Forgotten: Seventeen and Homeless Page 3

  "Do you usually fight with Bristol?"

  She makes a sheepish smile. "Bristol and I have never gotten along too well. But the bickering gets old. I told myself it was time to grow up and move on. But sometimes ... well, it's like I can't control myself."

  I suppress the urge to laugh. "I know what you mean."

  "Except that you never stand up to her." Lindsey seems to be studying me now. "Why not?"

  I just shrug and return my focus to my drawing and she does the same, and now all I hear is the quiet scritch-scratch of our pencils sketching. I'm sure Lindsey must think I'm totally spineless. And that's fine. Kudos to her that she can take the high road like that-or at least try to. But Lindsey doesn't know what my life is like. She doesn't know the tightrope I'm walking here-between my mom and my new friends. She, and everyone else at this school, is pretty much clueless. And that's exactly how I plan to keep it.

  As I join my friends at the lunch table, they're talking about a new movie that just released, making plans to go see it as a group. "You're coming too," Isabella informs me as I sit down with my meager lunch of an apple and soda. My mom was short on cash this morning, and I'm trying to economize however I can, just in case.

  "I don't know ..." I slowly remove my straw from the wrapper, stalling for time since I know a night at the movies isn't cheap.

  "Come on," Jayden urges. "It's supposed to be a great flick." His smile is like a lure. "Okay, I guess I'll go too." But even as I say this, I'm wondering if he's asking me to go with him, like a real date, or whether I still have to figure out a way to come up with the money. Whatever, it looks like I'm in.

  "Wow, someone's on a diet," Lily says to me as I take a bite out of my apple.

  "Real nice, Adele." Isabella frowns. "Make the rest of us feel guilty for pigging out. You don't even need to lose weight."

  "I'm not on a diet. I'm just not hungry, that's all." Okay, that was a big fat lie. Just the smell of Isabella's french fries is making me salivate. Hopefully I won't drool on myself.

  After lunch, and as usual, Jayden and I walk to resource together. But to my surprise, he reaches for my hand as we're walking. Naturally, I don't resist. But I am curious, is this just a friendly gesture or something more? Of course I can't ask.

  When we're nearly to our resource room, he slows down. "How about if I drive us tonight?" He sounds unsure. "I'll pick you up for the movie around seven. Okay?"

  I study him curiously. "Okay ...?"

  He gives me a little sideways grin that makes it seem like he's uneasy. "I mean like a date, Adele."

  I laugh nervously. "Like a date?" I echo in a teasing tone.

  "Unless you don't want to go out with me." Now his cheeks actually flush ever so slightly, and I feel sorry for joking. "I wasn't trying to pressure you into -

  "No, no. I really want to go out with you, Jayden. I was just jerking your chain. Sorry about that."

  Now his hazel eyes light up and his grin returns. "All right then!" He squeezes my hand and a rush of excitement surges through me. I am going on a date! A real live date!

  After school, I meet up with Isabella and immediately tell her the good news, and she seems almost as happy as I am. But Bristol, who is standing nearby, looks miffed. I'm determined not to let her ruin this for me. And although it's selfish, I suddenly wish that she and Lily hadn't agreed to go to the movies with everyone tonight. For some reason that makes it feel less like a date.

  "Who's riding with me?" Isabella asks as she slams her locker closed. "I mean besides Adele." She grins at me as if we have this secret pact because I have been riding to and from school with her for almost two weeks now. And it's so much better than using the transit, not to mention a money saver. Sometimes Bristol rides with us, which puts me in the backseat since, as Bristol pointed out, her house is closer to Isabella's and why should she have to sit in back and then get in front after I'm dropped off. Whatever.

  At first I was curious why Bristol doesn't have her own car-especially considering her dad owns the Honda dealership in town. But Isabella confided to me that Bristol got her license revoked last summer. She got into a small wreck while driving with friends in the car (which was breaking the law in our state). Fortunately no one was hurt, but Bristol lost her car and her driving privileges. And since no one is supposed to talk about it, I don't.

