Falling (14 page)

It was bright and warm with a cold breeze. Grandma wandered happily up and down the rows of stalls and I trailed behind her, reliving the night before. My dreams had always made sense when my life didn’t—now they had flip-flopped. I squinted into the morning sun, trying to focus on shopping. There wasn’t a ton of produce to choose from but I picked up some peaches and apples.

“Apples!” I thought. I hoped whoever ran Jordan’s kitchen had found my apple dumplings before they started a fire. Grandma wandered ahead of me, looking for mums and broccoli. While the first was easy to get, the second wasn’t.

We had been to every stall and no broccoli. “Grandma, it’s fine, we have to go to the grocery store anyway. We can get some there, okay?”

She shook her head and planted her feet. “No. Broccoli.”

“Okay,” I said slowly, “broccoli.” There would be no convincing her that there was none there or that we would be getting some from the store shortly. Experience told me my best bet would be distracting her with some caramel corn from the vendor down the way.

“Let’s go look again,” I lied, leading the way.

“Broccoli!” Grandma shouted, flinging her arm out to point. And she was right; a girl across the way had some in her basket.

“I guess you were right,” I said, surprised. “Um, excuse me,” I started to say to the girl with basket. And then everything else died right on my lips.

She was my age although I had never seen her around my smallish town. She was pretty, athletic looking, with long blonde hair and large brown eyes. But what turned my mind totally blank were the bracelets on her wrists joined together with wispy chains.

I could feel my jaw drop and slowly open as my eyes traced them back the way my own chains went. The other girl was looking at me uncertainly but I could see the second she realized I could see the chains. Her own jaw dropped slowly open and her finger came up to point as she saw the chains dripping from my own bracelets.

“Who—” we both began, still staring at each other wrists. And then she was gone. Like a mean owner of small dog owner does, whatever was at the end of her chain gave a mighty jerk and the girl was skipped off her feet and out of sight.

I gave a startled cry and reached my hand out as if stop what had already happened. Several heads snapped my way to stare but not one person had seen this girl be jerked out of existence.

“Grandma,” I wheezed, when I could somewhat get my breath back. “Did you see that?”

She looked at me blandly. “Popcorn.”

“What about the girl you just saw? With the broccoli?”

“Popcorn,” she repeated.

I rubbed my wrists and squinted down the way my own smoke chains faded off. Could I disappear like that? And no one notice? Another thought, just as ugly, wiggled around in the back of my mind but I pushed it away.

“Let’s get some popcorn then get out of here, okay?” I said.

We continued to get a few odd stares until we were back in the car. And then Grandma started in again. “Broccoli,” she said.

“Yes!” I practically shouted. “The girl with the broccoli, you saw her?”

Grandma cocked her head and just stared at me.

I hated her Alzheimer’s. She had always been so easy to talk to but the disease had stolen that and took more every day. I
needed
to know what she had seen and there was no way for her to tell me.

“Okay, grocery store it is,” I said with a sigh and pulled out of the parking lot.

We came home with way more groceries than we needed, mostly because I couldn’t concentrate on the shopping and Grandma took the liberty to throw whatever she wanted into the cart.

I stared at four crowns of broccoli and three whole rotisserie chickens on my counter, wondering what I was going to do with them. Grandma was happily rearranging the pantry, filling her purchases into the empty spaces she made. I was pretty sure she had picked out the boxes and cans at the store based on size and color. At least my dad was happy.

“Good,” he said, eyeballing the four boxes of sugary cereal. “I was wondering when you were going to stop buying all that shitty oatmeal.”

Lincoln was not as pleased. “What’s with all the beans?” he asked.

“Um,” I stalled, running through all the bizarre ingredients purchased. “White chicken chili for lunch?”

“Oh, that’s good. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Where are you going?” I asked, grabbing my biggest pot.

“Nowhere!” he said, grabbing his keys and running out the door.

I rolled my eyes. “Nowhere,” I mimicked quietly. “Just out to do something awesome on a Saturday while you cook and clean and babysit Grandma.”

I looked up guiltily to make sure she didn’t hear me, which of course she didn’t with her head still shoved in the pantry.

“Hey, Grandma, come help me shred up this chicken,” I asked, sitting down at the table. Her obsessive focus on the mundane actually made her awesome at de-boning chickens, something I wasn’t a huge fan of.

As we sat quietly, going at our mindless task, the icky little thought I had pushed away earlier came wiggling back up. I had no idea who the other girl was but it was pretty obvious who was on the other end of the chain.

Jordan.

How many girls like me were there?

I had thought I was the only one but I had never asked. And if he could hide me from his uncle, he could hide any other number of girls.

Granted, I still wasn’t exactly clear on what our little arrangement consisted of but I had thought it was more than me just being a glorified tutor, especially after last night.

My face heated as I thought about the things that he had said and done. I liked him, and I thought he liked me. But if I was just one of many … My face flamed with embarrassment. And hurt. He was the one who had offered to help me. He was the one that had been watching me. He kissed me and said he loved me. It wasn’t like I was just some lovesick girl throwing herself at some hot guy.

Except that I pretty much was. And based on my experiences in the real world, hot guys tended to be happier with more than one lovesick girl throwing themselves at them.

I started shredding my chicken with more force than necessary, little slivers of meat flinging all over the table.

Grandma was looking at me curiously but there was no way I was going to explain what was wrong, even if she would have gotten it. I didn’t even get it.

I savagely opened cans of beans and chili and dumped them into the pot, slamming the empty cans in the sink to be rinsed and recycled. I wished more than anything I could go to sleep that night and not have to see Jordan, that I could somehow avoid him, snub him.

