Twice Shy (25 page)

She rode home with her mom, hit the books until ten, and got into the bath. She got up the next morning and did it all again, and again. She skipped the bath and crammed for fifteen hours straight Wednesday night.

Thursday morning was a blur. She sat through her classes and reviewed history in her mind—she didn't know nearly enough. The appointed time came and they were herded into the gym, which had been set up for test taking.

They were given assigned seats, and Ani found herself sitting between Keegan and Mike, filling out the pre-test paperwork. Keegan stared at her, and to avoid him she kept looking the other way—right at Mike, who kept his gaze straight ahead. Mike shuffled his feet and cleared his throat, every tiny motion catching her eye and entwining her thoughts.

It hurt to look at him. It hurt not to. Part of her knew she was better than this, better than letting a boy, even
this
boy, bother her so much. His rejection two years prior had hurt, but after that they had formed a kind of uncomfortable, distant friendship.... But it was still a friendship, still something. But now there was nothing, not even anger.
As if your daddy issues are my fault.

When the test started, she couldn't concentrate. Mike was a stew of boiling, nervous energy. His proximity unnerved her. She could smell him, rugged and manly but not unpleasant, and it drove her crazy. Every twitch, every shift drew her attention away from the test.

The multiple choice questions were brutal, five right answers where you had to pick the 'most right' one. She finished the essay part with two minutes to spare, and realized that she had no idea what she'd just written. She prayed it was good enough and knew it wasn't.

The timer dinged, so they set down their pens and waited for the tests to be collected. Ani felt like her brain had been curb-stomped by William Howard Taft. A passing grade would be a miracle.
At least this doesn't go on my GPA.

She left the room in a sea of commiserating babble, none of which was directed at her.

*  *  *

The SATs were easier than the AP exam.
Way easier.
Ani was good at math, comfortable with analogies, and in a different room than Mike. She finished early, was released at the minimum allowed time, and found her mom waiting in the parking lot.

Puzzled, she got into the car. "Hey, Mom. I wasn't expecting a ride home."

"A boy matching Dylan's description was found sleeping in a barn outside Dansville. The owner confronted him after calling the police."

"Did they catch him?" Ani asked.
You wouldn't be here if they had.

Her mom peeled out of the parking lot. "No. He punched the farmer hard enough to crack his skull and stole a motorcycle."

"Is the farmer okay?"

She shook her head. "He's in surgery."

"When did this happen?" Trees blew past them as the Audi ate up pavement.

"This morning," her mom said as she blew through a red light. "Before dawn." It was eleven-thirty.

"Why are we in such a hurry?"

"I don't trust what he might do to our home. I lost several months' research when you—" She downshifted to third and hit the brakes. They took the ninety-degree turn at forty miles an hour. "—incinerated it. We can't afford to lose any more, and if he's with it enough to realize he needs more serum, you can be sure that's where he's going."

"What are we going to do if he comes?"

"When. You're going to stay out of the way. I'm going to shoot him in the head." They turned the corner onto their street and slowed to a sane speed. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"What about the cops? When they find out he was ZV positive they'll quarantine the town."

She slowed down and pulled in the driveway. "They're not going to find out."

"You're going to cover up the fact that he's ZV positive?"

"I've already alerted my former associates. They agreed that this would be deleterious to our efforts. This isn't the first time they've had to do that."
Who the hell are you, Mom?

Before they got out of the car, her mom pulled her pistol from under the front seat and tucked it into her jacket. Ani opened the front door, and they stepped inside. Nothing seemed out of place, so they locked the door, armed the security system, and searched the house. He wasn't there.

Ani spent the night without music, the shotgun next to the bath. Every creak and groan of the house had her frozen, alert, tensed and ready to spring. She didn't need to sleep, but the lack of mental rest left her exhausted.

Chapter 27

The next morning Ani put on her best face and her best behavior. It was Mother's Day, after all, and while the woman asleep downstairs might not have given birth to her, she was still her mom. Ani would be long dead if it weren't for her, and even if she couldn't agree with everything her mother had done, she owed her everything.
Don't think about Dylan. Don't think about Dylan. Don't think about Dylan.