  "Lily has choir practice, so I guess you're stuck with me, Bella." Bristol gives Isabella her most charming smile. And, as usual, she starts gushing about "old times" and silly events and memories I know nothing about. I think this is Bristol's secret technique for worming her way back into Isabella's inner circle. And for the most part it works. When Bristol wants something, like a ride, she can be extremely charming. And she knows just how to push Isabella's happy buttons. With flattery and jokes she warms Isabella right up, and sometimes they get so chummy I actually worry that I will be permanently shoved aside. Except Isabella has confessed to me that she doesn't trust Bristol ... and that I shouldn't either. So it's a weird sort of friendship. And I usually feel caught somewhere in the middle.

  "How much longer will you have to live in Westwood Heights?" Bristol asks me as Isabella turns her car into the condo parking lot.

  "I'm not sure," I say as I gather my things.

  "It just seems so dismal." Bristol shakes her head. "Your front yard is a giant parking lot."

  "But our condo faces the other direction," I point out. "It looks out over the river and it's actually rather-"

  "Yes, and our house is by the same river, Adele. Except that our house overlooks the pretty part of the river. Not the industrial section."

  As I reach for my bag, I can think of no response to that. So much of what Bristol says is like that.

  "Tell your mom she better come over and check out the house in our neighborhood," Isabella reminds me. "I heard someone else is interested."

  "You mean the Barker house?" Bristol sounds cynical. "That's like a million dollars, Bella. I seriously doubt Adele's mom can afford that."

  "Unless she's an heiress," Isabella says.

  "Yeah, right." Bristol laughs.

  "So we'll meet up with you and Jayden at the theater then," Isabella says as I'm getting out of the backseat.

  I nod and wave, hurrying through the parking lot toward our condo. I'm thankful to get away, and despite Bristol turning her nose up at Westwood Heights, I still feel extremely fortunate and thankful to be living here. I love unlocking the door and walking into the spacious room with hardwood floors and windows that look out over the river - and I know how to look south to avoid the industrial area. And I don't mind cleaning the granite countertops and polishing the stainless steel appliances. I like keeping it looking good. And I wish we could afford to buy some more furnishings because it's still pretty sparse-not that I plan to bring this up to my mom anytime soon.

  But really, this is the nicest place I've ever lived, and my biggest concern is that we could lose it. Of course, I'm trying not to think about that. And right now, the biggest thing occupying my mind is the fact that I am going on my first real date tonight!

  've finally decided on the perfect outfit when my mom enters the condo. It's close to seven now, and I was getting a little worried that she wouldn't get home before I left. I'd tried her cell phone, but it went straight to voice mail. And although there's not much I can do about anything, I am concerned. First my mom acts like we're short on money, and then she doesn't come home at a normal time. It's like a warning, a flag telling me something's not right.

  "Why are you so late tonight?" I ask as I come out of my room.

  "It's not late." She looks at me like I don't have good sense.

  "Well, you obviously went somewhere after work." I study her more closely, realizing she's wearing a grubby pair of jeans and a stained hooded sweatshirt. "You didn't go to work looking like that, did you?"

  She rolls her eyes, then goes into the kitchen and opens the fridge. As I follow her, that old familiar fear rushes through
me. "Did you even go to work today, Mom?" The pitch in my voice gets higher.

  "Why isn't there anything to eat in here?" she growls.

  "Mom? Did you go to work today?"

  She turns and scowls at me. "Where are you going tonight? Off to play with your new friends again?"

  I'm not fooled by her stall tactic. "You didn't go to work, did you?"

  "Who died and made you my mother?"

  "Mom. . ." I'm trying to keep my voice calm now. "What's going on? Do you still have your job?"

  She laughs, but I can tell by her cynical tone what the answer is. She has blown it. My mom has lost her job. We are going down.

  Just then the doorbell rings. "That's Jayden." I hurry to grab my coat and bag. "We're going to the movies. I left a message on your cell." I rush out the door, nearly running Jayden down.

  "Whoa, what's your hurry?"

  "I'm sorry." I pause and take in a deep breath.

  "Are you okay?"

  I force a smile. "Sure. I'm fine."

