Whatever Doesn't Kill You (8 page)

After school it starts to snow a little—big fluffy globs that look pretty drifting through the air but start to look dingy and slushy the second they hit the ground. It's warm enough for me to take the kids to the park and let them run off some steam while I sit on the picnic bench and make sure nobody falls off the top of the climber.

Wex sits beside me, watching the other kids play. I don't bother asking him why he doesn't join in; the other kids are about as keen on him as my peers are on me. We sit for an hour or so, Wex up on the picnic table and me on the bench, neither one of us saying much of anything, until my butt is frozen from the cold metal. Finally I stand up and do a little wiggle to get the feeling back in my upper thighs.

“All right, guys. Time to go.”

There's some moaning and whining from Xavier, the oldest of my charges, but most of them are starting to get a little chilled. The snow isn't really sticking around, and the sun is starting to sink behind the escarpment. We march back home in a line, with me and Wex bringing up the rear, and Xavier way up ahead like he's too cool to be seen with all these little kids.

“Slow down, Xavier. You're too far away.”

He heaves his shoulders, turns around with his hands thrown in the air. “Come on. You're too slow. You said it was time to go home, so let's
go.
”

But instead of speeding up, I stop in my tracks. Rounding the corner ahead of us, coming right toward us, is Ashley Walsh, resplendent in her bright pink down jacket and Ugg boots.

“Funny seeing you north of Main Street,” I say, trying to sound casual. She's clearly looking for me, because she slows when she sees me. I wonder if she's going to beat me up as punishment for some offense I might have committed in gym class…or maybe just to cleanse herself from the humiliation of having been seen with me in public at school.

“I heard you'd be around here. Scott Becker says he sees you here all the time.”

“I usually am after school, if the weather's okay.”

She turns around and falls into step beside me. I have no clue what she's after. She's a little shorter than I am, maybe ten pounds lighter. I'm pretty sure I could take her in a fight, and I don't think she'd jump me in front of a crowd of little kids anyway. I wonder if they'd all spring to my defense, and I smile a little at the thought of Ashley getting her ass kicked by a bunch of first-and-second-graders.

“What are you smirking about?” she wants to know.

I shrug. “Nothing special. So, what brings you to my neck of the woods?”

“I was thinking after gym class. You're not so bad.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, I mean, seriously. You're really weird. I mean, like, freak-show weird. But you're kind of funny, too. Maybe we can hang out or something.”

I stop in my tracks and stare at her. “Seriously? You spend ten years treating me like something you'd scrape off the bottom of your shoe, and now we're buddies all of a sudden?”

Ashley shrugs. “Yeah. Sorry about that. But I figure… your friends aren't talking to you, my friends aren't talking to me…and it sucks having nobody to sit with at lunch.”

“Is this some elaborate setup where you're going to spend a couple of weeks pretending to be my friend, then set me on fire in the cafeteria or something?” Wex looks up at me, alarmed. Sometimes I forget he's there, always listening. I ruffle his hair. “Don't worry, Wexy. Nobody's gonna do that.” I shoot Ashley a pointed look. “Are they?”

Ashley looks genuinely bewildered. “No. I just thought…”

“We're going to my house,” I tell her. “You can come along if you want, I guess.”

I herd the kids into the vestibule of our apartment building, unlock the inside door and walk down the hall. Ashley's face is pinched, like she's afraid to touch anything with her hands.

“So this is where you live,” she says, trying to sound like it's no big deal.

I nod and open the apartment door. “You don't have to be polite about it. I know it's a hole.”

“No, it's not that bad. I mean, I'm sure it's…”

I don't get to find out where she's going with that train of thought, though, because Xavier's mother is waiting in our living room to pick him up. Remarkably, she has the rest of the money she owes me, which is up to forty bucks now. I tuck it in the back pocket of my jeans and mumble a thank-you. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ashley taking in the room, casting a critical eye on the cluttered living room, the kitchen sink full of dirty dishes. I imagine her home is something out of
Good Housekeeping
, with spotless rooms painted in subtle earth tones, tidy afghans folded neatly over the backs of chairs, shelves covered in beautifully arranged knickknacks and wicker baskets full of magazines.

We sit in the living room, me on the couch and Ashley perched on the edge of the tattered La-Z-Boy chair like she's afraid it will swallow her whole if she sits back.

“So this is what you do every day, huh? Watch other people's kids?”

“Yeah.” I suddenly realize I know nothing about this tidy pink Barbie doll sitting in my living room. “Do you have a job?”

“No. My dad thinks it would distract me from getting good grades. I just get an allowance for doing chores.”

“Must be nice.”

“What, getting an allowance?”

“Well, yeah. That and having a dad.”

Ashley gives me a knowing look. “Ah, your parents are divorced.”

“No, dead.” I pause for effect, enjoying the look of horror on her face for a second before I elaborate. “My dad is, anyway. My mom is…sick. She's in a nursing home.”

“Wow. No wonder you're so screwed up. No offense.”

“You know, just saying ‘no offense' as soon as you say something rude doesn't mean it wasn't offensive.”

Ashley looks startled and thinks that over for a minute. “Yeah, I guess you're right. Sorry.” It doesn't make up for nine years of her treating me like crap, but I suppose it's a start.

“You want something to eat or drink or something?” I'm not much of a host. It's not like I have a huge variety of guests over. Griffin and Katie and Marie-Claire all know where the food is and help themselves if they're hungry.

Helped
themselves, I suppose.

“Yeah, I could eat,” Ashley says.

