Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1) (15 page)

Dad
made some unintelligible—but, obviously, unhappy—noises, and Skylar and Luke’s
surprise wilted into sour expressions at the thought of taking on more
responsibility around the house. Mom took their lack of enthusiasm in stride.
She merely smiled and dug into her plate of food. I followed suit while
mentally patting her on the back.

After
dinner I decided to go for a walk to escape the tension for a while. After a
few days of hiding out in my room to avoid the heavy silences and unhappy
glances between my parents, I needed the fresh air.

While
it was clear now that my parents had been arguing about Mom going back to work,
I wasn’t exactly sure why this would cause a dispute. In fact, I wasn’t really
sure why Mom hadn’t gone back to work before now. She’d stayed home to raise
Skylar, Luke and I, but we were plenty old enough to take care of ourselves,
and, despite my family’s beliefs, I’d been capable of taking care of myself,
for the most part, since I was around eleven.

But,
on the other hand, even though we didn’t always acknowledge it, there was no
denying Mom was the one who kept the house running. She did all of the cooking
and cleaning and made sure things ran like clockwork. Perhaps this was Dad’s
problem with Mom going back to work. Without her at home to keep things on
track, what would happen?

It
was kind of scary to think about coming home and not finding Mom there, but I
wasn’t afraid of the changes. It was high time we stopped depending on Mom for
so many things we were capable of doing ourselves. I suspected Dad, Skylar and
Luke probably wouldn’t be so enthused by the idea of it, but Mom deserved to
have a life too. After all, she’d studied to be a teacher and only had a chance
to pursue her career for a short time before she gave it up for motherhood.
That seemed like a pretty big sacrifice in my opinion, and I intended to show
my appreciation by supporting Mom’s career now; even if no one else in the
house was wiling to do the same.

With
my mind made up about Mom, I decided to walk over to the Tylers’. I thought I
could fill Tegan in on what was up. I’d told her about the cold front between
my parents, and, because she could tell I was worried, she’d tried to reassure
me that it was probably nothing. As it turned out, it was something, but apparently,
not anything major enough to end in divorce—or so I hoped anyway.

Tegan
only lived a few blocks away, and even though the air was chilled, the fresh
air really did feel nice. However, the family van was missing from the driveway
when I got to the Tylers’. Tierney’s car was there, so I rung the doorbell, but
when no one answered after a minute, I figured they must have gone out for the
evening.

Instead
of heading back home, I kept walking. The wind rushed over my face, sending a
shiver down my spine. There were more trees in the Tylers’ area of the
subdivision we lived in, and all of the leaves had fallen from the trees after
turning from green to warm hues of brown, orange and gold. They crunched under
my feet as I walked along the sidewalk and filled my nostrils with that heavy,
earthy scent that reminded me of playing in the leaves when I was younger.

As
I passed all of the familiar houses, my thoughts wondered to the past. Tegan
and I had gone door-to-door to sell Girl Scout cookies when we were in
elementary school. Mom would accompany us during our selling endeavors, but she
stayed at the sidewalk while we went up to each door.

Even
though we’d quit Girl Scouts after the fifth grade because we thought we were
too old for them by the time we started junior high, I could still remember the
houses that belonged to the people who would buy cookies from us faithfully
year after year. I wondered who they bought cookies from now.

The
longer I walked the less familiar the houses became. The sun was also settling
into twilight, and I’d just decided it was time to turn back around and head
home when I spotted a familiar cobalt blue Camaro.

Naturally,
my thoughts immediately went to Jackson. I knew it had to belong to him because
it even had the same racing stripes, and it seemed unlikely that more than one
person in Skies Hollow would have the exact same classic car.

Without
thinking, I crossed the street to where the car was sitting and looked around
curiously. I glanced up at the house, which was a cozy looking bungalow with
earth-toned shingles and white trim. I didn’t think it was Jackson’s house
because I was sure I would have seen him around before if he lived that close
to the Tylers. And I most definitely had not seen him around. I’d have remembered;
Jackson’s face wasn’t easily forgotten. Hotness like that just stuck to a
girl’s brain.

