Saving Everest Page 4

  The Friday morning feeling soon died. I checked the time and I had about an hour and some change to get ready for school. As I walked into the hall, I peeked into my mother’s bedroom, where she was sound asleep. A burning smell came from the kitchen, and when I entered, my aunt, Macy, lit a cigarette.

  She must have spent the night, because she was wearing clothes that were wrinkled, and her once heavy makeup was smeared.

  “You shouldn’t really smoke in here, it takes a while to get the smell out,” I said, opening the fridge and pulling out some orange juice.

  “Maybe, but some cleaning around here will get the smell out. It’s a mess here. Your mom works hard. The least you can do is clean up,” she lectured, taking another puff from her cigarette, her long hot-pink nails harboring the cancer stick.

  I glanced around the kitchen and saw dishes piled high in the sink, a Chipotle bag on the floor, ashes from cigarettes laying around, garbage filled to capacity, and an empty wine bottle sitting on the stove. My mother told me she didn’t have any gas to come and pick me up, but she had enough money for her little adult get-together last night.

  I swallowed the frustration. I had nothing to do with this mess—I came straight home and went to sleep. Throwback music, smoke, and laughter filled the living room all last night, but I didn’t mind. I just didn’t understand why I had to clean up their mess.

  “I’ll clean it,” I replied, gripping the glass of my orange juice tight.

  My aunt Macy is like my second mother. She was there for my mom before I was even a thought. They’d been best friends since sixth grade. And when my mom and I left after my dad died, Macy came with us; they’ve always been two against the world.

  “Yeah, you have to pick up your weight aroun—” Her obnoxious ringtone cut her off and she answered her phone.

  I placed bread in the toaster and ate a banana while I waited for my toast.

  “Seriously? . . . but . . . I can’t . . . please,” she argued into her phone as I sipped more of my orange juice.

  She hung up, and her head drooped low, her long black hair covering her face. She pulled on the long stands and groaned. Sitting up, she took another puff from her cig. I tried to ignore her, but her constant groaning was an obvious sign that she wanted me to ask her what was wrong.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked cautiously.

  “My job interview is at the same time I have to pick up Manny from school.”

  It wasn’t not surprising that Macy would want to get a second job. The pay at the salon sucked.

  “Didn’t he just start at that new private school?” I asked, remembering that Manny was one of my favorite people in the entire world. He was eleven, but had a much older mentality. Manny was the brother I never had.

  “Yeah, you know where Carnegie Pine is?” she asked.

  “Right around the corner from Nesbits’ bowling alley?”

  The bowling alley was a mile from my school, and I heard people making plans to go there all the time, but I’d never been.

  “Exactly! You’ll pick him up? Thank you, Beverly, you’re a lifesaver. You may have to watch him for a few hours until the interview is over.”

  My toast popped violently out of the toaster as she hugged me tightly, reeking of nicotine and cheap perfume. I didn’t remember agreeing, but I’d pick him up. I hadn’t seen Manny in a while. After getting ready for school, and after persuading my mom to let me take her car, I left. If I was going to be honest, I liked taking the bus rather than walking or driving because although nobody talked to me, I still valued their company. I could deal with solitude, but I didn’t prefer it.

  Walking into my high school, I felt like I carried a secret. I’d hung out with Everest Finley, and I would never forget it. When lunch rolled around, I wondered if Everest would be in the library. I, at least, hoped I would meet his Earthly eyes again. But when I entered my spot, he wasn’t there. I felt kind of silly for thinking that he would come back.

  School was the same old thing. It was as though yesterday never happened, like I dreamed it all up—that I believed that not only had I talked to someone, but that it was Everest. The day was quickly over and I drove to pick up Manny. With the window rolled down, as the colored leaves blew gently in midair, I wished I could take a picture because it was so pretty.

  I turned up the radio slightly as Ed Sheeran eased out of the speakers. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as a guy stumbled out of a house, clearly not in the right state of mind, but what caught my eye was the gray hoodie and black hair. Lots of people have gray hoodies and black hair, but it was just too coincidental—a guy of Everest’s build leaving from a garage door and stumbling slightly.

  Waiting at the red light, I watched as the guy climbed into a Mustang—a replica of the red Mustang that Everest had driven me home in.

  It was Everest. And he was in no condition to drive.

  At the next given opportunity, I made a U-turn. I was relieved to know that he hadn’t started driving yet; actually, the car wasn’t even on. When I climbed out of my vehicle, I looked into the window to see Everest sitting in the passenger seat stuffing his face with a hard-shell taco.

  He didn’t even notice me as he practically inhaled the taco. He looked crazy, with his eyes tinged with pink and the food enabling a satisfied look on his face. He even went to take a bite of his taco and missed a few times. I knocked on the window and he looked behind him.

  Seriously?

  “Who is it?” he laughed to no one in particular.

  I knocked again. “Everest,” I called.

  He whipped his head around, and smiled. He looked like a giddy little kid with his goofy smile, remnants of his food around his lips. He rolled the window down and rested his chin on his arm.

  “Are you stalking me?” he asked, his smile strangely comforting. It was like a glimpse of the old Everest, the one who smiled all the time.

