Thirty to Sixty Days, page 23
“No,” Albie said. No uhs. No questions. He’d left Elliot Why behind—thank all the pop gods in existence—but some of the confidence had stuck.
Carmen opened hers next, unfolding the clasps and the flap of the envelope with gentle care.
“I knew it,” she said. “Negative!”
Her family wrapped their arms around each other until they became one big blob.
I stared down at the envelope and didn’t even wish I had a lollipop. I just wished Mom and I were alone.
“I’m here,” my mom whispered.
I ripped open the envelope and took out the thin sheet of paper. It was watermarked everywhere and there were a lot of big words I didn’t know how to pronounce. One word in the middle was bolded in a larger font.
“Positive.”
My mom’s eyes flooded with tears. Albie and Carmen were at my back in an instant.
“It’s OK. It’ll be OK. The product was weak,” my mom said, swiping at her eyes. “We’ll get you the best treatment and monitor you until it’s out of your system. At most, you’ll experience a few adverse side effects, but most likely you won’t feel a thing.”
Not feeling a thing used to be the dream. I’d consumed enough lollipops to pepper my teeth with cavities in pursuit of it.
The voices came back in an instant, scratching at my insides, scrawling the fears I had lived inside of for so long.
You are poison. Something is wrong with you.
But I’d steered a boat (mostly) safely through a storm. I’d made two friends. I’d met Jordan Banner. Won possibly the greatest game of Land of Invaders ever played. Kissed a boy who liked me back. Been brave enough to stay and brave enough to come home.
“Well, this is unfair,” I said. Carmen, Albie, and my mom laughed. The rest of the room inched away from me like I had an infection. Which, I guess, I did.
Three rapping knocks echoed on the door. Officer Johnson carefully swung it open a moment later, cramming all of us farther into the room.
“Sorry to interrupt, but we do need the room for less heartwarming criminal activities.”
“Of course, Officer,” Mrs. Chang said.
“Carmen is student body president,” her dad said, pointing to his T-shirt.
“I don’t care,” Officer Johnson said, stepping out to hold open the door as we piled through and entered the bright, buzzing station. “Marsh Rock has jurisdiction anyway.”
Carmen’s and Albie’s families chattered, their relief a palpable presence in the air. My mom stayed right by my side, her presence warm and steady as always.
Outside the station, the air was heavy and humid. As always. But also, fresh and new. The rain had swept out some of the suffocation, and the sun was timidly peering out from the thick blanket of clouds drooping across the sky.
Albie and Carmen were waiting at the top of the concrete stairs. Below was the real world and their futures, and, in a more literal sense, their parents bringing the cars around.
Carmen took me by the shoulders and stared into my eyes. “You will get through this. If for no other reason than you want me to stop visiting you in treatment every day. I’ve had a lot of practice at hospitals.”
“I don’t even know if I’ll go to the hospital,” I said.
“Even better! Home visits are also a specialty of mine,” she said.
“You don’t have to—”
“I’m your friend, Hattie. You couldn’t keep me away.” She gave Albie a quick hug and then skipped down the stairs, looking lighter and more balanced than the President Carmen I’d met in the school office. “I’ll text you!”
I was pretty sure she didn’t have my real number, but I was also pretty sure that wouldn’t matter. Carmen could always find a way.
Albie’s family surrounded him like a security task force as they herded him down the steps and away from the station.
“Hattie, I—” He called over his shoulder. I could hear Scooter rustling inside the carboard box.
“Bye, Albie,” I said. I didn’t want to be there when he had time to slow down and remember how many times I’d betrayed him.
Then it was just my mom and the humidity and me. I was wearing the same clothes I’d worn to Faye Island, but it felt like I’d outgrown them. My hand was locked around the crumpled test results.
Mom guided us into our clunker car and slid me into the passenger seat.
She turned on the AC then twisted to look at me. “Hear me, Hattie: Nothing is wrong with you. Nothing has ever been wrong with you.” She pried the results out of my hand and scanned them. “There was only a trace presence in your system. That means there’s almost no MTP.”
“I’m glad it was me instead of them.”
“I’m glad I was so horrified by that job that I subconsciously messed up making a mutated biological weapon,” Mom said. “The human mind is a wonderful thing.”
I laughed. “I won a Land of Invaders game. I’m red tier now. Like Dad was.”
We hadn’t talked about the game since he left. He took the board and the pieces and any magic I’d believed in with him.
“You were always such a good player.” She paused to clear her throat. “Most of the time I feel like a terrible mother.”
“You’re not.”
She shook her head. “I never planned on doing this alone. I tried to be strong when your dad left. I didn’t cry. I got a good job and made enough money and kept him away from you.” She brushed a piece of damp hair away from my face. “But I was so busy trying to be strong for you that I didn’t see you. And maybe you didn’t need to see my strength—you have plenty of that on your own. Maybe what you needed was to see me fall apart and then put myself back together.”
