Detached (11 page)

I was beginning to think maybe I was one of those suicide attempters who did it for attention, as a cry for help. Part of me wondered if I really didn't want to die and that's why I couldn't find the perfect suicide, but then I laughed out loud at myself.

“What's so funny?” Mariam asked. We were sitting together at a table in the cafeteria.

“I was just thinking about something Joe said this morning.”

“What?”

“Inside joke about his roommate.”

Mariam went back to eating her lunch and I played with the straw in my chocolate milk.

“Hey, guess what was on the radio this morning?” she said.

“Dunno.”

“The mayor is going to give that guy an award, the keys to the city or something, for saving you.”

I grunted. The homeless guy had been in the news nonstop since he ruined my life — or my death, I should say. The story of my rescue, which was torture to hear told over and over again, reminded me I was a failure. I couldn't even look at myself. When I was alone in my room I put a sweater over the mirror, and when I was in the bathroom I brushed my teeth with my eyes closed.

The media interest lasted almost until Christmas, then someone had the bright idea of setting up a trust fund in the guy's name so people could donate money to his future instead of buying their kids more plastic junk. Just when that story started to die down, some rich people who were touched by his bravery offered him a rent-free apartment above their garage. Then someone who owned a printing press offered him a job, and a dentist offered to fix his teeth for free. It was like the entire city went nuts for the guy and tried to outdo the previous good deed. There was even a new parkette named after him. Every time I saw his face on the news I wanted to die more than I ever had before I was pulled out of that damn river. My parents even made a statement to the media, thanking him publicly for risking his life to save me, and forced me to stand beside them outside our house, which meant my stupid face was on the news for two days straight. My dad was also reluctant, but my mom insisted. I look okay in real life, more or less, but I look hideous on TV, and seeing myself on our big-screen television didn't do anything to make me feel better about myself. I mean, not a single thing. All I could think was that if only we'd been on a cruise, I would have escaped the torture. But after my near-death experience my parents decided to stay put. I wouldn't have been surprised if Joe hated me too, for ruining his chance to get away for Christmas.

“Well, I think it's nice. I mean, he could have fallen in too and you both would have drowned. He's a hero and you don't even seem grateful,” Mariam said.

“It's not that. It's just sort of, well, embarrassing. I wish everyone would forget about it.”

Sam, Ray, and Kyle walked past our table and Mariam stopped talking to watch.

“Sam is so hot,” she said dreamily. She loved that we shared a cafeteria and gym with the regular high school. She said it gave her more choices in guys.

“Sam's a pig,” I said.

“He just likes to pretend,” Mariam said defensively.

“Whatever,” I muttered to myself.

Kyle glanced over and smiled at me. I nodded back.

“You going to eat that pizza?” Mariam asked when the boys disappeared.

I looked down and noticed I hadn't touched it, not a single slice of pepperoni.

“Help yourself,” I said and pushed my plate across the table. Mariam didn't seem to mind that it was cold. She ate and talked at the same time.

“Ray's having a party at his house this weekend. He's turning eighteen. Sam told me we should stop by. Dad said I can take the car if you want a ride.”

“Sure,” I said, even though I knew I'd find a last-minute excuse to bail. Sometimes I wondered why my friends bothered with me at all, especially since the party at the forks.

The bell rang and Mariam stood up. “Ask Aliya if she can come too,” she said before trotting off in the direction Sam had gone.

“Sure thing,” I called out, even though I knew there was no way Aliya's mother would let her go to Ray's party. I also knew that if she slept over, my parents wouldn't let us go either. Aliya's mother had made it clear on several occasions that she didn't approve of drinking under age.

I forgot all about the party until Mariam called Saturday afternoon.

“I'll pick you up at ten,” she said.

“I was just about to call you, actually. I don't think I can go. I've got a wicked headache.”

“So take a pill. I'll be there at ten.”

