Already Gone Read online

  When I finished with the announcements on Tuesday morning, Mason was sitting in Drew’s seat again. I looked at him in his long sleeved blue shirt and dark jeans and tried again to imagine him with a huge swimming tattoo covering his back. It was ridiculous. I shook my head and forgot about it.

  Or I tried.

  When I sat down next to him, I might have leaned toward him and inhaled deeply, checking for telltale signs. Hope always smelled faintly of chlorine. All I could smell was his cologne, but he noticed my sniffing.

  His nose scrunched up and he tilted his head. "If you smell something weird, it wasn’t me. I swear."

  I rolled my eyes. “No, I don’t smell anything.” And that helped me relax.

  When he grinned at me, my stomach flopped like a fish out of water. If Drew didn't show up soon, I’d start thinking of her seat as Mason's instead.

  I texted her. WHERE ARE YOU?

  I turned back to face Mason. "I’m a little worried about Drew. It’s strange she’d miss two days unless she was really sick.”

  His eyebrows drew together. “Isn’t that exactly why she’s gone?”

  I shrug. “Maybe. She also might be mad at me. For last weekend.”

  He frowns. “Crap, is that my fault?”

  I shake my head. “You didn’t do anything. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I thought she’d get over it, but if she doesn’t, that’s on me, not you.”

  Mason’s frown indicated he didn’t quite believe me. I needed to change the subject. “You getting settled in?” I asked. “What're you up to tonight?"

  "Why do you want to know?" He cocked his head sideways. "Got another surprise tournament you need me to go to, this one on a Tuesday?"

  "No," I said, "but I thought you might want to come meet my family."

  I cringed inwardly at how awkward that sounded. I thought you might want to meet my family? Like we’re adults getting engaged, or something? What’s wrong with me? I needed to fix this. Think brain, think. I need to make this into a joke. Quickly.

  “You know,” I said, “Maybe after my mom has given you her blessing, we can go pick out china patterns. I favor French Countryside. How about you?”

  He grinned. "I already met your mom you know, and I think she liked me. But now that you mention that, I should come clean. You and I are probably doomed.”

  My heart raced and I forced a smile on my face, even though I felt like crying. Doomed? Because he has a huge tattoo and loves my sister? Because he thinks debate is dorky and he shouldn’t be in this class? Or just because he’s one hundred times hotter than me? I told my brain to shut up and forced a smile. “Oh yeah? And why is that?”

  Or maybe it was just because I’m so dorky that I ask awkward things like ‘do you want to meet my family?’ Ugh.

  He nodded slowly. “The thing is, I favor American Colonial and I don’t just dislike French Countryside. I kind of hate it. I’m not sure there’s any way to get around that kind of fundamental disagreement in taste.”

  I rolled my eyes. "French colonial was a test, obviously. No one likes that many flowers. You’re going to have to work way harder before I’d even consider going to pick out china. All I really have planned is a little family trip to get ice cream. My mom loves this place called Jutzy's. It's in Clute, and it's a local hole in the wall. It's like a Mexican store that sells all kind of stuff, but they mix ice cream and fruit in all these weird ways. We go pretty much every Tuesday."

  "That sounds fun and I love ice cream, with or without mix-ins. The thing is though, I kind of have to unpack my room. I didn’t get anything done over the weekend, and my mom might kill me if I don’t finish tonight. Debate ate up the first two days, and chores ate up Sunday. Homework destroyed Monday, so."

  "I totally get it. I'm sure you have a ton of stuff to do, just having moved here."

  The moment the words left my mouth, I’d started to rethink the whole invite anyway. As much as I'd love to bring a gorgeous guy home and impress Hope and Mom, it might be a bad plan. It wasn’t like Mason and I were even dating, much less together. With the rate at which guys fell for my sister, I shouldn't introduce Mason to her until I had him bagged and tagged. Picking out china might even be premature.

  "I would totally go if I didn’t think my mom would kill me about the unpacking, or you know. The lack thereof.” He tilted his head sideways. “Although, maybe if I just throw stuff out of boxes really fast, I could get away. When do you usually go?"

