Much as I like walking with Jeanette and Sarah, I also like checking out big stacks of library books. The thought of running out of reading material makes me panicky. My parents are always teasing me about my book addiction, but I’m not going to think about my parents. I don’t want to feel guilty. Whenever they’re fighting, or Mom’s upset, or Dad’s disappeared into the basement, I wish I were somewhere else. Now that I am somewhere else, though, I feel like I should be there, doing something to help.
A chill rolls down my spine. What if Mom called about more than just the dentist? What if she has bigger news, but she doesn’t know how to break it to us? What if they’re getting a divorce? Mom threatens it often enough. Is that why they were fine with me coming here? They needed me out of the way while they made the final arrangements?
“I promise we’ll come back soon,” Jeanette says. “The library’s on the way to pretty much everywhere.” She looks concerned, and I realize my face is all scrunched up. I must look like I’m three years old and someone’s taken away my teddy bear. I shove my thoughts aside and force myself to laugh. Her face relaxes.
Sarah whistles. “You must really like to read.”
“Yup,” I say, embarrassed. “My parents call me a book junkie.”
“There are worse addictions,” Jeanette says, rummaging in her knapsack for pen and paper. I write down the names of the books I’m leaving behind so I can find them again later.
I feel better now that I have a book stash, but I still feel weird about this morning’s phone call. I keep waiting for Jeanette to mention it, but she doesn’t. Again I wonder if the dentist appointment was the only reason for the call, or if there’s something more that I’m missing.
I know better than to prod an adult who doesn’t want to talk. For instance, Dad never talks about his childhood, but it must have been pretty bad. We never see his parents, no matter how much I ask. He’ll talk about anything else under the sun, even stuff that kids never want to hear about—like the first time he had sex—but not his family.
Mom’s parents died before I was born. Jeanette is the only blood relation I know. Mom was only six when Jeanette left home at seventeen. According to Jeanette, their father was an alcoholic bully and their mom couldn’t stand up to him, so Jeanette struck out on her own, working as a waitress in a coffee shop and sleeping on a friend’s floor until she had enough money to rent an apartment. Mom says all hell broke loose in their house after Jeanette left, and things happened that she’ll never recover from. Eventually, their father took off and their mother had a breakdown.
Jeanette rescued Mom when Mom was ten and raised her on her own, only going to teachers’ college after Mom was in high school and could fend for herself a bit. Despite having all that responsibility, Jeanette turned out fearless and fun-loving. Mom is scared of everything. Now that I’m thirteen, she worries even more than usual. She’s forever telling me she understands that rebellion is a natural part of being a teenager, and she knows I’ll do my own share of acting out, but she wants me to make wise decisions. I tell her I’m not going to get pregnant or become a druggie or anything, and she looks at me sadly and says it’s hard to predict these things. Other times she looks at me like I might turn into a werewolf right in front of her. Sometimes I wish I could go directly from twelve to eighteen, just to save her the anxiety.
Jeanette, on the other hand, flies at life, ready to snatch up everything it has on offer. If I turned into a werewolf tomorrow, she’d congratulate me on all the new opportunities I’d have in the film industry.
They’re totally different, Jeanette and Mom. When they’re together, you can tell they love each other, but that doesn’t mean they don’t fight. Mom never much liked Alison, for example. Every time we came to visit, Alison wanted to hike Mount Doug, or paddle the Gorge, or at least invite a bunch of friends over for an exotic banquet. Mom only wanted to chill, and she seemed to take it personally that Alison wasn’t interested in sitting around chatting all the time. Mom never got that Alison wasn’t the chatting type. So Mom and Jeanette have had their fair share of fights, and whenever they’re mad at each other, I hear all about it. Mom doesn’t believe in hiding things from me, and as soon as she gets off the phone with Jeanette, she tells me every detail of the argument.
Jeanette’s not like that though. She’s not telling me anything about her phone conversation with Mom.
FIVE
“It’s now or never,” Jeanette says, flicking on the switch in the stairwell down to the basement.