The Edge of Everything(28)

She let out a loud snore.

"I know you're awake," said Jonah. "Duh."

Zoe snored louder.

"Faker," said Jonah. After a moment, he added, "Where's X? Why isn't he back? I liked it when he was here."

Zoe groaned, and sat up in bed.

"He had to leave," she said. "You know that, bug."

"But, like, leave leave?" said Jonah. "Forever leave?"

His voice faltered.

The reality of the situation flooded through Zoe, too. Maybe she'd never see X again. Maybe their kiss had been so engulfing, so singular, because it would be the only one.

"I don't know about forever," she said. "All I know is that he wants to come back and that he's stubborn, like us."

Jonah seemed to accept this. He approached the foot of Zoe's bed and prepared to burrow under the blankets.

"No, bug," she said. "You can't sleep here. Not tonight."

He didn't think she was serious. He lifted the covers.

"No, bug," she said, snatching away the sheet and blanket.

Jonah left the room without a word, trailing a cloud of hurt. Zoe fell back onto the bed. Through the wall, she could hear Jonah push open their mother's door and say, "Zoe is the worst. Can I snuggle with you?"

Zoe changed positions yet again. She missed X-there was a lake of pain where her heart should have been-and now she felt guilty, too. Up on the roof, a clump of snow broke apart. It slid down the shingles, dropped past the windows like a body falling, and landed in the snow with a thunk.

She was never going to sleep.

Exasperated, Zoe sat up and hurled her pillow across the room. It struck the shelves above her desk, and sent some trophies clattering to the floor. She tried to assess the damage, but, in the darkness, could only identify an award for Best Sheep Shearer among the casualties. The trophy was of a golden half-naked sheep. It was one of Zoe's favorites because it reminded her of Val, who shaved the left side of her head. (Val was so gorgeous she could get away with it.) Zoe had bought the trophy at a thrift store in Columbia Falls. The man behind the counter-he'd been dozing and she had to wake him up with the shiny hotel bell-was so surprised that someone wanted the thing that he said, "For real?"

Zoe banged the back of her head against the wall in frustration. Once, twice, three times. Her mother must have thought she was knocking because she knocked back. It was a comforting sound.

Zoe realized she didn't really want to be alone.

The door to her mom's room stood open. Zoe entered tentatively, wondering if she'd be turned away. Her mother and Jonah lay huddled under the blankets, whispering like conspirators. Jonah heard Zoe's footsteps and lifted his head.

"This room is for sad people only," he said.

He'd been crying.

"I'm sad, too," said Zoe. "I promise."




       
         
       
        
Jonah put on his frowny thinking face. Finally, he nodded.

Zoe went to the foot of the bed and tunneled under the blankets like a gopher, for Jonah's benefit. When she popped her head out, she saw him snuff out a smile he didn't want her to see.

Zoe settled against the wall so that she and her mother lay shielding Jonah like parentheses.

"Your body's so warm," she told him.

"I get warm when I'm sad," he said. "Because of science."

Zoe and her mother took turns patting Jonah's hair. A clunky metal fan that their mom used to lull herself to sleep spun noisily in a corner, like the propeller of an old plane.

Jonah fell asleep within minutes, and Zoe's mother drifted off soon after. Zoe lay on her side, her thoughts swirling. Was this what love was like-one part pleasure, two parts pain? Zoe thought of Val's obsession with Gloria. She understood it now. She'd never felt anything like that with Dallas-it had never even occurred to her to make a Tumblr about his feet. For one thing, she was pretty sure he waxed them.

Zoe laughed softly, and her body relaxed, muscle by muscle. She could feel sleep coming for her at last.

But then Jonah, who'd apparently not been sleeping, announced into the darkness, "I'm not going to school tomorrow."

Zoe clenched.

"Shhh," said her mother, her voice soggy with sleep. "We'll talk about it in the morning."

"Okay, but I'm not going," Jonah said, as defiantly as he could. "And you can't make me."

"We will talk about it in the morning."

"I know you'll try to make me. But I won't. I hate it."

Zoe knew she should keep her mouth shut. But the idea that Jonah hated school was ridiculous. His homeroom teacher, Miss Noelle-he worshipped her. Once, he'd drawn a picture of her on his arm, like a tattoo.

