Authors: Patrick Freivald
"But I'm already tired, and I don't feel good. And if I'm going to cure you, I need to do it before I... soon. And I can't do it without your help. I need my baby beside me. Please, sweetie." She reached across the table and grabbed Ani's hand.
Ani squeezed. "Okay, Mom. Okay. I'll help. On one condition."
"What?"
"If things don't work out with Dylan, we stop. No more people die so I can live."
"Okay, sweetie," her mom said. She gave Ani a tight smile. "Let's get to work."
* * *
Friday good. End of twenty-five weeks bad.
Ani got her unofficial grades from her teachers.
D in AP History, D in English.
Parent-teacher conference requests had been sent home that morning.
I'm dead. Extra dead.
"Come on," Fey said. "What's the worst that could happen?"
Home school.
"Summary execution," Ani said. Jake laughed, and she punched him in the arm. "It's not funny, Jake. My mom is going to kill me."
Jake rubbed his arm. "Your mom has a stick up her butt."
"Doesn't she know already?" Fey asked. "I mean, she works here and all."
Ani shook her head. "Apparently she has to contact the teacher the same way any other parent does. Union rules or something."
"That's stupid," Jake said. Ani shrugged.
"So," Fey said, "that means she's getting a letter in the mail just like anyone else would?"
Ani nodded. "It'll be in the mailbox when she gets home."
Fey grinned. "It doesn't have to be."
"Mom beats me home every day, if she doesn't give me a ride. There's no way to hide it from her."
Fey coughed, then smirked. "Wow. I don't feel so good."
Jake ran his tongue over his front teeth. "You look pale. Maybe you should go home early."
Ani's eyes widened. "If someone sees you—"
"Then I did it myself," Fey said, "trying to do you a favor. You didn't put me up to nothing."
Ani sighed. "Why bother? It's just delaying the inevitable. She'll find out when five week reports go out anyway."
"True," Fey said. "But what's wrong with delaying the inevitable?"
Ani bit her lip. She looked at Fey, then down the hall toward the nurse's office. "Yeah, okay. I owe you one."
* * *
Her mom ate dinner while Ani painted, ungrounded and un-yelled at.
For now
. Another brush stroke completed the hull of a sailboat, and she started on the sail. The doorbell rang. Ani got up, but her mom beat her to it. She checked the peephole, unlatched the dead-bolts, and opened the door. Fey stepped inside, chomping gum.
"Miss Daniels," her mother said. "What can I do for you this evening?"
Fey held out an envelope. "Hi, Mrs. Romero. This was in our mailbox by mistake. Thought you might want it." Her mom plucked the envelope from Fey's hand. Ani recognized the school's logo, and tried to come up with an insult deadly enough for the occasion.
"Thank you, Tiffany." Her mom stepped out of the way as Ani pushed past her.
"Fey, can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Sure," Fey said. Her upper lip was curled in a tiny sneer. Ani stepped outside and closed the door, her wide eyes asking the question for her. "Not for nothing, Ani, but next time I want to talk to you about something, try not blowing me off. Consider this a lesson in friendship." She turned and tromped through the snow toward her yard.
Ani watched her go, then walked inside to face her mother, who was already frowning at the letter.
"Why am I being asked to parent-teacher conferences, Ani?"
"I've been under a lot of stress, Mom. Maybe they want to talk to you about that. Mrs. Weller's been concerned about me, referred me to the psychologist and everything."
"Well," she said, "I guess I need to keep Thursday night free."
* * *
When Fey got on the bus, Ani scowled at her.
"What?" Fey smirked. "Tell me you didn't deserve that."
"I..." Ani sighed. "I'm sorry I blew you off, Fey. But—"
"But nothing." Fey shook her head. "I'm not your part-time friend, there only when it's convenient for you. We're either friends or we're not."
Ani held up her hands. "Yeah, okay, I get it. I didn't realize I was being such an asshole."
Sometimes I forget and expect you to make sense.
"Apology accepted, asshole." Fey sat, shoved Ani toward the window with her hip, and held out an ear bud. "Happens to all of us."