“Mom—”
She held up her hand. “I took this stupid job and did things I knew weren’t right because I wanted to be strong for you. But it chewed me up. Even if it hadn’t been you in that water, it would have eaten me alive. You were right; it was a mistake to take this job. I’m going to quit, and I’m going to become the kind of mother you deserve.”
It was the passionate sincerity in her voice that broke me wide open. “You’re my mom. You don’t have to do anything to deserve me.”
Mom squeezed my hand.
“You’re so brave, Hattie. You don’t pretend to be OK when you’re withering inside. I love you, and I’m here for you. I can’t believe how lucky I am that you’re my daughter. Do you hear me?”
I listened to the steady sound of her breathing. “Lies are so much easier than the truth.”
“I know. But I don’t think you want an easy life. I think you want a good one.”
She held my hand until the tears fogging my vision had cleared and my fingers unclenched from the results page.
“About the parasite,” my mom started. “It’s not going to kill you. Not even close.”
“I know.”
It was the most terrifying truth of all.
I was going to live.
CHAPTER 39
Positive.
The word was printed in big capital letters sprawled across the page. When I held it over the murky swamp of water surrounding Marsh Rock’s bay, the paper looked translucent and thin.
I’d spent the week since our crash return devoting myself to my new mission to Tell the Truth (Most of the Time). This included but was not limited to:
• Signing up for a film class at school. I didn’t need to be an adult to pursue my dream of being an artist, and I didn’t need a financial reason to make something beautiful.
• Trying to make an appointment with Dr. Ryan. She informed me she saw only patients attached to the hospital but gave me a list of recommended therapists in the area, who I was going to do some research on and reach out to soon.
• Refilling my locker at school and apologizing to Mrs. Howard for being a punk who used her compassion against her. We even bonded over our love of Jordan Banner.
• Writing an apology note to the Hendersons taking full responsibility for stealing their boat, Seas the Day. They’d decided not to press charges as long as we paid for the damages the boat had incurred from not being docked properly.
• I posted an apology note on my Catch a Dream account. Followers had donated $21,351 to the cause after my impassioned live. I gave them the option of receiving a full refund or donating the money to help pay for our restitution fees.
• I also emailed Ayden’s parents telling them their son was a good kid and we used his kindness against him. They responded that he’d done something seriously wrong and they’d had enough and were putting their foot down. They’d kicked Ayden out of his room. Now he had to live in the guest house out back. Tough life.
• My last note was to Ethel, to remind her that I was a better Land of Invaders player than her. (What? It’s the truth!)
I was at the edge of the town I was learning to think of as home, with one more truth to tell. A local newspaper was investigating what happened at DBD. Mom was staying at her job a little bit longer so she could go full whistleblower and tell them everything. I was supposed to drop off my test results with the reporter on the way back.
Positive.
The last truth I need to tell. To myself and to the world. I thought I was going to die, and so I lived differently, but now I knew I wasn’t going to die and had to learn how to live all over again.
I twisted the lollipop stabbed through my bun. Lately, the taste of them had been painfully sour instead of soothing. I dropped my hand and breathed in the salty air. It was time to go.
“Hattie!”
My heart pounded at the sound of my name coming out of his mouth, and I suddenly realized that all of this—the apologies and amends, going to the marsh and talking to the reporter and trying to find a therapist and be better—it was for me, but it was for him, too.
“Albie?”
I turned around and there he was. The bucket hat and ridiculous glasses were gone. His hair flipped past his ears, his shirt was buttoned all the way to the collar, and he was hugging a giant terrarium to his chest. He looked so cute, it was physically painful.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
He tapped the terrarium. “Letting Scooter go. Come with me?”
I folded my test results and slipped the paper into my pocket. “As long as we don’t have to steal a boat.”
“I’ve retired. Peaked too early.”
“The best ones always do.”
The two of us left the safety of the splintered docks and wandered parallel to the water, my feet sticking in the sand with every step. The pond was so big it appeared to go on forever, but I knew it bled into the ocean not far away. Like everything, it changed.
The two of us didn’t exchange another word until Albie planted his feet in the sand and said, “Here.”
He set the terrarium down and cradled Scooter to his chest. “You’re home, buddy. I thought you couldn’t survive in the outside world, but I was so wrong. You weren’t sick because you were weak. You were sick because you are wild, and people were trying to keep you in captivity.”
Scooter wriggled his legs. Albie waded forward a few steps and set him down. He waddled into the reeds faster than I’d ever seen him move and started digging into the sand.
Albie’s hands looked devastatingly empty without Scooter. I fought through the sand and made my way to him.
“I hate goodbyes,” Albie said.
“Me too.”
The sounds of the pond drifted up to us in a chorus: croaking frogs, buzzing insects, waves crashing in the distance. Down below, it was all sand and dirt, the inevitable end of all existence. Up above, though, it was just me and him.
