Breaking Up Is Hard To Do (Miracle Girls Book 2) Page 3

  “Yeah, cool,” I say. She smiles at me.

  I saw methodically, up and down, up and down, careful to keep my motions steady.

  “Do you know what I’m reading right now, Christine?” Candace stops carving her pumpkin for a moment.

  These two are like the conversation cavalry. Can’t they tell I don’t want to talk?

  “John Steinbeck’s East of Eden. It was an Oprah pick.”

  Wahoo, she’s literate. Give that woman a gold star. I nod, trying to appear interested.

  “Christine loves Steinbeck.” Dad gestures at me with his knife.

  What is he talking about? I’ve never read Steinbeck. I might have mentioned that Ms. Moore loves East of Eden, but I don’t. How do rumors like this get started?

  I finish cutting around the stem, then lift the lid off carefully. Candace doesn’t shut up.

  I use the edge of my knife to scrape away the pulpy mess from the lid, then reach inside. There’s something so satisfying about pulling out pumpkin guts. The way the stringy sinews squish between your fingers is calming. I scrape as much as I can from the walls, then grasp a big glob in my hand. This is my chance.

  “I think it’s about mankind’s essentially sinful nature, the sin buried in all of us ever since Eve took a bite of the apple,” Candace says.

  Just then I toss the seeds. They soar across the room and my heart swells, but I have to suppress a smile and play my best shocked expression as the gooey mass hits Candace in the face. “I’m so sorry!”

  Dad sits up quickly, as if awakened from a dream, and Emma stares at me with a bit of wonder in her eyes, but instead of the disgust and horror I expect to see on Candace’s face, there is an expressionless calm.

  “Christine!” Dad stands up, nearly knocking over his stool.

  Candace wipes the pumpkin goo off with her hand. I try not to be disappointed that her makeup doesn’t all come off with it. She’s about to lose her composure and drop the whole nice routine.

  “I didn’t mean to get it all over you,” I say quickly.

  “Sure you did.” Wait, why isn’t she shrieking?

  “Go to your room,” Dad says through clenched teeth. At least I finally got his attention, though if he had been paying attention at all for the past year, he might have known being sent to my room is not exactly a punishment. Emma is watching me carefully.

  “It’s okay.” Candace has a wry smile on her face and doesn’t look like she’s about to burst into tears or anything. Then, before I can prepare, she’s slinging pumpkin goo right back at me. I screech a little when it hits my face. Did she really just do that?

  She’s already got another handful from the pile in front of her, and I take a step back, but this one she tosses lightly at my dad. He looks stunned when it lands over his left eye.

  I feel a moment of triumph, certain my plot has worked. How can he like her after she threw pumpkin guts at him? Surely he’s about to lose it. But then, incredulously, he breaks into a slow smile.

  Dad grabs a handful for himself, and within moments the room has turned into a war zone, pumpkins forgotten, goo flying across the room from all sides. Candace is laughing as she scrapes seeds out of her hair and launches them at Emma, Dad is chuckling as he reaches for another handful, and sneaky little Emma is double-fisting, reaching for one pile for guts with one hand while she’s midfling with the other.

  I dig into my pumpkin for a handful to throw at Emma, who has landed a batch in my hair. Candace wipes pumpkin seeds off the front of her designer suit, laughing, not shrieking, pretending for all the world that she’s having a grand old time. My dad begins to guffaw and can’t stop, bracing himself over his knees with his arms. I realize with a jolt that this is the first time I’ve heard him laugh in months. In fact, everyone is laughing, except me.

  6

  An icy breeze blows past my ears. I hear a whisper and turn around out of reflex, but there’s nothing there.

  This has happened before. I swear that I’m being haunted. Well, not haunted in the traditional sense because I’m not being chased around by something in a bedsheet with eyeholes. It’s more like the air grows icy; then this faint noise starts. It’s probably in my head, but it has definitely crossed my mind that it might be my mother’s spirit. Heck, if my husband was marrying a former Miss California so soon after my death, you’d better believe I’d be angry enough to come back from the grave and make my daughter do something about it.

