Wicked Sense Page 8

  ***

  She makes us coffee without a word. I lean against the kitchen counter, trying to stay awake, failing epically in tuning the kitchen sounds out. She waits until I drink the whole cup of hot goodness.

  “I saw you and Jane,” she says.

  Okay. At least it wasn’t a dream. I was thinking I might have hallucinated the whole thing. “Oh,” I say.

  “You guys went inside that ugly car,” she continues.

  Maybe she knows what happened. I try to get more information from her. “And?”

  “Oh, it’s not my business; is that what you’re saying? It’s all good for you, right?”

  It takes me a while to realize what she’s thinking. “No, that’s not what I mean. Going into the Volvo is the last thing I remember. I thought you could tell me what happened after that.”

  She doesn’t answer promptly. “I came back to the party,” she says simply. “You don’t really remember? Were you drunk?”

  I shrug.

  “What were you thinking?” she says, shaking her head.

  “I wasn’t!” It’s true.

  “What about Skye? I thought you had a crush on her.”

  “I did. I do.” But that’s pointless now, I want to add.

  “Then what are you doing making out with Jane of all people?”

  It’s like the Twilight Zone. The Predator is lecturing me about restraint. Priscilla alone is responsible for a spike in contraceptive sales in our city. “Priscilla, seriously? You are questioning my choices? You?”

  “You’re not me, Drake.”

  I shake my head, but I quickly stop, because it hurts. Incredibly, it’s worse than the concussion. It’s not a good sign that I suddenly became an expert in headaches.

  Priscilla looks fine, though. “Aren’t you hung over?” I ask.

  “I don’t drink, stupid. It impairs your judgment—as you proved last night.”

  “I don’t either. I just had a few swigs. I guess I’m really weak with alcohol.” I don’t know why, but I feel I have to justify my behavior.

  “What now? Are you guys going to date?”

  I look at Priscilla. Is she serious? “We just made out. Even I know that means nothing. Why are you so concerned, anyway?”

  She shrugs. “Skye’s my friend.”

  “Well, guess what? Your friend abandoned you too, Priscilla. Welcome to the club.” I stand up, painfully. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  I drive home. Carefully.

  ***

  I sleep through Sunday. Monday morning I see both Boulder and Sean have texted me, but I ignore them. I drive to school, making a pathetic detour to pass in front of Skye’s dead house.

  As soon as I park in the school’s lot, I notice Jane arriving, the roar of her motorcycle distinctive and deafening.

  I wait for a moment when the lot is not too crowded and approach her.

  “Hey, Jane,” I say.

  She turns to face me with menace in her eyes. But when she sees it’s just me, they turn back to her usually steely gaze.

  “Hey, Drake. Feeling better?” The words are cordial, but her tone isn’t.

  “I passed out, huh?” It doesn’t clarify much.

  “During the best part,” she says in a hushed voice. “Hey, can I trust you to keep it quiet?”

  I don’t ask why. I don’t want to hear it. “Sure,” I say. What else can I tell her? ‘No can do, Jane, I want to shout from the rooftops I made out with the hot crazy chick everybody’s afraid of’? I just had those amazing experiences with two girls who usually wouldn’t even look at me, and I can’t share them with anyone. Damn, Drake, you’re such a boy scout.

  “Thanks. I had fun. Who knows? Maybe someday we can have fun again. I’ll let you know.” She leaves before I can answer her.

  All this conversation went down without a single smile from her. She is weird.

  And she doesn’t want me approaching her again, especially in school. I’m back to my usual status.

  So, just like it was with Skye, as soon as it began, it was over. I have very interesting relationships, but they don’t last long.

  Chapter 20: Skye

  One Week Later

  Spending a week with Mum is my condition to get back to Seattle for my hopeless mission. I make sure she’s comfortable and well cared for in our house. Judi moves into a guest bedroom, indefinitely.

  It’s been just us girls: Aunt Gemma, Judi, Mum, and me. Mimi, the publicist, drops by now and then. We talk a lot, gossip a lot, watch black-and-white movies. I’ve never felt so connected to them.