“Have you talked to Carmen?” I finally asked.
“Yeah.”
“I’m excited she went to visit the girl from the circus. Didn’t think she had it in her—”
Albie cut me off. “It’s you. I don’t want to say goodbye to you.”
“We can hang out for a bit,” I replied carefully. Telling the truth was one thing. Getting my hopes up was another.
“No, I mean, uh, ever.” He shuffled so he was facing me. “I’ve . . . thought things about people before and didn’t tell them and I want to tell you. I think you’re amazing. You’re smart and funny and adventurous, and you don’t apologize for who you are.” He finally met my eyes, smiling. “Honestly, I didn’t understand what it means to go weak in the knees until I woke up next to you and was scared I wouldn’t be able to walk again.”
My cheeks darkened. For the first time since I could remember, I couldn’t think of a single lie. “You’re making me blush.”
Albie brushed his thumb down my cheek. “Good. Because I plan to continue making you blush. Henrietta Larken, will you go on a date with me?”
I flicked his forehead. “Don’t call me that!”
“Ow!” He ducked away from me. “You said that’s your real name.”
“That doesn’t mean you should use it.”
“Fine. Hattie.” He dragged his thumb from my cheek to my neck. His other hand was threading through my fingers.
“Albie.”
He tilted his face down. “I like you.”
My heart thudded inside my chest. The itching sensation was back. I used to think feeling it meant I was in danger; now I knew it just meant I was alive. “I like you.”
I thought we couldn’t be any closer than we already were, but then he kissed me and I wondered how I’d lived so long without breathing the same air as him. My hands were in his hair and his hands were on my waist, and for once, I didn’t want to be anyone else.
We kissed until my lips were swollen and Albie’s hair looked electrocuted. Then we waded out of the marsh with our fingers intertwined.
“Are you going to monitor Scooter from afar?” I asked.
“Actually.” He dropped my hand and jogged toward a minivan. He grabbed a backpack from the front seat and tossed it to me. “Remember how you said you would date me?”
I raised my eyebrows. “I didn’t say that. Did you drive here?”
“I think it was implied. And yes. My parents are working on treating me less like their sick kid and more like their kid who happened to be sick that one time.”
“Impressive.”
“I know. I was thinking we should go on the first date now, seeing as how you have treatment tomorrow and everything.”
“Sounds logical.” I unzipped the backpack. Two wigs, a few pairs of large-framed glasses, and some obnoxiously bright jumpsuits were crammed inside.
“I thought we could go to the Elliot Why poetry reading in Palm Beach,” Albie says. “Jordan Banner might be there, though, so obviously we can’t go as ourselves.”
“Also, we crashed a boat there”—I mimed checking a watch—“last week.”
“Exactly.”
I picked up a frizzy purple wig and plopped it on my head. “It’s a date.”
He picked me up and swung me around in a circle. Kissed me in the air and against the car and then finally pushed me away and helped me inside, muttering something about how I needed to “stop distracting him.”
The future was uncertain as we drove out of the marsh and into town, chasing the sun across the sky. Maybe Elliot would recognize us from the news stories and kick us out of the poetry reading. Maybe I wouldn’t do well in the film class. Maybe Albie’s parents would rescind his driving privileges or the girl from the circus would break Carmen’s heart or the MTP would cling to me more stubbornly than the doctors anticipated.
But as the minivan broke free of the marsh and raced toward the pink sunset, Albie threaded his fingers through mine again and one thing was clear: Right then, in that very moment, we were finally alive.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to my agent, Christa, and her assistant, Daniele, for your hard work and advocacy over the years.
Thank you to Emily, who molded this book into the best version of itself with her spot-on edits and encouragement. Thank you also to the rest of the team at Amulet for your hard work to make a massive Word document into a real, actual book.
Thank you to Cam, for always asking about my writing, taking my words seriously, and bragging to other people on my behalf so I can pretend to be modest and humble. Every day is the farthest we’ve ever gone, and every day I am more deeply grateful to get to choose you over and over again. As long as I get to die first. I lub you.
Finally, I would like to give a big shout-out to myself for writing (and then rewriting again from scratch, LOL joke’s on me) this book while working a demanding full-time job in the middle of a global pandemic. It wasn’t easy, but it was . . . no wait, it was just incredibly difficult the entire time. I’m really proud of myself for doing it anyway.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alikay Wood was once described by a wedding DJ as “five feet of fury.” When she’s not shredding up dance floors, she’s writing books about friendship and “unlikeable” girls. She lives in California and is probably avoiding writing by rollerblading, crushing trivia competitions, or camping.
Loved the book?
Check out our entire catalog of great novels, graphic novels, and non-fiction for young adults and middle-grade readers at Amulet Books!
Hungry for more YA?
Take a
with sneak piques, behind-the-scenes, interviews and much more inspired by our latest YA books at piquebeyond.com!
Alikay Wood, Thirty to Sixty Days
