Exposure (15 page)

“Oh, don't remind me!” she said, sighing. “As if we don't have enough to do studying for the AP tests and everything else?”

Mr. Richter had dropped the bombshell a few weeks ago, assigning a final project for an end-of-the-year exhibition. It would account for seventy percent of our final grade. In June, we'd have to turn in original pieces that we felt best signified our experience at East Anchorage High over the past four years.

“I think maybe I'll glue an Extra Strength Tylenol onto a canvas and call it a day,” Tess teased. “That would about sum up my high school career.”

I double-parked behind Kaya's car outside the Hurlyburly; the lot was full.

“Looks like everybody had the same idea,” Tess said, as she bounded up the front wooden deck and pushed through the door. I followed her in. A bunch of older men lined the bar stools; permanent fixtures here, I presumed. Cat waved us over to the red vinyl booth she and Kaya managed to nab. We piled all our coats, scarves, and mittens in the far corner and gazed at the sauce-smudged menus.

“Uh, yeah, can I have a side-order of crud with that?” Kaya cringed, wiping her side of the table down with a napkin. Just then Easy himself showed up and plunked four red plastic cups of ice water down on the table.

“Evenin', gals. What can I do ya for?” We decided to split two orders of chili cheese fries, a plate of chicken fingers, and a small cheese pizza.

“And just water for me,” I said, worried that he might add a little something fifteen-proof to any other beverage. I spied Craig and a bunch of his friends on the other side of the room, but did my best not to let my eyes wander back in that direction. As much as I tried to ignore him, every fiber of my being was aware of his proximity. Apparently, Kaya had gotten the same view.

“Cool kid alert — oh my gosh, I can't believe I forgot!” she exclaimed, leaning closer to the middle of the table. “Goss-
ip
!” The rest of us moved in to hear. “So, did you guys notice how Beth Morgan missed a bunch of school last week? I overheard Mrs. Sheridan and Mrs. Kimball talking about it yesterday afternoon. Apparently, she's got some kind of eating disorder.”

“Like anorexia or something?” Tess leaned in to hear amidst the din.

“Her dad checked her into a rehab facility, where she's been all week. They said she was supposed to be getting out today, so I guess she'll be back at school on Monday.”

“Jeez,” said Cat, sweeping her hands through the new blue streak in her hair and crunching on some ice from her water glass.

“That's strange,” Tess said. “I thought eating disorders mostly affected people who feel powerless. They starve themselves, or whatever, as a way of restoring some semblance of control.”

“Beth doesn't come across that way,” said Cat. “She's a bitch, for sure, but that girl rules with an iron fist.”

“Maybe her rationale is pure vanity,” said Kaya.

I didn't say anything, but I knew that Beth had good reason to feel as though her life were spiraling out of control. Thank god that wasn't me.

• • •

Too many greasy French fries had given me a minor stomach ache by the time I pulled into our driveway, well under my curfew time, I noted. But when I came through the front door, Mom and Dad were both sitting at the kitchen table staring at me. They didn't look angry, but they didn't look happy, either. I checked the clock on our DVR box in the living room.

“What?” I said in a huff. “It's only ten-thirty! I wasn't doing anything wrong!”

“We know that, Skye,” Mom said. “But we'd like you to sit down with us. We need to have a talk.”

“Did something happen to Ollie?” I panicked.

“No, no,” Dad said. “He's in bed asleep.” Okayyyy…. Soooooo? I wracked my brains for any apparent reasons they might have been pissed with me. Excluding my little secret from the night at the hunting shack — which they couldn't have known anything about — I couldn't figure out what I'd done. They waited for me to walk to the sink and fill a glass of water at the tap. I stared at them while drinking it down. The mood was getting more somber by the minute. Mom looked as if she was about to bust out bawling and Dad wouldn't make eye contact with me. I finally placed my glass in the dishwasher and joined them at the table.

“Babydoll,” Mom said. “Your dad and I have been trying to figure out how best to break the news to you, and I'm afraid there's just no way of saying this that's going to be easy for you to hear.” I felt every fiber of my body freeze. My heart started thumping loudly in my chest and I began to breathe more rapidly. “For some time now,” Mom continued, “Your dad and I have felt like our relationship has changed from what it was when we first met and fell in love. Your father and I have decided — ” Oh God.

“Stop! Don't!” I said, bursting into sobs.

“Oh, baby….” Mom was crying now, too. “Your dad and I….”

“QUIT SAYING ‘YOUR DAD!'” I shouted. “He's YOUR HUSBAND!” Nobody said anything for a few seconds, but then my dad lifted his head. He looked agonized.

“Skye-bear, we're still a family no matter what. We'll always be a family, and nothing changes that. Your mom …
Mom
and I will always love each other, but our family is going to be a lot more happy and a lot more healthy if we don't remain married to one another.”

“But I thought you
were
happy.” I could feel my lower lip turn down. The ugly-crying face was setting in and snot was hanging out of my nose. “What about Christmas? Everything was great!”

“Skye, we're so sorry,” Mom said. “We're so sorry to be hurting you. But we're thinking about what's best for you and Ollie.” The thought of Ollie growing up handed back-and-forth between two different homes like a Ping-Pong ball filled me with rage.

“Oh, what's best for us?” I said, snapping at her. “Were you thinking about what was best for us when you were off cheating on Dad with some stranger every Tuesday night when we thought you were working?” Mom stared down at the table, but Dad stood up and looked angry now.

“You watch your mouth, missy.”

“I don't HAVE TO, because this conversation is OVER!” I kicked back my chair, which fell over onto the kitchen floor. After storming to my bedroom I slammed the door shut with a force that shook the house. It must have woken Ollie, because he started crying from the bedroom next door. He cried himself back to sleep. So did I.