  When I have to say goodbye, it’s painful. Not so much because of Mum, who’s almost fully recovered now, but because of this family life I never had, and I’ll miss so much.

  ***

  Even I, used to long and frequent flights due to my mother’s nomadic career choice, am bored by the London-Seattle ordeal. If only I could chat a little bit, but my companion is drugged out the whole time.

  I didn’t tell anyone I’d be back. I thought I should surprise Priscilla. She sent me sweet emails and texts every day, and I answered some of them with news of Mum’s health, but I didn’t mention I’d be coming back. I was holding out until the last moment, waiting for the Mothers to change their mind and let me stay.

  Priscilla turned out to be a real friend, staying in touch even though she believed I’d never be back. I must be more open with her. I could tell her my mother is a movie actress, for starters.

  Drake is another issue altogether. I have no idea what his reaction will be. We had no contact since the heartfelt text he sent wishing my mother well. I know he saw more in our day together than I did, and I don’t know what to do.

  This week gave me a lot of time to think. I can’t waste my life waiting for Connor to acknowledge me again. My plan is to have an open talk with him, to make it clear where we stand.

  I can’t deny the history between Connor and me, and I need to know if there’s a chance to salvage our relationship. When he left me, we had a fight, but we never had closure. It’s harsh to think of Drake as my failsafe, but that’s how things are.

  Drake. Sweet, cute, there-for-me Drake. No matter how amazing he is, he can’t help but be second-best to an already existing relationship.

  I’m almost hoping that Connor doesn’t feel anything for me anymore, so I can see where things go with Drake. Am I being unfair?

  Maybe I’m over-thinking this. I hate long flights.

  ***

  Aunt Gemma and I are back home. We already called the school from London and explained my long absence. It’s a Sunday, so tomorrow I’m coming back. The naked incident happened almost two weeks ago; maybe it’s forgotten by now.

  I had a good night’s sleep and feel ready to go on with my mission and my life. I only need to search for the Singularity until the end of the school year; after that, all bets are off. The Singularity will probably be gone by then. Even the most determined Mother would have given up after two years of a fruitless hunt. “Witch hunt,” I say out loud in my bedroom. I let out a dry laugh.

  I wait until noon before calling Priscilla. My guess is she wakes up late on Sundays.

  A sleepy voice answers, “Yeah?”

  “Hey, Pri,” I say.

  A moment passes, and I guess she must be checking the caller ID, because her voice becomes lively. “Skye? Where are you?”

  “I’m back!” I say.

  “That’s awesome! Come over! I have so much to tell you. I just need to take a shower and wake up.”

  ***

  I show up at Priscilla’s huge house. I must ask her about last week’s party.

  She’s having a 1 p.m. breakfast in the kitchen, and I join her. My clock is still messed up. She tells me her parents are away: they always go on weekend getaways, leaving her alone. When I ask if she feels lonely, she looks at me as if I’m nuts.

  “Nice glasses,” she says.

  “Oh, these? They’re new. I had lost mine.” I got the spare pai
r I had at home. They’ve been crafted especially for my True Sight. That’s how I can see Priscilla’s pink aura. But she has a ring of gray around her head.

  After she wolfs down half a pancake, she asks without glancing at me, “Have you talked to Drake yet?”

  “No, not yet.” I wait a bit. “Did you talk to him while I was gone?”

  She glances at me, but eats the other half of the pancake before answering. “I gave him your message the day after you left.”

  “How did he take it?”

  “Badly, of course.” She takes a long time sipping her coffee. “You could have let him down easily.” Her tone is less friendly now.

  I feel defensive. “I really thought I wasn’t coming back. I didn’t even want to,” I say, before catching my mistake. I try to fix it. “I mean, I wanted to stay with Mum.”

  Priscilla shakes her head. “Drake’s not like the other guys.”

  Whoa. Does Priscilla have feelings for Drake? What is going on? She rests her mug on the kitchen counter and grabs my hand. Uh-oh, here it comes.