  "I was hoping I could meet your mom."

  "That's not possible." I struggle to come up with a believable excuse. "That's just the problem. You see, my mom's got the flu, and I was trying to get out quickly so you don't get exposed."

  "Oh ... is she okay?"

  "She just needs to rest. She'll appreciate having a quiet evening to herself." And, yes, I'm lying, but what else can I do? As we get into his car, which is not as flashy or new as our other friends' cars but still nice, I dig deeper into my lie. I ramble on about how bad it was when my mom and I both got the swine flu and nearly died and how we take the flu very seriously now.

  Finally sick of my lies, I change the subject and make small talk with Jayden as he drives us to the theater. But underneath my nervous chatter, I can't help but be impressed by two things. First of all, he actually wanted to meet my mom. And second, he seemed to genuinely care about her health. Unfortunately, I don't think he'd understand that my mom's health problems are mental not physical.

  We meet up with the others inside the foyer of the theater, where Jayden gets sodas and a big bucket of popcorn-my second meal of the day. All the while I try to keep a cheerful expression and act normal, burying all my fears and worries deep inside ... wishing I were someone else. Why wasn't I born into a family like one of my new friends? Their biggest worries seem to be whether they'll get into the most elite college, not whether there'll be anything to eat for breakfast tomorrow.

  While the movie plays, I'm totally distracted. All I can think about is that I need to figure out an escape plan-for when my mom's ship goes down. Somehow, as impossible as it seems, I have to preserve this nice little life I've been building for myself. Finally, as the credits are rolling, I realize I missed the entire movie. One of my friends will be eager to discuss this intellectual film afterward, and I will be sitting there like a dummy. But I also know what I've got to do to rescue myself and my mom. Tomorrow I will get a part-time job. Somehow I will try to keep our lives from totally unraveling. And then I'll pressure my mom to do her part. She can go beg for her job back, since I know she's lost it. Or she can flip burgers somewhere. I don't really care. But she can't just slip into another deep, dark depression.

  "You seem kind of quiet tonight," Jayden says as we go out to his car. "Are you concerned about your mom?"

  "I actually am pretty worried." At least that's not a lie.

  "Do you want to call to see how she's doing?"

  I consider this. "You know . . . I should probably just go home." The plan was to meet the others at Porky's, this oldfashioned diner that kids from our school hang at sometimes. But my stomach, which should be hungry, feels like there's a chunk of cement sitting in the bottom of it. And I'm not sure how much longer I can keep up this cheerful act. Obviously it's slipping already since Jayden has noticed.

  "I understand," he tells me as he starts the car. "And I think it's cool that you care about your mom like that."

  "Thanks."

  "Hey, should we pick her up some chicken soup or something?"

  I force a smile. "That's really sweet, but I think she has what she needs at home. I should probably just be there to help, you know."

  After we arrive at my condo, Jayden walks me across the parking lot and up the stairs, holding my hand all the way.

  "I'd invite you in, but my mom looked pretty contagious."

  "That's okay." He leans toward me ... and I think I know what's coming. The good-night kiss! I lean forward, holding my breath, and then he gently kisses me on the lips-and I think I see stars!

  "I'll call you tomorrow." He releases my hand and abruptly turns, hurrying down the stairs.

  With my head still spinning, I stand there in front of my door. I replay the moment, remember the tender kiss-and desperately hope it won't be the last time. Because when I go inside the condo, everything will change. Bittersweet? Yes. But I will focus on the sweet for now.

  Bracing myself for the conversation to pick up where we left off, I go inside the condo but am surprised the lights are off. I look around and realize that my mom's not home. After I get over being angry, I decide to search for something to eat. I can either have canned soup or macaroni and cheese (from the box). I go for the mac and cheese, and while the pasta is cooking, I run downstairs to the recycling area and pull out a recent paper from the newspaper box, extract the Classifieds, and run back up.

  Then as I hungrily shovel in my food, I search through the Help Wanted ads, circling anything with potential. But it's almost like our other town-besides the full-time positions, which are very specific and require degrees, the jobs are for fastfood chains, convenience stores, and, of course, exotic dancers. While pole dancing or whatever they do is among the last jobs on earth I would want, I'm guessing the pay is much more lucrative than clerking at 7-Eleven. Even so, I'm so not going there.

