“I heard you’re going hiking again this weekend,” Mom says when she gets home that evening. I look up from my laptop, midway through page two of my essay. “Your dad told me,” she adds, setting her bag near the door and sitting on the couch with a groan.
“You need anything, love?” Shar asks, coming in from the back room where she’s been napping since she got home.
“A glass of wine and a shoulder massage?” Mom asks. “We presented the new strategy to the client today and they loved it.”
“Of course they did!” Shar says, popping a cork on one of the bottles in the rack on the kitchen counter. A moment later, she brings a glass out and hands it to Mom, then settles in behind her on the couch. Mom sighs, sipping the wine as Shar presses her fingers into the muscles at the base of her neck.
“What’s that about hiking?” Shar says, smiling at me. “You and your dad have been doing that a lot lately.”
“Only like three times, counting this one,” I say.
“He seems like he’s making a good effort,” Mom says, watching me.
“Yeah, he is,” I say, half surprised at my own words. Part of me is still waiting for him to stumble, to show up drunk or go radio silent, but this time really does seem different. He even said he wanted to make amends, and he’s never even taken the first of the twelve steps of AA seriously, let alone any beyond that.
And I’m looking forward to Sunday. Dad doesn’t see me every day, doesn’t have a big stressful job, doesn’t monitor my study habits; he won’t ask me questions I don’t feel like answering. That thought is freeing. Maybe I could talk to him about Forrest, how I decided to just do what feels right, like he said to, and now we’re friends, and I’ve realized I have this crush.
“You’re studying with Jayden on Saturday, right?” Mom says.
I nod, pretending to be focused on my computer screen so I don’t have to look her in the eye while I lie. I’m going to be with Jayden, but we won’t be studying; once again, Mom and Shar’s Al-Anon meeting will cover my ass when the twins pick me up for the breaking competition. “The three of us are all going to hang out afterward,” I say. “Jayden said his mom can give me a ride home.”
That’s at least partly true. I am getting a ride home from him, and the three of usareall hanging out. Just not in the way Mom and Shar assume we’re going to.
“Maybe you and I can have a little post-meeting date,” Shar says, looking down at Mom, who twists her head back so they can kiss.
“I would love that,” Mom says. “I’ve got some time this weekend before things kick up again on Monday.”
I stare at the half-written second page of my essay. I have to work on it, but I have to go to Alexander’s competition too. I’m scared Forrest will see right through me, see my crush, but I want to be near him. And if I’m being honest, I kind of want him to see through me. I have plenty of time to finish the assignment before next Friday. Skipping one study session won’t kill my grades.
You skipped one already,a voice says.Mom’s going to find out, and she’s going to be so angry, she’ll hate you, she’ll send you away—
That’s not real,I tell the voice.It’s not happening.
That’s not real. It’s not happening.
That’s not real. It’s not happening.
Images form, bursting like fireworks in my mind: Mom locking me in my room, Mom so angry she leaves the house, Mom in the car, headed somewhere, and another car spins out of control, smashes her across three lanes into a building and her car goes up in flames, and the last thing that ever happened between us was a fight, and I’ll have to live with it the rest of my life—
I push away from the chair and head to the bathroom, locking the door behind me, sliding to the floor, pressing my face into my knees, and scream at myself in my head.
THAT’S NOT REAL. IT’S NOT HAPPENING.
THAT’S NOT REAL. IT’S NOT HAPPENING.
THAT’S NOT REAL. IT’S NOT HAPPENING.
Over and over, until I lose track of how many sets I’ve done and have to start again.
THAT’S NOT REAL. IT’S NOT HAPPENING.
THAT’S NOT REAL. IT’S NOT HAPPENING.
THAT’S NOT REAL. IT’S NOT HAPPENING.
Just before noon on Saturday, Jayden and Makayla’s mom steers her van into the community center parking lot to drop us off for Alexander’s competition. The building sits across from a small park that hugs the shore of Lake Washington, and the lot is already packed, a line of cars circling around to drop people off before heading out in search of parking elsewhere. When it’s our turn, the van doors slide open and we pile out.
Inside, we follow Jayden, who seems to know exactly where to go, into the center’s huge gymnasium, where a wide stage is set up at one end, the floor filled with people milling around in groups and practicing dance moves in the open spaces.
