Out of Nowhere (7 page)

“That fall was nothing,” he said, spearing a piece of brownie and popping it into his mouth. “Holy shit, this is good.”

“Isn’t it?” I took another bite. “What do you mean, that fall was nothing? You looked like you’d just been tossed out of a moving vehicle when I saw you at the hospital.”

“I’ve had worse.”

Before I could ask him what he meant by that, Lucas appeared at my elbow, cup of coffee in each hand. He placed them on the table in front of us. “On the house,” he said, winking at me.

“Thanks, man,” Cole said. Lucas nodded and then made himself scarce again. Cole turned back to me. “What was I saying?”

“You were about to tell me what you do on Saturdays,” I said, leaving the “I’ve had worse” comment alone for now.

“Oh yeah. Well, when I’m not trying to be Tony Hawk, I can usually be found on my bike.”

“What kind of bike?” I asked, taking a sip of coffee. Cream and two sugars, just the way I liked it. Lucas was back in my good books for the moment.

“It’s a lightweight dual-sport,” he said, like I would know what that meant. Seeing my blank expression, he added, “An all-road motorcycle. I mostly ride on this rough trail behind my house, but it goes on pavement too.”

“I see.” Sounded dangerous to me. No wonder he had scars. “And you’re not allowed to ride until your arm heals?”

He shook his head. “I tried the other day, but my dad caught me before I could get it out of the garage. He said if I went within ten feet of it before June, he’d sell my bike, my car,
and
lock me in my room for the summer. I think he meant it too.”

I laughed. I liked hearing about other people’s fathers. It always made me miss my own a little less.

“Um,” Cole said, his eyes suddenly focused on something behind me. “Just out of curiosity...Are you and that Lucas guy dating or something?”

I almost choked on a mouthful of coffee. “No. Why?”

“He keeps looking over here. And he winked at you before.”

“Oh no, it’s not…no. We’re just friends.”

It would have been nice to explain the situation, but I couldn’t. Lucas wasn’t officially “out” yet. He wanted to wait until college, where people were generally more accepting. As of now, the only people who knew for sure were his parents, his sister, Sydney, Eva, and me. Oh, and my mom. Lucas gave me permission to tell her a few months ago because she kept refusing to let me go over to his house after school to study. I trusted Mom to keep it to herself, but I wasn’t about to tell some guy I barely knew. What if he turned out to be like those ignorant jackasses at school who wrote “fag” on people’s lockers and picked on anyone who was the least bit different?

But Cole didn’t come across that way to me. He
was
different, to me anyway. I’d never met anyone like him before.

“So what about you?” he said now that my relationship status with Lucas was all cleared up. “What do you do on weekends when you’re not supporting the city’s caffeine addiction?”

“I study,” I replied. “Or I babysit my little brother Tristan. He’s fifteen months old.”

“That must be cool,” he said, brushing a strand of hair off his face. He was wearing it loose today, thick and wavy to his shoulders. It was the exact same shade of brown as his eyes. “The little brother, I mean. Not the studying.”

I remembered the sweetness of Tristan’s chubby arms around my neck this morning before I left for work. “He’s awesome.”

“I have a nephew about that age, but I hardly ever get to see him. He lives in California.” He took a sip of coffee. “I’m going there soon.”

“To California?”

“Yeah, I’m leaving next spring. Maybe sooner. I decided to go about two years ago, when my brother moved there. He and his wife have a house in Sunnyvale and they’re letting me stay with them for a while. I always planned on going after I graduated and had a car and enough money. All that’s left now is enough money.”

I polished off the last of the brownie. “What’s in California? Besides your brother and his family, I mean.”

“More opportunities, nice weather, and big waves,” he said simply, like these should be good enough reasons for anyone to just pick up and move there. Maybe they were, for him. I thought about that day in the ER, when he told me he was forgoing college for the “school of life”. Apparently it was located in California.

I changed the subject. “There must be a big age difference between you and your brother, if you have a nephew already.”

“I’m the youngest of three. My brother is ten years older than me and my sister is seven years older. My parents thought they were done after her, but then I showed up. Surprise.”

“My parents were both eighteen when I was born,” I told him. “I was a surprise too.”

