“That’s Ben’s mother,” I tell my dad.
He looks at her, nods, and then starts the engine.
Adela and Frankie are indeed awake and waiting at home in the kitchen. I feel terrible to know that I’ve been the source of their worry and at the same time it does my heart good to feel so loved. They have a lot of questions and I don’t have many answers.
Adela holds onto my hand and now I see how tired she is. I also know she won’t return to bed until she knows I’m all right.
I fake a yawn. “I should get some sleep.”
“We all should,” my dad agrees, catching my yawn.
Frankie heads back to bed first and I go next so my parents will feel free to return to their own room. I brush my teeth, change into a pair of sweats and curl up on my bed with my phone at my side. I don’t expect sleep to come for me and it doesn’t. I do wish desperately to hear from Ben but by the time the first grim light of a cold winter morning shows itself outside my window there is still no word from him.
The house is quiet. I pull on my shoes and my bathrobe and quietly exit through the front door. I’m not planning to go anywhere. I just want to take a look at the world on the first day of a new year. The snow that had fallen days ago has not melted but it no longer looks pretty and clean.
I stand at the end of my driveway and rise up on my tiptoes, looking north, looking in the direction of Black Mountain. There are plenty of places in Devil Valley where you can clearly see the outline of the rocky formation that gave Black Mountain its name but there are too many rooftops obscuring the view from here.
My arms cross over my chest as the freezing air finds its way beneath my robe. No matter the temperature, I never feel cold when I’m with Ben. I know that if he were here right now he’d wrap his arms around me and I’d rest my head on his shoulder. I can almost believe my fantasy is real when I close my eyes.
When I open them I see a girl walking slowly in my direction. She’s actually a little unsteady on her feet and I tense with recognition. In the same second she stops and notices me. Usually when this happens she mutters an obscenity or acts like I’m invisible. Today she straightens up, bypasses her house and walks right up to me.
“Hey, Cam.” Bridget says this as if it hasn’t been nearly four years since we’ve had a civil conversation. She looks wrecked. Her makeup is smeared, her bleached hair appears sticky and her eyes are glazed over. She’s obviously been out partying all night.
“Hi, Bridget,” I mutter, wary over what possible reason she might have to speak to me.
Bridget leans against the frame of my dad’s truck and looks me up and down. “Heard you got into some trouble last night.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“Dez’s sister was at the police station looking for her boyfriend. She said she saw you there.”
“I was there. But I wasn’t in any trouble.”
“If you say so.” She shrugs and then grins. “So. You and Beltran, huh?”
“Yup. Me and Beltran.”
She’s still grinning. “That’s cool. Better you than one of those Black Mountain rich bitches.”
The Black Mountain girls are not all rich. Nor are they all bitches. I have a feeling Bridget does not wish to hear this.
She stretches and grimaces in the direction of her house. “Fuck. I don’t feel like going in there. Mom’s probably passed out in a puddle of her own puke. Let’s go down to Imogen’s and score some breakfast.”
Of all the bizarre things that have occurred in the last eight hours, being invited to breakfast with Bridget Spinelli just about takes the cake.
“Thanks, but I can’t.”
She pouts, which can be dangerous. “If you don’t want to hang out just say so.”
“Okay. I don’t want to hang out with you.”
I’m expecting to be cursed out or perhaps punched but Bridget’s eyes drop and she kicks at a mound of dirty slush with her suede boot, which is already ruined from traipsing around in the snow.
“Fine,” she says and starts plodding back to her house, where a long time ago we used to have Saturday night sleepovers and experiment with her mother’s massive makeup collection. Since then we’ve taken completely different directions. That was likely always going to be the case, whether or not I left her behind and went to BMA.
“Hey, Bridget?”
She turns around at the sound of her name.
“Happy New Year.”
She stares for a few seconds and then nods with a small smile. “You too, Camden.” Her gaze shifts to the empty street and she chews her lip. “I guess you’re graduating this year.”
“And you’re not?”
“Doubt it.” She turns around once more. “See ya.”
“See ya,” I whisper. Bridget hasn’t been part of my life for years. And yet a hollow sadness fills me as I watch her trundle up the crooked steps of her house. I don’t mistake her breakfast offer for a return of our friendship. Yet I feel sorry for her. She’s lonely. I know the feeling.
Back inside the house, Frankie is awake and eating a huge bowl filled with cereal that looks like pink candy mixed with marshmallows. He talks to me with his mouth full.
“Were you talking to Bridget Spinelli?”
“Just for a minute. What the hell are you eating?”
“Breakfast. Sit down. I’ll get you some.” He grabs a bowl and pours a generous amount from the open cereal box. To complete the meal he slops a big helping of milk into the bowl and hands it over with a spoon. “Here. The Francisco Galway special.”
“Wait, what? Francisco Galway?”
He takes a seat again and gives me kind of a bashful look. “I was testing it out. I was going to surprise your dad for his birthday next month. My mom has a paralegal friend who is going to use her connections to draw up the paperwork.” He stirs his cereal and gazes out the window. “You know my real dad has never had any interest in me. It’s Bill who’s always treated me like a son. I should have agreed to take his name when our folks got married but I was stubborn about it. So what do you think, Cam? You think your dad will be happy?”
It’s nice to feel tears in my eyes for the right reason. “Frankie, I know our dad will be over the moon.”
Frankie does his best to distract me from worrying about Ben but I’m sure he doesn’t miss the way I check my phone every ten seconds.
“He’ll call,” Frankie promises.
“I know. But waiting sucks.”
Frankie wants to go for a brisk five mile run through the center of Devil Valley and back. I’m not exactly in the same athletic league as him so I decline.
While Frankie goes out to conquer Devil Valley I clean up the kitchen and return to my bedroom, taking care to be quiet so that my parents can sleep a little longer.
At first I sit at my desk and try to take an interest in some of my notes on the next issue of the Bulletin but I abandon that idea pretty quickly. I move to my bed and stare at the ceiling. The urge to confide in someone is overwhelming. There are certain topics that can’t be discussed with my little brother. Or my parents for that matter. This is a job for a friend.
Trina picks up on the second ring. “Cam! Girl, this better not be a butt dial.”