Rhythm & Clues: A Young Adult Novel (17 page)

“Let me borrow your phone so I can call Sabrina. Maybe she can cover for me, or if not, my parents will just have to deal with me being a rebel for once.”

Before I could even hand mine over, Isla sashayed forward with her hand outstretched. “Here, you can use mine. I have unlimited minutes.”

She gave me a piercing smile, guessing my financial discomfort. I hated that she knew me so well.

Gavin took the phone and punched in the numbers.

“Hey, Sabrina.” He breathed a sigh of relief.

He glanced at his watch. “Ten-thirty.” The fluorescent lights of the Coors logo turned his sandy brown strands an eerie blue. It was the same light that made the dull gravel rocks sparkle, transforming them from plain old parking lot to something mesmerizing.

“Shhh. Please keep your voice down. I’m going to be late.”

Isla’s friends came out of the club, their giggles drowning out Gavin’s next couple of lines as if they were talking loudly during a movie and I was missing the best part.

“It doesn’t matter where I am,” Gavin whispers. In the silence, Isla’s voice carried, telling her friends they should go. They laughed, and Becca jumped on Zack Bellinger’s back in a startling mount worthy of gymnastic accolades. He pushed her off and resumed smiling at Isla.

“Just cover for me, okay? I’m going to the hospital with Moxie.” He snapped the phone shut before Sabrina could argue further. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he shook his hair out of his face. A composed smile formed onto his features, already erasing the stress of the conversation.

I tried to walk past Isla, give her the same treatment of invisibility she’d just given me, but Gavin stopped.

“Thanks for playing with us.”

Her glossy lips glittered. “I’m really glad you came out tonight.”

“Me too.”

“Is your mom going to be all right?” she asked me in a soft voice. Her phone rang then, and she pursed her lips before flipping it open. “Hello? Who is this?”

I led Gavin toward the car, wanting to get this situation over with and start on the next, equally torturous one.

When we stepped in front of the sliding glass doors of the hospital, a familiar stale scent accosted me through the opening doors. It smelled like someone had cooked a frozen dinner in the microwave for too long. It smelled like my past. I thought of all those days spent in the hospital, IVs tethering me to the bed, anesthesia robbing me of reality, knives slicing through my skin and leaving their mark behind.

I couldn’t do it. Not yet. I placed my hand against the brick wall a few feet away from the entrance and the smells. I took deep breaths through my mouth, keeping my nose pinched shut.

“She’ll be all right,” Gavin said, mistaking my hesitation. He leaned against the wall next to me and tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear. It was only a strand or two, the slightest bit of string connecting us, like the last thread of a baby tooth. I didn’t have the heart to shake my head and knock him away.

“It’s too much,” I said. “All these jobs. Something needs to change. I hope she sees that now. Otherwise, she won’t be okay.”

We turned our attention to paramedics pulling a stretcher through the doors. The scent reached me, and I fought back a rush of memories and vomit.

“Distract me or something,” I said. “Just until I can stomach the hospital smell.”

“Okay.” Gavin paused. “What’s school like? Anything like tonight?” He put his hand on my shoulder.

His touch was more distraction than I’d bargained for. I slipped out from his gentle contact and used my hands to regale him with the terrible tales of high school. Cramming for tests. I told him about the yearly poetry anthology I submitted anonymously to and watched as the students gossiped about who wrote my piece, how they wished they did. I won a $100 savings bond for last year’s poem. I stayed away from things like where the popular girls sat versus where I sat, how to deal with stares in the hallway, and how to remain as quiet as possible in class so people think you’re brooding and weird and not just…lonely. If he ended up in Isla’s crowd, he’d never need to know these things anyway.

A Jeep Wrangler sped in the parking lot. Before I could even react, Isla threw her door open and Sabrina gracefully exited from the passenger side.

Gavin peeled himself from the wall and rushed toward the curb where he confronted his sister. “What are you doing here?”

“Gavin, you scared me,” Sabrina said. You told me you were going to the hospital, but not why. I thought you were in trouble!” She wore a simple t-shirt and sweat pants, her hair mashed up in a loose bun on the top of her head.

The four of us stood in the doorway, the sliding doors opening and closing, unsure if we were coming or going or just standing in place. “How the hell did you two end up together?”

Sabrina looked at me from underneath her lashes. “I hit redial.”

“And you,” I addressed Isla this time. She hung off to the side, obviously trying to disappear behind a column. “Why didn’t you tell Sabrina it was my mom?”

Isla scoffed. “I did. In the car.”

“She also told me about the concert.” Sabrina crossed her arms and glared at her brother.

“I’m not the bad guy here.” Ironically, Isla held up her hands in surrender. “She was frantic when I spoke to her so I offered to bring her here. Plus, I was worried about your mom, Moxie.” Normally, her voice held a hint of contempt, but I couldn’t detect one tonight.

Gavin raked his hands through his hair, backing away from the entrance. “Please, Sabrina, don’t say anything.”

She bit her lip. “Too late. I thought something was wrong. Isla never said on the phone you weren’t hurt. I thought it happened at the concert. They…um…got upset.”

Gavin balled his hands into fists.

“They rushed out of the house, I guess to try to find you at the concert. Isla showed up a few minutes later so I came here to warn you and maybe figure out an excuse to smooth this over. I thought maybe we could tell them she kidnapped you.” She gestured to me. “They already think your girlfriend is a bad influence on you.”

