Sixteen Months Ago When my little sister started high school, my family held its breath. With her late birthday, Audrey was always one of the youngest kids in her class. Her maturity level was never quite the same as that of her classmates. But she had an unnerving ability to assume the best of people. It was annoying, really, the way she looked past people''s outwardly obnoxious traits and found the good in them. I''d be bitching about someone, a teacher or a neighbor or whoever, and Audrey always, infuriatingly, had to point out something nice about them. So none of us were surprised when she declared that she''d made valentines for all of her classmates in the ninth grade. But we were worried.
I could practically hear the comments some of the girls would make. I could imagine the assumptions many of the guys would make. But Audrey wouldn''t be deterred, no matter what I said. "She''s in high school now," Mom finally said to Dad and me while Audrey was upstairs gluing and cutting. "She can make her own decisions and deal with the consequences." Dad and I disagreed. "What if instead of cards, she gave out lattes?" Dad said, waiting expectantly. Mom and I shared an eye roll and then she dutifully asked, "Why?" "Because then they''d know she likes them a latte!" I groaned.
His puns made even Obama''s "dad jokes" seem funny. I think Mom had as much faith in the valentines as I did, but as usual, she pasted on a smile and busied herself with a crossword puzzle. On Valentine''s Day, I watched from my locker as Audrey passed out her cards. And, to be fair, they were pretty adorable, despite the glitter that showered down on her shoes with each one she pulled out of her backpack. She slipped some in people''s lockers, and others she handed to the recipient directly. People loved them, and not just her friends. I was stunned. If I''d done something like this, my classmates would have thought I was trying too hard or sucking up.
But no one could accuse Audrey of being disingenuous. Her smile was too sincere, her delight in their reactions too contagious. But I saw the nervousness on her face when she pulled out a slightly larger heart-shaped card that was more intricately decorated than the others. I watched as she slid it through the slats into a locker not far from mine. I''d never noticed who the locker belonged to, so I lingered for a little while before the first bell rang, hoping to catch a glimpse, wondering if all the other valentines were just to distract from the one person she really wanted to give one to. My jaw went slack when Jason Raymond opened the locker and the heart-shaped card fell out and landed at his feet. He was a freshman who had been in my class the year before but was held back. When he smiled at the card, I couldn''t help noticing the stubble on his chin.
He was practically a man. Audrey had only quit sleeping with her favorite stuffed animal a year ago. It felt like my sisterly duty to protect her. So when Audrey told us about her crush matter-of-factly at dinner that night--something that I would never have even considered doing--I wasn''t surprised. I was ready with about ten reasons why Jason was the wrong choice for her first date. "He''s so dumb," I interrupted her mid-sentence. "He got held back last year! You can''t go out with a guy who''s my age and still a freshman. That''s just embarrassing.
" Audrey''s face turned red. Her eyes were glassy with rage. "You don''t know him," she said. "None of you do. You just don''t see what I see in him." "Like what, honey?" Mom said patiently, cutting me off with a sharp look. "Last week, at lunch, I saw him give his sandwich to a kid whose lunch money was stolen. And the week before that, he volunteered to be my partner in class when everyone else had already picked groups and left me out.
" "Did he volunteer because no one else had picked him, either?" I asked. "Because he''s an idiot and no one wants to do his work for him?" "Harley!" Mom scolded me. I slouched against the back of my chair and offered a halfhearted apology. "If you''re saying he''s dumb, then you''re calling me dumb." Audrey''s voice wobbled. "Because we''re in the same classes." "Yeah, but you''ve only had to take the classes once," I muttered. But I felt guilty before the words even left my mouth.
Her grades were a sensitive subject, but no one was more frustrated than Audrey. "So far," she said quietly. I felt even worse when Jason asked her out a few days later and Mom and Dad wouldn''t let her go. It was my fault, even though they said it was because of the D she''d gotten on her history test. I could still picture her smile as she told Mom about how Jason had asked her to the winter dance, and how it fell as Mom said no. Audrey didn''t speak to me for almost a full week after that. I couldn''t blame her. CHAPTER ONE The atmosphere in the hospital waiting room felt as thick as the summer night outside.
My parents'' silent questions and accusations competed for space in the air with tension and worry. Why didn''t I drive Audrey home from the party we went to? Who was driving the car that she was in? Why didn''t I make sure she had a way home? How could I have let this happen? Guilt warred with anger until an anxious, bitter stew simmered in my stomach. Audrey shouldn''t get to be the victim when I was the one who''d been betrayed. I hadn''t even wanted to go to the party. If my best friend hadn''t been hosting, if my boyfriend hadn''t wanted to go, I wouldn''t have been there . and I wouldn''t have brought Audrey. And maybe what happened would have stayed an unspoken fear buried in my subconscious. The vinyl chair squeaked beneath me as I shifted restlessly.
Dad''s shoes scuffed the linoleum as he paced. Mom cleared her throat and sniffed. We were a symphony of anxiety. Most parents are left waiting and wondering alone while their child is in surgery, but because Dad was an orthopedic surgeon at the hospital, every few minutes someone would come in and tell us how sorry they were. But no one could tell us what was going on. Or maybe no one wanted to be the bearer of bad news. I wondered if they''d start bringing us Jell-O cups, but I wouldn''t have been able to eat one anyway. It would bring back the memories I''d been pushing away: of the party that night where I had left my sister, of the gelatinous shots my boyfriend had been taking, of the two of them together in my best friend''s bedroom.
Dad suddenly turned mid-stride and pushed through the swinging door. I could only assume he''d lost patience and gone to check on Audrey''s surgery. A few nurses trailed after him like sympathetic baby ducks. I stood and traced Dad''s path across the small room. When he pushed back through the door a few minutes later, I froze. "I finally got an update," he said. He spoke in a monotone. "Audrey is still in the OR.
She''s got swelling in her brain and it''s pressing against her skull. They''re draining some of the fluid so they can see what kind of damage there may be. She also has a broken arm that needs to be set and a fractured sternum and cracked ribs from the seat belt, but that will heal." That all sounded like good news, relatively speaking. The tightness in my chest eased slightly. But then he turned to me. "Harley, there''s something I have to tell you," he said softly, putting both hands on my shoulders in a classic I''ve-got-bad-news stance. Or maybe he was trying to restrain me in case I tried to run.
"Mike was driving Audrey home tonight. The police said he was drunk, well over the limit." My knees wobbled. I dropped back into the chair. "He ran a red light," Dad continued, "and another car hit the passenger side where Audrey was sitting." He squatted down to look me in the eye for this last part. He was too preoccupied to remember that he had no cartilage in one of his knees from a college baseball injury. I heard it crack as he went down.
"Is Mike okay?" I asked. For a hateful second, I hoped that the answer would be no. Dad nodded. "I just checked on him. He''s in the ER, conscious but still drunk." His voice hardened. "He has a few bruises, a possible concussion and whiplash, but he''ll be fine. He won''t even have much of a hangover after the IV fluids h.