“I bet.” He tipped back his chair, balancing it on its two back legs. “Your parents are really young, then. Mine are always older than everyone else’s.”

Keeping my eyes on the empty brownie plate, I said, “My mom is thirty-four. My father… he’s dead. He died when I was eleven.” Even after five and a half years of practice, I still hated saying it out loud. It never got any easier.

“Oh,” Cole said, and his chair dropped with a thump. “I’m sorry.”

I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Thanks. It was sudden. A brain aneurysm.” I didn’t add that he died practically right in front of me. Way too heavy for a chat over coffee.

“Wow. That really…sucks.” Cole was still for once. I’d noticed before that he was constantly moving—jiggling his leg, tapping his fingers, shifting in his chair. Like a five year old with ADHD who couldn’t wait to run wild and burn off some energy. All that coffee probably didn’t help.

“Yeah,” I agreed, because indeed it did suck. More than he knew. “Anyway,” I said, switching topics again, “I’m guessing you must be spoiled, being the baby of the family.”

“I wouldn’t say spoiled.”

“Come on.” I gave him a look. “A motorcycle? A
car
?”

“Hey now, I bought that car with the money I saved working two summers for my dad. And the bike used to belong to my brother. All I had to do was pay for the parts I needed to fix it up. So there.”

I held up my hands. “Sorry, my mistake. I take it back. You’re not spoiled.”

“Well, maybe I am, a little.” He drained his cup and flipped it into the trash can a few feet away. Perfect shot. “My uncle doesn’t put up with any crap though, so I’d better go.”

“Me too,” I said, standing up. “My break’s almost over.”

Cole stood up with me and pushed in his chair. I noted again that we were almost exactly the same height, five-nine or so. Adam was tall, over six feet. Usually I liked being the shorter one when it came to guys, but standing even wasn’t so bad either.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Cole said.

I smiled. “Thanks for the brownie.”

“No, thank
you
. It was insane.”

“Crazy,” I said, nodding in agreement. “Mentally unstable.”

“Demented, that’s what that brownie was.” He stood there looking at me for a second, then turned to go. “Okay, I’d better take off now or else I’ll still be here at midnight talking about that brownie. Bye, Riley.”

“Bye, Cole.”

I collected our dishes and took them in back to the dishwasher, expecting Lucas to jump out at every turn. But I didn’t see him anywhere, so he must’ve been either in the washroom or outside dumping garbage. In a way I was relieved, because for two whole minutes I wouldn’t have to listen to him say, “I told you so.”

Chapter Six

Mom and I both getting a Sunday off in the same weekend was such a rare occurrence that when it did happen, she liked to take full advantage of it. She called these particular Sundays “Family Day.” I pretended to hate them but I didn’t, really. We’d take Tristan somewhere, to the park or the pool or on a picnic, and he’d practically glow under all the attention. Then we’d take him to a fast food place and watch him eat French fries, which he loved more than life itself. He’d fall asleep in the car on the way home and Mom and I would talk about school and my future and sometimes, when we were feeling nostalgic, my dad.

But with Jeff hanging around every weekend now, Family Day seemed less special. We still took Tristan out, we still fed him fries, he still fell asleep on the way home, but Mom and I didn’t talk. Mom and Jeff talked while I sat in the backseat, listening to Tristan snore. Which was exactly what I was doing right now.

“You feeling okay, babe?” Mom peered through the rearview mirror at me as she drove toward home. “You’re awfully quiet today.”

“I think I’m getting a migraine,” I lied.

“Oh.” She frowned and glanced at Jeff, who was squeezed into the passenger seat next to her, his head almost touching the ceiling. “Well, all that sun probably didn’t help matters.”

I closed my eyes as if I couldn’t take any more brightness. It was a warm, beautiful Sunday, more like summer than late spring. We’d spent the entire day at Crawford Park, where Mom and Jeff watched Tristan on the playground while I sat off to the side on a bench, playing with my iPod and stealing peeks at the skatepark a few yards away, trying to figure out the appeal. After about an hour of observation, I still didn’t get it.

Then we’d gone to McDonald’s, where Mom and Jeff laughed about Tristan’s French fry obsession while I sat off to the side on a sticky seat, playing with my iPod and wishing I was somewhere else.

