Spiral (10 page)

I pause and look back at her. “Yeah?” She whispers something to Britney, and my little sister bounds out of the room enthusiastically. Cherie watches after her for a moment, smiling, then turns her attention to me.

“Sorry, I didn’t want her to hear this, but… I’m driving down to New York City this weekend,” she says. “I have this New Year’s thing to do with Caz to promote our movie. After that, I’ll probably go back home.”

“Oh, really?”
She’s leaving?
That was…quick. It feels almost too sudden, and my heart sinks a little more. “Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around, right?”

A hint of a smile plays on her lips. “I guess. I just wanted to say thanks. You know, for everything this week.”

“I didn’t do anything special.” My insides scream at her,
I shouldn’t have had to do anything. Your boyfriend should have had to deal with all of this. Who is he? Caz? Is that the guy?

She laughs a little. “You did, though. You…you made me feel really safe today. And you were so kind all week.” She gets up from her chair and crosses the room toward me. I can feel every hair on my body stand up as she swings her arms up and folds them around my neck. “Thanks for being there for me.”

I slip an arm loosely behind her and give her a quick hug in return, but she doesn’t let go. Cherie holds on tightly, like it’s a goodbye-forever hug, and her body lingers dangerously close to mine. Her vanilla and flowers scent intoxicates me and clouds my senses. My insides go nuts, and a million bursts of electricity sting my skin. I pray she can’t feel my pulse pounding.

Finally, she leans back and gives me a quick peck on the cheek. It’s the friendly kind of kiss girls give people all of the time, but it sends shockwaves up and down my spine. I close my eyes for a second and try to get a hold of myself.

“I hope you’ll come out to visit me in California soon,” she says, stepping backward and releasing me. “Maybe next month. Don’t you guys get a week off in February or something?”

I look down and nod. “Yeah, I think so. That would be fun.”

Her stare burns through mine. I’ve forgotten what I was supposed to do and why I’m even down here. I remain in place like an idiot, trapped by her eyes again. There’s something in them that I can’t quite read; it’s something she wants to say, and I’m desperate to know what it is.

Before I can ask her, she says, “Sorry, I didn’t want to keep you from your workout.”

“Oh, yeah. See ya later.”

I want to ask what she’s thinking. I want to know why she’s looking at me like that. I push it to the back of my mind and get out of the house before I can admit that she tossed my anger right out the window.

T
he front lawn is a minefield of cameras and reporters on Saturday morning. They are waiting for a sign of Cherie, their perfectly tragic teenage victim, to have to leave our house. For some reason, I’m good enough, and they pounce the moment they see me.

Reporters emerge from vans, shouting questions at me. It’s hard to get to my car unscathed by a flurry of strangers. I don’t want my picture taken anymore, so I keep my hood up and my sunglasses on. I don’t stop to listen to the questions or tell them to go to hell, which is what I really want to do. This time, I don’t have Britney around to protect, or Cherie to make a path for. This time, I could just give them a piece of my mind. But Mom said not to talk to anyone, and I promised her that I wouldn’t. I jump into my car and head for the mall.

As soon as I am within feet of Josh and Frank, Josh thrusts a magazine into my chest.

“Seriously?” Josh says. I look down and unfold the magazine. In the upper right hand corner of the cover page, there’s a picture of Cherie walking through the cemetery, adorned with the line:
“Cherie Buries Her Parents With New Beau By Her Side.”

In the picture, I walk beside her, her arm tightly curled around mine.

I gawk at the magazine and then at my friends. “Where did you get this?”

“In the deli. Is this for real?” Josh demands, his eyes wide.

“What’s ‘beau’ mean?” I ask, flipping through the magazine pages until I find the article,
“Love for Orphan Cherie?”
It’s three pages long, and one page is devoted entirely to a shot of us in the Shoprite parking lot. Cherie is in my arms, staring longingly into my eyes, and I look ready to kiss her. I remember the moment vividly, and they’ve captured it to look romantic, not anxiety-ridden as I recall. Another page is littered with pictures of us at the cemetery, coming out of our house, driving in my car. I’m so taken aback by the photos that I can’t even read the article. In some pictures, I look extremely attentive and attached to Cherie. It’s as if they’ve crafted the images to make it look like we’re dating.

“It means boyfriend, you idiot. When were you going to tell us?” Frank chastises me. “This is insane!”