Thinking
of Jackson, though, reminded me of our last encounter on Halloween, which I
mentally referred to as Shpelant-gate ‘06; shpelant being a combination of shoe,
spew and plant. Of course, making up weird words like that was probably part of
the reason my classmates thought I was odd, but I digress.

 Even
though very few people were even aware of my little puking scene, my
humiliation had not diminished. Tegan had assured me many times over that it
really wasn’t that bad, and Tierney had also chimed in that Jesse Millet wasn’t
upset about his mom’s plant either. (He’d asked her out a couple of days after
Halloween.) I still cringed every time I thought about it, and I knew, more
than anything else, it was because Jackson had witnessed my inebriated
stupidity.

Every
time I caught glimpses of Jackson in the hallway, I had to fight the urge to
run and hide while praying he wouldn’t see me and then count my blessings when
he didn’t spot me in a crowd. I was convinced that if he didn’t consider me
spastic before Shpelant-gate ‘06, then he most certainly did now. I also felt
like I was obligated to apologize for puking on his shoe, but since I hadn’t
yet worked up the courage to face him, that had yet to happen.

For
a brief moment I considered knocking on the door to the bungalow and asking to
speak to Jackson, but then I realized that would be totally awkward and make me
look like a stalker if this wasn’t—and I was sure that was the case—his house.

Besides,
he probably didn’t even care that much about the shoe, and he probably hadn’t
noticed that I was avoiding him in the hallways. After all, we’d really only
had a total of three—sober—conversations: the day we met, the day he gave me a
ride home and the day he lent me his John Green books, which I still needed to
return.

Put
in that context, though, it gave more credence to being more than mere
strangers. Maybe the better label for our relationship—if you could call it
that—was acquaintances. Although, he did give me a birthday card, which might
suggest friendship, but that could also just be wishful thinking on my part.

Realizing
I’d been standing in front of a random house by possibly/probably Jackson’s car
for an unnatural time, I decided it was time for me to go before someone caught
me and thought I was up to something untoward.

Shaking
the crazy thoughts from my mind, I stuffed my now frozen fingers into my
pockets and sucked in a deep breath of icy air and headed for home.

The day
Mom started her new teaching job began with a rude awakening. Normally, Mom had
breakfast sitting ready for Skylar, Luke and I on school days, but instead of
finding the usual spread on the table when I came downstairs, I found toasted
bread sitting on the table along with peanut butter, butter, and a variety of
jelly flavors.

Luke,
Skylar and Dad were already seated at the table while Mom was moving around the
kitchen, apparently preparing her lunch for the day. They didn’t look that
enthused as they nibbled at their toast, which was surprising because Skylar
usually begged off whatever Mom made for breakfast in favor of toast.

When
she looked up from the sandwich she was compiling, Mom noticed me. “Oh, good
morning, Silly,” she smiled. It wasn’t her usual smile. This smile was somewhat
frantic and forced and seemed to scream, “What the hell am I doing?”

“Morning,
Mom,” I answered as I slid into my usual seat at the table beside Skylar and
across from Luke.

“I
didn’t have time to fiddle with breakfast this morning,” Mom explained, “so
it’s just toast unless you want to make something else for yourself.”

From
her tone I could tell that there had already been complaints about the toast. I
grabbed one of the empty plates that was also on the table and grabbed a couple
slices of toast.

“This
is fine, Mom,” I assured her as I grabbed the butter and slathered a layer of
it on each slice of bread before adding some strawberry jelly to each one.

Just
as I finished prepping my toast, Dad shoved his empty plate away and stood up.
He folded the paper and stuck it under his arm and started to leave the room,
but Mom cleared her throat.

“Yes,
dear?” Dad retorted. It was impossible to miss his sardonic tone.

Rather
than let Dad’s tone bother her, Mom smiled brightly as she said, “That plate
isn’t going to walk itself over to the sink.”

For
a moment, I thought Dad was going to make a snide remark and stomp off, but
after a glance at my siblings and myself, he sighed heavily, grabbed the plate
and walked it over and sat it in the sink. Instead of giving Mom a quick peck
on the cheek, like he usually did pre-Cold War, he said, “I’ll see you tonight.
Good luck at work.”

