Saving Everest Page 8

  “You don’t have to give me space, Bev.” I threw a pillow at her.

  “Why, did you miss me?” she teased, tossing it back.

  I made a big show of pretending I was thinking. “Well . . .”

  She laughed. “I missed you too.”

  I thought about the dinner and how I should ask her. I felt such a need to prove my dad wrong that now I was stuck in this situation. Who said she would even say yes? I wasn’t even sure why I was so nervous about asking her.

  “I actually have something to ask you.”

  “No, I won’t marry you,” she stated seriously before starting to laugh.

  I was a bit taken aback by her joke, being that it wasn’t what I expected to come out of her mouth. It was like hearing your teacher curse.

  “What’s up?” she said.

  “Meet my parents?” I blurted impulsively.

  Her eyes grew big and she looked confused. “Are you joking?”

  “Nope.”

  Maybe I shouldn’t have just come out and said it like that.

  “Okay . . . sure?”

  A bit of weight lift off my chest.

  “When?” she asked like she still couldn’t believe I’d just asked her like that.

  I scratched the back of my head and stared at the wall before looking back at her.

  “Now.”

  “Now? Like, when?”

  I looked up at her frazzled expression and glanced at my watch. “Like, right now.”

  17

  Beverly

  The way I was getting ready was like that scene from The Princess Diaries, when Mia changed in the back of the limo. I tugged on the strands of my hair, trying to make it somewhat presentable, thinking about Everest’s house and what a Sunday dinner must be like in that huge dining room. When you thought of elegant, you thought of straight and defined, which my hair was definitely not. As he drove, I tried to fix my bun, so it at least wasn’t so messy.

  “How do you know Hadley?” Everest asked me from the driver’s seat, once we hit a red light.

  “I’m kind of busy right now,” I said, pulling on the cream cashmere sweater that my mom bought herself for Christmas last year.

  “I just don’t understand how you guys would have met.”

  “Remember, I got lost and couldn’t find the bathroom?” I said, pulling out a tube of lip gloss.

  Just as I was about to use the wand and apply it to my lips, the light turned green. He accelerated and the lip gloss landed on my cheek.

  “Sure,” he answered.

  “I walked into her room by accident and we talked for a bit,” I explained.

  Everest nodded, deep in thought, before pulling into his driveway. He parked and then turned to look at me. “My parents don’t mean to be assholes. I don’t think they can help it.”

  I nodded, his words making the reality of what was about to happen even more realistic.

  “C’mon.” He grabbed my hand once I climbed out of the car. The grip wasn’t romantic, but it did feel intimate. The warmth from his large hand gave me comfort. I glanced down at our linked fingers and felt peace. Like yin and yang. We walked through the doors of his house, and I wondered when his grip would go limp. But his grip was strong and firm, yet gentle—like he needed his hand held too.

  “Everest is that you?” a voice asked.

  “Yes, Mother, it’s me.” He squeezed my hand.

  “Remember, don’t let them get to you,” he whispered into my ear before using his thumb to slowly wipe off some of the gloss I hadn’t got. I had to remember how to breathe when we were this close. My tongue felt heavy in my mouth. Was that normal? I repeated that it wasn’t a big deal over and over in my head.

  The first thing that I noticed was the food. It was displayed on the large dining table, silverware and plates perfectly assembled. I glanced around the full table and noticed that it was staring back at me. I released my grip in Everest’s hand and immediately combined my hands together.

  “Oh, well, who is this? Is Cara not coming?” A beautiful middle-

  aged women with long dark-brown hair and green eyes asked. The jewels around her neck probably cost more than what I was worth. The large diamond on her finger flashed in the setting sun.

  Everest’s back stiffened, but I thought I was the only one who noticed. “No, Mom, remember? This is Beverly.”

  The room was so silent I swore somewhere off in the distance I could hear an ant tiptoeing. I felt eyes everywhere. Watching me, judging me. I could feel their thoughts, but I couldn’t hear them, their words crawling upon my skin.

  “Beverly!” A young voice broke the silence, and I smiled as Hadley got up from her chair and hugged me.

  “Hadley!” Everest’s mom said. “Sit down. Actually, all of you should take a seat. This dinner is already behind schedule.”

  We took our seats. I sat between Hadley and Everest’s great aunt, Sherma. Everest sat directly across from me. The table had many empty seats.

  “We will begin with the blue cheese and pear tartlet hors d’oeuvres,” his mother stated, and I glanced at Everest, confused, while he tried to hide his amusement.

  What on earth was a blue cheese and pear tartlet?

  “Here you go.” His mother placed one on my plate and stared at me expectantly.

  I placed it in my mouth and fought the urge to gag. The blue cheese with the pear just wasn’t a good idea to begin with, but I kept chewing like it was the most delicious thing I’d had.

  “Good, right?” His mother smiled before taking a bite out of hers. Everest popped his in his mouth and then discreetly spat it out in a napkin.