  “Are you okay?” I asked him as a slight, foul odor filled my nose.

  “I’m just so pea-cc-hh-yy.”

  The fact that he could barely get the sentence out though his laugher was an indication that I had to get him home.

  He started laughing randomly. “I want a cat.”

  “Why don’t you let me take you home?” I asked him, treading lightly.

  He stared at me for about a full thirty seconds before he stepped out of his car. I grabbed his keys and locked the car, then slid the keys into my pocket.

  “Can we go to Taco Bell?” he asked as I strapped him into the passenger seat of my car.

  “I don’t have any money,” I responded, and started the car. He wiggled in his seat and dug his hands deep into his left pocket. A lazy smile formed on his lips as he found what he was looking for, and he slapped a hundred-dollar bill on the armrest. “A-ha.”

  “That’s a lot of money for Taco Bell.”

  I found it strange how he could just throw money around. Glancing at him, he shrugged. “I’m starving.”

  Checking the time, I realized Manny got out of school soon. Ignoring Everest as he talked about things that didn’t make sense, I pulled up to the school.

  I turned to Everest right before I left the car. “Don’t move.”

  “Yes, banana.” He saluted me, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

  I searched for the dark-haired boy with hazel eyes and the Batman book bag.

  “Beverly!” a voice shouted.

  When I saw Manny, I pulled him into a tight hug. “Hey, bud.” I ruffled his hair.

  He smacked my hand away and gave me a toothy grin. “Where’s my mom?”

  “She had some business to take care of,” I explained, walking toward the car. He nodded. He was so adorable, but I didn’t voice my opinion because he got annoyed when I told him.

  I opened the back-seat door for him, and he instantly looked at me. “Who
’s this?”

  “My friend Everest. We are going to drop him off at his house first,” I explained as I climbed into the driver’s seat.

  “You have friends?!” Manny asked, and I ignored the feeling in my chest.

  Shut up, Manny.

  “Can we please go to Taco Bell?” Everest asked again. He was positioned as if he was napping, with the seat slightly reclined and his eyes shut. His bottom lip jutted out slightly.

  “Taco Bell sounds nice right now,” Manny added.

  Everest perked up and turned toward Manny. He held out his fist and they fist-bumped. “See, even the kid knows what’s up.”

  “Okay, fine,” I agreed.

  Everest ordered twenty tacos and bought Manny whatever he wanted. Of course, I had to place the order because Everest was not in his right state of mind. He told me I could get something if I wanted to, but I wasn’t hungry. Finding Everest’s house was not hard—everyone knew where the Finley mansion was; it was the best house in town. I parked the car and started gathering bags.

  “We’re going in?” Manny asked, taking a huge bite from his burrito.

  “Sure, I want to make sure he gets inside okay,” I said while Everest tried to balance a piece of lettuce on his ear.

  “You have weird friends.” Manny observed Everest. “But he bought me burritos, so I guess he’s pretty cool.”

  I used Everest’s key to open the door. The place was so grand and beautiful, and I just knew I’d made the right decision not showing him what my home looked like.

  “Wow,” Manny said, astonished.

  Everest patted Manny’s head. “Game room is the third door on the left.”

  Manny ran off and Everest made his way into the kitchen. I followed him, and watched as he ate yet another taco.

  “So good,” he mumbled.

  “Where is your room?” I asked.

  He placed a hand on his stomach, and his face twisted in discomfort. I quickly pushed him toward the kitchen sink, into which he emptied the contents of his stomach.

  “Where do you sleep?” I asked him once he was finished heaving.

  “Fifth door . . . right.” His voice was hoarse and he suddenly looked weak. I followed his directions, and led him to the unmade bed.

  I took off his shoes, found a facecloth, ran it under some cold water, and placed it on his forehead. Then I went into the kitchen and grabbed him a bottle of water. The soft glow of the sun came through his window, and I closed the blinds so it wouldn’t interfere with his rest. I placed his keys on the messy desk sitting in the corner of the room. Watching him for a second, with the little wet strands of his hair on his forehead, long lashes that fell gently upon his cheeks, and his cheeks with a hint of pink, he looked so peaceful.

  I opened the door to leave before he gently called out my name. “Want to know something?” His eyes were still shut, a small smile faintly on his lips.

  “What?” I said.

  “You’re the first black girl I’ve seen with freckles.”

  His voice was so soft I could tell he was falling asleep.

  “Want to know something?” I asked him back.

  “Sure,” he whispered.

  “I’ve never seen a white boy eat that many tacos.” His smile was translucent before he pulled his pillow over his head.

  Grabbing Manny, I left his house. After all, I still had a kitchen to clean.

  10

  Everest

  Confession: it’s been a few weeks since my attempt and I don’t know where to go from here.

  That Saturday morning my mouth felt like cotton and my head pounded. I woke up aching and confused, eyes blurry, and throat dry. I groaned and rolled over. My hand cradled my head to ease the ache. A bottle of water next to my bed caught my eye, and I gulped it down. I lay back and stared up at my ceiling, collecting my thoughts.