"You don't hate it, bug," she said. "Don't say that."

"I hate it if I say I hate it," he said.

He sat bolt upright, and kicked the covers to the bottom of the bed.

Crap, thought Zoe. Here comes a meltdown.

"Jonah, control yourself," her mother said. "Please."

"Only I know if I hate school," he said. "So Zoe shouldn't say I don't hate it. I hate it if I say I hate it."

Zoe got out of bed, and stalked across the room, allowing herself a childish outburst of her own. She was carrying around enough pain already. She couldn't add her brother's misery to the pile. Not this time. It wasn't fair. Didn't Jonah know that she missed X, too? Didn't he know that she was thinking about him with every breath? 

On her way to the door, she kicked over the idiotic fan with her bare foot. Behind her, Jonah said, "See how she just left? Nobody says good-bye."



The morning was a nightmare. Zoe avoided Jonah as she printed an essay for English, but she could hear his shouts of "I hate it if I say I hate it" ringing through the house. He wouldn't eat, wouldn't brush his teeth, wouldn't get dressed. Zoe felt her mother's impatience rise. As she passed Jonah's bedroom, she saw her mom trying to dress him herself. Jonah refused to cooperate. He stiffened his body like a war protester.

Zoe motioned for her mother to come into the hall.

"I can't believe he's being so heinous," she said.

"He's in pain, Zo," said her mom. "We all process pain differently."

"Yeah-and he processes it heinously," Zoe said.

"Anyway, look, there's no way I can go to work today," said her mom.

"Can you afford to take a day off?" said Zoe.

"No, but I can't afford a sitter either," said her mother. "And who could I call? All the sitters are going to be in school, which is where children are supposed to be."

Jonah must have overheard them because he called out from his room.

"Could Rufus be my babysitter, maybe?" he said. "I would never be heinous at Rufus."

Zoe's mom didn't like the idea. She didn't want to take advantage of Rufus's crush on her, probably. But Zoe thought it was genius, and she wanted this morning, this crisis, this escalating Jonah nonsense over with.

She called Rufus herself. He sounded surprised by the request-chain-saw artists are rarely asked to babysit-but before she could say never mind he had declared the idea to be rad.

"Thank god," said Zoe. "I was afraid you'd think it was gnarly."

"You're making fun of me, I know," said Rufus, laughing, "but tell my man Jonah to prepare himself for an epic hang."

Twenty minutes later, Rufus's van could be heard negotiating the mountainside. Zoe saw the wooden bear affixed to the roof as it rose above the treetops, waving like the queen.



At last she was free. She drove the decrepit Struggle Buggy to school as if it were a race car. Every nerve in her body seemed to be humming. Every song on the radio seemed to be about X.

Zoe's and Jonah's schools were nestled next to each other in Flathead Valley near a dense settlement of chain stores (Target, Walmart, Costco) and beef-slinging restaurants that Zoe's mom referred to as the Cannibal Food Court (Sizzler, Five Guys, House of Huns). Students were allowed to eat lunch at the mall once they became juniors. For everyone else, it merely shimmered across the highway like an unreachable promised land. Zoe was a junior, but the thrill of eating in the Cannibal Food Court had lost its shine. It was partly because her mother's ethics had sunk in over the years-Zoe wasn't a vegetarian, but she felt a cloud of guilt whenever she ate meat-and partly because House of Huns was where she'd told Dallas she didn't want to go out anymore.

Val had begged Zoe not to see Dallas in the first place. She thought he was cocky and kind of a douche. But Val's relationship with Gloria was so intense that she had a skewed idea of what was generally possible in 11th grade. Zoe loved that Dallas was a caver like her and her dad, that he was fun and uncomplicated, and that-so sue her-you could see his triceps through almost any shirt. When she told Val that she was going to give him a chance, Val said simply, "I weep for you."

They began dating in September, and Zoe soon discovered that there were many sweet things about Dallas: His favorite color was orange. He still slept in pajamas. He used a photo of his mom for the wallpaper on his laptop. Val didn't want to hear any of it. Once, when Zoe and Dallas passed her in the hallway, Zoe sang out, "Still dating!" Val nodded, and sang back, "Still weeping!"