“It’s not what it looks like.” I glance around the food court, suddenly self-conscious.
I’m on the front page of a magazine? I’m described as Cherie Belle’s boyfriend?
“Jesus Christ…”

I’m Cherie’s supposed new love affair, and it’s a total lie. I can’t deny the relief that washes over me, and I feel foolish for having been so angry about her fictional love affair last night. I toss the magazine back into Josh’s arms.

Frank scoffs beside me, “Why didn’t you call us? I texted you all week – you coulda just answered!”

Josh elbows him. “Dude, I’d rather hang out with Cherie Belle, too.” I roll my eyes.

Frank groans, “Get over it! She’s, like, fourteen!”

“She’s sixteen,” I correct him. “She’ll be seventeen this summer.”

He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Wait – is it true? Are you dating her?”

“No!” I nearly shout. “Not even close. She’s my stepdad’s niece.”

“Well, you better tell Katrina that ‘cause she’s real upset. She’s been crying all week to my girlfriend – ”

“So that’s why she texted me last night,” I grunt, realizing now why she sounded so angry. I rub my forehead. “Guys, I’ve done nothing all vacation but deal with this crap – can we talk about anything else please?”

“No way!” Josh cries. “You’ve been hanging out with celebrities all week, and you’re not gonna share one detail? It’s Cherie Belle!” Josh nudges me. “Is she hotter in person? Dude, have you seen her naked?”

I shove him away, and it’s harder than I meant to. He almost falls, but Frank catches him.

“Ow, man, take it easy,” he complains, rubbing his arm. “You’d better get used to answering questions – inquiring minds wanna know!”

“Get over it, Josh! He said it’s not like that,” Frank groans. He seems relieved that the rumors aren’t true.

“Thank you!” I exclaim, walking away from them and toward a table. “You guys wouldn’t believe what a circus my house is right now.”

Frank gives me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Sorry dude, that sucks. If you want to stay at my house, it’s no problem. My mom loves you; she’d probably let you live with us if your mom would allow you out of her sight for two seconds.”

I groan in response as I sit down. “I wish.”

“So what’s going to happen now?” Josh presses, sliding into the seat across from me.

“Not sure,” I say with a shrug. He gives me a doubtful look. “She’s going to go back to California after New Year’s.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” I reply, taking in their doubtful looks. “Why? What?”

They look at each other and then at me. Frank scoffs, “Dude, I wouldn’t be surprised if she has to stay with your family. I mean, your stepdad is her freakin’ uncle, right? Is he her only uncle?”

I nod. Their point is coming to me, but slowly. “I’m sure he’s not the only person in her life.”

“Well, is there any other family who could take her in?”

I shrug. “Her grandparents. She’ll probably live with them. Maybe they’ll move out there with her.”

Frank smirks. “What are they, like 80? Not happening. You’re looking at another roommate, buddy,” he says matter-of-factly.

The possibility frightens me. “That’s – nah, it can’t happen. We can’t have another person in that house. Besides, the twins hate her. It would never work.”

Josh laughs and slides the magazine across the table. “Well, the entire world thinks a loser like you is dating Cherie Belle because of this stupid picture, so anything can happen, right?”

I gulp quietly. They have no clue how bad it would be for me if they’re right. The thought of another girl in that house…a diva that brings media chaos…even if it is Cherie…

I will beg Frank’s mom to take me in if that’s what Jim has planned.

I
close the front door behind me at around 12:15 that night, and I’m hoping I won’t get caught by Mom or Jim. My normal curfew is midnight on weekends, but sometimes stuff happens, and I get side-tracked. Or I’m avoiding my house at all costs and don’t really want to go back, like tonight.

As I turn to race up to my room, I find both of them approaching, faces plastered with huge smiles. If it wasn’t for the smiles, I would be fumbling to come up with an excuse.

“Hi, honey,” my mom coos. Her arms are folded, though, and I know that means she’s nervous.

“What?” I ask, immediately sensing a fresh bomb about to be dropped.

When she hangs back, Jim moves forward. “Sit down, Jack. We want to talk to you about something.”

No
, I think to myself.
No, no, no. Nothing good ever starts with that line.

Like a man walking on death row, I follow him to the dining room. We sit across from each other, and I think I could melt ice with the way my eyes burn into his.

I want to say,
“Don’t say it, Jim. Don’t say what I think you’re going to say.”
But I don’t. Instead, I just try to convey it with my glare.