I look in the cupboard, find Twinkies and grape juice. Wex comes in and wants some, then plunks himself down in front of the
TV
to watch
Phineas and Ferb
.

Ashley makes a face. “Ugh. Kid stuff. My little sister watches this all the time.”

“You want to go sit in my room instead?”

I regret the words as soon as they're out of my mouth. I can't let Ashley Walsh see my bedroom, with Rubbermaid boxes of yarn lining one wall and Emily's posters of thrash metal bands tacked to another. I realize I don't even know whether Emily is home. Griffin and Katie are used to finding her passed out on the floor, the couch, wherever she happens to land, but how do I explain her to someone like Ashley?

“Yeah. You have a
TV
in your room?”

“No, but I've got a little portable
DVD
player with a screen. Maybe we can watch a movie or something.”

I lead the way to the bedroom, holding my breath a little as I open the door and hoping Emily is somewhere else. I relax a little as I see her bed is empty, although she's clearly been through here today, because it looks like a tornado hit.

“I share the room with my sister. It's a little messy.”

“That's fine. You should see my room. My mom keeps threatening to go through with a garbage bag and throw everything out.”

“My mom never really cared much. And my brother doesn't care at all, really.”

“Really? You live with your brother? That's so weird. What happened to your dad, anyway?”

So suddenly I'm pouring out my entire life story to Ashley Walsh, who perches on the edge of Emily's bed and leans forward with her eyes bugging out like this is the most fascinating thing she's ever heard. Before I stop to think about what I'm saying, I've told her everything— even the part I didn't tell Katie and Griffin and Marie-Claire: my meeting with Travis Bingham.

Ashley's mouth is agape. “That. Is. So. Cool.”

“Cool?”

“Seriously. I mean, who knew you were so, you know,
deep.
I just thought you were this weird kid who hangs out with losers and knits in the library. Look at you, tracking down killers and junk.”

I shrug. “Well, it wasn't the way I wanted it to go. I was hoping for something a little more…satisfying. And now none of my friends are talking to me because they think I'm totally obsessed with ancient history.”

“Well, I think it's really interesting. And your friends suck if the stuff that's important to you isn't important to them.”

I look Ashley over carefully. She might be trying to put one over on me, but she seems so earnest, it really seems like she might be sincere.

“So why are your friends shutting you out all of a sudden?” I ask her. “I thought you were all pals for life.”

“Oh, it's stupid.” Her voice breaks a little. “You know I used to go out with Ned Street, right?”

“That was kind of hard to miss. You were always making out in the halls.”

“Yeah, well.” She shifts a little, looks away like she's embarrassed. “Well, he started sneaking around with Carrie Lerner behind my back, and when I found out about it she started this rumor that I was pregnant and got an abortion, even though Ned and I never even, you know,
did it,
and so I got mad and told Maddie Grant that Carrie was the one who—”

The story goes on for a while, and, I have to admit, I lose track of who said what to whom and sort of drift off a little in my head. It all boils down to someone making up stories about someone else, lies piling up on top of lies and poor Ashley landing squarely on the bottom of the heap. I really do wind up feeling a little sorry for her in the end, even though I haven't completely followed the chain of events. I just nod sympathetically and throw in a “Really? That's terrible” every once in a while, kind of like I do when I'm listening to Henry or Wex ramble on and on about something. I wonder if this is how Katie and the rest of them feel when I talk about Travis Bingham.

“So then Ned said he didn't even want to be friends with me anymore, and now none of them are even talking to me.”

“Wow. That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

There's a long silence, and I can see Ashley looking around the room, taking it all in. Her eyes keep going back to the clear Rubbermaid containers full of yarn and knitting patterns.

“So you really know how to knit?” she finally says. “I mean, I've seen you in school, but…you look like you're really serious about it with all this stuff.”

“Yeah. My mom taught me when I was seven. Before she was really, um, sick.”

“So all those weird sweaters and hats and stuff you wear…you make them all?”

“Yeah.”

“That's so cool. Seriously. I mean, I always thought you just got them at the Goodwill or something, but you actually…like, you're some kind of
artist
or something.”

I shrug. “I guess. I never really thought that much about it.”

We chat for a few more minutes before Simon knocks on the door and yells through it that he's brought home KFC.

“No need to yell. You can open the door,” Ashley yells back. “We're not naked or anything.” And she giggles madly, but I don't really get the joke.

Simon opens the door, pokes his head around. “Hmm. I don't know you. When Wex said Jenna had a friend over, I just figured it was Katie or Elvira.”

I throw a book at him.
The Chrysalids
. It bounces off his head, but it's a paperback so it probably doesn't hurt him too much. “Her name's Marie-Claire, you loser. And this is Ashley.”

“Is Ashley staying for dinner?”

“Ashley could, if she's invited,” she says with a big smile. Ye gads, is she
flirting
with my brother? Ew. What is it with people trying to flirt with Simon? It's not like he's terrible-looking, I guess, it's just…strange. And it's not like he even seems to notice. Besides, he's almost eighteen years older than we are, which is just gross.

Simon cocks an eyebrow. “Well, Ashley and Jenna should wash up, because dinner is going to be on the table in about two minutes, and Wex has been known to put away half a bucket of chicken on his own.”

He closes the door behind him, and Ashley claps me on the shoulder like we're the best of friends. “Your brother's
cute.
”

“He's thirty-two.”

“Well, for an old guy, I mean. I don't want to
do
him or anything, but he's kind of weirdly adorable. Does he have a girlfriend?”