They chatted about Jake over Death Cab for Cutie—he was still interested, Fey wasn't—and Ani gave her some lame advice founded on nothing even vaguely approaching experience with that sort of situation. The one time something like it had happened to her, she'd died and gone emo. That had taken care of Keegan's interest without further effort on her part.
They cut eighth period to smoke cigarettes behind the gas station across the street and talk about nothing. A certain amount of calculated trouble was expected of her, and Fey was always a willing participant.
Fey was complaining about the lack of good jobs in Ohneka Falls when she took a silver box out of her purse. Ani stared in amazement as she popped it open, scooped out a hunk of white powder with her pinky fingernail, and snorted it. She snapped it closed, sighed, and shook herself out. "Wow."
Ani's mouth opened, closed. She tried again. "Fey, what the hell was that?"
Fey quirked a smile. "Fuzz. You want some?"
"What the hell is fuzz?"
Because it looked like freaking cocaine.
"It makes you fuzzy. Warm. Happy. Want some?" She hesitated with the case halfway into her purse.
Ani shook her head. "No, Fey. I—You shouldn't have any either."
Holy crap.
Fey rolled her eyes. "Don't start. I get enough of that shit at home. If you're going to go all prude, I'll go back to study hall."
Stealing alcohol and cigarettes for my friends, and I'm prude?
"I was just saying that—" Fey put her index finger to Ani's lips.
"Yeah, I know. I got this. It's fine."
Ani grabbed her wrist and lowered it.
What does, "I got this" even mean?
"Yeah, um, I'm going to have to ask you to not do that in front of me."
Fey rolled her eyes again. "Whatever. Give it a month you'll be doing it with me. Just watch."
At a loss for words, Ani lit another cigarette. Fey gave her a lazy smile.
"Got another?"
Ani sighed. "Sure, Fey."
Shit.
* * *
It was the second Tuesday of the month, so that evening Ani found herself at the elementary skating party, selling candy. The moment she walked in, she felt the familiar, disconcerting feeling simmer in her gut. As the evening passed, she tried to enjoy the music and the atmosphere, but more and more her eyes were drawn to the delicate shapes moving under the flashing lights, and her gorge rose in her throat. She forced down the feeling and fumbled through her coat for her razor. It took the edge off, but didn't kill it.
The DJ put on Abysmal Dawn, but nobody wanted to skate to death metal, so she got mobbed. Ravenous children looking for a sugar buzz surrounded her, a press of delicious flesh with an undertone of young, delicious brains. She dragged the razor lengthwise down her wrist once, twice, and it didn't help. She put her hand to her mouth and wiped away a string of drool—and that was too much.
She pushed out of her chair and it clattered to the floor as she stumbled away. She looked at her mom, tan and lean and full of hot blood, gasped out "Mom" in desperation, and stumbled into the bathroom. Once past the door she dropped to her knees and dug her fingernails into her thighs, her eyes squeezed tight in concentration. Behind her eyelids the world got darker, and darker.
An arm went around her neck, putting her in a choke-hold. Her eyes snapped open and she saw her mother in the mirror, one arm around her neck, the other raised above her head with an auto-injector. The hand came down onto her wig. She wanted to bite it, chew it, taste it, but she kept herself still. It was the hardest thing she had ever done.
There was a hiss as the CO2 cartridge injected serum into her brain. Warmth flooded her head, dissolving the hunger as her mother pulled her up against the door and produced a revolver from her purse. Ani stared at it through the mirror as her mom cocked the hammer and shoved her across the room.
"Sweetie?" she asked, half-raising the pistol.
Brains!
It was a pathetic thing now, weak and starving. Ani nodded, a near-imperceptible jiggle of her head. "Better every second, Mom."
They waited like that, her mom against the door so that no one could barge in, one finger on the trigger. One minute, then two. The last vestiges of the hunger faded into a familiar low burn—it would be gone in hours.
Finally, she flexed her hands and shook it off. "All good." Ani looked at her mom and smiled. "Thanks, Mom."
That was close.
Her mom un-cocked the revolver and put it back in her purse. "Go home. I'll see you when we're done here."
"Good idea," Ani said, though it was clear it wasn't a suggestion. She walked home, sick to her stomach—but this time it was only emotion.
She has to protect herself. Has to protect those kids. From me.