But even my limited, well, nonexistent, boy experience told me that hiding in the fortress until I woke up would just be childish and probably wouldn’t bother his overblown man ego at all.

Fine. He wanted some sort of geography and social studies tutor from another world, that’s what he was going to get. And nothing more. Let the other girl, or girls, flirt with him and make themselves look stupid.

The tears in my eyes were from the onions I was chopping. Because I definitely wasn’t hurt by some dream guy I didn’t even really know. That would be a pretty stupid girl move and I wasn’t dumb enough for that.

I also didn’t have the time, I reminded myself, trying to gather up my dignity.

The rest of the stuff for the chili went in the pot and I set about making homemade cinnamon rolls. Grandma was content to go back to arranging the pantry after getting her hands washed, leaving me free to sweep, mop, shake out rugs and vacuum. I took the garbage out before the chicken carcass could start to smell and caught a glimpse of my dad in the garage, sitting on a stool, watching some sport event on the crappy little TV in there.

My resentment towards boys boiled over a little at the sight of that. He wasn’t cooking or cleaning or watching Grandma. And neither was Linc. And they wouldn’t be doing it the next day or the next week or the next year. I would be.

I kept my Cinderella pity party going up until lunch, but it was hard to stay mad at the guys who went back twice for my chili and three times for my cinnamon rolls. I managed to keep my resentment to a simmer when they left me to put Grandma down for a nap
and
clean up the dishes.

Linc interrupted my glaring out the window over the sink with an unsubtle cough.

“So …,” Linc crooned. “I have a surprise for you.”

“You’re going to help me with the dishes?” I deadpanned.

“What? Oh, I guess,” he said, his grin deflating a bit. Reluctantly he picked up a rag to dry with. “So what are you doing on tonight? Reading? The usual?”

“I guess.”

“No you’re not! You’re going to the Harvest Moon Dance!”

That was the last thing I expected, or wanted, to hear and it must have shown.

Linc’s hands flew up as if to stop me from protesting. “Now, before you say anything, I know you think dances are stupid and a waste of time and you don’t have anything to wear or anyone to go with or blah blah blah.”

That was pretty much every excuse I had ever given him to get out of going.

“So I took care of it all: date, dress, everything.”

I nearly choked. “A date? Wait, a dress? How do you even know what size I wear?” How did Jordan, for that matter?

Linc shrugged, looking totally pleased with himself. “I looked in your closet to see what size you wear then borrowed a dress after I figured out who wears the same size.”

I was horrified but also a little impressed. “And who did you get to tell you her dress size?”

“Celia.”

I groaned and tossed my wet dish rag at him. “Celia? You mean slutty Celia? I can see the top of her bra
and
thong in every outfit she wears!”

“I already saw the dress, it’s fine,” he said, his face getting red.”Don’t you want to know who your date is?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

I thought hard for a minute then blurted out with obvious relief, “I can’t go, I’m grounded.”

Linc’s huge grin was back.”Nope, I already cleared it with Dad. And Brent can’t wait to take you.”

“Brent?” I asked. Why had Lincoln picked him, of all people? I prayed it wasn’t the reason I feared it was.

“Oh, come on Bixby, you spent all last year making googly-eyes at him.”

My face flamed, knowing I had been so transparent.”Linc,” I started to protest.

“Bixby, don’t say no, you deserve to have some fun.”

I didn’t want to hurt Linc’s feelings when he had gone to so much trouble but I really, really didn’t want to go to the dance.”Can I think about it?”

“No,” he chirped, his grin megawatt.”We’re leaving at eight.”

Unhappy, I finished the dishes by myself and invented reasons why I couldn’t attend the dance. It wasn’t that I didn’t like music or dancing, it was that I didn’t like standing in the corner by myself.

I spent the remainder of my afternoon trying to get out of going.

Finally Linc cut me off with,”Please, Bixby, let me do something nice for you.”

The fact that I didn’t think it was nice wasn’t as important as the fact that he thought it was.

I finally relented and went to sulk over my defeat in the shower.

Hanging in my room when I got back was a black velvet dress I couldn’t believe Celia owned. For one, it went all the way to the knees and had three quarter sleeves and a high, scooped neck. Turning it around I saw the deep V down the back and thought, “That’s a little more like her.”

I blew my hair out straight and down my back to try to cover up a bit. It was coppery, shiny, and big—the opposite of what it had been weeks ago.

Makeup wasn’t an option seeing as I didn’t actually own any but inspecting my face I could see I didn’t really need it. I pushed my bangs in my face, found a pair of crimson ballet slippers in the back of my closed and headed downstairs.

Grandma sat on the couch, happily munching popcorn and watching an old black and white movie.

“You think Dad will be okay with her while we’re gone?”

“Yes, fine, let’s go!” Linc said, rushing me to the front door.

“Who’s your date?” I asked, suddenly curious.

“Kate,” he said with an impish grin.”Pretty awesome, huh?”

“Pretty awesome,” I repeated hollowly.

WE PICKED HER UP FIRST and she didn’t even acknowledge my presence. Not that I expected her to but I was a little annoyed Linc was so taken with her low-cut dress he didn’t even seem to notice. I was relieved to be kicked into the backseat—until we picked up Brent.

“Hey,” he said stupidly, squinting at me in the car’s harsh interior light.”Looking good.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

“No, really,” he said, slamming the door and sliding all the way over into the middle seat.”You should have started wearing makeup a long time ago!”

I squeezed closer to my door, only to have him move over more.I tried to catch Linc’s eye in the rearview mirror but the angle was wrong.