Then
he left for work even though it was about twenty minutes earlier than his usual
departure time. I suspected the “good luck” was more for show than anything
else. Dad hadn’t been shy about showing his distaste for the change in the
family dynamic.

Once
Luke and Skylar got over the initial surprise, they had gone about their
business as if totally unconcerned about the upcoming changes around the house.
It had been a relief for a few days, but I could see that today’s breakfast had
brought their worries back to the surface. I couldn’t say I was thrilled by the
idea of toast for breakfast every morning, but Mom was right; if I wanted
something else, I was fully capable of making it myself.

Although it hadn’t gone unnoticed
that while I was buttering and jellying my toast, Mom had been watching,
probably with baited breath, as if waiting for me to make a huge mess. I
spilled jelly all over the floor
one time
while making a PB and J, and
it seemed I was considered untrustworthy with the condiments for life.
Hopefully, by preparing my toast without any major catastrophe, I had redeemed
myself in Mom’s eyes and the ban on self- made peanut butter and jelly
sandwiches would be removed.

Once Mom had her lunch ready to
take with her, she said, “Well, I think I’m going to head out.”

She
smoothed her long golden brown hair back away from her face, and even though
she looked really smart and professional in her pencil skirt and silk blouse, I
could tell she was really nervous.

“Good
luck, Mom,” I said, pushing my chair back away from the table, as I stood. She
looked curious as I crossed the room and pulled her into a hug. “I know you’ll
do great.”

Mom
hugged me back, lightly at first but after I was finished speaking, she gave me
a big squeeze. “Thank you, sweetheart,” she murmured into my hair. When I
pulled back her eyes looked a little watery, but her smile was more genuine and
sure.

I
wasn’t sure how long the reassurance of a fifteen-year-old would last, but I
decided it was possible Mom was just happy
someone
in the house was
supporting her and her revived career.

Luke
and Skylar merely murmured half-hearted goodbyes, totally unconcerned by Mom’s
nervousness, as Mom grabbed her sacked lunch and headed out the door. They
carried on with nibbling their toast with about as much enthusiasm as one might
expect from getting a root canal. I considered telling them to get used to it.
I had a feeling we’d be eating simple breakfasts from now on, but I kept my
mouth shut, remembering I needed them if I didn’t want to walk to school.

Mom’s
first day of work also happened to be the same day the school’s monthly
newspaper was released. Even though I got a later start than everyone else, my
article had been ready for well over a week before the deadline while everyone
else continued to make final edits.

I
had a hunch that my fellow classmates took their sweet time finishing their
articles to avoid being reassigned another job, like I had, if they finished
early. Much to my dismay, I had been reassigned to help with the page layout,
which had been my original assignment.

“No
good deed goes unpunished,” Tegan commented when I came to sit with her and the
rest of the page layout team, which consisted of people who weren’t writing an
article for that particular month.

In
the days before we sold the newspaper, there was a rush to get things set up
for printing as articles were completed, approved and turned in. The page
layout team had spent the majority of the month creating templates for all of
the articles, and, in theory, we should have been able to insert articles into
their pre-determined slots, but some articles were much longer or shorter than
anticipated.

“Next
month we’ll be working under a word limit,” Mr. Hensley promised. I suspected
we’d be getting a long lesson on that once this paper was finished and before
we started the next.

Once
all of the page layout kinks had been worked out, Mr. Hensley had taken things
to be printed up. Then the next couple of classes were spent putting the paper
together.

It
was a lot of busy work, but things went smoother with the second edition than
they had with the first. There were no pages out of order—as far as I knew,
anyway—or a shortage of some of the pages. By the end of classes on Friday, we
all breathed a sigh of relief, and then on Monday, the sixth of November, the
newspaper went on sale during lunch. Everyone in the Journalism class got a
free copy, but they were sold for a dollar to everyone else. By the end of the
day, all four hundred copies we’d spent two days assembling had been sold.