Now we were turning onto our street, and I thought if I had to spend one more minute pretending to fit in and have fun, I really would get a migraine.

Jeff carried a still-sleeping Tristan into the house like he was made of paper. Instead of setting him in his crib for a late nap, he sat down on the couch, cradling him against his broad chest. Tristan was limp in sleep, totally out of it after a long day of climbing up and down the jungle gym.

“I hope he didn’t get sunburned,” Mom said, sitting down next to them. She ran her fingers over the baby’s tender skin, flushed with sleep but not sun, and smiled. Then she looked up at me, still standing there in the doorway. “Why don’t you go lay down, hon? I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.” Without waiting for an answer, she put her head on Jeff’s shoulder and the two of them gazed down at their angelic-looking son, their faces lazy and content.

“Right,” I muttered, and went to my room.

Lucy and Alice were curled up together on my pillows, orange fur mingling with gray. This house is one big love-fest, I thought, flopping on the bed beside them. I felt about as wanted as a gastrointestinal virus.

Then, like a brash, foul-mouthed savior, Sydney called. “I
need
your help with bio,” she said. She sounded about two seconds away from a nervous breakdown. “There’s this review quiz tomorrow and then the final exam in two weeks and I don’t understand this one section. Please oh please, I am desperate.”

“Calm down,” I said, glad for something new to focus on. “Of course I’ll help you.” I took honors biology and she took regular, but both classes covered basically the same concepts.

“Thank you thank you thank you, you’re the best friend
ever
,” Sydney gushed. “Can you come over, like, right now?”

It felt nice to be needed. “I’m on my way.”

I grabbed my backpack and bolted for the door, calling to my mom over my shoulder that I’d be back later tonight and to not save any dinner for me.

“Wait! Where are you going? What about your migraine?”

“It’s gone,” I told her. “I’m going to help Sydney study for bio.”

“Do you need a drive?” Mom asked. She and Jeff were still snuggling with Tristan on the couch, the three of them positively radiating family bliss.

“I’ll walk.”

“Be home before dark!” she yelled just before I shut the door behind me.

It felt good to be outside and moving. Just me and my music and the late afternoon sun on my face. I reached Sydney’s apartment complex way too soon.

“Finally,” came her voice over the intercom when I buzzed up. She let me in and I took the elevator to the third floor. Sydney’s building was nothing like Lucas’s. The halls were dark, the carpets thin and stained. Children’s cries drifted out from underneath apartment doors, along with blaring TVs and raised voices. The whole place smelled like boiled potatoes and cigarette smoke. Sydney hated it here and tried to stay gone as much as possible.

“Sorry,” I said when she opened the door to my knock. “I walked.”

Sydney, usually so stylish and put-together, looked like she’d been sucked up and then spit out by a tornado. Her short red hair stood up in all directions, and she wore a ripped blue T-shirt and what looked like a pair of men’s boxer shorts. I wasn’t sure who they belonged to, since there were no men living here with her. She’d been raised by a single mom for the past few years, just like me, except her father wasn’t dead. Sydney only wished he was. One day when she was twelve and her sister was ten, he’d quit his job and moved to New Zealand to be with a woman he’d met on the internet, never to be heard from again.

We set up our books in Sydney’s miniscule bedroom and studied until she was sure she wasn’t going to flunk the quiz, at least. We’d deal with the exam later. Since pretty much all I did was go to school, go to work, and study, I was already mostly prepared for my exams. Summer felt close enough to taste.

I wasn’t in any hurry to go home, so Sydney let me hang out for a while. The apartment was quiet. Her mother was on night shift this week—she worked the front desk at one of the big hotels on the waterfront—and her fourteen-year-old sister, Kaylee, rarely came out of her room. Sydney and I went out on her tiny, concrete balcony, where we sat side-by-side in plastic chairs and she lit a cigarette.

“So,” she said, flicking ashes into the potted plant beside her. “Who’s this guy Lucas has been talking about?”

“What guy?” I waved away a cloud of smoke. I hated the smell it left on me, not to mention the numerous dangers of secondhand inhalation.

“The
guy
. The one who buys you brownies and stuffs money into your tip jar.” She snickered.

“Cole? Lucas mentioned him?”