present in years. Not since he was laid off five years ago and instead of looking for a new grown-up job decided to pursue a career as a musician at the ripe old age of forty-five. Surprising no one, except maybe him, his career didn’t take off, and six months ago he collapsed into a useless heap of skin and bones. I’m sure the total lack of support from my mom’s end these past few months didn’t help matters; she basically ignored the entire situation, per usual, and, from what I can see, has started to treat him like her third child. A role that he’s readily adopted, a role that’s overshadowed his identity as, you know, a FATHER. Gwen and I are so lucky.
“Dad’s sleeping.” I glance up at his dark window. “C’mon. Let’s just get to school. I’ll text him so he knows what to expect when he goes downstairs today.”
If he goes downstairs today.
“We’re just going to…leave that word? Sitting there? What if the neighbors see it?” Gwen asks.
Considering it’s light out and I can see the kids down the block waiting for the school bus, I’m pretty sure that ship has sailed, but I’m not going to tell her that. Not to mention, I think the neighbors are used to it by now, although I wouldn’t know because they ignore us just like everyone else.
“It’s fine, okay?” I hoist my heavy backpack farther up on my shoulders and walk over to where she’s standing, frozen, a statue made of ice and fear.
I put a hand on her arm. “Gwenie. C’mon. We’re gonna be late if we don’t leave.”
“I don’t care if we’re late. I hate that place.” She mutters this so softly that I almost miss it. I grit my teeth and turn away, pretending that I didn’t hear, pretending that the hot, blustery Santa Ana winds snatched up her words before they could reach me.
I walk by her motionless figure to my car and beep it unlocked.
Behind me there’s silence, and then the sound of her footsteps, running to catch up.
* * *
—
We pull into the parking lot at school, and it’s all I can do to remember how to find my space. I’ve been driving us to school every day since senior year began, but I still can’t seem to wrap my mind around this labyrinth of a lot, which they opened this year when all the Carter kids were transferred here. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that it changes shape and size every night after everyone goes home.
After an embarrassing amount of time, I remember that we need to take a left at space 355 instead of a right, and moments later I’m parking.
As I turn off the ignition, a Volvo pulls in a few spots over. I glance over without even meaning to: the white of the car’s paint catches the sun, and it’s like I can’t help looking.
And there she is.
My ex, Rosaline.
I usually time this better. I usually get us here early, because I know Rosa, and if there’s one thing you can count on with her, it’s that she’s always, always late. But that stupid word on our stupid garage door threw me off schedule this morning, and now we’re stuck.
Gwenie opens her door and then looks back over at me, because I’m sitting here, immobile. She must spot Rosa through my window, because she sucks in a breath.
“Shit. Zach…” She trails off.
“I know.” I squeeze my eyes shut and count to ten to steady myself, like the school counselor told me to do last time I was in his office, after another nasty note was left in my locker and a teacher found me slumped against the door.
“What are we going to do?” She sounds scared.
“I don’t know.” I glance back through the window at Rosa’s car and find myself looking directly into her eyes. She looks as surprised as I feel, and for a split second I think I see something cross her face that doesn’t look like the