The Starburst Effect, page 10
It’s not completely false, but I don’t want to get into the uglier reasons I need to go on Friday night.
Dad chuckles. “Boys, huh? I suppose it’s unavoidable, at your age. What about you? Are you hoping to meet any boys at this party?”
It’s sad that this question makes my eyes start to burn. For a second, I can’t speak. It’s so nice to have him showing interest—any interest. “I wouldn’t be opposed to meeting some boys,” I say, a small laugh escaping me. “But no, there’s no one in particular.”
Dad laughs again. “I’m a little relieved to hear that. Take your time with the boy issue. About this party…it won’t be anything crazy? Will there be parents home?”
The question surprises me. Dad’s never been much of a parenting type. Not that I don’t have rules or wouldn’t be punished for breaking them, but he’s never been the one to pay attention to that sort of thing. It’s always been Mom’s job. “I don’t know. It didn’t sound like it would be wild and crazy, but I know how to be responsible. I promise I won’t drink or anything.”
“All right. I trust you, honey. As long as your mom’s okay with it.”
“She doesn’t mind.”
There’s a little pause where I hold my breath. “All right,” Dad agrees, surprising me. “I get off work at six, so I can swing by and pick Mason up on my way home. Tell him I’ll take him to dinner and a movie, and if he wants to spend the night, then pack a bag.”
I don’t know what to say. I expected him to give me some lame excuse. I’m shocked, but thrilled he’s agreed, and it has nothing to do with being able to go to the party. My voice, when I reply, comes out thick no matter how hard I try to hide it. “Thanks, Dad. Mason will be excited.”
Dad, hearing the emotion in my voice, sighs. “I don’t see you kids enough anymore. How about another weekend you and I can go out for some father-daughter time?”
My chest burns when I reply. “I’d like that.”
His voice is a little deeper when he says, “Me too, sweetheart.” There’s a pause on the line, and when he speaks, his voice is back to normal. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you on Friday. Tell Mason I’ll be there at 6:30. I love you, honey.”
“Love you too, Dad. Thanks so much.”
We hang up, and for a minute I sit on my bed looking at my phone. That went so much better than I expected. Maybe my dad is just busy and absentminded. Maybe he just needs me and Mason to reach out more.
I head down to the kitchen where my mom is drinking coffee and eating toast. Mason is scarfing down Lucky Charms. I ruffle his hair and smile at my mom. “Quit it!” Mason squawks, batting me away.
Mom looks startled by my smile. “You look like you’re feeling better this morning.”
I reach for the Lucky Charms and pour myself a bowl. “Dad said he’d watch Mason on Friday.”
Mom looks surprised, and Mason perks up. “I’m going to Dad’s?”
I grin at him. “Yup. He said he’ll take you to dinner and a movie, and if you want, you can spend the night.”
Mason’s face lights up, but he tries to play it cool with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “Awesome.”
“There,” Mom says, satisfaction and relief in her tone. “See? Things aren’t impossible.”
Her smugness irritates me, but I don’t say anything. I’m too relieved that Zoey won’t be mad at me for not going on Friday.
We’re all quiet as we finish our breakfast, so when my phone rings, it startles all of us. I’m surprised to see Noah’s name flashing across the screen. I’d given him my number while he was at our house yesterday, but I didn’t expect him to call me. “Hello?” I ask, meeting the curious stares of my brother and mom.
“Lily, honey, it’s Susan.”
I try not to sound too bewildered when I say, “Hi, Susan.”
“I’m sorry to bother you so early, but I’m in another bind, and I’m hoping you can help.”
Another favor? I’m curious, but not put out. Mrs. Trask sounds both desperate and hopeful. I can’t imagine what her life must be like after Noah’s accident. It must be pretty hectic if she keeps calling on her high school neighbor, a practical stranger, to ask for help. Things might be a little awkward between Noah and me, but he wasn’t awful to hang out with. I can’t stand the thought of letting Mrs. Trask down because I’m feeling petty, so I say, “Sure. What can I do to help?”