  “Sorry I’m late. I got held up in the office again.” A man with a deep baritone voice, light-blue eyes, salt and pepper hair, and an expensive-looking suit spoke. He took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie as he took his seat at the head of the table. He twisted the large ring on his finger. His very presence was intimidating.

  “This must be Beverly,” he spoke again, and I felt myself start to get nervous.

  “Hello.” I smiled and wanted to pat myself on the back for not stuttering or anything.

  “I didn’t expect you to be black,” his father added, before taking a sip from his glass.

  I was not expecting him to say that. Sure, I knew it was sitting on everyone’s mind, but I didn’t think anyone would say it out loud. There weren’t that many black people in this town, so I knew it was surprising to see one. Everyone kind of stilled like they, too, were unsure how to react to Mr. Finley’s words.

  “Well, I am.” I spoke easily, my smile unwavering.

  “Good thing I suggested we have chicken for dinner tonight,” his father laughed to himself. “You do like chicken, right?” He looked at me pointedly.

  I wasn’t sure if he was trying to be a jerk or not. Everest’s jaw clenched and his unease wasn’t helping my nerves.

  “Chicken is fine,” I responded, unfazed. My voice was clear, light, and easy.

  “So, Beverly . . .” His mother blinked at me, clearly uncomfortable with her husband’s choice of words. “Where did you meet Everest?”

  “In the library.” I smiled at the memory, and my heart rate slowed.

  “Really? Everest in a library? That’s good news.” She laughed, but no one followed suit.

  So awkward. Why am I here? repeated on and on in my head, like a broken record.

  “I hear you have a job,” Mr. Finley said.

  “Yes, I work at a coffee shop in town, 21 Daisies, do you know it?” I replied, as the meal was passed around.

  “You work a lot?” he asked, cutting into his chicken.

  I was confused about why he was asking these questions, but I tried not to think about it as I answered. “I do. It’s nice to make my own money and help my mom out along the way.” />
  “That’s admirable.” Everest’s aunt Sherma smiled at me.

  “What’s your mother’s profession?” his mother asked me.

  “She’s a hairdresser,” I answered warily. The question seemed harmless but something about it didn’t rub me the right way.

  “Oh.” She pursed her lips, the word falling dead on her lips.

  “What does your father do?” Everest’s dad asked.

  “That’s enough,” Everest said, his tone harsh.

  “I wasn’t talking to you, boy.”

  Everest briefly shut his eyes, as if to control himself. He reopened his eyes and stared at me. “You don’t have to answer.”

  He fought to say more, but I’d seen all of the unspoken words floating in his eyes.

  “I don’t see why it’s such a big deal,” his mother added.

  “Because . . .” Everest began but trailed off.

  “Because what? According to statistics lots of people from her background don’t have their father’s support,” Mr. Finley said.

  Have you ever just sat frozen because you couldn’t put together what your ears heard? It was like I couldn’t react because I simply couldn’t believe it.

  I stared at Everest. He gave his father the most confused and disgusted look. I watched it all unfold—the way he fought to keep his mouth shut and keep it all in before finally letting it gush out.

  “You know what? Fuck your statistics bullshit.” Everest stopped and took a deep breath, his fingers clenching the bridge of his nose. He looked back up with a cold yet vulnerable stare. “Her father is dead and physically can’t be there for her. You’re alive and choose not to support me on anything. According to my stats, you can be any race and not be supportive.”

  And with that, he stood up from his chair and walked away from the table. His heavy footsteps were followed by the slamming of his bedroom door. The dining room grew quiet. His father took a sip of wine from his glass, seemingly unaffected, but I saw a glint in his eyes—a glint of something real, but it only lasted for a second.

  “It was about time he opened his mouth.” Sherma gave a small proud smile, and began eating her chicken.

  “If you would excuse me.” I finally found my voice. I got up from the table and followed the direction in which Everest had gone.

  He lay on his bed, his pale-yellow designer button-down shirt no longer on his body and the muscles from years of playing football on full display. I sat on the edge of his bed, unsure of what to do or say.

  “You okay?” I asked him, and watched his eyelids, waiting for them to open. “Don’t let them get to you, remember?”

  His messy black hair stuck up in different directions, and he opened his eyes with a smirk.

  “Are you really okay?”

  “I’m just tired.” His voice was different, almost as if there was an underlying message.

  “Go to sleep, and then wake up. Tomorrow is a new day,” I told him with a small smile.

  He looked at me for a long second before pulling me into a hug. I was so surprised that I fell stiffly into him. Everest pulled me down beside him, spooning me.

  “Hey, Bev?” he asked softly.

  “Yeah, Ev?” I responded, my cheek snuggling into his pillow.

  “I bet your dad misses you, and that he didn’t mean to die.”

  My heart warmed as I closed my eyes.

  18

  Everest

  Confession: sometimes I hurt myself to spare the feelings of others.

  —CF, October 11, 2000

  Moments after waking up, I spent a good amount of time in my head. I lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling, and I dreamed, deep in my subconscious, where all my denial made art. It was so colorful nowadays, and my soul that once hid from the colors now embraced them whole and my blood was no longer just red. I dreamed about making things better with my dad.

