Invincible (31 page)

I can't get high enough. No amount of weed will make the memory of the way my Dad looked at me go away.

And no amount of weed will make the voice mail Caleb just left go away either. I keep hearing it over and over again: “Hi, Evie, it's me, Caleb. I don't know why you haven't texted me back yet, but don't worry, I'm not mad at you. You're probably the nicest person I ever met, so I know you must have a good reason. Anyway, I really want to talk to you. So could you call me back soon? Thanks. Oh, this is Caleb. Okay, bye.”

I smoke and smoke and smoke but the sound of his voice will not leave my head.

“Take it easy, killer,” Marcus says.

I exhale a huge cloud of smoke.

“Want to talk about it?” he says.

“My parents are assholes.”

“What'd they do?”

“All they do is try to control me. They're mad because I'm doing bad in school and they don't know where I am and who I'm with at every moment.”

“That seems pretty normal, don't you think?”

“Whose side are you on?”

Marcus smiles and puts his arm around me. “Yours.” He kisses me. “Always. You know that.”

We're sitting in the grass in front of the tomb where we did mushrooms and made love for the first time. I wish I felt like I did that night, full of magic. I wish the rest of the world would disappear. But the weed is just making me feel heavy and slow. I keep thinking someone's behind us, hiding, watching. All the creepy cemetery statues seem to be facing us, staring.

“When are we going to run away?” I say.

“Right now,” Marcus says. “Let's join the circus.”

“I'm serious.”

“What's your hurry?”

“I need to get away from my parents.”

“I'd like to meet them sometime, you know. See what all the fuss is about.”

I don't say anything. We are not having the same conversation. He does not understand the severity of the situation.

I feel antsy. I need to move. I stand up and look around at the acres of green grass, the old gravestones and oak trees. The inside of my head makes the
whomp, whomp, whomp
sound that tells me I am higher than I realized.

I wonder how many of these graves are for people who died of cancer, how many were children. Marble cherubs stand as sentries, naked and pure, wings unfolded, ready to fly. But to where? They are made of stone. They are fused to pillars stuck in the earth. They are babies who are doomed to spend eternity watching over death.

“Evie, what's wrong?” Marcus says. “Why are you crying?”

My face is wet. I am breathless with deep, violent sobs. I don't know how I let myself start crying again.

I shake my head. I can't speak.

Marcus wraps me in his arms and I feel safe for a moment, like maybe he is strong enough to guard me from this world of pain. But then I open my eyes and it all comes flooding back. Even Marcus, even love, isn't that strong.

The cherubs mock me. They laugh. They flap their wings. They say,
You should be in the ground too.

I need something to drive them away. I need to feel something besides this, something bigger, stronger, anything. I feel Marcus's arms, but they are not enough. I need all of him. I need to feel all of him.

I grab his face with my hands and kiss him with everything I have. My tongue finds his tongue. My teeth smash against his teeth. I push him back down behind the stone wall of the tomb, where no one can see us.

“Wait,” he says. I grab for his belt buckle. “Stop.” He grabs my hand. He pulls away.

“What's wrong?” I say.

“You're crying. It doesn't feel right.”

“It feels right to me.” I reach for his belt again, but he takes my hand in his and doesn't let go.

“What's going on with you? Tell me.”

“I don't want to talk.”

“Hey,” he says, guiding my cheek with his hand so I can't help but look at him. “We don't always have to get high, you know. We don't always have to have sex. We can do something normal like have dinner or go to a movie. We could do things normal couples do.”

I can't help but laugh. How did Marcus suddenly turn into Will? “Why would I want to be a normal couple?” I say. “What's the fun in that?”

Marcus looks stung. I've hurt him. I've hurt everyone now. The others didn't matter, but he does. I've gone and broken the only relationship I have left that matters.

“I'm sorry,” I say. “I really am. I'm a mess right now.”

“Maybe you need some sleep,” he says, not unkindly. But not kindly, either.

“Yeah, that'd probably help.”

We sit in silence. The sun is going to set soon. The cemetery will be closed. The cherub statues will do whatever it is they do when no one's looking.

“It's a school night,” Marcus says. “I can't miss class two days in a row.”
Was it just this morning we woke up on the beach?
“Maybe I should take you home now.”

I want to say no. I want to say,
Take me with you.
His house is huge, full of unused rooms and a father who's not paying attention; surely he could hide me for a while. But the look on his face tells me that's not a good idea. His jaw is set and his eyes are hard and I can tell he's getting sick of me.

“I meant it about wanting to meet your parents sometime,” he says when we pull up in front of my house after a silent car ride. “I may even be able to swing a dinner with you and me and the judge if I book him a couple of weeks in advance.”

“First I have to get them to stop hating me.”

“I really doubt that they hate you.”

“I probably would if I were them.”

He kisses me good-bye and says “I love you, Evie,” and that gives me the strength to return home.

Dad, Mom, and Jenica are on the couch watching TV. Mom turns around when I walk through the front door, a look of sadness and fear on her face, but Dad and Jenica don't move.

“In your room, now,” Dad says, still facing the TV. “I don't even want to look at you.”

I walk straight to my room and close the door behind me. A cold plate of food is sitting on my desk where Stella's hat used to be. My window is covered with boards, nailed on the outside, so now it's impossible for me to escape.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

I WAKE UP TO MOM SHAKING ME AND DAD YELLING FROM the hallway, “Just pour some water on her head.” It's already eight fifteen, only fifteen minutes before we're supposed to be at school to meet with Principal Landry.