  Have you ever just lay in bed and thought about how you managed to make it? I’d had thoughts so absolutely horrid about myself, I literally tried to kill myself and I was still here. Why? I still couldn’t figure it out.

  The dark room corresponded to my dark thoughts. The sun tried to make its way through the shield of blinds, but it was no use. Light couldn’t win with this darkness.

  The night before yesterday, my dad came home, bringing my grandpa. My grandfather wasn’t too different from my dad, both with stern faces and briefcases. I thought the reason my dad was the way he was now was because of his father. When I was younger, I thought that my grandfather was the coolest guy, with his cigars imported from Italy and his expensive suits.

  One day you’ll have it all, he used to tell me.

  I was eight and I remembered being so determined to make sure I lived up to the family name. I was not yet eighteen and I’d failed.

  The pressure and stress were too much. The lying awake thinking about how I could be better—to not let anyone down, to make my father finally proud of me. Anxiety filled me up with emotion—too much emotion. The tears and the blood, there was so much of it. But nothing compared to now, where absolutely nothing but disgust and disappointment came along with my name. My grandfather told me last night that he thought I was weak. He called my appearance a disgrace; my dad watched with his arms folded and eyebrows furrowed. When my grandfather punched me in the gut, my dad left the room. I bent forward and groaned, wrapping my hand around my stomach and coughing a few times.

  I didn’t want to have to do that . . . but your father needs to start toughening you up.

  When Thursday rolled around, I didn’t want to go to school. I took my car and went to the Basement, where I smoked until I couldn’t even remember my name. I didn’t remember how I got home; the last thing I remembered was Aurora bringing in tacos. The taste of tacos was still present in my mouth. My car wasn’t in the garage, so I must have walked all the way home.

  My weekend was pretty much uneventful. I stayed in my room and listened to music. When you had earbuds in and shut your eyes, you could kind of forget about the world. My family didn’t come and check on me, so there were no interruptions. It was getting hard to tell if I was avoiding my family or if my family was avoiding me.

  I decided to go to school today just to spite everyone—especially Nash, my supposed best friend, who hadn’t talked to me in weeks.

  “Hey, Everest!” I lifted my head from my desk and met the eyes of my former teammate, Gabe Brooks.

  “How’s it feel knowing that Nash stole your girlfriend and your quarterback position?” he asked, laughing, his blond bowl cut shaking slightly. It was funny how fast he forgot that I was the one he’d talked to when his girlfriend had cheated on him.

  “How’s it feel knowing that your hair is three Justin Biebers ago?” Nami told him, before sending me a sympathetic smile.

  I looked away and put my head down. The teacher was collecting the work sheets that I hadn’t done. When lunch came around, I entered the cafeteria out of habit. I eyed my old table, and Cara was there. Someone patted her shoulder and pointed at me, and our eyes met. Seeing Cara made me think of all the memories between us, and my stomach filled with a swarm of bees from the notion.

  She looked away. I turned and left the cafeteria; I couldn’t be there any longer. I found myself entering the east wing library. Beverly sat in her usual spot, and glanced at me before taking a bite from her sandwich. I was so caught up in my thoughts, I’d completely forgotten that she usually came in here.

  “Hey,” I greeted her, taking a seat.

  “Hi.” She smiled briefly at me before turning the page of a book. “How’s your head?”

  How did she know about my raging headache from this weekend?

  “I drove you home,” she explained, probably reading my confused facial expression.

  Pieces of my memory came back to me. Image of tacos and a small Korean child surfaced in my brain. Flashes
of Beverly taking care of me also surfaced and I didn’t understand why she’d helped me.

  “You helped me?” I asked, astonished.

  She nodded before sipping her water.

  “. . . but why?”

  “Because we’re friends,” she said.

  “But we’re not—” I didn’t even know her, but then realized that she’d been more of a friend than anyone else I knew right now. “Tell me about yourself,” I said.

  She looked surprised. “What do you want to know?”

  I shrugged.

  “How about I tell you something about myself in exchange for something about you,” she suggested, and I hesitantly nodded. I didn’t mind as long as she didn’t ask anything personal.

  “What’s your favorite food?”

  “Pizza rolls all day,” I said.

  She laughed at my answer.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, you just answered that really fast and really serious.” She chuckled more, causing me to smile a little.

  “Pizza rolls are the best.”

  “I thought you were going to say something fancy, and then you say pizza rolls.” She attempted to imitate me saying pizza rolls, and I shook my head in amusement.

  “I don’t sound like that! Now how about you? What’s your favorite food?”

  She pondered for a moment. “Chicken parmesan. What’s your favorite color?”

  “Blue,” I answered.

  “Same,” she smiled.

  “What’s your favorite movie?” This little game was kind of fun.

  “That’s a hard one. I think as of now it’s If I Stay. It’s so sad. Personally, I like the book better, but the movie was amazing nonetheless. How about you?” Her eyes brightened as she answered.

  “I don’t really have one, but as of right now I really like The Purge,” I answered.

  “The Purge?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I wish they would have a real one,” I told her, my lips twisted in an amused manner.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea—like, what would you even do?” Beverly asked.