That Night (5 page)

“Just as long as it’s not someone like Ryan, right?”

“I’m saying you should keep your options open.”

“I love
him
.” I was near tears, which made me angrier. “Why can’t you see that? Don’t you want me to be happy?”

“You’re
eighteen
.”

“I still know what love is.”

“So keep dating him, but at least try to get into college this fall, take some courses, see what you want to do, but don’t give up on everything.”

She was trying to sound like she was on my side, but I knew she just wanted me to go to college so I could forget about Ryan and meet some guy who had a better future, according to her bullshit standards anyway.

“I don’t want to go to college—I’m not Nicole. I want to work for a while, save some money, then travel. I want to see the world.”

“That’s all fine, but you should have some sort of a plan.”

“That
is
my plan. As soon as I graduate and have enough saved, I’m moving out.”

“You’re moving out?” Her face looked stunned.

“I thought you’d be happy about that.”

“I hope you’re not moving in with Ryan.”

“You got it.”

“How—” She stopped, her mouth still parted like she was so upset she couldn’t find the words. “How are you guys going to afford your own place? You have no idea how to manage a budget. You have no money.”

She was treating me like I was five, as though I had no clue about life.

“I’ve got enough to fix the car and get insurance soon. Mike from the Fish Shack said I can start waitressing on the weekends this spring, then in the summer I can go full-time.”

“The
Fish
Shack? Toni…” She was already shaking her head. “You can’t work there.”

“Why not?”

“You really want to waitress? Do you have any idea how hard it is? And you hate taking orders from people. You’ll work late all weekend, then you’ll be tired all week at school. I’d rather you just kept working for your dad.”

Where she could keep an eye on me, she meant. I was sick of her speaking for me, like she knew everything about me and what was best for me.

“Well,
I’d
rather work at the Fish Shack. I need more experience for a résumé, Mom—not just working for my father.” I had her there, and I could see her mind working, trying to figure out her next argument. I quickly added, “Ryan already has a job at the outdoor store and he can start taking people out on some guided tours in the summer. His mom is putting aside some stuff for us too, like towels and linens and kitchen things. We don’t need much to get started.”

I smiled at her, feeling smug at how well we’d planned everything, and at her look of jealous annoyance when I’d mentioned Ryan’s mom.

“So you’ve already told his mother? And she approves?”

“Yeah, she’s happy for us. She likes me.” I dug the knife in a little deeper and was rewarded by the telltale narrowing of my mom’s eyes.

She tried a new tactic. “Even if you have a job, you can’t just come and go as you please. As long as you’re living here, you need to let us know where you are, and when you’re coming home.” She was grasping, still trying to find something to control.

“That’s fine.” I pushed past her and went to the bathroom. “Are we done? I’d like to have a shower now.”

She shook her head. “There’s no talking to you.”

“I don’t know why you even try.” I closed the door.

“Don’t use all the hot water!” she shouted.

*   *   *

When I got out of the shower, Nicole was studying in her room, books spread out on the bed. Our rooms were on the same side of the house, with a shared bathroom in the middle. My mom also had an office on the upper floor, but our parents’ bedroom was on the lower floor, at the opposite end of the house. My bedroom walls were decorated with posters of rock stars: Nirvana, Soundgarden, Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains. My bedspread was dark purple, the walls the darkest gray my mom would let me paint them, and there were usually piles of clothes on the floor, jeans, some of Ryan’s T-shirts I liked to wear, one of his jackets. I also had a collection of notes and letters from him, things he’d given me, little keepsakes like movie stubs or a decal from his motorbike. I kept those in an old tool kit my dad had given me with a padlock, the key around my neck.

Above my desk, a corkboard was covered with photos of Ryan and me. My favorite one, taken last summer at the lake, was on my night table. It was the two of us sitting on his tailgate and kissing. Sometimes when I couldn’t sleep I’d rest the photo on my chest, feeling like Ryan was there with me. We’d never spent a whole night together and couldn’t wait until we had our own place, where we could have the privacy and freedom to do whatever we wanted.

