I slam my locker closed and wander down C hall right before the final bell rings. Crowds of students press around me, and I try and pretend I’m invisible. I allow a few tears to fall down my cheeks before wiping them away, taking a deep breath, and pushing my way into the chemistry classroom.
NINE
I’M LOADING DISHES INTO THEdishwasher after dinner on Friday, which is a not so pleasant indication of my current social status. Since there wasn’t a game tonight, Raegan and I grabbed limeades from Sonic after school, but she was spending the rest of her evening developing the Leadership Council agenda for next week. Lin’s parents were dragging her to her cousin’s birthday dinner, and Whitney and Jay went to go see the latest end-of-summer blockbuster. I only know this because at lunch I asked Jay what he was up to tonight and he stumbled awkwardly through his reply.
I tell myself it’s fine. Good for them. I mean, it’s not like Idon’thave plans. I need to practice next week’s Wavette routine and start on a paper for AP History.
The only reason I’m not holed up in my room right now is because my dad bribed me with allowance money if I helped with chores around the house. And since allowance money equals gas money, I can’t say no. I’ll have my car back soon, which means I’ll be able to escape whenever I choose.
I can hear muffled conversation coming from the backyard. Short bursts of laughter follow every few minutes. I didn’t make it home in time for the formal sit-down dinner, but Peach saved me a bowl of her stew in the fridge along with a note written in her loopy cursive:Kira! Missed you tonight. Enjoy!
I’d inhaled it before she could see. I didn’t want her to think she was winning me over because I thought her food was delicious.
After I turn on the dishwasher, I creep to the back door and peer outside. Saylor’s doing some kind of arm balance on his yoga mat, his long ponytail flopped into his eyes. Nonnie watches from the hammock—When did we get a hammock?—and cheers him on. In the dim lighting, I can see she’s wearing a multi-colored cheetah print head wrap with a bright-orange muumuu.
“They’re close.”
The voice startles me. I whirl around to find my dad standing behind me.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says.
I shrug. He holds out a blue and silver bag and offers me a chocolate-covered peppermint square. For as long as I can remember, he’s always had a stash of them hidden somewhere around the house. He hid other things, too, like liquor bottles, but part of me wants to believe he’s done with that. Whenever I was upset over silly fights with Whitney or if I’d bombed a test that was worth a large chunk of my grade, he’d slip a silver-wrapped square under my bedroom door. It meant he was there if I wanted to talk. That simple gesture always made me feel a little better.
I stare at the bag. He’s trying. Step 1 is learning to forgive him, and I can’t do that if I don’t hear him out.
I accept one.
“They met at the ranch,” my dad continues. I unwrap my chocolate and take a small bite. “Saylor’s parents kicked him out when he was in college.”
“For drinking?”
“Among other things.” He stares at Saylor as he twists himself into a backbend. “He started living with Tessa. That was his girlfriend at the time. She’s the one who suggested AA, but when he stopped attending meetings she told him to leave.”
I can’t find the sympathy to feel bad for him. If he wanted to change, to fix the relationships he was ruining, then he’d have totryto do it.
“Anyway, he ended up dropping out of OSU so he could work full time at a grocery store to afford rent.” My dad finishes chewing. “But he was evicted after spending nearly all his paychecks on alcohol. Eventually, his friends wouldn’t let him couch crash anymore, and he was spending his nights on park benches. That was his rock bottom, I think. After that he went to the library to use the wi-fi and found Sober Living.”
I’d expected him to say that Saylor went back to his parents for help, that they were the ones who sent him away. The fact that it was his decision surprises me.
“Nonnie was the first person at the ranch who didn’t go easy on him,” he continues. “On the first day, he cut in front of her in the breakfast line. Oh,man.If there’s one thing everyone learned that morning, it was not to mess with Nonnie. She called him out in front of the entire room, and I don’t think he was used to anyone telling him that he couldn’t get what he wanted.”
Saylor kicks his legs up, going into a handstand. Nonnie waves her hands in the air, her mouth moving as she tries to control her grin. Saylor ends up on his back with his hands clutched to his stomach, laughing.
“Sober Living is a huge support team, and that’s what he needed. He really has come a long way.”
I crumble my foil wrapper into a tiny, silver ball. The chocolate feels heavy in my mouth. I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to convince me that his friends are good people. That maybe if I have a little bit of empathy, it’ll make it easier for them to live here. But learning to live in the absence of Grams means attempting to be a family on our own, and that’s not easy to do with three strangers living under our roof.
I fold my arms across my chest. “Then what?”
My dad’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what’s the next step? Interviewing for jobs he obviously doesn’t want? Won’t that just make him even more miserable than before?”
My dad shakes his head. “He wants to become a certified yoga instructor, but he needs to find a job so he can pay off his rehab first. It’s a step in the right direction.” He stares back out the window. “Now that he has a goal, he’s more positive about the outlook of his future.”
I watch Saylor kick himself up into a handstand. It’s selfish, but I hope he lands a job soon. That way I’ll complete step 11—getting him to leave.
I point to the hammock. “Does he sleep out there?”
