How to Fall Apart

Chapter Twenty-Five

The next morning I expected to be snowed in but only a few inches had accumulated. According to the news it was supposed to really pick up around noon. Mom left for work and I snooped around looking for the keys to my new to me car. I wasn't going to drive it or anything, I just wanted to sit in it. I hadn't even touched the car yet.

    "She took them with her," Clark said as he watched me go through the kitchen junk drawer. This was the first he'd spoken to me since Sunday. "I'm still not talking to you, you're just really loud and I'm trying to work on my homework." I raised an eyebrow at this. There was no way that he didn't do his homework from the day before as soon as he got home from school. "I'm trying to get ahead," he explained.

    "Of course you are." I smiled at him but then I frowned thinking about my extra credit assignment from Ms. Rylie. I tried to think of a way to turn her theme into art projects. Really if life wasn't fair, anything would work. But I imagined she was looking for something a little more specific. I started pulling things from the cupboards and Clark pretended not to watch me. Flour, eggs, bananas, cinnamon, butter, syrup. "I suppose since you're not talking to me, you won't be eating pancakes with me..." I teased him.

    "Are you trying to butter me up?" He grinned. I rolled my eyes but laughed at his bad joke.

    "Is it working?" I asked, getting to work on the pancakes. I was exceptionally skilled at making pancakes and Clark was my biggest fan. He and Mom were really my only fans but collectively we'd had enough pancakes in our lives to know good and mine were really good.

    "I'll let you know after the pancakes." My back was to him and Clark tried to sound serious but I could hear the smile in his voice. He worked on his homework while I flipped pancakes.

          Finally, I finished and took a tower of pancakes over to the coffee table. Clark snatched one off of the top and ripped into it while I grabbed plates and silverware. I watched Clark fork a stack onto his plate and make strategic cuts in the pancakes before pouring his syrup into the holes. Then I started digging into my own pancakes. We didn't talk while we ate, Clark meticulously put away his big stack of pancakes and then finished mine for me. It never ceased to amaze me with how much he could eat. Finally, after licking the syrup from his plate he looked up at me like he was ready to talk.

    "That was really messed up of you to leave like that on Sunday," he pouted. There was syrup on his chin and nose and his freckles were standing out against his pale skin.

    "Are you feeling okay?" I reached over and touched his forehead but he didn't feel warm.

    "Don't try to change the subject!" He slapped my hand away and narrowed his eyes at me. I hadn't been trying to change the subject exactly, but I wouldn't have minded if that had happened.   

    "You're right, I know. I shouldn't have left like that. I was just so angry." I sighed and leaned against the couch and squeezed my eyes shut as though it would prevent the feeling from seeping back in. It didn't.

    "So was I," Clark said sadly. "And sad. We could have been mad and sad together."

    "I didn't want to be mad or sad." I kept my eyes closed. "I didn't want to feel anything."

    "Well, at least you got a car out of the deal." Clark was eyeing the stack of presents under our small tree when I opened my eyes.

    "Wanna see what you got?" I asked him and crawled over to grab a beautifully wrapped gift with his name on it. I slid it across the floor to him and cleaned up the sticky dishes while he considered it.

    "Christmas is still over a week away." He shook it a little and slipped a finger under one of the flaps.

    "Yeah, but he missed your birthday. And besides he already said we could open them," I urged and poured myself a cup of coffee. I'd recently discovered it was definitely in my genes to be a coffee drinker. I splashed some milk into the mug and went to watch Clark open his gift. It was a microscope. He already had a microscope, he'd gotten it for his birthday, but his eyes lit up anyway.