  The beach is peaceful this early. The only sound is the pounding of the waves on the hard sand. I pull the strings of my hoodie tighter around my face and hunch over my sketchbook. I had to bring an extra sweatshirt with me this morning, which means that fall will be here before we know it. It’s usually foggy in Half Moon Bay, especially before the sun burns away the marine layer. Today there’s a bite in the air that wasn’t there a few weeks ago.

  Riley is wearing her full-body wet suit, so I know she feels it too. She’s not allowed to surf alone (she never was allowed to, but now she’s actually obeying that rule), and I like drawing without having an annoying little twerp bothering me every five seconds about how awesome middle school is, so I figured if I came along, I could relax a little.

  And the truth is, I love hanging out with Riley. I like Ana and Zoe too, but they have such perfect families who love them to little tiny pieces that it’s hard to open up to them. It’s easier to talk to Riley, especially when it’s just the two of us. The McGees love their children, but their home life is anything but sane. Thanks to Michael’s autism, they live their lives in the spaces between chaos and crisis.

  The hair on my arms stands on end. I rub my hands together and try to get warm.

  I wish I believed in God because then everything would be so much more convenient. My mom would be in heaven playing a harp—no wait, she’d never play a harp—instead of down here, freaking me out. I turn around again, but no one is there.

  Soon Riley drags herself out of the water, and when I see her staggering up the beach toward me, her board balanced under one arm, I sigh and flip my sketchbook closed. The sun is starting to break through the mist, and the light bounces off her glistening black wet suit. She looks lean and powerful in the getup, and she’s laughing as she approaches.

  “How can you scowl when you’re lying on a beach?” She tosses her board down on the sand, and it lands with a satisfying thud. I scowl again to make her laugh, and she plops down next to me. “I’ve got to get you out there with me someday. You’ll love it once you try it.” I doubt that very much but don’t bother to say so. She leans back on her arms and takes a deep breath. “You ready to head back?”

  “Sure.”

  “Liar.” Her dopey cheerleader grin flashes across her face.

  The wind picks up for a moment and a howling echoes in my ear, like a woman wailing. I try to shake it off. “No, seriously. I’m ready. ”

  The sun is burning off the fog as we trudge back to the parking area. It feels a little brighter now, a little less, well, ghostly, especially since there are more people around here, but I still can’t shake the feeling. It’s freaking me out. Riley is chattering on about a new kind of treatment they’re doing for Michael. Who knows if I’ll ever have the guts to talk to her about this again. . . . Mentioning that your mom is a spook who’s pestering you because she wants you to break up your dad’s impending marriage doesn’t exactly just roll off the tongue.

  “Hey, Riley?”

  She smiles and stops talking. The weak sunlight glints off her hair.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “As long as it’s not what I got on my last test, sure.” She rolls her eyes.

  “Um, do you ever . . .” How do I say this exactly? I don’t want her to think I’m totally crazy.

  “I mean, she’s insane right?” Riley laughs, filling in the space. “She’s totally obsessed. Don’t get me wrong. I love her to death, but don’t you think she’s taking this whole getting into Princeton thing a little too far
?” She steps up onto the narrow curb that edges the parking area.

  “Uh . . . ,” I falter. Ana. She’s talking about Ana. Why is she talking about Ana? We never really talked about one another this summer because we were always together, all four of us.

  “I know, I know. I should be nicer. It’s just that she makes me so crazy sometimes.” Her eyes scan the road. “Why does everything have to be a competition?”

  “Yeah. Crazy.” I try to smile because Riley seems like she’s been waiting to get that out of her system for a while. And I bite my lip to keep from saying anything about my mom. Maybe now’s not a good time to talk about the haunting. Plus she’d probably have no idea what I was talking about anyway. That’s why I’m the freak. I step up onto the curb with her.

  “Anyway, sorry.” When Riley turns back to me, her face is a little sad. Maybe I was supposed to agree with her about Ana. Is that what a friend would do? What about a friend to both of them? “I really do like her. You know that.” I nod. “What were you saying?”

