my little cousins.” Two boys who yelled and fought over everything, two people Peyton couldn’t believe were actually related to her. Her uncle wasn’t coming; he was too busy doing lawyer stuff. So this was it, a couple of people, gathering around for the tragedy.
When Eric’s family got together, there were so many people, they spilled out of the house and onto the driveway and yard, laughing and bragging about the huge muskies they’d caught.
“What about your grandpa?”
She gave him a sidelong look. Eric wasn’t talking about the dead one; he was talking about the one who’d left when her mom was just a kid. When Eric and she were little, they used to pretend that this grandpa she’d never known would reappear with pirate treasure or secret potions; they used to pretend he’d bring Dana along, too, a sort of princess who needed their help to save her.Now that Peyton had actually met Dana, she knew with a certainty her grandpa would be a big disappointment, too. “Right.”
She wriggled her toes and studied the play of nail polish colors. Just a few days ago, she had daubed on one of each shade she had, pink and red and blue and orange. “My dad’s drinking again.”
Eric didn’t even look at her, which was right, which was good, but his fingers curled along the plastic arm of the chair. “Sucks.”
“He started a few weeks ago. Right before Mom went back into the hospital.”
Mom
. Say it once, say it twice, maybe make her come alive even for the space of a moment.
“How bad is it?”
Wasn’t even one drink bad news for a drinker? If he had two beers, did that make it twice as bad? If he had three, three times? Where was the line that separated okay from not okay? Her dad was climbing up a steep rocky slope, and once he reached the top, no one could stop him from falling down the other side. Which would leave Peyton even more alone. “He had a couple of beers last night.” A lie. He’d had at least a six-pack. She’d known kids to get trashed on less.
“Just beer?”
Eric knew it had once been whiskey, too. He even knew when Peyton’s dad moved out for a little while. “I ever tell you I found one of his empties hidden in my playhouse? I told my mom and that’s when she kicked him out. I guess I figured that made it my fault.”
He ran a finger along her arm. “Just because he drinks doesn’t mean you will.”
She got her gold hair from her mom, her height from her dad. Who was to say she hadn’t inherited his trouble with booze and would die just like her mom did, way too young in a hospital room?
He fit his fingers between hers. “I don’t have to go back to class.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be doing a presentation?”
“Whatever.”
She closed her eyes and put her head back. The wind rustled the spring leaves. Bees buzzed. Her mom’s funeral was tomorrow. Miss Lainie’s had only been last week. A dark and terrible thought pushed in, something her mom always said, and it wouldn’t go away.
Things come in threes
.
NINE
[DANA]
J ULIE’S WEDDING WAS SIMPLE, JUST THE TWO OF them, Frank’s parents, his sister, Karen, and her new husband, and me. Julie stood at the altar in our mom’s white dress, nipped in at the waist to fit, her borrowed veil lacy about her shoulders, and beamed up at Frank. The minister had to repeat himself, she was so lost in joy. It made us laugh, even me, standing there in my ugly bridesmaid’s dress. Frank’s mother had insisted I wear one and had sewn it for me herself.
No reason to take shortcuts
, she’d said, presenting me with the stiff taffeta thing. Yellow. The one color in the entire rainbow guaranteed to make me look like a plague victim.
I spent the weekend at my best friend Sheri’s house so that Julie and Frank could have the house to themselves. The minute Sheri’s parents went to bed, we sneaked off to Gerkey’s, where the usual Saturday party was in full swing. I had kicked off my shoes and sunk onto the sofa in
When Eric’s family got together, there were so many people, they spilled out of the house and onto the driveway and yard, laughing and bragging about the huge muskies they’d caught.
“What about your grandpa?”
She gave him a sidelong look. Eric wasn’t talking about the dead one; he was talking about the one who’d left when her mom was just a kid. When Eric and she were little, they used to pretend that this grandpa she’d never known would reappear with pirate treasure or secret potions; they used to pretend he’d bring Dana along, too, a sort of princess who needed their help to save her.Now that Peyton had actually met Dana, she knew with a certainty her grandpa would be a big disappointment, too. “Right.”
She wriggled her toes and studied the play of nail polish colors. Just a few days ago, she had daubed on one of each shade she had, pink and red and blue and orange. “My dad’s drinking again.”
Eric didn’t even look at her, which was right, which was good, but his fingers curled along the plastic arm of the chair. “Sucks.”
“He started a few weeks ago. Right before Mom went back into the hospital.”
Mom
. Say it once, say it twice, maybe make her come alive even for the space of a moment.
“How bad is it?”
Wasn’t even one drink bad news for a drinker? If he had two beers, did that make it twice as bad? If he had three, three times? Where was the line that separated okay from not okay? Her dad was climbing up a steep rocky slope, and once he reached the top, no one could stop him from falling down the other side. Which would leave Peyton even more alone. “He had a couple of beers last night.” A lie. He’d had at least a six-pack. She’d known kids to get trashed on less.
“Just beer?”
Eric knew it had once been whiskey, too. He even knew when Peyton’s dad moved out for a little while. “I ever tell you I found one of his empties hidden in my playhouse? I told my mom and that’s when she kicked him out. I guess I figured that made it my fault.”
He ran a finger along her arm. “Just because he drinks doesn’t mean you will.”
She got her gold hair from her mom, her height from her dad. Who was to say she hadn’t inherited his trouble with booze and would die just like her mom did, way too young in a hospital room?
He fit his fingers between hers. “I don’t have to go back to class.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be doing a presentation?”
“Whatever.”
She closed her eyes and put her head back. The wind rustled the spring leaves. Bees buzzed. Her mom’s funeral was tomorrow. Miss Lainie’s had only been last week. A dark and terrible thought pushed in, something her mom always said, and it wouldn’t go away.
Things come in threes
.
NINE
[DANA]
J ULIE’S WEDDING WAS SIMPLE, JUST THE TWO OF them, Frank’s parents, his sister, Karen, and her new husband, and me. Julie stood at the altar in our mom’s white dress, nipped in at the waist to fit, her borrowed veil lacy about her shoulders, and beamed up at Frank. The minister had to repeat himself, she was so lost in joy. It made us laugh, even me, standing there in my ugly bridesmaid’s dress. Frank’s mother had insisted I wear one and had sewn it for me herself.
No reason to take shortcuts
, she’d said, presenting me with the stiff taffeta thing. Yellow. The one color in the entire rainbow guaranteed to make me look like a plague victim.
I spent the weekend at my best friend Sheri’s house so that Julie and Frank could have the house to themselves. The minute Sheri’s parents went to bed, we sneaked off to Gerkey’s, where the usual Saturday party was in full swing. I had kicked off my shoes and sunk onto the sofa in
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