Nocturnal (The Noctalis Chronicles 1)

“Pretty much.”

“You've been doing that a lot lately.” There are so many things I want to tell her. To have her listen and hug me and tell me it was going to be okay. To speculate about who the guys were and come up with more and more ridiculous personas until we laugh so hard we have to sit down.

“I know that face. That's the Ava's-thinking-about-something-serious face.”

“Just everything. Prom.” The truth is I'm not a prom kind of girl, and Tex knew that.

“Try again. Is something up with your mom?” she says, crossing her arms. I don't fool her for a second. She's hit part of the answer, but I'm not giving in. I can't do this now.

“I'm sorry Tex. It's just stuff. Okay?” I hate snapping at her.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? And that I'm there for you? No matter what, and even if you killed someone I'd defend your innocence until my dying day?” She puts her hand on her heart to show me how serious she is.

“I know.” I've come to think of my two secrets as Thing One and Thing Two. Kind of like in Dr. Seuss. They're annoying and they jump up and down and beg to be let out. To be told. I lock them away, but they rattle the bars of their cages. I tell them to shut the hell up.

We finish up late and I drive home with the heat turned up. I've been cold ever since that night. Tex blasts some weird German music that makes my ears hurt. Her car had also been taken away for the week, so Jamie and I are taking turns driving her around.

“How can you listen to this stuff? I don't even know what they're saying.”

“Are you kidding? These guys are awesome. You don't have to understand the lyrics.” She jams her head, and I worry she's going to get whiplash.

“Tex?” I say when we get to her house.

“Yes, my dear?” I open my mouth to spill everything. To let it all out so it doesn't fester and burn inside me anymore, but I can't. The moment passes and I shut my mouth.

“That skirt makes you look fat. I thought you should know. Since I'm your friend.” I put my hand on her arm. She throws it off, and punches me.

“You are such a bitch! If anyone's fat, it's you. I mean, can you say thunder thighs?” She slaps my leg.

“Ho.” I glare at her.

“Slut.” We drop our serious faces and laugh. Those words, supposed to be used as insults are teams of endearment. She gives me one last smile before she's out of the car and up the steps on her porch. She waves before she goes inside and I wave and honk as I pull out.

I turn on the radio, cranking it up. I don't even care what it is. Once again, I've chickened out of telling her.

When my mother was first diagnosed, it took me a whole week to tell Tex and Jamie. I finally did it when we went out to get pizza after one of Jamie's track meets. We were discussing what the most unusual but delicious toppings are for pizza. Tex had just made the case for ranch dressing when I blurted it out. Just like that. They both stared at me, which made me cry. Tex had taken me out to Jamie's truck while Jamie paid and got to-go boxes. We'd ended up sitting in the parking lot while I told them everything. Once I started, I couldn't stop. That's how I am with secrets. Once I start to let it out, all this other stuff comes with it. Sometimes it's stuff I never even thought about, or knew I felt.

After they'd hugged me and we'd had that moment the only thing I could feel was embarrassed. I didn't want to do that again.

***

My mother calls me in the middle of school the next day on my new phone, saying she wants to take me out shopping. I can't refuse, even though it means missing English. Part of me doesn't want to go with her, because I'm too tired to keep on my happy face. On the other hand, she's never called me out of school to go shopping before. It seems extravagant.

“Where are you going?” Tex says when I meet her in the hall after geometry.

“I have a doctor's appointment.” The lie comes easily. Some are harder than others.

“Lucky you.”

“Oh, yeah.” I use my finger to make a gun and pretend to shoot myself in the head. I tell her I'll see her later and shuffle off to the office. I come around the corner and see her waiting. I have to put my shoulders back and put on my happy Ava face.

She's got her everyday wig on, and she keeps putting her hands in it. I hope no one notices. She turns and sees me, her face breaking out into a smile, which makes my heart do this squeezy thing that makes it hard to breathe.

“Hi, ma fleur. Are you surprised?” She gives me a hug, right there in front of everyone passing by, planting a loud kiss on my cheek. I'm only slightly mortified. Her cheeks have too much blush on them, but it's not her fault she's lost so much color in her face that she has to paint it back on.

“Yeah,” I say, dying a little inside.

“I feel like a bad mother, but I figured we should have a little girl time, what do you think?” She takes my arm as we walk out together.

“Sure.” I smile and she squeezes my arm with fingers bony and frail.

We go all the way to Portland, even though the Brunswick Mall is only a half-hour away. She cranks the radio, and rolls the windows down, even though it's chilly. I wish she'd stop putting her fingers in her wig, but maybe she's remembering what it was like to have her hair blowing in the wind. That makes me sad and I turn to look out the window, not wanting to think about it. Every moment now is tainted with the specter of death looming in the background, his black fingers tugging on the corners of our moments.

She takes me to every clothing store we usually avoid, pressing me to pick up anything that even remotely strikes my fancy, exclaiming about how good it looks on me. She forces me up to the counter, handing her card to the salesperson. I wish she'd believe me if I told her these things don't mean anything to me. The one thing I want neither of us can buy, unless someone's perfected a working time machine, or a way to freeze moments and put them in jars. I'd have a shelf of them in my room.

She hugs me from behind and whispers how beautiful I am into my ear. I lean back into her, even though the closeness overwhelms me. When she buys me a huge cookie and then shares it with me, I'm as gooey as the chocolate chips and almost tell her all about the creepy cemetery guys. Thing One meeting Thing Two. My mouth stays shut.

She's having a harder time the later it gets. Her steps slow and aren't as bouncy. I can tell she's tired.

“I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. Do you mind if we go home?” She leans heavily on me, using my arm as a support. I have a bunch of bags to balance me out on the other side, which probably weigh more than she does.