Listen to Your Heart
Page 50

I looked over at Max, who shared the back seat with me. He needed to tell my parents what had just happened.
Later, he mouthed.
I’d give him one day. I was done keeping quiet about this. That didn’t help before.
My mom twisted in her seat to look back at me. “What happened with Liza?” she asked.
“I’ll fix it.”
She nodded slowly. “That Victoria is charming.”
Was that her subtle way of saying that I wasn’t? “Yes, she’s good.”
“You were good, too, baby,” Dad said.
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
Back at home, Mom followed me to my room, then hovered by the doorway when I went inside.
“I’m fine, Mom,” I said, not sure what else she wanted to say but knowing I didn’t want to talk about it tonight.
“You seemed miserable up there,” she said.
“Up where?”
“Behind that microphone.”
“I did?”
“Yes. Honey, if this class is killing you, you need to talk to Ms. Lyon about it. I can talk to her if you want. Maybe you can transfer out. Take something else as your elective. Take a business class or something that will help you run the marina one day.”
I collapsed onto my bed. “No, Mom. It was fine until the whole Liza slipup. Normally I can make mistakes like that and not worry that they’ll be damaging.”
She gave a sympathetic hum. “I know I’ve been pushing you to try new things.” Pity laced her voice. “I’m sorry if you feel like you had to do this for me.”
“I didn’t … I don’t. I’m tired. I just want to sleep.”
“Okay.” She ran a hand down my cheek. “Let me know if you want me to talk to Ms. Lyon.”
I nodded and she left. So much for proving a point.
Saturday morning, I lay in bed, feeling like someone had smashed me in the face with a hammer. My head pounded, my eyes hurt, my insides were in knots. I had stayed up most of the night thinking, trying to figure out a solution to everything, but I still had no answers. I’d spent the last month and a half doling out advice, and I had no idea what to do about the mess my life had suddenly become.
I rolled over with a groan and stared at my phone sitting there unassumingly on my nightstand. I held my breath and picked it up. No new messages. I sent off two texts of my own—apologies to Alana and Liza—then wondered why I had never gotten Diego’s cell phone number. Probably because Alana liked him. I couldn’t very well ask Alana for it now. I dropped my phone back down and rubbed my hands over my face.
I couldn’t solve all my problems right that second, but I could try to at least solve one, the one inside my house. I forced myself out of bed and searched for my brother. He was sitting on the back porch staring at the sequoias in the distance. I sat in the patio chair next to him, pulling my knees up to my chest. In the light of day, I could see he had a small red mark by his left eye.
“So. What are we going to do?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I told one of my teachers like you suggested and that just made it worse. They started calling me a narc.”
“I’m sorry. How did this all start?” I put my legs down and turned to face him.
“I answered a question the first day of school. The teacher made too big a deal about how I must’ve done the reading over the summer.”
“You read over the summer?”
“No. I just happened to know the answer.”
“You are pretty smart.”
“These guys started calling me kiss-up and nerd. It escalated from there, probably because I didn’t react at all.”
I sighed. “I wish you would’ve told me.”
“I kind of did with the email.”
I kicked his foot with mine. “That doesn’t count.”
He shrugged. “Maybe Mom will let me be homeschooled.”
“Don’t run away from this, Max. Unless you want to be homeschooled. Did you want to before all this?”
“No.”
A ladybug landed on the wood railing in front of us and crawled along it. “I think some of what Victoria said on the podcast was true,” I said slowly. “You need to surround yourself with people. Hang out with me or Liza and our friends. At least for a little while. Those guys are cowards. They only pick on you when you’re alone.” I paused for a moment, remembering something. “So that day I found your ripped shirt in your room? Did that really happen because you climbed the baseball fence?”
“Yes,” he said. For a second I felt relieved. Then he added, “I climbed it because they were chasing me.”
I tightened my hands into fists. “I can get Frank and Diego to give those guys a serious talking-to if you want.” I actually wasn’t sure if I could get Frank or Diego to do anything for me right now but I didn’t mention that.
“Okay,” Max said.
“Yeah?”
He swallowed hard, then nodded.
“I’m so sorry, Max. High school will get better. Not everyone is a jerk. You just have to meet your people.”
His eyes were following the ladybug now, too.
“You totally punched a guy in the face for me last night,” I said.
He laughed a little.
“It was a good punch, too.”
“It hurt, but it felt pretty good,” Max admitted.
“When did you turn into a superhero?”
“If only,” he said.
“Speaking of which, I want to read your comic. You’ll let me, right?”
“Sure.”
I spent the weekend hanging out with Max and by Sunday, he had even worked up the nerve to talk to my parents about the bullying thing. They were sweet and supportive and concerned, and they told Max he could always come to them with his problems. He looked relieved.
I had almost deluded myself into thinking that all my problems had disappeared, too. (Even though nobody had answered my texts.) But everything would be fine. I’d arrive at school Monday morning and things would be back to normal.
My delusions were put officially to rest on Monday when I got into my car to find Max in the passenger seat as usual, but no Liza in the back seat.
“Where’s Liza?” I asked Max.
“I think Aunt Marinn took her.”
“Aunt Marinn drove her thirty minutes to school?”
“Yes?”
“Liza is still beyond mad at me.” I had thought that maybe she had already paid me back with her declaration to Diego, but apparently not.
“What did you do to her?” Max asked.
“She didn’t tell you?”
“She mumbled something about assumptions and ignorance.”
“That about sums it up.”
I turned the ignition and pulled out onto the road. “I really like your comic book. You’ve gotten so good at drawing. And the writing is clever, too.”
“Liza helped me with the girl voice.”
“That was nice of her but that wasn’t even a tenth of the work. You’re just supposed to say, thank you. Here, let’s practice.” I pulled up to a stoplight and looked over at him. “Max, your comic is awesome. You’re super talented.”
He rolled his eyes. “And people call me a nerd.”
I playfully punched his arm. “Say ‘thank you.’ ”
“The light is green.”
“I’m not going until you say ‘thank you.’ ”