  “Listen,” she says. “I’m not a good judge of boys. I’ve chosen a few bad ones. Okay, many bad ones. But you can see Drake is one of the good guys. I mean, even I could see it.”

  I say nothing. I want to see where this is going.

  “You’re new here, Skye, so you don’t know about my reputation. I’ve been around. I like boys. I went out with them. Almost all of them.”

  She went out with Drake. Is that it? That’s how she knows he’s a good kisser. Is that why she approached me after he came to talk to me in that first day? But he told me he hadn’t kissed her. I’m confused.

  “I didn’t know there was something between you two,” I say. She looks at me strangely. “I mean, neither of you ever told me—”

  “What? No, that’s not what I mean,” she says, interrupting me. “I’m trying to tell you I never hooked up with him because he’s one of the good guys.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She lets go of my hand and grabs a fabric napkin. While fiddling with it, she says, “I did some bad things. Broke some hearts, used some boys. Some of them did not recover, and I don’t say it as a badge of honor—I regret it now. That’s why I moved on to college guys. They are less complicated and more… resilient.”

  I wait. She gives me this exasperated look. “Skye, I spared Drake. Of course he’s cute, and we would’ve ended up getting together sooner or later. But I thought I’d do him some irreversible damage, you know? I thought maybe I’d break his heart forever.”

  That’s a side of Priscilla I’ve never seen before. Her aura suddenly turns all gray. I try to say something, but she cuts me off, as if she can’t hold it inside anymore.

  “I spared him, but you didn’t, Skye.”

  Oh.

  It’s as if a film has been lifted from my field of vision, and now I see the world clearly. I had never realized it… Of course I did! I just never took responsibility. I should have—

  “You didn’t spare him,” she repeats. “And neither did Jane.”

  Chapter 21: Drake

  I glare at the buzzing alarm clock as if it is the reason I have to face school once again. Another Monday means another whole week of suckness ahead.

  At least the week after the party passed without any more surreal moments.

  Apparently, The Predator was the only one who saw Jane and me together. Nobody is talking about it in school. It would be embarrassing, but I also wonder how the free publicity could improve my social life.

  I learn it’s easier not to be the kiss-and-tell guy when you actually never kiss any girls. Now that I have made out with two mega-hotties, it’s hard to keep it bottled up.

  You’d think this ego boost would make me more confident with girls, but I feel gloomy and conflicted. It seems my romantic life has already peaked, and it’s all downhill from here.

  The guilt about Skye crushes me. She’s gone forever, but after the make-out session with Jane I feel like I have betrayed Skye. No, not her. I betrayed my feelings for her.

  Boulder would tell me to think like a man.

  Mona bangs on the door. “Wake up, driver!” she yells.

  ***

  My sister always takes the bus, but today she gets in her head that I should drive her to school. Since it was part of the bargain with Dad, I have no option.

  She settles in the passenger side and fiddles with the radio.

  “Hey,” I say, “never touch a man’s radio.”

  Mona shoots me an angry look. “It’s not a man’s radio. It’s yours.”

  Everybody I know is a smart ass.

  “Drop me off at Pain’s,” she mumbles.

  “What?” That’s why she didn’t want to take the bus. “Are you skipping school?”

  She lets out a deep sigh. “Drake, don’t give me the ‘tude. It doesn’t suit you.”

  Who is this devil possessing my little sister? Am I supposed to believe that two-year-old ball of cuddliness turned into this girl?

  “So, we’re going to the House of Pain?” I ask.

  She snorts. “You really believe you’re the first one to make that joke, right?”

  Well, I thought it was a good one. “Do me a favor, will you? Don’t come back home with a face tattoo, okay? Or knocked up or something.”

  She looks at me as if I’m made out of snot. “You don’t need to be a jerk about it.” Her voice, for the first time in years, betrays a little frailty.

  Remembering what Skye said to me, sitting in the same place, I wonder: why don’t we talk more? What is the big deal, anyway?

  “Are you still mad about the car?” I try to break the ice.

  “No. Not after I’ve seen the car,” she replies.