  The two jobs that interest me most are for a twenty-fourhour restaurant (the kind my friends would never be caught dead in) and a nursing home. The upside of the restaurant is I could probably eat there. But the nursing home's not far from our condo. And it looks like there are a couple of positions that need filling, which makes me think my mom could work there too. Of course, that's ridiculous on my part to think she'd lower herself to take care of elderly people.

  I shove the newspaper aside and take my bowl to the sink, rinsing it and the pan and putting all evidence of my meal in the dishwasher. Where is my mom anyway? It's nearly eleven now and she's still not home. If we were in our old town, I'd assume she was out with friends, but as far as I know, the only friends she has here are work related. And this actually gives me some hope.

  "I think Mark Edmonds is crushing on me," my mom confessed to me the first week at her new job.

  "Is that why he went to so much trouble to move us here?"

  She just gave me a sly little smile. But the message was plain. And to be honest, the idea of my mom getting seriously involved with a successful entrepreneur-type businessman like Mark Edmonds was quite appealing. For that reason and for stability's sake, I encouraged my mom to look her best, to put her best foot forward. And for a while I even entertained thoughts of my mom having someone dependable to take care of her next year, someone to keep her out of trouble after I went away to college. It was a nice little dream. Even when she told me about the little spats she and Mark had been having at work, I had imagined they were just lovers' quarrels or power struggles, rough spots that could be smoothed over in time. Perhaps they still can.

  I try my mom's cell phone again, but I'm guessing she forgot to charge it. Even so I leave a message, then hang up. She is with Mark right now. She's probably made up with him, too. And maybe they're discussing the whole work thing ... making a plan for her to return to her job ... or maybe he's proposing and they are planning a trip to Vegas. That might upset some daughters, but it would be perfectly fine with me. If I were a praying person, I would beg God to make something like this happen. As it is, I'm not too sure about Go
d. On a good day, I could take or leave him. On a really bad day, I think I don't even believe in God. And why should I since he obviously doesn't believe in me?

  Imagining that everything with my mom is getting squared away and I'll have no need for a job, I toss the Classifieds into the trash and go to bed. Really, I was probably just letting my imagination run away with me again. I'm sure that by morning, life will return to normal-well, our recent new-and-improved normal anyway- and all my worries and fears will be a thing of the past.

  But morning comes and my mom is still out. I have a can of soup for breakfast and keep myself busy doing homework and laundry. I still can't get over the fact that we have our own laundry room, which is actually a laundry closet-and yet it's so much better than a public laundry facility where you never know what's been in the washing machine before you. I've pulled out some disgusting things.

  I wash my mom's sheets, then after they're dried, I remake her bed, all nice and fresh. I imagine that Mom and Mark will come home announcing that they did, indeed, slip off to Vegas last night to tie the knot. Of course, that means we'll have to move, but I know Mark's house is really swanky, and although I'll miss the condo, I'll live closer to my friends' neighborhood.

  Finally it's four o'clock and I still haven't heard from my mom. When my phone eventually does ring, it's after five and it's Jayden.

  "How's your mom doing?" he asks.

  "Uh ... she's about the same."

  "So, you probably don't want to leave her home alone ...?"

  I consider this. "Actually, I don't think she'd really miss me."

  "Cool. I thought we could grab a bite to eat and go to the library. I need to find a book for my AP history class before Monday."

  "And I've still got homework to do anyway, so I'll just bring it along."

  "Great. This will be a study date."

  As soon as I hang up, my stomach growls and I can't believe I'm going to have a real meal tonight. I should be more excited about seeing Jayden than eating, but I can't help myself. I'm starving! And although I'm a bit worried that I'll eat like a hog in front of him, I'm not even sure I care. And if I don't hear from my mom by tonight, I think I'll go apply for the restaurant job tomorrow morning. The possibility of having a job that involves both food and tips has suddenly become hugely appealing.