  “Um . . .” I look around frantically and make a quick decision. Now is not the time. “I have to use the bathroom.”

  Riley gestures toward the squat cinder-block building at the end of the parking area. “I’ll call my mom while you’re inside.”

  I nod and duck into the stinky concrete bathroom. The floor in here is damp and gritty, and every noise I make echoes. I can barely make out my reflection in the mottled mirror.

  In August it felt like we shared everything in the world, but now I don’t know. It’s not just the competitiveness. Everyone is always doing other stuff these days. The cheerleaders are busy with football season, Ana is always preoccupied with school or Dave, and Zoe is tied up with the marching band, practicing odd formations that never look quite even in the school parking lot.

  I run my hands under the cold water, then splash some on my face and try to get my breathing under control.

  I’m not like Riley. I don’t have a mom I can confide in, I don’t have other friends I can turn to, and I haven’t talked to the kids from middle school since . . . before. The Miracle Girls are everything to me, and if we grow apart, I don’t know what I’ll do.

  I stay in the bathroom until I feel calm enough to face her again. When I finally come outside, Riley is talking to some guy, which is hardly surprising to me anymore. That girl could wear a potato sack and guys would still drool over her. This one is leaning against an old white truck, his arms crossed over his chest. Riley is laughing and touching his arm. His hair is shaved short and it’s dark, and I can see a tattoo peeking out from under his short-sleeved wet suit. I eye him warily.

  “This is my friend Christine,” Riley says, gesturing to me, then turning her megawatt smile back to him.

  “Hi,” I say quietly, not really up to making much effort. His wet suit is dripping onto the asphalt, the water collecting in shallow pools at his feet.

  “Tom.” He holds out his hand, and I take it uncertainly, while Riley giggles for no apparent reason.

  “Charmed.” It’s not that I don’t want Riley to find someone. That’s not it at all. It’s just that we need Riley, the three of us, and if she dates someone . . .

  “Tom’s a senior at Abraham Lincoln in San Francisco. He was telling me about Mavericks.” Riley rubs her hands up and down her arms, trying to get warm. Mavericks is a legendary surfing spot a little bit north of Half Moon Bay with huge waves. Professionals die out there all the time, getting knocked against the underwater rocks and pulled under by raging riptides.

  “Rumor has it the competition is going to be early this year,” he says, brushing some water out of his short hair.

  “We should come watch,” Riley says, winking at me. Every year they hold a huge competition here. The only problem is, they have to do it when the conditions are just right, so once they make a decision the surfers only have forty-eight hours to show up here or forfeit their entry.

  “Boy, that sounds swell. . . .” I wait to see if anyone catches my surfing pun, but they don’t, of course. “It will probably be tough, though. We’re both very busy in Half Moon Bay.” I clear my throat at Tom. Maybe since this guy lives in the city I can convince him to leave Riley alone. There must be girls in San Francisco he could date.

  “I can pick you up on my way in from the city, if that’s the problem,” Tom says. I cross my arms over my chest and look away.

  “Riley, isn’t that your mom?” I point toward a blue minivan pulling into the parking area. Plastered on the sides are giant magnetic signs with Mrs. McGee’s face on them. When she started selling real estate, she hung those things all around town.

  “Yeah.” She doesn’t even seem embarrassed by her mother’s ridiculous car. “See you around.” She gives him her most charming smile, then struts over to pick up her board, still resting on the sand. As we walk toward her mom’s car, I cast a quick glance over my shoulder and see that Tom is still watching Riley walk away. Please go away, I chant to him in my head.

  7

  By the time the sky is dark enough to be deemed night, we have run into half the high school kids in town, developed three new inside jokes, and laughed until our sides ache—and I can’t help but pat myself on the back.

  It’s been ages since we were all in the same place at the same time. But October marks the Half Moon Bay Art & Pumpkin Festival, and this gave me an idea: bring the Miracle Girls together at the festival. The face painting I did last year for the Earth First table was “such a hit” (Ms. Moore is becoming delusional in her old age) that the environmental club ditched the whole pumpkin thing and set up a face-painting booth this year. That made my job easy. All I had to do was make sure each girl signed up for a shift at the face-painting booth, then talk them into hanging around afterward.