Nicole’s room was tidy—no clothes on the floor—and painted in a light shade of buttercup-yellow, with sheer curtains and pretty pillows on her sage-green bedspread. Her room looked springtime fresh, which suited her sweet, cheerful personality. Right now she looked serious, though, chewing on the end of a pencil as she studied. She was probably trying to make sure she got an A
+
on her next test—I’d seen her cry when she got a B once. She never let that happen again. I got annoyed with her a lot, mainly because I wished she didn’t need to be so perfect all the time. I also wished she had more backbone and stuck up for herself. It pissed me off seeing her give in to what Mom wanted, doing her chores right away, always telling her exactly where she was going and who she was with, then calling a million times, never late.

She was pretty, my sister, and looking at her now I could see that she’d become even prettier over the last couple of months. She’d lost that soft, baby roundness to her face and was getting cheekbones, which made her eyes look bigger—she’d gotten Mom’s brown ones, I got Dad’s green ones.

She was also starting to fill out in the top, like she might get bigger boobs than me, and her hips were definitely curvier. But she still dressed young and girly—lots of pink and peach shirts, nice jeans, never showing any skin, barely any makeup although she was allowed. The most I’d see her with was some lip gloss and a light coat of mascara. She had black hair like mine, but she usually wore hers in a ponytail and didn’t tease it up with hair spray. We looked alike when she wore it down, similar features, hair, and small build, but up close we didn’t at all. Nicole’s expression was sweet, open and inviting. And me? Mom said I looked at the world like I was daring it to mess with me.

Nicole was a bookworm, always reading something, often swapping books with Mom. She tried to get me to read some of her books, V. C. Andrews, Anne Rice, or Jean M. Auel, saying, “Try it, Toni, you might like it,” but reading just wasn’t my thing. I never could focus long enough.

She put down her book and smiled. “How was your date?”

“We just hung out at Ryan’s. It was okay.”

I could tell she had a crush on Ryan. He didn’t come over often, but when he did she found a reason to be around, getting something from the kitchen or the fridge. Ryan was always nice, asking about school or something, but I’d glare at her until she finally got the hint and left us alone.

“What are you reading?” I asked, still at Nicole’s door. I felt bad that when she asked the night before if she could borrow some of my good conditioner I told her to buy her own. Normally I didn’t mind sharing once in a while—I’d only said it because I was pissed at Mom. We’d just had another fight about my doing too much laundry and using all the detergent. Mom made me buy my own stuff, soap, shampoo, makeup if I wanted anything decent—she wasn’t just controlling with my life, she ran the family finances with an iron fist.

Nicole looked up, surprised by my interest.

“It’s a sci-fi book, about these kids who are super-smart and they have to save Earth from some aliens. It’s called
Ender’s Game
.”

I glanced down the hall, my parents’ voices carrying from downstairs. I could tell by Mom’s tone that she was complaining about me again.

“I wish someone could save me from Mom,” I said.

“Maybe just do what she wants once in a while, then you guys wouldn’t fight so much. It’s not that hard to make a phone call.”

“Maybe she should let
me
do what I want once in a while.”

“She’s not going to, though. She’s not like that, but you’ve almost graduated. Can’t you try to get along until then?”

Nicole always seemed so wise, or at least mature for her age, and so reasonable, so unlike me.

“Probably not.” I laughed.

“You’re a nut bar.” She shook her head. “She’s only like that because she cares.”

“No, she cares about
you
.”

“She loves you too.”

“Not the same way.”

“I’m just easier.” She shrugged, accepting her role in the family.

“Yeah, you are.” It was hard not to like Nicole, and most people did, teachers, kids at school, my own damn boyfriend, which was one of the reasons I found myself picking on her sometimes. And she was so sweet—one of those people who always remembered birthdays and made personal cards. But, and it always made me feel bad thinking this, she was also kind of boring. She just never really did or said anything interesting. Not to me, anyway.

I’d noticed lately that she was changing, though. I heard her talking on the downstairs phone a few times when Mom was working, giggling and whispering, then she’d change the subject when I came into the room. I figured she was talking to her best friend, Darlene Haynes, another goody-goody. I doubted they were up to much of anything. What kind of secrets could my sister possibly have?