  Yellow.

  I dreamed about my mom finding someone worthy of her heart.

  White.

  I dreamed about my sister never ending up like me.

  Pink.

  I dreamed about Nash finding peace with himself and me forgiving him.

  Green.

  I dreamed that Cara woke up and realized that perfection didn’t exist.

  Blue.

  I dreamed that I got all my shit together.

  Orange.

  As rain thumped against my window, my chest thumped with it. I sat up and flicked on my lamp; my alarm read eleven forty. School had already started. Beverly was gone. I looked over the side of my bed to see if my shoes were there, grabbed my phone, and noticed I had a new message.

  I took the bus home

  Why hadn’t Beverly just woken me up so I could take her home? Maybe she wanted distance from me. I understood why. My parents weren’t the best hosts. She handled it well though—her smile never faltered or showed signs of weakness.

  Grabbing a camo sweatshirt, I decided I owed it to Beverly to go to school today.

  I entered the halls, tugging slightly on the longest strands of my black hair. I hadn’t even bothered to comb it today; neat hair seemed pointless when my mind was a mess. Teachers didn’t say anything to me as I wandered the halls out of fear that they would trigger the suicidal kid.

  Suicidal kid. That sounded like either a tortured superhero or a blissful villain. I wondered which one I was.

  I hadn’t thought about death in a while. Well, I wasn’t going to lie. I’d read the Sunshine Valley pamphlet about five times front and back, but I didn’t think that counted as thinking. I thought about life more now than ever, if anything. I thought about all the different ways my life could pan out. Reading my uncle’s confession book had become a ritual every morning. It was comforting, knowing someone else felt the way I did.

  The school was decorated top to bottom in red and gold, and I could just feel it, everyone’s spirits and high hopes for a win on Friday. Even though I got kicked off the team, I still had the need to win filling my veins. You didn’t stop bleeding red and gold.

  You had to put in blood, sweat, and tears for the gold of the trophy. I caught the eye of my coach while he was chatting with one of the lunch ladies, probably sweet-talking her into giving him extra fries for lunch. He always told me how he thought the staff was stingy with the food. Standing frozen for a second, I contemplated running back in the direction I’d come from. I hadn’t seen the coach in a long time, since before my attempt, actually.

  The last thing he said to me directly was, “It’s okay to lose sometimes, champ.”

  It was right after our last game of the previous season. He was joking around at the time, patting me on my back with a light and easy smile. Our team was on a winning streak. He never called me anything but champ. I couldn’t believe I’d managed to avoid him for this long.

  The lunch bell rang, and I turned to flee to the library. I wanted to try and get there before Beverly. While zooming through the halls, I caught sight of my old group of friends standing by the usual meet-up spot—the stairwell beside the gym. We usually waited for the rest of the guys to finish up so we could all head to the cafeteria together. Sometimes Nash would convince us to get burgers a few blocks away. When the weather was nice we’d eat on the bleachers. It felt wrong to pass the stairwell. Everything in me was saying that I was going the wrong way, but this was my life now. I wondered if I’d ever get used to feeling like this.

  “What a coward.”

  I didn’t need to turn around to know that it was Nash who said that. It hit me in such a way that I had to concentrate on not bumping into anyone. With my head down, I walked faster, every step bringing me closer to the library. When I opened the door, I saw Beverly sitting there—so much for getting there before her. She was sitting crossed-legged on the ledge of one of the large, bright windows, scribbling away at something in her n
otebook. Her hair was no longer in a fury all over her head, but was straight instead. That image alone caused me to stop for a second. Between her and the sun, I couldn’t tell which was glowing more.

  She looked up from her lunch and smiled. “Everest?”

  “I want to apologize again for last night.” I paused, a cold, dead feeling hitting the pit of my stomach. The night’s events played over in my mind. It was one thing for my family to disrespect me, but for them to make a guest of mine uncomfortable was not only embarrassing but disappointing. I knew I shouldn’t have invited her. She didn’t deserve any of that.

  “Hey, no worries.” She waved me off, and it was then that I realized that I hadn’t even finished my apology. “Do you guys eat tartlets at every dinner?” Her voice dropped and her eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

  “Only when my mom is feeling really fancy,” I scoffed.

  When she laughed her hair shook with the notion. Her hair was longer than I originally thought it was.

  “Your hair.” I pointed like I had no more than two brain cells.

  “Oh yeah, I was trying something different,” she explained, tugging on the ends before stopping herself and pulling out her lunch.

  Not only was her hair different, but her clothes were too. She was wearing a yellow shirt with red bracelets. Our school colors. She didn’t strike me as the type to be involved in such antics.

  “Oh wow, check out the school spirit,” I teased.

  She looked down at her outfit and shrugged her shoulders before pulling out a bag of chips. “I’ve never even been to a game before, so I guess I’m an imposter.”

  “You’ve never been to a game?”

  This blew my mind and even broke my teeny black heart of coal a little. She shook her head and played it off as if it was nothing.