Sammy Keyes and the Kiss Goodbye (17 page)

And so, like a switch suddenly flipped, Marissa knew what she had to do. “Gotta go!” she announced to the rest of the teens, then took off running.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Holly hollered after her.

“Gotta get Mikey!” she shouted (or, rather, lied) at full volume.

“Who?” Heather called after her.

Marissa spun and yelled, “You know, BLUBBER BOY?” then doubled her speed and didn’t look back.

Now it
was
true that since Yolanda McKenze had moved Marissa and Mikey out of their mansion on East Jasmine and into a modest condo in town, Marissa had been on the hook to walk her brother home from after-school care, because it ended before Yolanda got off work at six. Today, however, Yolanda had told Marissa that she would rearrange things with her new employer so Marissa could be with Sammy.

Even though it meant losing valuable time at work.

Even though (as Yolanda had made very clear) they really, really,
really
needed the money.

“Mom!” Marissa shouted as she barged through the condo door.

“What?” Yolanda appeared in the small front room with a wooden spoon in hand. “What happened?”

“We cannot move to Ohio!”

“What’s this about?” Yolanda asked, returning quickly to the kitchen.

Marissa dumped her backpack and followed. She was
momentarily distracted by the mouth-watering aroma of sautéed onions, but she forced herself to stay on topic. “Heather! She’s already taking over!”

Yolanda added a can of stewed tomatoes to the saucepan. “What are you talking about?”

“Sammy!”

“But … is Sammy awake?” She nodded at a small television on the counter, which was tuned into KSMY’s five o’clock report. “The news made it sound like she was still unconscious.”

“She is! But Heather’s totally positioning herself to take over!”

“Take over
what
?”

“My spot as Sammy’s best friend!”

“How can you be worried about that when your friend is in a coma?”

Marissa muted the TV (which was broadcasting news that had nothing to do with Sammy) and gave her mother an exasperated look. “I’m talking about after she wakes up! Heather’s already moving in. She’s taking video and saving the day! She’s calling the shots and snowing Officer Borsch! She’s fooling everyone into believing she’s changed!”

Yolanda had the urge to tell her daughter that a coma was a much bigger thing to worry about than Heather’s manipulations. And that there was no guarantee Sammy would wake up at all.

Instead, what popped out of her mouth was, “Toss the salad, would you? And set the table? And tell me what video you’re talking about and how Heather is snowing Officer Borsch.”

So Marissa got busy tossing and started talking. And when she was done relaying the drama, she said, “So we can’t move. We just can’t.”

“Sweetheart,” her mother said with a sympathetic sigh, “has it occurred to you that
Sammy
might move?”

“No! She’s happy at Hudson’s! Why would she move?”

“Because her
parents
will want her to. Because from what you’ve told me, Lana and Darren are headed for the altar, and once that happens, they’ll want to be together as a family.” She shook her head. “Because there’s no way they’ll leave Sammy alone after this, and I sure can’t see either of them moving to Santa Martina.”

Marissa didn’t like that thought.

Didn’t like it one bit.

“Sammy belongs
here
,” she said at last. “Not in Los Angeles! Or Las Vegas! Can you imagine her having to live in Las Vegas?”

Mrs. McKenze simply gave a little shrug as she put pasta into a pot of boiling water.

Marissa realized that they’d gotten way off track, and, thinking reinforcements would help, she asked, “Where’s Mikey?”

“Right here,” the nine-year-old said, then stepped out from around the corner.

“You don’t have to spy,” Mrs. McKenze scolded.

“But he’s Spy Guy,” Marissa said, giving her brother a knowing grin. “Hey! That reminds me … Justice Jack is back!”

“He’s back?” Mikey squealed. “For good?”

“I don’t know about for good,” Marissa said, placing
utensils around the plates she’d already put on their small kitchen table. “He’s here for Sammy. To help figure out who put her in a coma.”

Mrs. McKenze sighed, then muttered, “How can anyone want to stay in a town where a fool like that roams the streets?”

“He’s not a fool!” Mikey cried. “Justice Jack is
awesome
.” He stepped farther into the kitchen. “How can you want to
leave
?”