  "We eat around six, so if you unpack like Barry Allen or something, here's my number." I wrote my number on a piece of paper and slid it over to him. "Text me and I'll get you directions."

  "Okay.” He smiled. "I will."

  We spent the rest of class looking over a few kritiks I'd been working on that I thought might work with our counterplan. He had a few great suggestions. After class ended, I walked with Mason to Physics and then to History. After that it was technically time for lunch, but I took advantage of Senior open campus to do something I'd been putting off.

  I drove out to Drew's house.

  I banged on her door. No answer. I banged again, harder this time. "Answer the door, Drew. I'm not going to stop until you do."

  "I'm sick," she moaned.

  "I'm sick as you," I said. "Of your pathetic excuses. Now open the door, or I'm getting the hide-a-key."

  I really didn’t want to fish the key out from under their cobwebby hollow rock. Luckily my threat worked, and she opened the front door just before I went for the key. Her hair was sticking up in odd places in the back, and she had a stain on her Green Day t-shirt. She looked weird without her signature eyeliner, too.

  "Wow,” I said. “You look like... like I imagine the inside of Ms. Harris’ brain looks. Too much Knight Fort does not look good on you.”

  Drew backed away from the door to let me in and ran one hand through her snarled hair as I walked past her. “Telling me I look awful is rude. I told you I was sick."

  “We both know you aren’t.” When Drew’s actually sick, her nose turns bright red and her eyes puff up like dough balls. When she’s spending all day staring at a video screen talking to her weird computer friends, her hair gets ratty and her eyes turn pink and streaky. “You’ve got bloodshot eyes, Drew. I’m not a dummy.”

  It took almost a full minute for my eyes to adjust after I walked into the family room. All the blinds were shut and the room looked like a mole hole. Blankets slumped in piles on the floor, and messy plates crusted with food clung to every surface, in some cases nearly defying the laws of physics.

  “What in the world? You and your mom are total slobs, but this is next level. Even for you.”

  Drew picked up a pair of sneakers and tossed them down the hall toward her room. Like that made a difference. I didn’t roll my eyes, though. She had a right to be mad at me. I hadn’t been very loyal.

  "I know you’re mad and I’m so sorry. I really am. I should’ve said that earlier.”

  Drew didn’t respond.

  “I’m genuinely worried that you’re skipping school and staying up all night playing your game instead of coming to yell at me. It’s not like you.”

  Drew shook her head. “I don’t want to yell.”

  “I am sorry, but I’m also surprised you’re so mad. You never even liked debate. You whine all the time about how you don’t get it, and you don’t want to talk about or even go over my ideas for my new case." My voice dropped in volume almost to a whisper. “I thought you might be relieved, actually.”

  Drew folded her arms over her chest and stuck out her lip. "Debate wasn’t so bad. I complained to remind you I quit band for you."

  “Okay, but even you have to admit, you kind of suck at it.”

  “Screw you, too.” Crumbs scattered onto the floor when Drew shoved a blanket aside and sank down into the couch.

  I couldn’t handle being in her house, not when it looked like that, and she wasn’t saying much. The only way to make Drew talk when she got like this was t
o wait her out, so I started cleaning. I picked up discarded plates and bowls from all over the family room and stacked them up. I gathered up dirty clothes and piles of shoes and took them to the laundry room. When I returned, Drew’s head rested in her hands.

  My heart contracted. Drew had been there for me no matter what. I could get upset at her shortcomings, but I was the one in the wrong here, not her. She deserved more than empty words. She deserved my patience with her forgiveness.

  I brushed off the couch and sat next to her. "I'm sorry I said you weren’t good. I was trying to be honest, because we’ve always been straight up with each other. That’s the kind of friendship we’ve always had, and it's a great example of what I love about you. You debated with me for a year and a half just because I needed someone, but you never loved it. I’m not sure if you even really liked it. I’m sorry it hurt your feelings so bad that Mason took your spot. I didn’t think you really wanted it, honest."