I didn’t have time to process what Sabrina said before Gavin countered with, “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

The words were true. 100% fact. But they still stung.

“Whatever. But they have a point,” Sabrina said. “I mean, before her, you would never have wound up standing outside a hospital in the middle of the night, sneaking out of the house to play an amateur concert. Or hanging out with girls who…” She caught my eye and stopped.

“Go home before you get into more trouble.” I stalked off into the hospital, away from them, not looking back. My nostrils flared, masking the horrible hospital scent.

A few seconds later, Gavin ran up behind me. “I’m not going anywhere. I told you I’d be here for you, and I will.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to. I told Isla to take Sabrina home so she can get back before Mom and Dad.”

He clasped his fingers in mine, his palm warm, and we headed to Krystal’s room without another word. This was a sacrifice. But then, if I wasn’t his girlfriend, what—if anything—did the hand-holding mean?

T
he buzz of the heart monitor in Krystal’s room and the hum of various machines made me pause in the doorway before entering. The beeping sound was slow and melodic, not chaotic like my own heart. Another thing my mother and I didn’t have in common.

With a squeeze of his hand, Gavin tugged me inside.

My throat tightened at the sight of my mother sleeping. A blue-purple bruise puffing one cheek ran high enough to make it hard to discern where the bruise left off and her blue eye shadow began. A pair of false eyelashes drooped off the same eye, only attached at the edges, obscuring the bruise even more. Strands escaped at all angles from her poufy hair, teased higher than the pillow. She wore a hospital gown, white and speckled with tiny blue flowers. Even with the open back, it was probably the most conservative thing she’d worn in years.

The sight of her lying on that bed, peaceful and sleeping, made my chest ache. She looked caught between worlds. Beneath the stripper makeup, she was a regular person. A person who got hurt, one who slept during night hours. A person whose daughter visited.

“Can you grab me a wet paper towel?” I asked Gavin as I lifted the eyelash from Krystal’s face. “Throw this out while you’re at it.”

I passed him the discarded eyelash.

When he returned, I took the washcloth and wiped her face with it, making gentle strokes so she wouldn’t wake up. The paper towel smelled like damp cardboard, and when I placed it over her lips, she opened her dazed eyes. She looked scared, and I wondered if she thought I was trying to suffocate her.

I snapped back the paper towel. “Hey,” I said. “I was just cleaning you up.”

“You came.” Her voice bubbled from phlegm. She coughed.

“What happened?”

“Don’t know. Said I fell asleep.” She shrugged, and then winced. “Seems likely.”

“Don’t move, Ma. You’re hurt.” The word “Ma,” only two letters, so common and generic, yet it had been years since I uttered them aloud. It had been even longer since I said them to her face. “I think you’re working too much.”

She pointed to the sling on her shoulder. “Looks like that problem’s solved.”

Gavin let out a short laugh. Krystal’s eyes flashed to him. “Aren’t you adorable? Come here.” She waved her hand in slow-motion to her chest.

He peeled himself off the wall and ambled toward the bed. Krystal reached out her hand and Gavin took it. The way they held hands was so natural, my breath caught. Maybe our hand holding earlier hadn’t meant anything more than comfort.

“So tall,” Krystal said, gazing up at him.

“You’re just used to her.” He pointed at me with his thumb.

“No one gets used to her. Boyfriend?” Krystal asked Gavin.

I couldn’t understand how everyone could throw around that word so easily, assume it as a definition for us, yet I wouldn’t even let myself think it.

He shook his head, no hesitation. “Best friend.”

Krystal nodded. “She needs one of those too.”

“I think she needs you. More than she admits.”

I wanted to scoff. Instead, I gave Gavin a warning look to stop meddling.

Krystal rolled her eyes. “Oh, now. Don’t get sappy on me. She’s good on her own.”

I pulled myself up to my full height. “You guys do realize I’m in the room. And that I can fend for myself.”

“I know it,” Krystal said, letting go of Gavin’s hand. She reached for mine, but I didn’t move. “I have high hopes for her. I think one day she’ll get by on only one job.” She smiled at me. “Hopefully one that will require a little more clothes.”

Gavin glanced from me to my mother. “See? That right there. That’s what I mean.”

We both squinted at him.

“You’re supporting her,” he said. “Encouraging her. Believing in her.”

Krystal nodded. “I have her back too. I can easily get her a job at Foxy’s when she turns eighteen.”

Alarm bells went off in my head. “Okay. Time to go.”

“Already?” Krystal’s lip quivered.

“Gavin has to get home.”

He shook his head. “I’m already in trouble. Staying a little longer won’t make much of a difference.”

Gavin gestured for my purse and asked for my permanent marker. He sat down on the edge of her cot, and much to my surprise, started filling Krystal in on our concert as he signed her cast.

“You should have seen her,” he said. “She’s really talented. At first, no one wanted to hear her sing. But when she finished, no one wanted her to leave the stage.”

“You guys had some big ones to go out there and play on the fly.” She yawned. “Wish I could have seen it.”

Gavin met my eye, a smile racing across his lips, and I knew he approved of my mother. Of my life.

“What did you write, Gavin?” Krystal strained to see down at the bright white cast. “I can’t—”

“It’s a song lyric,” I said, reading the words for myself. “
In this black and white world, I’m blue.
”

“Sounds about right.” Krystal gestured to the bruises running down her left arm. “Whole lot of black and blue going on here.”

I pressed my lips together. Really there was no point in trying to enlighten her on what the lyrics meant.