The F- It List Part 35

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hated running into you yesterday you looked really cute with that viscera hanging off your head."

And ... melt.

I tried not to smile at the compliment, but it was impossible not to. "That's a good word. Viscera."

"Yeah," he agreed. We watched each other, silent again, less snorty.

"I need more than cute viscera, though." He sipped his coff ee.

"Like what?" I asked, stumped.

"I'm not going to feed you your lines, Alex." I still didn't know what to say. He waited. "So that's it, then?" he pushed.

Part of me had hoped that everything that happened, or didn't happen, in the last few months could be erased. Forgotten. What good would it do to rehash all of the s.h.i.+t?

I'm the idiot who asked if he still loved me. And I'm also the idiot who decided to say, "I got a new print of Children of the Corn if you want to watch it."

"Maybe." He didn't look quite as mad anymore, just disappointed.

Which was much worse.

I stood up and walked over to his chair. We were about the same height when he sat and I stood, and I pulled off his hat to run my fi n- gers over his hair. It had worked for me in the past when words failed me, as they often did. I leaned in and stole a kiss, then backed away to gauge his reaction. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward him, his other hand cupping my neck as he kissed me back. The warmth rushed from my lips to my toes, and for a minute all was forgiven.

Until he pushed me away and s.n.a.t.c.hed back his hat. "d.a.m.nit, Alex." He wiped his lips off with the top of his hand. "I gotta go." He crushed his hat back on his head and shoved his way out the door, --1 leaving his large coff ee behind.

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I slunk back to my chair and sipped my mocha. When I was done, I forced myself to drink the rest of Leo's coff ee, too. The bitter taste fi lled my mouth and coated my stomach. I imagined it was poison, a concoction that would eat away at my tongue, my teeth, my esopha- gus, rendering me physically speechless. A fi tting end to someone who never said the right thing.

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CHAPTER.

35.

Becca stayed home from school much of the next week. The radiation made her throat incredibly sore, to the point where swal- lowing hurt. Her mom wouldn't let me come over, telling me I made Becca laugh too much and that would just hurt her throat more. I sent Becca a link to Ordinary People, the saddest movie ever made, with the note, "I hope you never laugh again."

She wrote me back that Caleb had come to her rescue with home- made hard candies.

"Right. Hard candies. I know what you mean."

"Perv."

"Takes one to know one."

It was hard to communicate with Becca about Leo through typ- ing only. She was stuck on the positive of "At least he wanted to see you. And he kissed you!"

"And then he stopped kissing me. Is there anything more morti- --1 fying than a guy not wanting to kiss you back?"

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"Try not being able to kiss a guy because you have puke breath twenty- four- seven."

That shut me up. My problems still weren't real problems next to Becca's.

I drowned my sorrow and guilt in Ben and Jerry's and horror movies. Friday night, my mom asked if I would watch the twins so she could play mahjong with some friends.

"I know they're old enough to be alone, but I'd feel better if you were home with them. Please don't drive anywhere." Mom had chilled a lot with her tension over driving, except at the thought of her three children being alone in a car together. She never said, but I knew what she thought, if we were all driving together, we could all die together, too. I told her we'd stay home, order pizza, watch some movies.

"Nothing too scary," Mom requested. "CJ wouldn't want you to know, but he's been having nightmares lately."

For being such a t.u.r.d, CJ sure was sensitive.

I suggested we watch Dead Set with our pizza. "You know how you always ask me why I dress like this everyday? Well, now you'll know. Plus, you love reality TV."

"Sounds cool," AJ agreed.

CJ wasn't so convinced. "Is it scary?"

"No. It's fake. Do you believe in zombies?"

"Not really. I mean, no." CJ played it cool.

"The show is about a group of idiots on a reality show where they all have to live together in the same house. We get to watch behind the scenes, too, which is where my character is. Then, outside the house, where they're totally locked in, the world is overrun with -1- zombies. And they have to fi gure out what to do. It's genius. Way 0- more gross than scary. You love gross, CJ. Remember that mole rat

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that was eating its own baby at the zoo? It's practically the same thing."

CJ was lightly convinced by the mole rat, and we started the marathon. All was well for the fi rst hour. But then things took a turn for the worse, and not just for the characters turning into the living dead.

"Can we turn it off ?" I hadn't noticed that CJ was squinting his eyes in an eff ort not to see the screen. I paused, unintentionally on a screen shot of someone getting their eyeball eaten.

"Just turn it off !" CJ yelled. I complied. This wasn't normal CJ behavior. Tears formed at the corners of his closed eyes.

"It's off . What's wrong? It's not real," I told him.

"But it was real! People die! And they look gross! Dad looked gross!" CJ began full- on sobbing.

I didn't know what to do. Not that I ever did, but it was paralyz- ing seeing my normally brash and annoying tween brother turn into a blubbering little kid. Then things got even worse. AJ began crying, too.

"What's going on?" I panicked.

"Don't you ever think about him, Alex? Don't you miss him?"

Dad. I rarely heard them talk about Dad, not in a way that expressed any sadness.

"Of course I do," I admitted.

"Then how come you never talk about him?" CJ sniff ed.

"What do you want me to say? Remember when Dad got man- gled in a taxi?"

Wrong again. CJ exploded like a four- year- old who lost his blankey.

--1 "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," I fumbled. "I do miss him. I loved him so -0 -+1 2 1 1.

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much. He was my dad. Our dad. He was funny. And smart. And he listened and taught us things and now he'll never be here to teach us anything else. Like how to make my gigantic brothers feel better when they're crying next to me on the couch." I pressed back my own tears, until AJ started laughing.

"We're not gigantic," he snuffl ed.

Somehow that made more tears escape from my eyes. "To me you are. You sure you guys weren't adopted?" I joked.

"You're the death- loving weirdo," CJ noted.

"I don't love death," I defended myself.

"Then why do you watch this stuff ?" He waved his hand at the blackened tele vi sion.

"Because it's not death. It's ridiculous. It's fake and it's controlled and it's hilarious and girls like me can kick zombie a.s.s, that's why.

Because in the movies, I could stop Dad from getting in a cab and turning into shrapnel."

AJ and CJ just looked at me. I didn't know if they got the full impact of my confession, that even making a confession was one of the hardest things I could do.

"What's shrapnel?" CJ asked.

"Never mind. That's not important." I rubbed my eyes. "You guys want to watch something else?"

"We never got to watch this week's Wipeout," AJ hinted.