“It had an apple logo on it,” I tried.
“I’m not sure,” Sara said, but she was still giving me a strange look. “But I haven’t left the house in a year, so I’m probably not the best person to ask…”
It seemed like she was about to say more, but then the door opened a crack. My mom pushed in with a tray balanced on her forearm. Sara called it the mush buffet, because she could only eat soft foods now, like mashed sweet potatoes and applesauce and vanilla pudding.
“Potato and leek soup,” my mom said, maneuvering around the bed. She set the tray down on Sara’s dresser, then adjusted her pillow in nearly the same way I’d done minutes earlier. She was studying the machines when I heard Millie outside. Kristen always gave two short, peppy beeps.
“That’s my ride.”
“What time is the movie?” my mom asked.
“Eight. I’ll come home right after.”
“The roads are still a little slippery, so make sure Kristen drives slowly. And call us if anything happens.”
I rolled my eyes. “Nothing is going to happen.”
“Things happen,” my mom repeated. “Flat tires, car accidents. I still think we should get you a beeper.”
“Why? So Kristen can beep me BOOBS?”
“What’s BOOBS?” my mom asked.
Sara started laughing.
“80085,” I said.
“Boobs? Huh?” My mom still didn’t get it. “Just be careful.”
I grabbed my denim jacket and headed for the door.
“What about some lip gloss?” my mom asked, like she was puzzled I hadn’t thought of it myself. “A little mascara?”
“Mom, we’re just going to the movies.”
But she held up a finger to signal one sec, then started down the hall to her bedroom. She was always doing this. Attacking me with a mascara wand or a compact right before I left the house. It wasn’t enough that I was wearing the red plaid skirt she’d bought me, or the hoop earrings she and my dad gave me for my Sweet Sixteen. She always adjusted the metal clips that held my bangs in place, or combed through my hair with her fingers, tousling it at the roots.
“Can you believe this?” I said, turning to Sara.
“Yup. It checks out.”
My mom strode in with two silver lipstick tubes in her hand, and a neon-pink mascara wand. She compared each shade of lipstick against my complexion and then went with the darker, purplish color, dabbing it on my bottom lip.
“Okay, that’s enough. Can I go now?” I asked.
“It just makes your features pop. A little goes a long way,” she said. “Doesn’t it, Sara?”
“Ummm…I guess?” Sara said.
My mom ignored me, twisting the mascara wand out of the tube and holding it up in front of my right eye, waiting for me to lean forward. I gave in, staring up at the ceiling fan until it was finally over.
“I’m really going now.” I didn’t wait for permission this time. I hugged Sara and kissed my mom on the cheek before slipping down the stairs.
“You look great,” she called after me. “Love that color on you!”
6
I’d already opened the back door, about to slide in, when I realized shotgun was free. Kristen was the only one in the car.
“Where’s Amber?”
“Grounded.”
“Since when do her parents ground her?”
Kristen tugged on a curl, pulling it completely straight. It had been raining hard all afternoon, but now there was a break in the storm clouds. Only the occasional gust of water hit the windshield.
“Her dad found out she took that thing from his briefcase,” Kristen said. “I guess it was some kind of prototype that was supposed to be top secret. A disk drive or something. You didn’t say anything to anyone, did you?”
It didn’t look like any drive I’d ever seen. I shook my head, even if it was (kind of) a lie. I hadn’t gotten specific with Sara.
“You still want to go?” I asked. “You don’t think it’ll be weird?”
We’d never been to a party without Amber. She’d been class president for the last two years and knew everyone, moving easily between groups, chatting about an upcoming volleyball game or making jokes about Joey Plink’s new haircut. One lunch period, a line had formed to talk to her. Maybe it was just three people, and maybe they were chatting with each other so it wasn’t as obvious, but it was an actual line.
“I don’t know, I guess I figure why not?” Kristen looked in the rearview mirror. “Creeper Alert: your mom is still watching us.”
Kristen came to a complete stop at the stop sign on the corner, lingering there for a full five seconds longer than normal. When I turned back I spotted my mom’s silhouette in the upstairs window. She’d always been overprotective, but since Sara’s illness her anxiety had gotten worse, and after the burglary there was this whole other layer of paranoia. If I was a minute late for my ten thirty curfew she began calling my friends’ houses, waking their parents. Lately I practiced driving in the Home Depot parking lot only once a month, sneaking off with my dad because she insisted I wasn’t ready to take my license test, that I wouldn’t have a car while I still lived at home.
As Sara’s world got smaller, mine had too, the edges of it shrinking first to our town, and now to certain streets and certain places. Henrietta Park was too dangerous once the sun went down, or so my mom said, but my friends and I still went there to eat our Taco Bell drive-thru. I wasn’t supposed to get into a car with anyone who was drunk (obvious) or anyone who wasn’t Kristen or a parent (less obvious), and since the break-in I had to report to my parents’ room, in my pajamas, every night before bed, just to confirm that I was in fact home. She’d even put a set of Christmas bells on the outside of my doorknob so she’d wake up if I snuck out. Maybe I’d deserved it, but still. While every other junior was driving into the city or breaking curfew at Maple Cove, I was waiting on AOL for someone, anyone, to appear on my buddy list.
“You’re the only friend she’ll let me drive with,” I said.
“Well I am known for my rigorous safety standards.” Kristin, accelerated over a speed bump. Millie caught air and I grabbed onto the handle above the door, laughing.
“That was messed up.”
We passed the mall, the Weezer CD skipping as we took another bump at full speed. The parking lot was empty. We only saw one other car on the road, a lone Ford Taurus with a busted front headlight. Part of me wondered if it was the flu going around our small town, but it was hard to know for sure. The streets of Swickley were always desolate at night, as if everyone had an early bedtime. It’s not totally dead, Amber would say. You just have to know where to go.