She hung up before I could protest again. The idea of a house full of drunk people was unbearable and yet I knew Mariam wasn't going to let it drop. I curled into a question mark on my bed. I had six hours to come up with a foolproof excuse and my brain felt too tired to think. I felt my math binder calling attention to itself, as if it was daring me to unfold that list I'd made, the one that I'd opened and closed so many times the paper was as soft as felt. But I knew there was only one option left — one that I'd be able to face anyhow. That's when it struck me that an overdose might work after all, it just required some research.

I sat up and logged on to my laptop. I typed “overdose” into the web browser and felt a surge of excitement when so many results popped up. I skipped over the sites that talked about preventing teen suicide and opened a page that looked promising, until I realized it was full of statistics about the rates and types of suicides. Finally I started to find bits of useful information, like, boys more often succeed than girls; the wrong dose of cough syrup could slow down a person's breathing; teenagers sometimes overdose when they drink too much looking for a high.
How much is too much?
I wondered. Why didn't they just spell it out for me?

“Anna, dinner's ready,” Mom called from the kitchen.

I bookmarked several sites then went downstairs.

After dinner I read about barbiturates and opium and wondered where I was going to find enough prescription meds to kill myself. Then I read about codeine. Just reading the word relaxed me.

“Codeine.” I said it out loud. It sounded like the name of one of the cool boys at school. Codeine was used to control extreme pain, such as after a trauma. Codeine was like the name of my new best friend.

I was still scrolling through websites when the doorbell rang. Sherlock perked up his ears and I looked at the clock at the bottom of my computer screen. Somehow I'd lost track of time.

“Anna!” Dad called. “Mariam and Gisele are here.”

I opened my bedroom door. “Send them up. I'm still getting ready.”

I slapped my laptop closed and dumped it on the bed. Then I started pulling jeans out of my closet. Gisele and Mariam knocked quickly then walked in.

“Hey, Sherlock,” Gisele said and stopped to scratch his ears.

“You're not ready?” Mariam asked.

“I'm just trying to decide. Which ones?” I held up two pairs of jeans.

They both pointed to the pair in my left hand so I dropped my track pants and pulled them on. Then I reached blindly into the closet and grabbed a shirt.

“Okay, let's go,” I said.

“Don't you even want to, like, brush your hair or something?” Gisele asked. She looked around the room. “Why do you have your mirror covered up?”

“It reflects the outside light at night and keeps me awake.”

I grabbed my brush but I didn't dare look at myself. A few quick pulls and I said, “This is as good as it gets. I call shotgun.” I wanted to get them out of my room and away from my laptop as quickly as possible.

Mom and Dad were sitting together on the couch in the living room when we walked through to leave.

“We're going to a party. I won't be too late.”

“No drinking and driving,” Dad reminded.

“Absolutely not,” Mariam said. “We're too young to drink.”

Dad looked over his glasses at her to see if she was for real.

“I'll watch she doesn't have anything,” I said.

Dad nodded his satisfaction and we said goodbye. On the way through the entrance, I was sure to look at my feet and not in the mirrored closet door. When we got in the car, Gisele leaned forward while Mariam buckled herself in.

“It looks like your parents are getting along again,” Gisele said.

“Yeah, I guess it was a false alarm.” I reached forward and turned on the radio so I wouldn't have to say anything more.

Ray's street was jammed with parked cars and even from three blocks away we could hear the music blaring.

“The police are going to show up for sure,” Gisele said nervously.

“Maybe we shouldn't go in,” I added hopefully.

“It's fine,” Mariam said. “Sam says he does this every year. His neighbours are cool. They don't complain.”

Gisele and I trailed behind while Mariam charged along the icy sidewalk.

“What's with that?” I asked when we got to Ray's house.

Instead of steps leading up to the front door, there was a wooden ramp.

“Ray's dad had an accident at work. He broke both his legs and, like, fractured his spine or something. He was in the hospital for a couple of months. But he's home now,” Mariam said.

“Ray's parents are here?” I asked, panicked.

“Yeah, but it's no big deal. They let him have people over all the time.”