  I had to stop talking then. If I kept quiet, Drew would finally be forced to say something. She still didn’t meet my eye, so I thought I’d give her some time to process. I crossed to the kitchen and started to empty the dishwasher so I could reload it. I cleared the counter and I was eyeing her crusty countertop when she finally made a sound. I dropped a spoon and turned toward her.

  She huffed. "You dumped me like a hot, moldy potato when he showed up."

  “I think it’s just hot potato. You drop it because it burns you.”

  “You know what I mean.” Her lower lip trembled.

  It was almost verbatim what Hope had accused me of doing. I cringed a little inside. I wonder whether my guilty feelings might have made me defensive, because I was a little less Zen than I wish I’d been.

  "You were so late,” I said, “that you almost missed the entire tournament. And that wasn’t the first time I spent an hour texting you and praying you’d show." Maybe I was in the wrong, but she was partially to blame.

  She stood up and started gathering trash off the floor. "I know, and I apologized every time I was late, but I was late a lot. You should have had faith I’d make it eventually."

  “You didn’t always make it at all.” I huffed.

  “One time,” Drew said. “One time I missed.”

  A cockroach darted out from under a blanket and zigzagged toward me. Drew screeched.

  I whacked it with a pot and waved my arms around at the disgusting mess. "What's going on with you? I should’ve come over Sunday when you wouldn't answer the phone. I should’ve come over last night after dinner, but I didn't and I'm sorry. I think we can agree I’ve been the crappiest friend out of the two of us, but I'm here now, and I’m sorry, and I need to know. This is your second day of school to miss when you’re clearly not sick. What's the deal? Is it all because you’re mad at me?"

  "I’m fine, okay? The house is just a mess because my mom doesn't have time to clean, and I don't like to. The cleaning lady usually comes every week, but she’s been sick. Her calling to cancel gave me the idea when I didn’t want to go to school."

  Drew and her mom always played chicken with the housekeeping, but she was deflecting. "I’m not just asking about the mess. You’ve been online non-stop lately. It’s like you’re forgetting you have real live friends. And what’s with bringing that spoiled rich druggie to the tournament?"

  Drew glared at me. “He’s not spoiled rich. His family’s broke, actually.”

  “Then how does he drive that shiny, fancy car, and have all that nice stuff? I hear he throws huge parties. With beer, and those aren’t cheap.“

  “He earns it, okay?”

  “A seventeen year old kid earns that kind of money?” I raised my eyebrows. “He earns enough to drive a Lexus?”

  Drew mumbled something.

  “I can’t hear you.”

  “I said he sells stuff, okay?”

  My head almost exploded. “Drugs, you mean he sells drugs?”

  “Dude, you need to chill,” Drew said. “Your mom’s made you crazy. You guys act like taking a Tylenol is the gateway to cocaine or something.”

  I bit my lip to keep from screaming at her. “My mom’s uncle—“

  “I know,” Drew said. “Your mom’s uncle died of an overdose, blah blah blah. Except I’ve been thinking about it, and I doubt it was really her uncle. Someone who mattered to your mom died and it had something to do with drugs, that’s for sure. I don’t think an uncle dying when she was a kid would make her as insane about that as she is. She’s turned you guys into a bunch of loons. Normal people take Tylenol and a lot of people try other stuff too. My mom said she smoked pot when she was in high school and it wasn’t a big deal.”

  My jaw dropped. It was like I didn’t even know my own best friend anymore. My throat felt like the dentist had been spraying it with that air blower thing. I forced the words out anyway. “Are you getting pot from him?”

  “No, you idiot. I haven’t tried it. I just don’t hate him for doing what he has to do. That’s all.”

  “You don’t fault him for selling illegal substances to minors?” My voice sounded shrill. I took a big breath and counted to five. “You think he needs a Lexus? And big parties? Somehow his need for that stuff justifies him getting kids hooked on mind-altering drugs?”