  The conversation dies. This is going to be harder than I thought.

  “So,” I say, excising any contempt from my tone. “What’s the deal with Pain?”

  “What now, Drake?”

  “Does she go to school with you?”

  “You’ve known her since forever. She’s being going to school with me since kindergarten! Becca? Hello?”

  “Becca? Not pigtails Becca? Not princess dress-up Becca?” I remember their play dates.

  “You’re such a moron!” Mona says, searching for something in her purse.

  I still can’t get over it. “Little pigtails Becca calls herself ‘Pain’ now?” I say, sounding like an eighty-year-old. “Why?”

  “Why do you care, Drake? Eew.”

  What? “No, no.” Double-eew myself. “I didn’t even know who we were talking about. I’m not into little girls.”

  “Why the interrogation, then?” She gets a purple lipstick out of her purse, swings down the sun visor, and applies the Halloween-ish make-up while looking at herself in the tiny mirror.

  I don’t answer at first. I wait until a red light, then turn to her and say, “I thought we could, you know, talk.”

  She stares back at me, confused. “About what?”

  I hesitate. “About us? Our lives?”

  She cocks her head and narrows her eyes. “Are you coming out?”

  “W-What?!?”

  “You’re coming out to your little sister! That’s so cute.” And there it is, the first smile I see on her face in weeks.

  I raise my hands in desperation. “I’m not coming out!”

  “Aren’t you ready?”

  “I’m straight! Where did you get this idea?”

  Her smile fades a bit. “Don’t get all worked up. It sounds homophobic, you know?”

  “Why do I have to be homosexual or homophobic? Can’t I be neither?”

  “But your reaction—”

  I bang my fist on the dashboard. “It’s because it’s already hard enough to get a girl. I don’t need these rumors.”

  A horn honks behind us. I look in the back mirror and see a four-car line waiting for me. My hands go back to the wheel, and we move. Sneaking a peek at her, I see the lipstick is gone and she’s
rummaging through her purse again. Her smile is gone. She doesn’t look at me.

  “Come on, Drake. What did you expect? I never see you with a girl, you don’t play sports—”

  “I swim!”

  “Swimming is exercise, it’s not a sport. Besides, the speedo—”

  “I don’t wear a speedo! I wear tight swimming trunks! Manly trunks.”

  “That’s not the point. There’s this sensitive side of yours, your soft voice, and you just said you’re not into girls—”

  “I said little girls. Like diaper-wearing Becca.”

  “And you are always hanging out with those two studs. I mean, you follow them like a puppy.”

  Oh, God, my little sister thinks that Boulder and Sean are studs. Will this nightmare ever end? I look at her, and I’m stunned further when I see a lighter in her left hand, her other hand still inside the purse. I forget all about my supposed gayness.

  “Mona! Are you smoking?”

  She looks at me, startled. “No,” she says with a guilty voice. “This is for, like, incense and stuff.”

  “Come on, Mona!” I say aloud. Then, my voice turns soft, just like she pointed out seconds ago. “Smoking of all things?” I don’t know what comes over me. My eyes are suddenly humid. I keep staring at the road. I can feel she’s looking at me, but I don’t know what to say.

  After a while, she breaks the silence. “Seriously, Drake. It’s not for smoking, or pot, or anything. It’s just a lighter. For candles—”

  “—and incense. Right.” My eyes are still on the traffic ahead.

  I hear a deep sigh. We don’t say a word until we’re at Pain’s. Or pigtails Becca’s. Or whoever’s. Mona doesn’t ask me to not rat on her to Dad. She leaves the car and closes the door, and then leans on the open window.

  “I’m sorry,” she says.

  I turn to her, at last. “It’s okay. It’s just the lighter—”

  “No,” she interrupts me. “I’m sorry you’re not gay. We could go clubbing together, looking for guys.” She blows me a kiss with her purple lips and laughs her way to the front porch of Pain’s house.

  I take off. I smile a little bit, but it’s bittersweet. I realize that while I was living my life, my little sister became, you know, a person.