  And now as the autumn sun slips behind the hills and the booths begin to close up for the day, electricity ripples through the air. By day, the festival is little more than schmucks selling pumpkins and tacky handicrafts, but after dark the haunted house and carnival games make this an actual fair.

  We walk in a group, laughing and snacking on buttered popcorn and hot chocolate, and join the long snaking line for the haunted barn. The line drags as the people ahead of us shuffle inside in groups, but that’s okay. It’s the four of us together, just like I planned. We could be waiting in line to take a math test for all I care.

  Actually, there are five of us. You have to count Dave, who may as well be one of Ana’s appendages. Ana is on probation, but she somehow seems to have more freedom than ever before. Her parents are insane. As long as she gets parental approval before she goes out and doesn’t lie about where she is, she can go pretty much anywhere.

  Marcus Farcus spotted us in line for hot chocolate, much to Zoe’s dismay, and hasn’t left Zoe’s side since. So make that six. But still, we’re all here and having a good time.

  We inch forward as a scream sounds from inside. I saw the haunted barn last year, but each season the local theater company revamps it entirely, enlisting their scenery department to create elaborate sets and getting actors to dress up like corpses and jump out at you from hidden corners. Last year they had a guy hanging from the ceiling. It was sick.

  Eventually we make it to the front of the line. Ana and Dave hand over their tickets, then grab each other’s hands and step inside the dark room. Zoe goes in next, with Marcus trailing right behind her. Marcus and his parents stopped by the Earth First booth earlier, and Marcus got so excited talking about one of those Narnia movies he accidentally spit on Zoe. It was just a little bit, but it was totally hilarious.

  Riley and I exchange a look, realizing we’re couple #3. She gives me a wry grin as we walk toward the entrance.

  “You ready for this?” she asks, her blue eyes sparkling in the footlights. I nod as Zoe shrieks and my eardrums explode. Riley and I rush into the pitch-dark hallway, blinded by the inky blackness.

  The haunted house is set up in an old barn, and the air smells a litt
le like hay as we all walk through the house in pairs, shrieking when zombies jump out at us, touching peeled grapes the “ghosts” insist are eyeballs, and turning away from the corpses in every corner. It is kind of spooky, but it’s really fun too in this big group. It’s like we’re all in this together somehow.

  Zoe screams a lot, and one time Marcus tries to put his arm around her, but even in the dark you can see the look of death she gives him.

  When we get to the finale, a long hallway where things fly at us incessantly and a zombie chases us with a fake chainsaw, the Miracle Girls all put their arms around each other and Zoe screams at the hilariously bad sound effects, which sets the rest of us off laughing. My plan is working. The Miracle Girls are here together, and if you squint a little, it’s just like old times.

  “You guys want to go again?” I ask as we stumble through the exit. “Or maybe hit up some of the games?”

  “Can’t,” Ana says, sliding the face of her shiny gold watch around. “I gotta get going.” She sighs, even as Zoe’s face falls. “My mom will be here to pick me up in ten minutes, and you know what happens if I’m late.” She pretends to hang herself with a noose, sticking out her tongue. “Anyone need a ride?”

  I shake my head, wondering if there’s a way I can make Ana stay. But my heart sinks when I remember that her parents are like jailers. It’s probably better to let her go. Okay, well, even if Ana leaves, the rest of us can still hang out.

  “I’ll walk you there,” Dave says, gesturing toward the parking area beyond all the food booths. Ana smiles at him, then gives us each a hug in turn, except for Marcus, to whom she gives a little army salute. Dave turns and bows to us, charming as always, then puts his arm around Ana’s waist as they begin to walk away. I fight the urge to scream after them as their silhouettes dissolve into the inky night.

  “How about you, Riley? Want to go again?” Zoe smiles at her, but Riley doesn’t seem to hear her. She’s scanning the crowd behind us and biting her lip.