How to Ruin Series Part 52

I squeeze my eyes shut. "I'm not as plastic as you accuse me of being."

"I guess not. Listen, Amy. I'm sorry.

You're right about me. Well, except for the dragon-eyed part."

"What?"

"I played you. I played your boyfriend.

It wasn't fair, I know. Sometimes I want everyone's life to be as screwed up as mine. Call it a self-defense mechanism."

He helps me stand. I wipe my nose and eyes with the sleeve of my s.h.i.+rt. "What's so wrong with your life, Nathan? Who are you? Make me feel better about my c.r.a.ppy life by sharing yours."

I understand why I'm insecure: my dad just came back into my life, my mom and her new husband are planning a family without me ... and I don't know where my family life begins and where it ends.

"I'm a foster kid. Parents gave me up when I was ten because they couldn't afford all eight kids they had. I've been tossed from one foster home to another since then."

Wait, I don't get it. "I thought Mr. and Mrs. Keener were your aunt and uncle?"

"No other foster home would take me after they took a look at my file, so they were kind of forced into it by the courts.

My aunt and uncle aren't on speaking terms with my parents. They cut all ties a long time ago. Something about marrying trailer trash makes you trailer trash."

I can't imagine my parents giving me away. Even when my dad and I weren't talking, he still tried. It was me who pushed him away. My mom raised me since she was in college, going to school and working while trying to juggle having a kid and getting a career going. I admire her so much. I don't think she ever considered giving me up.

"Why do you dress like-"

"Like I'm a dork?"

"Well, yeah."

"My aunt wants me to dress conservative. Thinks if I dress like a bad kid, I'll be a bad kid."

"Are you bad, Nathan?"

He focuses on the ground and shrugs. "I have been. You don't get kicked out of thirteen foster homes in seven years for being a model kid. "

"And now?"

"I guess I'm still f.u.c.ked up." He looks at me. "I shouldn't have kissed you in front of everyone in the cafeteria. And ... I have to admit ... I knew your boyfriend was going to be at the party tonight and was secretly happy he found out we kissed. I know I hurt you, Amy."

The truth is I hurt myself. I let my insecurity and confused emotions overcome what I knew deep in my heart was right all along. I play a tough game, but inside I'm weak. Just like Nathan.

I hook my arm through Nathan's and say, "Do you have any ice cream at your place?"

"I think so. Vanilla, maybe."

"That'll do."

"You want to hang out with me?" he asks, totally shocked.

"Yeah. Isn't that what friends are supposed to do?"

"I've got to admit, I haven't had a friend in a long time. Don't know if I even know how to be one."

"What about Bicky?" I ask when we get in the elevator and head to the fortieth floor.

"She's a foster kid, too. I met her in a home in Freeport last summer."

"Where is she now?"

He takes a deep breath and says, "Rehab. She got into some bad stuff and is all messed up. I bring her flowers every Sat.u.r.day, but they won't let me see her or talk to her. She receives my letters and notes, though."

Wow. And I thought my family life and love life were rough. I have the urge to go hug my mom and dad and thank them for hanging in there with me.

When we step into Nathan's condo, he turns to me. "Will you please change your s.h.i.+rt, it's got snot all over the sleeve. As your friend, I just want to be honest with you."

I look down at my snot-encrusted s.h.i.+rt.

It is grotesque. "I'll be right back," I say, then trot over to my door.

I change my s.h.i.+rt and go back to the Keeners' place. When we're in Nathan's room, we hang out on his bed and dig into a tub of ice cream.

I look at Nathan. If you look past his geeky attire, you can see that he could possibly be cool. With a LOT of help.

"What are you looking at?" he asks, turning to me with his bright green eyes.

"I was just thinking that you don't have to dress different to appease your aunt and uncle. You should be yourself. If they kick you out for being you, well ... I'm sure you could come live with me and my dad."

"We could be like brother and sister?"