There were a few kids huddled in the front yard smoking, and a couple more kids were standing on the porch talking. When we walked up the ramp and through the front door, nobody seemed to mind that we didn't knock.

The house was packed and the air was thick and sweaty. There were kids from our school who I knew and kids I'd never seen. I hoped nobody recognized me as the river-rescue girl. I hated having to fake enthusiasm for having my life saved by a homeless dude.

The bottom floor was standing room only and we had to squeeze through the crowd to get to the dining room, where everyone had dumped their coats in a huge pile on the table.

“C'mon,” Mariam said. “The keg's on the back deck.”

We squeezed through the kitchen and out the sliding-glass door. Ray and Sam were there, filling plastic cups with beer. Sam handed one to me and smiled.

“Hey, Anna. Kyle's around somewhere. He was in the living room last I saw.” Sam winked at Mariam and they both laughed.

“Okay, thanks,” I said and took a gulp of beer. It was as cold as the river.

Mariam struck up a conversation with Sam, and Gisele started talking to Ray. I drifted back inside because it was too cold to make small talk.

With so many people crammed into one small house it was hard to decide where to go, and I wondered where Ray's parents were hiding. I lapped the bottom floor. The living room was full of jostling, dancing bodies, but I didn't see Kyle. I nodded hello to kids from school and drank my beer. Another lap and I could see Gisele and Mariam were still in deep conversation, shivering in their shirts on the back deck. I made my way to the front entrance.

“Hey, Anna!” I heard someone call out. It was Farah, standing partway up the stairs. She motioned for me to join her. I headed up and was grateful to be above the people who kept bumping me. One leg of my jeans was already wet with beer.

“What's up?” I yelled over the pounding music.

“Cool party!” Farah said.

I wasn't sure she heard my original question.

“Hey,” she shouted at me again. “Did Aliya come?”

“She wasn't allowed,” I shouted back. “I came with Mariam and Gisele.”

“Do you know where Ray's parents are?” I asked, loudly, next to Farah's ear.

“I heard someone say they were upstairs in their bedroom. But someone else said they were gone for the weekend and that Ray's just saying they're home so nobody does anything stupid.”

“Good thinking,” I said and then took another gulp of beer. It didn't really matter either way to me if they were there or not. I wasn't going to talk to them.

Kyle walked past the staircase and looked up. He smiled and waved.

“Come dance,” he shouted at me.

Farah nudged me, but the thought of being in the living room with a crowd of b-boys and ballerinas terrified me. I hadn't been kidding when I told Kyle I had three left feet. Then I felt that surge in the pit of my stomach and I wished for once I could just chug back my beer and let myself have fun. I knew I should be happy Kyle asked me to dance. I hated being such a bore.

Kyle was still at the bottom of the stairs, looking up expectantly.

I dug deep for a smile, then shouted down at him, “Just got to hit the bathroom first.”

I touched my plastic glass against Farah's then headed the rest of the way up the stairs. I found the bathroom and locked myself in. It wasn't as hot and loud in there, and I was relieved to be alone for a few minutes. I looked around. There were metal railings beside the toilet and in the bathtub.

Ray's father must have been seriously injured
, I thought.
He must have been in a lot of pain.
My mind ticked over.
He might still be in a lot of pain
. I looked down at the sink while I opened the medicine cabinet. Inside was a row of prescription bottles lined up like football players. I pulled the bottles down one at a time and read the labels. Jackpot. One was filled with codeine. I pressed down and twisted off the cap, then shook the pills into my hand. I knew I couldn't take them all so I pocketed a few and put the bottle back.

“You want to hurry up in there?” Someone knocked on the door.

“Just a minute,” I called out and flushed the toilet.

I went back downstairs and lapped the bottom floor again. Gisele and Mariam were still talking to the boys, but they'd moved inside to the kitchen. I was surprised they lasted in the cold as long as they did.

“Hey, Anna, where'd you go?” Mariam asked when she saw me.