sleeping against the other side.

www.allmytruths.com

Today's Truth:

It's easy to hide things you don't want people to see.

At first, it's as if I have two faces.

One I wear to school, around Jack, my friends, Dad, and one I have when I go home and am alone.

My first face is the one you see in magazines like 
Seventeen
 or 
CosmoGirl
. The smiling girl advertising clear skin products or lash-extending mascara.

You can page through my life and see fashion pictorials that look like a normal teenage girl.

You will see me in the pep rally spread. Photos of me helping decorate, hanging red and gold streamers from the bleachers and signs proclaiming our intended victories.

I'm at the game, in Jack's warm-up jersey with pom-poms in my hands as I cheer on the team.

I'm there in Jack's varsity jacket after the game, his arm around me as we walk out of the gym to his car. I'm smiling as people stop and congratulate Jack on a game well played.

You can see me dancing at a house party, surrounded by basketball players and their girlfriends as we
celebrate another win.

I create images all around me, enough to fill pages of magazines, pretending to be as happy and normal as everyone thinks I am.

The school year and my life move forward without stopping. But as each day starts and ends, it is harder and harder for me to keep moving with it.

I put on my mask and wear it to school. I try to forget about the wide, dark hole that grows between Dad, Brett, and me, but it doesn't last.

Slowly, as the days march on, my mask starts to crack like nail polish that's been on for days. Small bits flake off, giving people glimpses of what lies underneath, how broken I really am.

Posted By: Your Present Self

[Tuesday, November 27, 7:12 PM]

All anyone talked about was the game. Conversations revolved around what team the boys were playing, who was starting, and where parties were after. I half listened to their plans and gave vague answers to questions without really hearing them. I just couldn't concentrate.

Brett still sat across the cafeteria with Julia, and it made me so mad that he could be happy with Julia but ignore me.

I watched Julia during choir. She was the only one Brett would talk to, and I wanted to reach out to her, try to grab onto a piece of what she had to offer, a part of my brother who was crumbling away from me. I didn't have any right to, not after the way I ignored her, but she was my last connection to Brett.

I wondered how she'd reacted when Brett first told her he wanted to enlist. While Dad had forbidden it and I'd begged him not to, had she supported him? Had she let him slip through her hands when

she was the one who could have held onto him
 
tighter
 
than any of us?

I hadn't tried to talk to Brett after we fought at school. If the two of us found ourselves in the same hallway, he'd turn and go the other way.

The longer Brett was gone, the more things changed back to how I felt after Mom died. He might not have left for the Army yet, but the hole he'd left in our house made it seem as if he had gone far away. Life got heavy, and when I came across items of his in our house, like a piece of mail addressed to him or an old military magazine, they startled me as if they didn't belong there.

The days after Mom died, I had walked circles around my house touching things, reminding myself of what they were. What I was supposed to do with them.
 
Here is my toothbrush. Here is the water; turn it on. Here is the toothpaste; unscrew the top, put it on the brush, and pull the brush across your teeth, back and forth.

Brett's decision to enlist had the same effect on me. I was in a world that kept moving without a single thought to the fear that now invaded my body. Brett was going into the Army, and it shocked me that it didn't affect everyone around me. I wanted

to talk to my friends about it, to let everyone know of his decision, of the threats and dangers, but they were too busy making plans for basketball games and weekend parties. No one even asked about him.

Brett and Julia stood and navigated around the cafeteria tables.

I held my breath as they neared me, hoping they'd stop to talk. “Not a word,” I said when they continued past me.

“What?” Jenna asked. She had lined up a pack of Skittles by color and was eating them one by one.

I grabbed a green one and tried to act normal. “Oh, sorry. It's nothing. Just talking to myself.”

Jenna rolled her eyes at Ali and continued to pop Skittles into her mouth.

Ali started talking loudly. “We'll get our nails done on Thursday, so we can have school colors for the game Friday. I think I want to have Luke's jersey number airbrushed on.”

“Perfect,” said Jenna. “Kate, do you need us to pick you up for the game?”

“What?” I asked, twirling a piece of spaghetti on my fork.

“The game. Do you need a ride?” Jenna repeated.

“Oh, I don't know. I haven't even thought about it.”

“Well, we can swing by and pick you up,” Ali said. “If you want to bring your overnight stuff, you can crash at my place after the party.”

“Party?” I asked. “Whose party?”

“Geez, Kate,” Jenna complained. “Pay attention.”

“Yeah, sorry. I'm just tired,” I told her and tried to make myself focus, but I really didn't care.

Ali tapped me on the arm with her carrot stick. “Hello. Where have you been? Just pack your overnight stuff and we'll get you at six thirty Friday. It'll be simple. You won't have to think about anything.”

“Where have I been?” I asked, frustrated. It was as if I couldn't do anything right for anyone. “You know what's going on right now, Ali. I've got more important stuff on my mind than nails.”

“Right. You do, but you don't have to blow off your friends.”

“I'm not trying to. I just have a lot going on.”

“If you don't want to go on Friday . . .”

I knew that wasn't the answer. “No, no, I'll be there. It sounds good.” I turned back to picking at my lunch. I was pissing everyone off lately. I thought about the fight I had with Dad the other day. He hadn't mentioned Brett since, but there really wasn't a chance since he was doing everything he could to avoid me. The only time I seemed to see him was if I went to watch basketball practice or a game.

I stood up from the table. “I'm heading out.”

Ali checked her watch. “We still have ten minutes.”

“I know, but I want to stop at the library and check something on the computers.”

Ali shrugged and fell back into conversation with Jenna.

I headed out of the cafeteria. How could they act as if nothing was wrong? It seemed impossible. Because in my world, nothing felt right.

www.allmytruths.com

Today's Truth:

You have to keep moving forward or you'll realize what you've left behind.

The days after Mom died were filled with movement. People entered the house, carrying casseroles, flowers, and words of sympathy. Our bodies climbed in and out of cars, going from one place to another, where we sat and waited until we moved again. The world pushed us forward, so we didn't have to think about what we'd left behind.

Not until weeks after did I hear the silence. People went back home, our fridge became a mismash of rotting food, and our car sat idle in the garage because everywhere we went reminded us of her.