Paper Girl Page 9

  I swallowed painful emotions. Sure, I wanted my mom to be more involved in my life. But not because Dr. Edwards assigned her to.

  “I need a…” She waved her hand, like swirling the air would make the word come to her. “A do-over. I need a do-over.”

  That made me smile a little. “Why?”

  “I didn’t say that right. Sometimes I wonder if…” She sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re—you’re afraid to go out and be part of the world because I kept you too close when you were younger. Mae was always out doing cheerleading and being social, and you were always here with me, even once school started. I don’t…” She touched my shoulder. “I don’t want you to miss out on things because you’re afraid.”

  Longing churned inside of me, reminders of missed moments and moments I might never have. Reminders that Mae’s graduation was less than two months away and I’d made a promise. I hated breaking promises.

  Mom stepped back with a nod. “Let’s talk about it later. And if you still want to help me, I’d appreciate it.” She eyed my worksheet. “Did you need something?”

  “Help with my math.”

  She wrinkled her nose and looked at the sheet. “I think…” I could see the strain on her face. Yeah, Mom hadn’t done algebra in years. I wouldn’t, either, if I had a choice. “I think it looks right. You could ask your dad.”

  I wandered to the living room, following the trail of low light right up to the wide bank of windows that looked out over the glittering city. Dad spent a lot of time staring out of those windows, thinking. I was pretty sure the Car King came up with all his good ideas with a good view.

  “Hey, Zoe.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “What’s up?”

  I fumbled over my words, already sensing he was tired and ready to call it a night. He usually got up before any of us and was out the door before I’d even gotten out of bed. “I—uh…can you help me with my math?”

  His eyebrows scrunched together. I could hear the words he wasn’t saying out loud. Isn’t that why we got you a tutor?

  Or maybe Dr. Edwards was right and he wasn’t thinking anything like that at all. But still…I was bothering him…

  “It’s just a sheet I got today. I just—I wanted to see if someone would check my answers.”

  His face mirrored my mother’s when he said, “Maybe you could…ask your sister?”

  I held in a grumble. That’s exactly what I was trying to avoid. Mae was still mad at me, and she’d made her point by staying in her room all night. Mom forced her to come out for quiche, and then she’d vanished again, saying she had a book she wanted to finish.

  When my phone dinged in my pocket, both Dad and I looked in that direction like we’d just seen a mouse.

  “Was that your phone?” he asked.

  My mind drew a blank. It was my phone, but that was the sound of a text message, and the only one who’d message me was Mae. Or Mom. Dad might have messaged me once, but that went something like Your mom’s not answering the phone. Can you get her for me? My old friends messaged me before, but the more afraid I became of going anywhere or doing anything, the more our relationships dropped away.

  I pulled the phone out of my pocket. The screen blurred before me because I didn’t have my glasses on, but I squinted and spotted an unfamiliar number.

  My heart shot out of my chest when I read the message.

  Hey, Zoe, it’s Jackson. He was texting me? And why did he always have to say my name? Like it was his new favorite word or something. Still, it made my stomach flutter. How’s the math coming?

  I blinked, and then held the phone away from me like it was contaminated.

  “What?” Dad asked. “Wrong number?”

  I shook my head.

  “Mae, probably.” He sighed. “Can’t she just come out of her room to talk to you?”

  I mumbled something about homework and walked away, confusion sweeping my mind before it dawned on me. Mae had given my number to Jackson. It had to be her.

  Why would she do that?

  It’s okay to tell people how you feel. It’s okay to express yourself, Gina had told me earlier today.

  Fine. I’d express myself to Mae and see how she liked it.

  I knocked on her door, barely waiting for her response before marching inside. I lost a little of my nerve when she glared, and dropped my gaze to the floor. “Did you give Jackson my phone number?”

  The bed squeaked as she shuffled forward. I glanced up, frowning when I saw her smile.

  “Why? Did he call you?”

  “He texted me. Why are you smiling like that?”

  She pulled her hair over her shoulder to braid it. “Feisty.”

  “Mae,” I whined.

  “He asked, and I gave it to him.”

  “He asked for my number?” The anger faded, and I sat right there, in the middle of her fluffy, powder-blue rug.

  “Zoe.” Mae sighed. She pulled a hair tie off her wrist and secured her braid. “Don’t be dense.”

  “Don’t be mean.”

  Her mouth opened, in surprise, I think. But when she spoke again, her voice was gentler. “He likes you. And he’s invested.”

  “Invested in what?”

  “You. Making sure you pass your tests.”

  “Mom and Dad are paying him.” No way was I going to believe it was anything more than that.

  Mae pulled her knees up and rested her chin on them. “They’re paying him to tutor you, not to text you. Not to care about your paper room and some weird chess defense.”

  Something sparked in my chest. “Chess? What?”

  “I saw him reading this book on chess. One you used to read.”

  Jackson liked chess? I mean, really liked it?

  “He asked me about your paper art when he left, too,” Mae continued. “Then he asked for your number. He actually asks about you a lot. I can guarantee Mom and Dad are not paying him to do that.”

  My stomach jumped. “No.”