“We really have to talk about it, Mom,” Marissa said quietly. “I don’t want to move, Mikey doesn’t want to move—”

Yolanda McKenze’s eyebrows knit together. “Because of Justice Jack?”

“No! Because he’s finally got some friends!” Marissa said. “Because Hudson’s been great for him, and where are you going to find another Hudson? Because he doesn’t want to live with me if I’m miserable, and I’m going to be completely miserable if you move us to Ohio!” She suddenly turned to Mikey. “There are no fish in Ohio.”

“No fish?” Mikey gasped (as fancy fish in an aquarium were still his favorite thing in the whole wide world).

“There are too fish in Ohio!” Mrs. McKenze cried. She turned to her daughter. “What sort of tactic is that?”

Marissa plopped into a chair and flicked her eyebrows up. “Dirty.”

“So tell him the truth!”

Marissa sighed. “Okay. There
are
fish.” Then she quickly added, “They serve them filleted. With soggy rice pilaf. And Brussels sprouts.”

“Marissa!”

“Fine,” the teen grumbled as she slumped in her chair. “There are fish. In tanks. Swimming.” She eyed her brother. “But they’re nowhere near as pretty as the ones you can get out here.”

“Marissa!”

“Look,” Marissa sighed. “We don’t want to move.” She gave her brother a recruiting look. “Am I right, Mikey?”

Mikey’s face furrowed. “I thought we
had
to move.”

“We do!” Mrs. McKenze said. “We would have moved already, but there’s a lot of … of legal work that needs to be wrapped up. And I wanted you to be able to finish out the school year!” She gave her son a pleading look. “Don’t you want to get to know your grandparents better? Aren’t you excited about meeting new people and getting a fresh start?”

Marissa (still slumping) crossed her arms. “No, we’re not.”

Mikey’s arms crossed, too. “Do we
have
to?”

Yolanda McKenze sighed as she looked from one child to the other. She knew the Ohio Plan was a desperate one, but
everything
she’d done since she’d bailed her husband out of a Las Vegas jail had been some desperate form of triage. Some way to stop the bleeding. In their finances, in their reputation, and in her marriage.

Still, as desperately as she’d tried to save each, none had survived. And as much as returning to Ohio would in some ways be the ultimate failure, it was a safe (and cheap) place to regroup. And staying in this town with the gossips and
the gambler and the grotesquely successful in-laws was too much for her.

Way. Too. Much.

But in truth, she
couldn’t
just up and move to Ohio with the children until a custody agreement was worked out, or a judge granted her permission. Permission her soon-to-be ex was fighting tooth and nail.

Still, weary as she was from all the stress, embarrassment, and arguments (not to mention the humiliation of clerking for little more than minimum wage), Yolanda McKenze refused to let on to the children how bad things really were. She used words like
regroup
and
downsize
and
adjust
, and avoided calling their father the names he deserved.

Oh, the names he deserved!

“Mom, where are you right now?”

Yolanda was shaken from her thoughts by her daughter’s voice. “In a land far, far away,” she said with a sigh, then crumpled into a chair beside Marissa. “My parents moved us when I was a sophomore. It was only one town over, but I had to go to a different high school. I hated it.”

Marissa’s eyebrows shot up. “So? You know exactly what I mean!”

“But, honey, sometimes it’s good to start over. And you’ll be
starting
high school, not ripped out of the middle of it.”

“Mom, it’s the same thing! And what about Mikey? He’s in the
middle
of elementary school!”

“So we really
don’t
have to move?” Mikey asked again, moving closer.

Yolanda took a deep breath and held her son’s gaze. In the past few months he had become a happy boy. There was no doubt that Hudson’s influence and support throughout their family crisis had been wonderful, but it was more than that. For the first time ever, her son had a real friend. Little, adorable, bright-eyed Lucero. Instead of moping, Michael had become a chatterbox about Lucero this and Lucero that.

Perhaps if he’d been a different sort of child, she would have been more confident that he would move on to new friends in their new location. But Michael was … Michael. And he’d had a really rough few years.

She looked away and said, “I thought you liked Ohio.”

“Not to
move
to!” Mikey cried. “I want to stay here!”

Marissa sat up and said, “I was Mikey’s age when Sammy and I became best friends, Mom. It’s a really formative time.”