* * *
By the time her mom got home, Ani felt a thousand times better. The cravings had all but disappeared. Still, her mom was worried, and a worried Mom always led to more restrictions.
Ani opened the door and started right in. "Mom, it was the crowd. I felt fine all day. I had no problems, no issues. Everything was fine when I got there, too."
"But everything was not fine when the kids rushed the table." Her mom stepped past her and hung her keys next to the door.
"No. That was a big problem." Ani closed the door and locked it.
Her mom walked into the kitchen, poured herself a cup of coffee, took a sip, and added a splash of milk. She took another sip, nodded, then set the cup on the counter. "I'm sorry, honey, but I don't think you're going to be able to go to any more skating parties." Ani didn't even bother trying to object. "I can forge you a prescription for an epi-pen, and you can carry an auto-injector in your purse, just in case. People will look at you funny if you inject yourself in the skull, but it beats the alternative." She took another sip, her eyes on Ani over the mug. "So what are we going to do about school?"
"What do you mean?"
"There will be situations where you're forced into contact with large numbers of people at once. Assemblies, fire drills..."
Locker rooms, band pits, group projects. I'm screwed.
"Claustrophobia," Ani said. "There's another girl who graduated a few years ago. She was diagnosed with claustrophobia and got to skip out on all that stuff. The school was really good about it."
"Okay," her mom said. "Claustrophobia it is. Just don't get caught in any confined spaces."
Chapter 22
Thursday night her mom left her at home to go to parent-teacher conferences. Mrs. Weller and Mr. Gursslin both wanted to talk to her about Ani's grades, while Mr. Bariteau wanted to talk to her about a summer symphony program up in Rochester.
Not very likely the way things are going, Mr. B.
Trapped at home with impending doom hanging over her head, Ani waited without an iota of grace or patience.
She tried to paint, but her muse had abandoned her. She tried to read a book, but was too distracted. Her fingers were clumsy on the piano keys.
Mom's going to get home and say I'm never going to school again. Between the skating party and my grades, it's too big of a risk for not enough reward... but I have to interact with other people, so she can't do that. Can she?
When her mom walked in the door, Ani gave her a fresh cup of coffee, one cream. Her mom hung up her coat, took the coffee, and set it on the table without tasting it. She produced several crumpled papers from her pocket and smoothed them out on the table. Only then did she look at Ani.
"Two D's, two C's, and two A's. Completely unacceptable."
"I know, Mom. I've had a lot on my mind."
Her mom clucked her tongue. "Most of what you have on your mind, you only learned in the past week. You have missing assignments in English and poor test grades in Trigonometry this entire quarter. You only did half of your daily math homework. There's no point in ensuring you have a future if you're not going to do your part to ensure it's worthwhile."
Ouch.
"There's still five weeks left, Mom. I'll pull my grades up. I promise."
I will, I will, I will!
"You associate with Tiffany and Jacob because they provide you necessary cover and social stimulation. You aren't supposed to become one of them."
Part of Ani was offended on their behalf.
I like Fey. And Jake. Sort of.
"I know, Mom. They don't really have anything to do with this. It's all me. I accept full responsibility." As soon as she'd said it, she knew it'd never fly.
"Well, in that case, I will have to see a significant improvement by the end of ten-week period—that's less than a month away—or I will pull you out of school and deal with your education myself. With everything that's been going on, I've been considering it anyway, but I know you don't want it."
"Just tell me what I have to do."
Please, please make it something I can.
"I want to see your lowest grade as a B in four weeks, or you will not be returning to Ohneka Upper School for your senior year."
Ani stifled a sigh of relief.
B's. I can do B's.
"Okay, Mom."
* * *
Ani went to school and begged for mercy.
Mr. G. was awesome. He told her that if she made up all of her back work he would give her half credit for it, and allow her to do corrections on her exams. He'd always been a pushover for anyone willing to try, even if they hadn't yet lived up to their end of the bargain.
Mrs. Weller was another story.
She stayed after school and waited outside the door for the other kids to leave. When they were gone she stepped into the doorway and tapped her knuckle against the metal frame. She caught herself chewing her bottom lip and forced her mouth closed. Mrs. Weller looked up from her desk and smiled.
A smile! Good start!