  She laughed. “No, what? Are you saying ‘no’ you don’t believe me? Or ‘no’ he doesn’t like you? I’m pretty sure I have more experience than you in this department.”

  The words hung in the air for a long moment before falling to the ground and shattering. I stood up. “Okay.”

  “No, wait.” Mae stood, too, her toenails painted a shade of pink so bright they looked like candy. “I’m sorry.”

  “Okay.”

  “Say something besides ‘okay.’ You came in here ready to yell at me. Now you’re going to leave?”

  I stared at her, verging on crying. There was a little hope inside of me that Jackson liking me was true, and it scared me all over again.

  “You’re still mad at me,” I said quietly.

  “I’m not mad at you!” She tossed her hands into the air. “I was upset. I was—okay, yeah, I was mad because you didn’t want to go to practice with me. And we don’t do anything together anymore.”

  “I’m not—I’m not like you, Mae. Everyone likes you, and you aren’t scared of anything. I—I’m scared of everything.”

  “Well.” She sighed. “You’re just going to have to get over it.”

  Her words jolted me, but I blurted, “That’s what Gina said.”

  It was true. Gina didn’t sugarcoat things like Dr. Edwards. She told me things even though they hurt. But, surprisingly, they made me want to try harder.

  “New therapist lady?” Mae smiled. “What else did she say?”

  “She said I need to take steps. She said…” I sat on her bed. “I have to step out of my comfort zone.”

  “Good.”

  “Bad.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t.”

  “The more you do it, the easier it gets,” she said.

  “That’s what Dr. Edwards said.”

  Mae grinned. “It sounds like I should be a psychologist. I’ll help you.”

  “What?”

  “Step out of your comfort zone. Take those steps Gina told you t
o take.”

  “She…gave me an assignment.” I looked down at my worksheet, my actual assignment. The one I was supposed to be focusing on.

  “This?” she asked, pointing to my sheet.

  “No, this is Jackson’s assignment.”

  Mae sat next to me. “Okay, one at a time. Jackson’s assignment.”

  “Math homework. Could you check my answers?”

  Mae looked over the sheet, biting her lip. “It looks right… You could always ask Jackson. He texted you, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well? What did he say?”

  “He asked how my math was going.”

  “And what did you say?”

  “Nothing yet.”

  Mae rubbed her hands over her face. “You have to answer him. If you don’t like him, be normal. Say ‘Math is good. Thanks for your help.’”

  “Like a robot?”

  She laughed. “Yep. But if you do like him…”

  I held my breath. Then what?

  “You do like him, don’t you?”

  Staring at my feet, I mumbled, “Yes.”

  “What was that? You think he’s hot and you want to kiss him?”

  I jumped up from the bed. “Mae.”

  Laughing, she lay on her back and folded her hands on her stomach. “Tell me the truth.”

  Crossing my arms, I said, “I think so.”

  “Think or know?”

  “Know.”

  “Good. Answer him. Flirt with him a little.”

  “I don’t know how to flirt.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course you do. You flirted with that one kid—what was his name?” She snapped her fingers repeatedly. “The one with the hat? The—the kid who played the trumpet—”

  “Brian?”

  “Yeah, you flirted with him all the time your freshman year.”

  “That was….” I dropped my chin. “Before.”

  “And this is after. New comfort zone. Text him back.”

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and stared at Jackson’s text. “What do I say?”

  Mae snatched the phone from my hand and typed in a message faster than I could blink. Math is good. I might need extra help with this worksheet.

  She sent the message before I could say anything, and then she passed the phone back.

  “That wasn’t flirty at all,” I told her.

  “Which is exactly why it’ll work.”

  I cocked my head at her.

  “It invites a response,” she said. “That’s a good thing. He has to say something back, and it shows you want his help. Easy and to the point.”

  Another message from Jackson came through. I can come over tomorrow if you’d like. I’ll bring more worksheets.

  Mae peered at the screen. “Good. Tell him that’s great. Show him you want him here. And then KISS HIM!”

  She fell on the bed in a fit of laughter. I didn’t know why that was so amusing to her. She kissed Robert all the time, and even though I made faces, she seemed to like it.

  And I seemed to be jealous.

  Jackson’s kisses were probably like his smiles. Overwhelming. Brilliant. Like the shooting star I’d just made with bright yellow paper and sparkles.

  “Oh my God.” Mae stared up at me with wide eyes. “You’re imagining kissing him right now.”

  “Shut up.” My cheeks flamed, and I turned toward the door.

  When Mae hopped up and followed me, I changed course, stalking through the dim living room and to my study. I tried to get in and shut her out, but she slapped a hand on the door and forced her way inside.

  And then stopped. Her eyes drifted to the ceiling, taking it all in. It had been weeks since she’d been in here. “What’s this?”

  “It’s called a study.”

  I set my worksheet on the desk and turned my music up. One of my sticky notes had fallen off the board by the door, and I stooped to pick it up.

  I’d almost told Mae about my assignment from Gina, and now I was grateful I hadn’t. She’d probably laugh at me like she laughed at everything else. She had no clue what my life was like—and I had no clue what hers was like, either.

  We didn’t know each other anymore.