A relieved gush of breath whooshes out of Mrs. Trask. “Do you ride the bus to school?”
“No. Sorry. My mom takes me in the mornings, and a friend brings me home.”
“Oh. Well, would it be easier for you if you rode with Noah instead?”
Ride with Noah? He can’t drive. Before I can ask, she explains. “I have to start work today. I can drive Noah in the mornings, but he doesn’t want to ride the bus home in the afternoons.”
I can’t blame him. Riding the bus as a senior is one of the worst forms of humiliation in high school.
“Noah suggested he could ride with you.”
“Oh, I would, but I don’t have a car.”
“Would you be willing to drive Noah’s car? We never got rid of it, and it just sits in the garage now because he can’t drive it.”
I’m surprised by the request. “You’d like me to drive Noah to and from school, driving his car?”
“If you don’t mind. If it’s not inconvenient for you.”
I consider the idea. It would be easier for my mom to not have to get me to school and then rush to get Mason to his school. And Zoey lives the opposite direction from school as me. I’m way out of her way. “It wouldn’t be inconvenient at all. In fact, my mom and Zoey would probably appreciate it.”
“Oh, thank you! Are you sure it’s not a problem? I know Noah would much rather drive with a friend than with me or on the school bus.”
Friend? I’m not sure I qualify as Noah’s friend, but I don’t correct her. If we’re going to be working together in independent study, we may as well ride to school together. “It’s not a problem. Would you like me to come over today?”
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
“Sure. Give me five minutes.”
“You’re a lifesaver. See you soon.”
I hang up, still surprised by Mrs. Trask’s request, but I’m shockingly not against the new arrangement. Something about Noah makes me curious, and it really will be more convenient.
“What was that about?” Mom asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
“That was our neighbor, Mrs. Trask.”
Mom’s eyebrows rise. “You call her Susan?”
“That’s what she asked me to call her.”
“I didn’t realize you knew the neighbors that well.”
“It’s a recent development.” I shrug. “She asked if I could start driving Noah to and from school. He has a car, but his injury makes it so he can’t drive himself anymore. I guess you’re off the hook with me in the mornings.” I look at Mason. “We’ll start picking you up and driving home instead of Zoey dropping me off at your school.”
“Cool. No more walking. I like Noah.”
I smile at that. Kids are so easy. One round of Monopoly, and Mason’s a friend for life. I take another bite of cereal, and Mom asks, “Noah’s the boy who got hurt?”
“Yeah. Susan has to go back to work. I don’t think she wants to, but they must have a million medical bills.”
“I can imagine,” Mom murmurs. She hesitates to say something else. She looks conflicted, like maybe she doesn’t want me to go. I don’t think that’s it, though. I don’t think she has a problem with me driving Noah to school. I think she’s unsettled that I’m friends with the neighbors and she didn’t know it. I don’t think she liked how I made the decision without asking her first. I don’t feel guilty about it. She’s never home anymore. How can she expect to keep control of my life when she’s not here? She must see the defiance in my eyes, because she decides not to argue with me. “All right, well, I’m glad you can help them out. Drive carefully.”
“I will.”
I finish off my breakfast and ruffle Mason’s hair one last time. “Ugh! Stop doing that!”
“Never!” I laugh as I run out the door.
I ring the doorbell, holding my breath. My stomach is fluttering like crazy. I’m nervous, and also a tiny bit curious. Yesterday, when he came over, everything was fine. Fun, even. Will the ride to school be as easy, or will the alone time together be completely awkward?
Noah opens the door, looking thrilled to see me. “Lily!”
I’m not sure what to do with the enthusiastic greeting. “Hey. You ready?”
His brow furrows. “Ready for what?”
“Um…school?” I point over my shoulder to the car parked in front of his house. “Your mom asked me to drive with you?”
He looks past me to his car, and his cheeks tint pink. “Oh, right.”