“I've been trying to wake you up for an hour,” Mom says, her face surreal, hovering above mine. “You keep saying you're getting up, but then I come in here and you're asleep again.” I don't remember any of that. I don't remember falling asleep. I don't remember sleeping. The last thing I remember is thinking about the stone cherubs at the cemetery, wondering how they got their wings, wondering how they got stuck with their crappy job of watching dead people sleep.

I'm in a daze as I search for something clean to wear. I haven't taken a shower in four days. My vision is hazy; everything is a step behind where it should be. I feel naked without Stella's hat. I am too exposed. I have nothing to hide behind.

When I step into the living room, Mom and Dad grab their things and we walk out to the car without speaking. Dad turns on the radio to fill up the silence, and it's all bad news as usual.

Luckily classes are already in session when we get to school so I don't have to run into anyone. I can't face them after what happened at prom, after I'm sure Kasey spread the word that my performance was due to my being drunk, not something innocent like being sick or tired or cancer-y as everyone probably wanted to believe.

Principal Landry has her best serious face on as she sits us down in her office and explains that with only two weeks left until the end of the school year, I'm not passing any of my classes, not even art anymore, and it's practically impossible to fail art. My attendance record is dismal. I haven't been paying attention in class. I haven't taken advantage of any of my teachers' generous offers of extra help. I haven't coordinated with tutors.

“We expected her to work harder,” she says.

“So did we,” say my parents.

“Frankly, we expected her to be a little more grateful,” she says.

“So did we,” say my parents.

But I didn't ask for anyone's help. I didn't ask for any of this. Why should I be grateful for something I never even wanted?

Principal Landry folds her hands together and leans forward like she's about to make us a great deal on a used car, such a great deal she has to whisper so her boss won't hear. She's going to pull some strings, she says. The teachers and administration remain sympathetic, she says. (
Cancer! Cancer!
she doesn't say.) “We don't want Evie to be held back while all her friends move on. We want Evie to succeed.”

I have to laugh at that one. If only it were that easy. Everyone looks at me like I'm crazy. “What's so funny?” Dad says, and I say, “Nothing,” and they continue their conversation without me.

I look out the window while they work out a plan where my teachers will put together coursework for me to do over the summer, and if I complete it all, have perfect attendance for the remaining days of school, and pinkie-swear-promise to shape up, I can start senior year with all my “friends.” Yippee!

“Oh, isn't that generous,” Mom says, and beams, still foolish enough to hold on to hope after all this time.

“It'll only work if Evie's on board,” Principal Landry says.

Dad looks at me like he already knows I'm going to let them down and all their generosity is going to be wasted.

“One more thing,” Landry says. “We want Evie to attend regular counseling sessions. Either with the school counselor or a therapist of your choice.”

“We already thought of that,” Mom says almost proudly, like she's kissing up to the teacher, like she wants a gold star. “Evie's doctor recommended someone. I was planning on contacting her today.”

“Excellent,” Principal Landry says. She and Mom are so proud of themselves for figuring out such a great plan for me. But Dad just sits there, scowling, checking his emails from work. Unlike them, he gave up on me a long time ago.

“So what do you think, sweetheart?” Mom says, her face so fragile with expectation. It hurts to see her still believing in me, to know she's going to get her hopes up and be disappointed yet again. The only honest thing I can do is to crush those hopes now, before they get any more out of control. If she won't do it on her own, I'll have to do it for her.

“I think you can all fuck off,” I say, and I stand up and storm out of the office.

I hear a scuffle of chairs as I walk away.

I hear Principal Landry say, “Should I call security?”

I hear my Dad say, “No.”

Mom: “James, we have to get her.”

Dad: “Let her go. It's not up to us anymore. She has to decide to want help.”

No one follows me. No one threatens or begs me to stay. They let me go.

Now I sit in People's Park, waiting for Marcus to pick me up. I told him it was an emergency. I told him it was worth skipping classes for.

I have Mom's credit card and eighty dollars in my pocket. She should know better by now than to leave her purse on the kitchen counter. I had a hundred, but some of that went to a bottle of vodka, plus the five-dollar service charge I gave to a homeless guy to buy it for me.

The regular crew of drug dealers that hangs out at the park is nowhere to be seen. Maybe there was a raid recently. Maybe they're in hiding. I know that's probably a good thing, but my disappointment burns. If the dealers were here, there'd be nothing stopping me from talking to them this time. There'd be nothing stopping me from buying what I need.

I'm already drunk by the time we get to the beach by the Bay Bridge. Marcus wasn't too excited about me opening the bottle in the car, but I did it anyway and he didn't stop me.

This time we drive straight to the beach instead of that bullshit with the tunnel. I get out of the car and start walking without waiting for Marcus. He has to jog to keep up as I head to the end of the beach. I nearly step on a decaying, fly-covered seagull carcass. I cannot drink the vodka fast enough.

“Are you going to tell me what's wrong now?” Marcus says as I plop down on a piece of driftwood. I refused to tell him before we got here because I was afraid he'd turn around and drive me home and force me to talk to my parents. But now that we're here, I'll tell him everything. Between swigs of vodka, I tell him about the visit with the principal, about failing school, about Will and Kasey turning on me, about my pathetic mom and cruel dad, about Dad slapping me and boarding up my windows. I talk so fast and furious, I almost forget he's there. My rage swirls
around us until I'm dizzy and the smell of the beach reaches the back of my throat and makes me gag.