“Formative?” Yolanda asked, raising an eyebrow Marissa’s way. “And when did you start psychoanalyzing things?” But the comment did resonate with her—perhaps because she regretted how pushing aside warning signs in favor of work had likely created so many issues with Michael. Or perhaps it was because she was remembering her own best friend from third grade. A girl named Susan, whose family had moved away at the end of sixth grade.

Plus, wasn’t divorce hard enough on the kids without also ripping apart their friendships?

“Mom?” Marissa asked, because Yolanda’s mind was clearly wandering off again. “What are you thinking?” Yolanda sighed, then pulled Mikey in and said, “I’m thinking that it’s a parent’s job to make the right decisions for their kids, even if those decisions are hard and not popular. I’m thinking that I really don’t want to live in this little condo in this little town full of gossips. And I’m thinking that a fresh start would be good for
me
 … but that maybe I need to think about all of this some more.” She shook her head. “If we stay in Santa Martina, we won’t be moving back to East Jasmine or anywhere like it. You understand that, right? This is probably as good as it’s going to get for a while.”

“I don’t care!” Marissa cried, and Mikey said, “I
like
it here! Way better than the big house.”

Yolanda studied him. “You do?”

“Way!” he cried. “There’s no big hill. I can ride my bike! It’s close to the park and the mall and school and Hudson’s … it’s
way
better here!”

Yolanda was suddenly struck by the futility of her previous financial pursuits. How all the adult trappings they’d chased for years had nothing whatsoever to do with the happiness of her children.

And really, it
was
about time the children came first.

“You’re really thinking about it?” Marissa asked.

Yolanda gave her a little smile and then a little nod. “No promises, but yes, I will think about it.”

“Oh, Mom!” Marissa squealed as she wrapped her in a hug. “You’re the best!”

Mikey also squeezed her tight, and as she hugged them back, Yolanda felt the weight and worry of the past months lift.

Somehow they would get through this. As humiliating and dire as things were right now, they would get better.

And as she held her kids tight, there was one clear and present thought that made every other worry seem small.

At least her daughter wasn’t in a coma.

Wanting desperately to tell Sammy about the Maybe-Not-Moving-to-Ohio Conversation because (unconscious or not) this was something her best friend would definitely want to hear, Marissa was tempted to make excuses and bolt from the condo. But the spaghetti dinner her mom had cooked smelled so good, and (for someone who had, until recently, survived on frozen meals while her parents worked endless hours) this whole “family dinner” thing her mom had started was … nice.

Even if it wasn’t the whole family.

Even if it meant doing dishes afterward (instead of simply throwing the microwave trays away).

She and Mikey had settled on a cleanup system where Marissa washed (because Mikey was awful at it and took forever) and Mikey dried (something he did with inexplicable speed and efficiency).

It had also become a time when they talked.

Well, mostly Mikey talked, but sometimes Marissa did, too, and she’d discovered not only that her brother was hilarious, but that he had become her steadfast champion. That he was willing to do battle with whoever gave
her a hard time. And somewhere in the sudsing sessions she’d also realized that, although Mikey would always be younger than she was, he wouldn’t always be smaller; one day he’d be taller and stronger, and anyone who messed with her would have him to answer to.

So Marissa loved the homemade meals and didn’t mind the dishes, but tonight she was mostly glad she’d stuck around because she didn’t miss the six o’clock news. “Look!” Mikey cried as they were clearing the table. “It’s Justice Jack!”

The TV was still on in the kitchen and Marissa unmuted it as quickly as she could, but although the screen showed an image of the self-proclaimed superhero, it was Zelda Quinn’s voice that came through the speakers, not Jack Wesley’s. “… is back in Santa Martina to help get to the bottom of this horrible crime, and, as you can see, he’s not alone in his support.” As the shot panned around the ICU waiting room, Zelda’s voice continued. “The girl who was hurled three stories and is clinging to life in Community Hospital’s intensive-care unit is no ordinary teen. According to these fans, both young and adult, she’s something of a superhero herself. One who has quietly and consistently helped her community without fanfare or even public recognition. Instead of wearing the flashy get-up of a traditional superhero, she disguises herself as an ordinary teen and keeps a low profile.”