The Rules of You and Me (10 page)

“
I thought it was no pressure,” I grumbled.

#

“
Don’t you ever have to go to work like normal people?”

Jude and I sat in the grass on his front lawn, under the tree where the shirt—a pale green polo this time—flapped in the breeze over our heads as the sun sank toward the mountains in the distance. The remains of our pizza dinner sat in the grass nearby.

“
I used to,” Jude said. He laid back in the grass, his hands behind his head.

“
Did you give up working for a living?” I asked.

“
I’m in between jobs at the moment.”

“
So you’re unemployed.”

Jude sighed. “I got fired. Haven’t found another job since then. This economy sucks, you know.”

I looked him over as I tore at the grass next to my leg. “How old are you anyway?”

“
How old are you?”

“
Do you always answer questions with questions?”

Jude smiled. “I’m eighteen. I’ll be nineteen in October. You?”

“
Seventeen in two weeks,” I said.

“
An early July baby,” he said. “That makes you, what? A Cancer?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t tell me you believe in that stuff.”

“
No,” he said. “My mom does.”

I looked at the house behind me. It looked empty and uncared for, just as it always did. I hadn’t seen Jude’s mom yet and I wondered about her.

“
Is your mom home?” I asked.

“
Don’t think so,” Jude said.

“
You don’t know?”

He rolled onto his side, propping his head on his hand. “I don’t really keep up with her. Sometimes I go days without seeing her.”

“
That’s the way it is with my dad,” I said. “He works a lot. Or else he’s traveling for business. Sometimes a week or two would pass before I’d see him again.”

“
What about your mom?” Jude asked.

I sighed. “My mom keeps track of me just to make sure I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing every second of the day. She has my calendar carefully planned out to the minute. So if she schedules me to study between three and five, I’d better be in my room studying. At six I’m allowed out to eat. Then at seven, it might be dance class or piano lessons or maybe even a pre-approved party at one of her friends’ houses. At nine, it’s back to studying again for another hour before bed at promptly ten o’clock.”

Jude looked horrified. “You actually live like that?”

I shrugged. “I
have
to be the best. I have to be valedictorian and go off to some prestigious college and make a big name for myself.”

“
What happens if you don’t do that? You’ll die?”

I tossed a handful of grass at him. “No, it just all part of the rules.”

“
What exactly are these rules?” Jude asked.

I crossed my legs, pulling my ankles as close to my body as I could. “The rules are everything my parents have ever taught me,” I explained. “Little things they’ve drilled into my brain so many times that they’ve stuck. One day, I just put them all into a list in my head and started calling them ‘the rules.’ Because that’s basically what they are, rules on how I should behave, who I should be friends with, what I should do. How I should live my life.”

“
Go on,” Jude said. “Let me hear them.”

I felt a bit silly, but I dove in. “Rule number one: Maintain the image of perfection.”

Jude wrinkled his nose. “That doesn’t sound like a good rule. Things aren’t always perfect.”

“
My parents aren’t normal parents,” I said. I cleared my throat and went on. “Always have the upper hand. If reality isn’t the way you want it to be, create your own. Never ask for help. Even the score as soon as possible—”

“
That’s why you wanted to pay me for fixing your tire,” Jude interrupted. “The rules say you have to even the score.”

“
That’s one of my dad’s rules. He’s this big corporate guy who thinks everything is a negotiation.”

“
You know,” Jude said, “sometimes people do things just to be
nice
. Sometimes they don’t want something in return.”

I shook my head. “That’s not what I’ve been brought up to believe.”

Jude rolled back over and looked up at the shirt fluttering over us.

“
Do you want to hear more?” I asked. “Or are you horrified enough?”

“
I think that’s plenty,” he said. “I’m kind of sorry I asked. It doesn’t sound like a good way to live.”

“
Don’t you have rules?” I asked.

“
No,” Jude said. “I just do what I want. When Liam was here, he used to try to tell me what to do. And most of the time, I’d do it. Because he was my big brother, you know? He knew everything and was the coolest guy I’d ever met. He was the one who really looked after me when our dad checked out on us.”

I stretched out on the grass, our heads only inches apart. The green polo swayed back and forth from the tree limb, as if it were dancing to a song we couldn’t hear.

“
What’s with the shirt in the tree?” I asked softly.

Jude didn’t say anything for a long time. Finally, he spoke again. “I thought you weren’t supposed to live by the rules this summer.”

“
I’m not,” I told him. “My lif—Mark says I use them as a crutch to hold myself back from what I really want to do. So I’m supposed to break all of them and figure out what I really want. But it’s hard. I’m so used to living by the rules, it’s hard to not fall back on them.”

“
Maybe what you need to do is replace the old rules with some new ones,” Jude suggested. “Make up your own rules to push you outside of your boundaries.”

“
Like what?” I asked.

He held up a finger. “Rule number one: don’t complicate things. Simple, honest, and straightforward is the best way to go.” He held up another finger. “Rule number two: when something scares you the most, that’s when you know you should do it.”

“
Within reason,” I added. “I’m not doing anything that will get me killed or arrested.”

“
Rule number three: always do the things that could get you arrested. But try not to get caught.” He turned his head and shot me a crooked grin.

I laughed. “You’re insane.”

“
But brilliant,” Jude said. “Come on, let’s figure out these new rules to live by.”

“
If I have to live by them, so do you,” I said. “They’re your rules.”

He shrugged. “Fine. I don’t mind a challenge.”

“
Rule number four,” I said as I rolled over. “Don’t be afraid to face reality.”

Jude’s smile faded a bit, but then he nodded. “That’s a good one.”