  “You need to listen to yourself. You sound like an after school special. And no, I don’t think he should sell cocaine, okay? But I think selling pot to some high school kids is no big deal. It’s legal in Colorado, and that state hasn’t burned down yet.”

  I didn’t even know what to say. I stared at her awkwardly.

  “Your mom thinks all drugs are bad. But if she would take some stuff for her head, who knows? She might not miss so much work.”

  I frowned. “Did your dad say—“

  Drew shook her head. “My dad thinks your mom’s great. Maybe too great maybe. But the point is, some people don’t have everything so easy.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked. “You think my life is easy?”

  “Your mom eats dinner with you every night and she has a solid job. You have a nice house, you’re beautiful, you’re smart, and you have a car to share with your sister. Yeah, I’d say you have things pretty easy.”

  “Your mom’s a doctor,” I practically shout. “Your dad is my mom’s boss. You have a nice house, two actually, if you ever spent any time with your dad, and you’re smart. If my life is easy, yours is cake.”

  “It’s not about money, you know. All I’m saying is maybe don’t judge people you don’t even know.”

  “I do know you, and apparently you think I’m judgmental.” I fumed. “For trying to suggest you might not be making good decisions, like skipping school and hanging out with a drug dealer. But you don’t want to hear that? Well, you know what? I’m sorry I even came here. Maybe I don’t actually know you very well.” I stepped backward, inching toward the door. I needed to get back to campus before lunch ended anyway.

  The blood drained from Drew’s face. “Don’t leave. You do matter to me, and we are close.” Her hands balled into fists at her side.

  “You aren’t acting like it,” I said. “Why aren’t you talking to me?” I took a step toward her. “What’s really going on?”

  "I can’t talk to you about it." She sat down on the edge of the sofa, her hands gripping her knees so tightly her knuckles turned white.

  I breathed slowly in and out a few times and forced out the words I thought she needed to hear. “If you’re doing drugs, you can tell me Drew. I’m your friend, no matter what, even if my mom’s a little extreme, okay?”

  Her voice was so small when she finally spoke that I wanted to pick her up and hug her. “You may wish you could take that back once you know the truth.”

  My heart sank at the thought of Drew going to rehab, or being all emaciated and strung out with track marks like the images Mom showed us of where drug use can lead. The Faces of Meth, one website was called. I shook it off and crouched down in front of her. If Drew needed me to listen
, I would. She had to know I loved her, no matter what.

  “Are we five again? Because I knew you when you were five, and that’s the kind of dumb crap you said then. I was there for your parents’ divorce. You were there when my mom’s migraines were so bad she couldn’t get out of bed. I was there when your dad had that big-haired girlfriend you hated. You stuck with me through those awful braces and the librarian glasses.”

  Drew looked up and met my eyes, hers full to the brim with equal parts unshed tears and heartbreaking uncertainty.

  I shook my head. “You were my best friend through all that Drew, and you always will be. If you want me to, I’ll dump Mason as a partner, okay?” My heart broke at the thought of passing up my chances at winning state, but I pushed past it. Some things mattered more. “I really didn’t mean to make you so sad.”

  "It’s not about debate," she said. “Or even Mason, not really.”

  “Then what’s going on?” I asked. “What did I do?”

  She shook her head. “I already said. Not everything is about you.”

  “I don’t think everything is about me.” My eyebrow lifted and I wanted to defend myself. Which I realized meant I was making this about me. I spluttered. “Fine, so then what is it?”

  “I’m gay, okay?”

  My jaw dropped and any thoughts I had shot right out of my brain. Had I misheard her? Did Drew say she was gay? She couldn’t be. I’d known her for years. I’d have known, right?

  “I think I might have misunderstood you. It sounded like you said you were gay. Like you like girls, not guys.”

  Muscles worked in Drew’s jaw and I realized I’d said the wrong thing.

  “I’m sorry. But didn’t we spend the past four years talking about every guy we knew and making jokes about who we liked and who liked us?” My voice lifted at the end, making it a question and I knew that was wrong too. I stood up and balled my hands into such tight fists that my nails dug into my palms.