Self-consciousness washes over me, and I shift my backpack from one shoulder to the other. “Is that okay?”
“Of course. Mom!” he calls over his shoulder. “Lily’s here! I’m good-bye!”
Mrs. Trask comes over, carrying Noah’s backpack. “Don’t forget this.”
Noah blushes again and grimaces as he takes his backpack. “Thanks.”
His embarrassment makes me feel bad for him. I know he deals with some short-term memory loss, but just how much stuff does he forget? It’s got to be hard to know you have all these things to deal with that most people don’t. I would never judge him for it, but he must see it as something that makes him different, or weak. I know I would, if it were me. Figuring the best thing to do is not react, I smile at Mrs. Trask and take the keys she’s holding. “Thanks again, Lily.”
“It’s no problem.”
Before Noah can escape out the door, Mrs. Trask grabs him and kisses his cheek. “Mom,” he snaps, horrified. “Stop.” This time, when he blushes, I can’t help grinning.
“Okay, fine.” She steps back. “Have a good day, you guys.”
She waits at the door, watching us as we climb into Noah’s car. It’s an older model silver Honda Civic. It may be almost ten years old, but it’s still in good condition, and thankfully, it’s not a stick shift. As soon as I pull away from the house, Noah spreads out in his seat. With his long legs and broad shoulders, he takes up so much room. “Thanks for driving,” he says, getting comfortable. His relaxed attitude is a good ice breaker. “You’re solving me big time. She was going to make me…me…”
“You were going to have to ride the bus?”
“Yeah.”
I laugh at the look of horror on his face. “You’re welcome. It’s actually more convenient for me too, so it works out.”
He shifts in his seat and can’t meet my eyes when he says, “Can I call you after school if I get…um…if I…”
I’m not sure what he’s trying to say this time. He struggles for a moment, then sighs this hard, frustrated sigh. “It’s okay,” I say gently, trying to remember how his mom dealt with this. “Take your time.”
He closes his eyes, clenching his jaw, but then he takes a deep breath and finally gets his sentence out. “I probably won’t remember where we park.”
He sinks back into his seat, looking defeated. It’s impossible not to feel bad for him, but I try not to let it show. I’m sure he hates that. No one likes to be pitied. I drum my thumbs on the wheel and nod. “That won’t be a problem, since I’ll have last period with you. We can walk to the car together.”
He frowns. “You do? I don’t remember that.”
“I wasn’t there yesterday. Principal Craven and Mrs. Alderman asked me if I’d pair up with you for independent study. They said you want to write a book and asked me if I’d help.”
Noah blinks and frowns. “They told me you said…” He shakes his head no.
It’s my turn to blush. I pull into the school parking lot and grimace my way through a guilty smile. “I did, but I’m going to tell them I changed my mind. I realized I was being prideful and petty. It’s a good opportunity for both of us. It’s stupid of me to turn it down because of our past.”
I pull into an empty parking spot and turn off the car. Noah’s watching me with such concentration that my cheeks flame even hotter. I shrug and have to look away from him. “When you came over yesterday, it wasn’t so bad. I’m sure we can work together without killing each other.”
I climb out of the car without waiting for a response. Noah follows and walks so closely beside me that our shoulders brush. We head toward the school in comfortable silence. “Thanks,” he says suddenly. “You’ll be a good partner. You’re a great…you’re a great, um…” He mimes holding a pen and writing.
The compliment shocks me. How would he know that? Seeing my frown of confusion, he explains. “I always liked your particles in the school…the…the…”
“The school paper?”
“Yeah.”
He read my articles? Before his accident, when he was still a major jerk? I’m shocked. And flattered. “Thanks,” I mutter.
He smiles and bumps his shoulder with mine. “Thanks for saying yes.”
We reach the school, and he holds the door open for me. After he’s inside the building, though, he stops for a second and takes a fortifying breath. Almost everyone is staring at him. I know how it feels to have everyone looking at you like you’re a freak, so I do my best to distract him from the looks and whispers. I nudge his shoulder and lead him toward the front office. “Come on, let’s go tell Mrs. Alderman that I’ve changed my mind.”