  “This is really cool. No wonder Jackson likes to come in here.”

  I turned and stared at her.

  “Really. He likes to come in here. Sure, he’s an astronomy geek, but even for those of us who don’t live with our heads in the stars, this is pretty cool.” She sighed. “Okay, tell me.”

  “What?”

  “What your assignment from Gina is. I want to help.”

  “No, you don’t.” My voice came out in a pout, but Mae deserved it.

  “Are you finished?” she asked, sounding just like Mom.

  My lips twitched, but I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of smiling.

  “Good,” she said. “Now tell me.”

  “Just to give you fair warning, it’s absolutely horrible.”

  She walked to the desk and plopped in a chair. “Then I guess I’d better sit down.”

  24.

  JACKSON

  I learned to appreciate showers. When you had to work to hunt one down—especially on the weekends—it was the best thing in the world.

  But I still felt guilty about taking up the hot water at Robert’s house. I used to hang at his house all the time before the mess with my dad, but now that circumstances were different, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same because Robert’s parents didn’t know about my situation. It felt like I was taking advantage of them every time I used something of theirs when they weren’t home to know about it.

  Even with the guilt, after I got out, I wished I had stayed in longer. Towel wrapped around my waist, I checked my phone, hopeful for a text from Zoe. What I found instead was a voice message from my father.

  My focus cracked. Didn’t he understand what an agreement was? You gave your word, you stuck to it. He should have been living every day in a perpetual state of bliss. No responsibilities, no teenager running around demanding food and shelter. His life was cake.

  In fact, his life had been cake when Mom was alive, too. He’d barely had anything to do with us, and went out all the time with his friends at the bar. After Mom had gotten sick, he’d spent more time being angry with her than sympathizing—even blaming her at some points.

  Once she’d died, he made it very clear being a parent wasn’t a priority. He wanted his own life. And now I was letting him have it.

  So why the hell did he keep bothering me?

  Especially at…I checked my watch and frowned. Eight thirty in the morning. Austin didn’t typically start the party until two a.m. First, a few beers, then tequila, and if that didn’t get him where he wanted, he’d hit the heroin. He should still be asleep right now.

  I used to feel bad for him. He obviously needed that escape from losing my mother, and I half envied him for being able to find it. But I didn’t envy what it was costing him. I didn’t envy him being so cavalier with his life and what he had left. Mom had fought as hard as she could to keep us together, even when she was sick.

  And in six short months, Dad burned it to the ground.

  I dried off, dressed, and tried not to think about what possible reason Dad could have for calling. Repeatedly. My usual guess would have been money. But since he’d paid my bills this month, he’d found cash somewhere.

  I wandered into the living room and saw Robert sprawled on the couch asleep. I grabbed the controller that was about to fall off the cushion and returned it to the game console.

  “Why?” he mumbled, shifting onto his side.

  “Why what?”

  “Why do you always get up so early?”

  Habit. When you slept in your car like I did, it was best to move on before sunup.

  “To see your ugly face,” I retorted, smacking a pillow against his head.

  “Ugh!” Robert threw the pillow back. “I need breakfast.”

  He looked
hungover. But, as I’d spent the night at his house, I knew it was a combination of Twinkies, Mountain Dew, and playing Fallout until his eyes were so dry they almost dropped out of his head.

  “Cereal?” I asked, already heading for the kitchen.

  “Nah.” Robert shifted, snagging the box of Twinkies off the coffee table and opening one with his teeth.

  I grimaced. But it was better than eating Robert’s cereal. If I did, then I’d feel guilty about sponging off Robert’s parents even more. Since I’d bought the Twinkies, my guilt lessened some. I caught the box when Robert tossed it at me.

  “Mom and Dad are gonna have a barbecue for all the basketball parents,” Robert mumbled around puffy Twinkie crème.

  The Twinkie lost some of its flavor. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. An end of the year kind of thing. You think your dad would come?”

  I shrugged, swallowing hard to get the bite down. I set the box aside. “Doubt it.”

  Robert sat up, hair sticking out in all directions. “You could ask him.”

  “Pass.”

  “Why?”

  I shoved my hands in my pockets, trying to think of an excuse to leave without treating Robert like shit. It wasn’t his fault he was curious, especially not since he let me stay here under the guise of “getting some space from my dad.”

  “He doesn’t do that kind of stuff,” I said. “You know how he is.”

  Robert unwrapped another Twinkie like he hadn’t heard me. He glanced down the hall, as if checking to see if anyone else was coming. His brother had stayed at a friend’s house, so it was just me and Robert. His parents weren’t going to be home until the afternoon.

  “So.” Robert cleared his throat. “My mom was grocery shopping the other day and she saw your dad. In the cereal aisle, she said, ’cause, you know, moms notice that stuff.”

  I tensed, my hands clenching in my pockets. How did she even remember him? Yeah, Robert and I had spent a lot of time at each other’s houses, but that was back in the day. Before my mom died. I’d barely recognized my father in the last few months before I left; I had no idea how in the world Robert’s mom had.

  Robert wouldn’t look at me, like he felt guilty bringing it up. “She asked him how you were—like she doesn’t see you every week.”