I WOKE UP ON MY BED, FULLY DRESSED, still in my boots. The alarm clock on my nightstand glowed twelve-thirteen. My pillow was totally damp from where I'd been crying. There was no way I was going to be able to go back to sleep. Remembering the awful conversation with my parents, I wondered why all this was happening. I'd been staring at a refrigerator magnet of a cartoon tooth when my mom had broken the news. The tooth had a smiley face and the number of our family dentist on it. It was stuck on the fridge holding up a “Buy one, get one free” coupon for Kraft Singles. Weird the things you notice when your world is crashing down around you.

I sighed deeply. My chest ached like someone had been sitting on it. My face felt hot and my eyelids were puffy. What was going to happen now? Would Mom move into her skeevy-jerk boyfriend's house? Would Dad have to rent a crummy apartment on the other side of town? Could they even
afford
to get divorced? Was this the death knell for my chances of going away to college? I knew it was selfish to think that way, but goddammit,
they
were the selfish ones! You don't just tear a family apart on a whim; you find a way to make it work. Why did they even
have
Ollie in the first place if they were “falling out of love” or whatever bullshit they're claiming?

The thoughts running through my head felt like a physical, tangible pain. I was desperate to make it go away. But where could I escape to in the dead of night? Nowhere. I wasn't close enough with Cat or Kaya or Tess to dump this on them. Besides, they were probably all asleep. I turned on my nightstand and retrieved my journal from my messenger bag, along with a Bic pen, thinking writing might help. But my eyes were too blurred with tears to even see the lines on the notebook paper. Besides, I felt more like stabbing the pen through my thigh than actually using it for its intended purpose.

I chucked the pen and the journal across the room and eyed my cell sitting on the nightstand. I couldn't. I mean, I definitely, DEFINITELY
shouldn't
. This was one of those you'll-hate-yourself-in-the-morning moments, on par with drunk-dialing an ex-boyfriend. But even though we technically weren't on speaking terms, Craig was the closest thing to a true confidante I'd ever had. He'd been at the Hurlyburly when I left, so he might still be awake. It was only a little past midnight, after all. My brain was screaming “bad idea!” as I grabbed my cell and started to punch in the numbers, but then I remembered
his
cell hidden deep in my closet. He might have a different number now. The chance that I'd get a “We're sorry,” recording from the phone company gave me nerve enough to hit the call button. Ninety percent of me was praying he didn't answer so I could just hang up and keep my self-respect. But that other ten percent, that part of me that was so desperate for a lifeline, prayed for the sound of his voice.

By the fourth ring, my brain had gotten back in the game and I realized what a colossal mistake I was making. I was about to hang up when he picked up.

“Skye?” I panicked. Now what? I hadn't planned on what I would actually say to him had he answered, genius that I was. “Uh,
hellooo
?” he said. “Skye? Is that you?”

“You're awake!”

“Obviously…. ?” He was waiting for me to explain myself.

“I'm sorry to bother you this late, but I saw you at the bar earlier, and — ”

“You were there?” Ouch. While I was pretending not to see him, he hadn't noticed me at all.

“Um, yeah. So anyway, I'm sorry to bug you. I just was feeling like I really needed somebody I could talk to.”

“Are you drunk?” There was no misinterpreting the surprise and skepticism in his voice.

“No! Of course not!” Oh god. Now I was really embarrassed. I shouldn't have called. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Drunk?”

“I wish.”

“Okay,” I said. “Well, you're probably thinking it's strange that I'm calling you, but I'm just … freaking out right now, and — ”

“What in the hell does
she
want?” It was Beth's voice, now, in the background.

“Oh.” My heart was officially, in that instant, broken to smithereens. “I guess I thought you were alone.”

“Hold on,” he said. I considered just hanging up in the interim, as I heard low, indistinguishable murmurs. He must have had his hand cupped over the receiver. Finally Beth raised her voice. “Tell your stalker that she has a really annoying habit of turning up at all the wrong times.” Great. What had I interrupted this time?

“Skye?” Craig was back on the line now.

“You know what, I'm going to go.” I was crying now, humiliated, hurt, and angry with myself for being so pathetic.

“Wait!” Craig said. “Is everything okay? What's wrong?”

“Nothing you can fix,” I said, before shutting my phone.

It vibrated several times that night as I lay awake in my bed. He'd left one voicemail and several texts: “Pick up,” “RUOK?” and “????” By three-fifteen he had stopped trying. I finally drifted back to sleep two hours later.

On Monday at school, I avoided him like the plague. Beth was right about my stalker tendencies. I pretty much knew where all of Craig's classes were, which helped me to circumnavigate any hallways where I might potentially cross his path. Unfortunately, I still had to see Beth in class, but I managed not to make eye contact with her, and she didn't say a word to me. No doubt, she was just trying to stay under the radar given her recent stint at Hotel Anorexia. She looked paler than usual, and definitely gaunt. I ate my lunch in the newspaper office to avoid seeing either her or Craig in the caf. Jillian came in the office while I was picking at my turkey sandwich.

“What are you doing in here?” she asked. I shrugged, but tossed her the prints of Jenna from the Reindeer Run.

“Oh my god,
score
!” she said with a laugh. “Wow, that girl is certifiable.”

I'd gotten up at five o'clock in the morning so I wouldn't have to run into my parents at home. The maintenance man and I were the first people on the school premises, and I'd headed straight to the darkroom to develop the pictures. The day before, I'd muttered a few brief grunts to my Mom and Dad before heading to the Regent for a John Hughes movie marathon, half of which I'd slept through. I'd returned home after dinner and gone straight to my bedroom. I knew that I'd have to interact with my parents eventually, but I wasn't ready for that just yet.