. . . . .
Second period, I have World Lit with Noah, Austin, and Brooke. I get there before any of them and quietly take my seat, trying to go unnoticed. I just want to get through this last semester. My plan is shot when Noah gets to class and heads my way. “Hey, Lily.” He smiles as he takes the seat beside mine.
Shock fills the air. It’s hard to know if everyone is curious about the kid with brain damage or if their surprise has to do with the fact that he’s acting like we’re friends. When Noah sits down beside me, he says, “Want to be parrots?”
At the word parrots, the whispers and a few giggles break out. Noah glances around warily. People aren’t even trying to hide the fact that they’re watching him. I can’t stand letting him suffer, so I try to distract him. “Partners?” I ask, guessing at what he meant to say.
The question gains his attention back. He nods. I’m about to explain that we don’t have partners when Jared Daily comes up behind Noah and clears his throat. “You’re in my seat,” he mumbles to Noah.
Noah’s brows furrow in confusion, and he looks to me for clarification. “We have assigned seating in here,” I explain. “You have to sit where you were yesterday.”
It takes him a moment to process what I said, and then his face falls. “Oh.” He looks around the room and gulps. “Where did I sit yesterday?” he whispers to me.
“You don’t know?” Jared asks.
More whispers murmur through the class, and Noah hunches in on himself. Poor guy. I point to the empty chair next to Austin.
Mrs. Porter enters the classroom, calling for everyone to take their seats. With one last glance at me, Noah reluctantly climbs to his feet and walks to the front of the room. Jared slides into his seat, and after dropping his bag on the floor, whispers to me, “Since when are you and Noah friends?”
I shrug. “We’re neighbors. We’ve seen each other a few times since he got home.”
Jared leans toward me. “Is it true what people are saying about him? That he’s, like, retarded or something now?”
I’m surprised by the anger that wells up inside me. I have an overwhelming need to defend Noah that makes no sense. I should hate him, but it’s proving impossible to not feel sympathy for him. Instead of remembering the jerk who called me trash and laughed at me with his friends, all I see is the sweet guy who likes my toes and played Monopoly with my brother. “He’s not retarded,” I snap. “And you shouldn’t use that word. It’s really offensive.”
Jared holds his hands up in a placating gesture, signaling that he’s backing off, but a small smirk plays on his lips. I grind my teeth, but let the subject drop, and Jared goes back to doing his own thing.
I pull out my book. We had homework to read Romeo and Juliet over break and will no doubt jump right into it. Sure enough, Mrs. Porter stand up front and says, “I know you’re all ready to start using your brains again. What better way to do that than with a pop quiz?”
She claps her hands together once, trying to excite the class for the idea of a test. It doesn’t work. We all groan. “Oh, come on,” she says, passing out the quizzes. “It’s not difficult—a five-question quiz to see if you actually did the reading over break.”
Could be worse.
The class quiets down and gets to work. I quickly fill out my answers. Mrs. Porter was right: it’s an easy quiz. The questions are all about the biggest events in the play. Even if you’d only seen the movie, you’d be able to get an A.
The room is quiet, which makes Noah’s grunt of frustration seem so much louder than it is. He slams his pencil down and pushes his paper off his desk. Giggles sweep the room, and a glaring Noah roars, “IT’S NOT FUNNY!”
His shout only makes the class gasp and laugh more. His face turns an angry red, and he fists his hands in his hair. “EVERYBODY, SHUT UP!”
“Noah!” Mrs. Porter says, sounding flabbergasted. “You need to calm down.”
It’s the wrong thing to say to him. He explodes again. “DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!”
Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m out of my chair and crossing the room to Noah. Mrs. Porter reaches him about the same time as I do. I ignore her and place my hand on Noah’s forearm. “Noah,” I say calmly. “Take a breath.”