It had to start with breakfast in bed, as was tradition. Ani banged around the kitchen, making eggs with runny yolks and toast with honey from the local farm market, hot chocolate, and orange juice. She opened the bedroom door with her elbow and carried in the tray. She moved the pistol from the nightstand as her mom sat up, and set the tray in its place. Her mom's brown hair was stringy and sparse, and her eyes were tired.

They didn't chat while she ate. They had no secrets they were willing to admit, and each knew everything else about the other. When she'd finished, Ani took the tray to the kitchen and put the dishes in the sink. She heard the shower start, so she hurried up the stairs and pulled the presents from under the bed: a pendant of gold wire in the shape of a heart that Ani had made in art class, a gift certificate to Patti's Pedicure and Spa, and a new pair of high heels that went with her favorite black dress.

She had them arranged on the kitchen table when her mom emerged from the bathroom in a robe, hair wrapped in a towel. She smiled without comment, gave Ani a hug, and opened the envelope. The card had a heart on the front, and was blank inside except for what she'd written.
To my mom. Love, Ani.
She thanked her for the gift certificate, hugged her, then looked at the other two presents.

"Which one first?" she asked.

Ani grinned and handed her the shoes. She tore off the paper and popped open the lid. "Oh, those are beautiful." She slipped them on, took a few steps, then took them off. "Not great eight a.m. shoes, though."

"They go great with the robe." The joke earned her the barest hint of a smile. Ani handed over the smaller box. "I made this one myself."

Her mom again shredded the paper, then raised her eyebrow at the jewelry box. She cracked it open and let loose a tiny 'Oh'. She lifted the pendant out and looked at it in the light. "Sweetie, it's beautiful." A tear rolled down her cheek. "I love it." She put it back in the box.

They hugged. "Happy Mother's Day, Mom."

Her mom squeezed her tighter. "It's metastasized," she said.

Ani pulled back. Her mom's eyes were bloodshot, her face crestfallen. "What?"

"My cancer. It's spread to my lymphatic system."

"Wait." Ani shook her head. "What? I thought that leukemia was a bone marrow thing? You were in remission."

They hugged again. "It is. I was. But now I'm not, and it's spread."

Ani sat against the table as her chest tightened. "What... What's the prognosis?"

"Six months, take or give."

Fury burned through her.
Six months.
It can't be.
"What about the treatments? Chemo? Radiation?"

Her mom shook her head. "It's gone too far."

"So, nothing, then."
Nothing.
The world spun, faded, burned. Ani shrieked. Her eyes snapped open as the table shattered against the wall, gouging deep rents in the plaster. Her mom had stepped back, eyes wide.

Ani wrapped her arms around herself. "I'm sorry, Mom. About the table. And... I'm so sorry." It had never hurt so much to be unable to cry.

"Me too, sweetie. Me too."

*  *  *

They spent the morning talking about the SATs and selecting colleges, ignoring the real issues.
Where do I live next year? What if I'm not cured in time? Can Mom's former coworkers be trusted?
She thought about her birth mother and answered the third question for herself.

After a light lunch her mom went to her bedroom to change, and she came out wearing her black dress, new shoes, and the heart pendant.
And makeup.
"How do I look?"

"You look great, Mom. They really work."

"Good. Mike will be here any minute. You're on your own for the afternoon."

"Whoa, Mom, you're going out?"
On our last Mother's Day?

She smiled. "Mike's taking me to GeVa Theater for a matinee, then out to dinner."

"What about Dylan?"

"You'll be okay. Just don't get too far from the gun. I'll be back by midnight, and you can get in the bath." A car horn beeped, and Ani was alone.

Ani spent the day trying to read, then trying to paint, her back to the wall and her ears alert for any sign of Dylan. The sun went down and evening stretched to night. Her mom got in at ten after two, full of red wine and apologies.