"Yeah," I say, totally serious and meaning every single word. "Like brother and sister. And friends ... great friends," I say, taking a spoonful of vanilla ice cream.

Those green eyes are starting to water.

"Nathan, are you crying?"

One lone tear falls down his cheek.

"Yeah." He looks down and swipes the tear from his face. "I haven't had a sibling in a long time, Amy."

I hug him. To be honest, I think it's the first sisterly hug he's had in years.

"Do you really play the guitar?" I ask him, eyeing the black leather case on the floor while I try and lighten the mood.

"Used to be in a band, but it's kind of tough being a member of a group when you move as often as I have."

Picking up the guitar, I hand it to him.

"Play something for me."

"Like what."

"A song. For me."

"Do you want me to make it up?"

"If you can."

"Okay ... let's see. I'll call it 'My Sister Barbie.'"

23.

Tzedakah is the commitment a Jew makes to give charity. Tzedakah doesn't have to be all about money. It can be doing mitzvahs (good deeds) for others less fortunate, too. My friend Nathan needs a little Tzedakah thrown his way.

I bring Nathan to my mom's house in Deerfield the next morning for moral support. Last night Nathan convinced me to be honest with her and Marc about questions I have concerning the new baby.

My mom rushes out of the house and hugs Nathan. I think her emotional hormones are in overdrive. "Avi, it's so nice to finally meet you," she says with a big smile. "Amy's told me so much about you."

"Mom-"

"How are you liking being in our big city?" she says, ignoring me. "Amy must be showing you a grand old time."

"Mom, this isn't Avi."

"It's not?"

"No. It's Nathan. Nathan, this is my mom," I say as I unleash Mutt and let him loose in my mom and Marc's house.

"Oh. I thought his name was Avi."

"No, his name is Nathan. Avi is another guy."

"Then where's this Avi?"

"I don't know."

"Oh. Well, Nathan, why don't you come in and have lunch with us."

While we're eating lunch in the kitchen, Nathan kicks me under the table. It's my cue to start bringing up issues I've been avoiding. "When the baby is born, where's it going to sleep?"

My mom looks to Marc. "In our room, at first."

"Well, we only have two bedrooms because the third is used as an office,"

Marc chimes in.

"What are you asking?"

"Well, I don't want to be sleeping on the couch when I stay here. I want to keep my room. I may not live here permanently, but I still want a room when I visit. It's important to me."

"Can't you share one with the baby?"

I raise my eyebrows and chuckle. "I'm a teenager. Like I really want to share a room with someone in diapers."

Marc puts his fork down while he thinks. "Maybe I can move the office into the bas.e.m.e.nt."

"There's no windows down there and little ventilation, Marc," Mom coos. "What about your allergies?"

"Amy has a point about the room situation. I can take my allergy medicine before I go down there. Is that fair? You keep your bedroom and the baby will get the office."

I guess Marc isn't such a bad guy, after all. He just needs to get used to having a daughter like me around ... and a dog like Mutt. Maybe I should suggest he take his allergy medicine every day.

My mom sits up straight, or as straight as she can with a protruding belly. "As long as we're making concessions, how about if I request one of my own?" she says.

I brace myself. "Shoot."

"After the baby's born, you babysit one weekend night a month. Changing diapers and all."

"Fine. But if it pukes all over my clothes you're paying for the dry cleaning."

"It's a deal."

After lunch, the four of us sit and play Scrabble.

"So ... are you two an item?" my mom asks before one of her turns.

"We're just friends," Nathan blurts out.

"Yeah," I confirm. "Just great friends."

Marc wins Scrabble by a landslide with a triple word score with the word zareba.

We all challenged him and he won. Zareba is a word, if you can believe it. Then Nathan and I take Mutt for a walk around the block before we head back to the city.

It feels good to have Nathan as a friend, to give me the guy perspective on stuff.

My phone buzzes with a text message when we're driving back to the city.

"Can you read it to me?" I ask Nathan.

"It's Jessica. She wants to know why you want Wes's number."