I didn’t know what made me brave enough to ask, but I didn’t see a better time coming along. “Hey, you want to go hang out with Ashton and Kate and their friends?”

Jude was quiet for a long time, but then he said, “Hang out where?”

“
Papa Gino’s,” I said. “It’s like a group thing.”

Jude scrunched up his nose. “Who will be there?”

“
Ashton and Kate and Carter and Syke and Nadia and…um…Trevor?”

“
Trent?” Jude corrected.

I nodded. “Yeah, him. I met all of them at the party, but it’s all a blur in my mind.”

A bird let out a call somewhere in the neighborhood and then another bird answered back. Jude stayed silent, staring up at the shirt over us.

“
You don’t have to go,” I said. “Ashton and Kate just wanted me to ask you, so I’m asking. You can say no. It’s fine.”

“
I can’t say no,” Jude said. “It’s against rule number two.” He turned his head and winked at me.

“
Ashton and Kate scare you?” I asked, laughing.

“
Most people scare me.”

I rolled onto my side, facing him. “Even me?”

He rolled toward me so that our noses were only inches apart. I could feel the tickle of his breath across my chin and see every line in his tanned skin and the tiny splash of freckles across his nose.

“
Maybe,” he said, his eyes locked with mine. “I haven’t figured it out yet.”

Havig good tim in Paris!! City of lov and lits!!

I stared at my cell phone for a full minute, rereading the words. Each time, my gaze stuck on the misspellings.

What are you doing?
I texted back.

Mom’s response came two minutes later.
Havin diner with Tess. Mmm!

Are you drunk?

Of couse not. Ive had 2 coktalls.

Coktalls? Mom, you’re drunk. How much have you had this week?

Three minutes passed before Mom responded. I could imagine her making up an excuse to Tess to leave the table in order to avoid making a scene in front of her friend.

Hav you beeen talking to yor aunt? Lydiaa alwas insits I’m an alcoolic.

I was tired of trying to decipher Mom’s drunk texts. I pressed the call button on the screen under her number.

It rang five times before Mom finally answered. “
Bonjour!
” she crooned, giggling into the phone.

“
Mom,” I whispered. I pushed the door shut so Aunt Lydia wouldn’t hear my side of the conversation. “Do you realize how drunk you are?”

“
Two cocktails, Hannah!” Mom groaned. “You’re acting like Lydia. I knew it was a bad idea to let you spend the summer with her. She’s already brainwashing you, turning you against me.”

“
Aunt Lydia isn’t doing anything,” I said. “I can see and hear the evidence for myself.”

“
Just a minute, Tess! Don’t have dessert without me.” I held the phone away from my ear while Mom shrieked with laughter on the other end. I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror across the room, noticing the annoyed scowl on my face.

“
Mom,” I said through clenched teeth. “Where are you?”

“
At the restaurant in our hotel,” Mom slurred.

“
Good,” I said. “Go upstairs and go to bed.”

“
The night is young and we’re in Paris!” Mom exclaimed. In my mind, I saw the looks of the other diners, the ones I had spent my life pretending I didn’t see whenever Mom had one too many drinks over dinner. She was rigid and controlled when sober, but all of her rules went out the window once she started on her cocktails.

Mom made such a big deal about image and being perfect, but we all knew her dirty secret. At parties or at dinners, she let the alcohol take over and break down that perfectly coiffed image.

“
Fine,” I snapped. “Just don’t wake up in some alley in Paris.”

Mom’s laugh was the last thing I heard as I pressed the END button.

As I tossed the phone onto the bed next to me, I realized that Mom had never thought to ask how I was doing and hadn’t even mentioned Dad.

I pressed the heel of my palms against my eyes until I saw bursts of color behind my eyelids. I had a sudden urge for home. But not the home that would be waiting for me when I got there. I wanted the home I used to have, the little house in the suburbs, across the street from Avery and next door to Elliott. I wanted sleepovers in Avery’s room, giggling into our sleeping bags until her mom came in to tell us to go to sleep. I wanted dares from Elliott, the craziest things he could think of to get us to do. I wanted to be too young to know about bad things, too young to worry.

I picked up my phone, my finger hovering over the screen. I knew the number. It hadn’t changed and it was still imprinted in my memory, even though it had been more than four years since I’d dialed it.

But I couldn’t get myself to make the call. What would I say to Avery? My ex-best friend was now dating my ex-boyfriend. I was supposed to hate them. Anything I had left to say to Avery was better off unspoken. I doubted she would understand this homesickness that had settled over me. She seemed happy now. Why would she miss the past?

I turned the phone off completely. I didn’t want anymore texts from my mom or anyone else.

#

I found Aunt Lydia watching TV in the living room.

“
I thought you were supposed to be painting,” I said as I sat down next to her.

Aunt Lydia shrugged as she channel surfed, her thumb holding the button down on the remote so that the TV flicked continuously from one show to another. A cartoon about talking cats, a commercial for a fiber cereal with a couple that looked too happy for all that fiber they were eating, a rerun of a TV western, a reality show with people covered in mud.

“
I couldn’t get anything out today,” she said.

“
You just pick up a paintbrush and go,” I said. “How hard can it be?”

“
Spoken like a non-artist,” Aunt Lydia said with a sigh. “You’ve always been too practical for the creative arts, haven’t you? You’re like your parents in that way.”

I stiffened at her words. “What do you mean?”

“
Your mom never had time for art,” Aunt Lydia said. “She always thought it was a waste of time. She liked practical things, things that she thought had value right now. Most artists will never be rich or well-known. Not until we’re dead, anyway. Marilyn thought it was better to focus on things that meant something now. She never had the patience for creative work.”