*  *  *

The next day her mom called in sick to "protect the house until the backup plans were done." The reason she gave Mr. Bastian on the phone was "under the weather." Looking at her bloodshot eyes, Ani believed every word.

"Do they know, Mom?" Ani asked her. "About the cancer?" The word stuck in her throat, but she forced it out. Ani didn't think it would ever get easy to say.

"A few of them. Mr. Bastian does. Not about the... new development, though."

"Oh."

"It's seven-thirty. Get your shoes on."

Ani got on the bus and spent another day at school, where she might as well have not existed. With her mom's permission, she stayed after for Mr. Frazer to organize exhibitions for the spring art show the following night. He trusted her artistic vision and gave her free reign on the floor displays while he covered the walls with student work. She tried to group them by period and style, but was thwarted by the lack of a theme. Joe Stuber's seven-foot "Guitar Man" sculpture got the center of the room, with art grouped by student in radial beams around it. She put her own work as far from the piano as possible so that she didn't have to watch peoples' reactions.

She spent the evening making photocopies with her mom—she didn't trust her files to digital format, but was creating a backup system somewhere she wouldn't disclose. It took hours to copy everything and collate it into binders. Once that was done, they started loading the binders into cardboard boxes for transport. At ten fifteen, the lights in the basement flashed.

The security alarm!

Her mom grabbed the pistol and crept upstairs. Ani followed, empty-handed. They got to the top of the stairs, and Ani slammed open the door, scattering books across the living room. Her mom circled around her, pistol extended two-handed like you see on cop shows.

The kitchen door was latched. Ani peeked around the bookshelf, then ducked back. "Front door's locked." She kept her voice just loud enough to be heard.

Her mom whispered back, "We need to check the windows. Don't split up." They stepped away from the basement door, closed it and triggered the keypad lock. Ani slid the bookcase back into place and they circled through the downstairs. Finding nothing, they moved upstairs. All of the windows were closed and locked.

They searched every nook and cranny before settling down in the kitchen, where her mom checked the alarm system. It said 'Code 1551', which they looked up online.
Front door trigger.
Ani covered her mom while she checked the locks, inside and out—nothing seemed amiss.

"Maybe it was the wind," Ani said, picking up the books and putting them back on the shelf. She didn't believe it either.

To be safe, her mom slept in Ani's bed next to the bath, snuggled up under the pink comforter with the pistol. They kept the door locked, and the music off.

*  *  *

The next day her mom called in sick again. Mr. Bastian approached Ani at the end of second period and asked if everything was all right. He was so blasé he might as well have screamed, "Hey, everybody! Something juicy is going on with Ani!" to the class. Jake even asked her what it was about until he remembered that she was supposed to be a pariah. His curious, apologetic shunning was almost funny.

She stayed after school to set up the art show. Once everything was ready, she'd walked home, pepper spray clutched in white-knuckled fingers, and changed. She was responsible for the evening's music, and wanted to look professional while she played. With some thought she settled on the black dress she wore to the Hearts on Fire dance.
Might as well reclaim it.

She chose some of Chopin's mellower compositions for the evening to compliment the desired mood and kept it pianissimo to keep from distracting the crowd from the art. She played with her eyes closed, as usual, but visions of Dylan appearing behind her distracted her, and she started making mistakes. It didn't matter that her back was to the wall.

She opened her eyes and kept playing, her eyes wandering the room. A few minutes later saw Mike and Devon staring at one of her paintings, his mouth agape, while she gritted her teeth.
What the heck?
She hit a B-flat instead of a C.
Dammit.
They started to argue, Devon haranguing him as his face flushed. Clearly embarrassed, he hurried out of the gym.

Devon pulled one of her canvases off the display. Ani's playing faltered as Devon threw the painting on the floor and stomped on it, shredding the canvas. "Hey!" Ani said, vaulting off the bench to protect her art.

As Ani lurched toward her, Devon hocked, then spit. Ani flinched as mucus spattered her face. "Get your own boyfriend, you goddamned freak!" Ani wiped off her face, smearing black mascara onto her fingers, as Devon stormed out.