“You can use my conditioner if you want,” I said.

“Really?” She jumped off the bed and ran to me, giving me a hug, enveloping me in her sweet lemony scent. “Thank you, thank you.”

I hugged her back, wondering why she was so excited about some stupid conditioner. Since when did she care that much about how she looked?

*   *   *

The next week at school, Shauna kept hanging around in the hallway outside my locker or waiting in the parking lot with the other girls. If they saw me with Ryan, they’d walk away, but it was clear that they were trying to intimidate me. Ryan kept telling me, “Just ignore them,” but I didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to handle it.

That Friday night there was a party at one of Ryan’s friends’—his parents were out of town. Ryan picked me up and we smoked a joint on the way over. My parents knew I smoked cigarettes and probably had their suspicions about pot. Mom had found cigarettes in my coat pocket once, and I’d endured a few lectures about that. I told them I didn’t smoke a lot, which was true, but I didn’t tell them I liked it because it was a ritual Ryan and I had together. I loved going to Tim Hortons with him, getting a coffee, then sitting at the beach and sharing a smoke. I’d started smoking pot the same year. I figured it was okay as long as I stayed away from the hard drugs. I liked how it made everything in life feel a little better, softer somehow, like shit just didn’t matter as much. We weren’t hurting anyone or doing really stupid crap. We were just having fun.

By the time we got to the party, things were well under way. The guys were standing around, smoking and drinking beer. The girls were hanging out on the couches or dancing in the living room, trying to look sexy for the boys.

I was feeling good, sitting on Ryan’s lap in the corner, making out and grooving to the music, when I caught a flash of a face I didn’t expect to see.

Nicole.

I sat up. “What the hell is she doing here?” I’d seen her at home earlier, getting ready to go out, but she’d told Mom she was going to the movies with Darlene, who picked her up in her car.

Ryan turned around, noticed Nicole. “Wow, she looks good.”

I gave him a shove. “Hey!”

“Not like that,” he said. “I’m just not used to seeing her dressed up and stuff.” He gave me a kiss. “I’ve only got eyes for you, babe.” I knew he hadn’t really meant anything by his comment about Nicole, it was just an observation—and he had a point. She did look good, really good.

Her hair was loose and shiny black, and she’d used some rollers or something to style it, so it fell around her face and down her back in thick waves. She was wearing more makeup than normal, her eyes seeming exotic and mysterious and her lips shining with gloss. It even looked like she was wearing some foundation and blush, her skin smooth, and her cheekbones insanely high.

The real surprise was her clothes. She was wearing fitted jeans, faded and low-slung on her hips, with some cool brown belt I’d never seen before and a snug white T-shirt that rode up when she lifted her arms, revealing a bit of tanned skin around her waist. The shirt was V-neck, showing a hint of cleavage I didn’t know my sister had, making me think she might even be wearing a push-up bra. She looked older—older than me. And super-hot.

I got off Ryan and made my way over to Nicole, who was swaying back and forth to the music, plastic cup in her hand. She was talking to Darlene and they were both looking over at a group of guys. One of them was kind of looking back at her. I tapped Nicole on the shoulder. She spun around. “Toni!”

She was flushed and her eyes were glassy. I lifted the drink out of her hand and took a sip that filled my mouth with a burst of sour peach. A wine cooler. I handed the drink back.

“What are you doing here?” I said.

“Just hanging out.” She was nervous, her gaze flicking to Darlene, to the group of guys, back to me.

“I thought you were at the movies.”

“And I thought you were at Ryan’s.”

It was the first time she’d shown some scrappiness, her chin jutting out and her eyes angry. I was surprised but also kind of impressed.

“Mom would flip out about you being here and drinking,” I said.

She hesitated, then said, “Screw you, Toni. If you tell, I’m telling.”

What the hell had gotten into my sister? I was pissed and wanted to put her in her place, but Mom would freak if she knew we were at someone’s house when his parents were away. Did I want another fight with her over a stupid party?