Chapter 21

AARON’S BROTHER JJ arrives in a blue, wood-panelled station wagon, and he’s not at all what I was expecting.

I guess I was picturing a businessman. Suit and tie and the whole shebang. When Zahira was calling him, she said she wasn’t sure if he would pick up because he has a job. I didn’t ask what job. I just thought it was a businessman job.

JJ isn’t dressed like a businessman. He has a pilled-up hoodie over a tank top with a bowl of noodles printed on it and greyed jeans like mine. His black curly hair is as long as mine used to be, and he has messy stubbles.

He pulls to a rocky stop, his window already rolled down despite the rain pelting down in sheets, and says, “Zahira!”

“JJ!” Zahira had brightened the moment she saw JJ’s car, and now, as she says his name like a celebration, she’s absolutely beaming. They hug through the open window, and I just stand beside Zahira’s luggage, not knowing what to do.

When they finally break apart, Zahira points at me with her thumb. “Dany. Family friend’s kid.”

“Hi!” JJ sticks his hand out the window. He just oozes enthusiasm. No, ooze is too slow. He’s like if you poked holes in a water balloon and squeezed.

I don’t like shaking people’s hands because there’s always a chance their hand will be hot and sticky and gross. Thankfully, JJ’s hand is dry.

“Hop in!” he says. “Get out of the rain!”

We shove Zahira’s luggage in the trunk and pile into his car, Zahira in the front, me in the back with the tools and trash. I have to maneuver a hard hat out of the way so my legs have somewhere to go.

“Sorry about the mess,” JJ says as he pulls onto the street. “I fix things.”

“You tinker,” Zahira says, pulling on her seatbelt.

“No, no, I fix. That oven I found last time? Fixed.”

“Did you test it?”

“Yes.”

“And it didn’t explode?”

Oh, great, so I have to be their third wheel. As if I couldn’t be any more miserable. The pain in my side is a little less horrible now, but it still hurts more than it did yesterday. If it was just the pain, it wouldn’t be so annoying. But it’s not. It’s making me nauseous. Today I almost couldn’t finish my lunch. And it feels like there’s a layer of glass between me and my brain, and I know I should be pounding on it and trying to break it down but I just...don’t really want to.

I should have taken the painkiller this morning.

“So, Dany,” JJ says, positively beaming at me through the rear-view mirror. “How old are you?”

“Eleven.”

“What school do you go to?”

“I’m homeschooled.” That’s the practiced answer. I’m supposed to say that to anyone who asks. It’s not really a lie, anyway.

“Cool! Where are you going with Zahira, anyway?”

“My house,” Zahira says. “Dany’s been, like, dying to see Poquito.”

I don’t know what Poquito is, but going by the excited gasp JJ just released, it must be a very, very believable lie. I had my own made-up story ready, but since Zahira’s is obviously so much better, I just nod and make my lips smile.

“What about your parents?” JJ asks. “They don’t want to see little Poquito?”

“They’re allergic,” Zahira says smoothly.

I think maybe grownups are better at lying.

The rest of the car ride is just the smooth ba-bumps of the road and the radio blasting local commercials. It all makes me want to fall asleep. I don’t want to though, so I wrestle my eyes open and count all the green cars we see instead.

My fingers wander to the bump in my hoodie, where the key hangs around my neck. I try to feel the patterns of the rubber cover, the colourful design and the bright, bubbly number. It had felt so heavy yesterday when I thought I wouldn’t reach Suddence in time.

I clutch it tight through my clothes, relief working slowly through my body.

I haven’t failed. I’m on my way.

We finally pull onto the slope of an underground parking garage. JJ parks, and I drag myself out of the car, groaning when Zahira orders me to carry one of her wheeled suitcases. We lug all her stuff to the elevator, and on the way up, JJ and Zahira discuss dinner, debating whether to order out or heat up some leftovers, and I have to hold my side through my pocket again because my spleen feels in real danger of liquefying. I already have a plan in my head: the moment we get into JJ’s apartment, I’ll announce that I need to pee, and then I’ll go to the washroom and drink as much water as I can handle and take a painkiller. There’s no way I can wait until dinner.

The elevator crawls up at the speed of whatever the hell crawls slowly.

Ding! Ground floor.

Ding! Second floor.

Ding! Third floor.

Ding! Fourth floor.

The doors slide open on the fifth floor, and JJ leads us to his apartment room. He slides his key into the lock, and I’m about to breathe out in relief, except his hand freaking freezes and he turns to Zahira with a face that’s all squinty-eyed and pressed lips. It’s a look that says There’s something I didn’t tell you.

“There’s something I didn’t tell you,” he says.

Zahira frowns. “What?”

Like a secret, JJ admits, “I didn’t tell Aaron you were coming.”

“Oh, good. Then maybe when he sees me, he’ll have a heart attack and die.”

And I want to say Oh, good, then maybe we can go inside if this conversation is over.

“Actually,” Zahira says, “there’s something I have to tell you, too.”

I give Zahira dagger eyes, but I don’t think she notices.

“I kind of promised my parents I would be there by tomorrow, so I was wondering if I could borrow your car for a day or so? Just to drop Dany off at my parents’ place, and then I’ll bring it right back.”

JJ makes an ungodly long “Hmmmmmmmmmm…”

“Pretty please?”

JJ makes a higher, impossibly longer “Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…”

“Can you guys talk about this inside?” I say loudly. “I need to pee.”

JJ unlocks the door with an “Oh, yes!” and points me towards the bathroom. The door is locked, though, which can only mean one thing: that rat-fuck son of a bitch Aaron is inside.

“Aaron, you in there?” JJ asks, even though it’s obvious.

“Yeah,” he calls from the other side.

“We have visitors.”

The toilet flushes, and Aaron comes out saying, “Sorry, if I knew people were coming, I would have…” But then he sees Zahira and flinches back with a “Jesus Christ.”

Zahira crosses her arms and leans back, all steely-eyed and cool, but as much as I would love to see how she mangles Aaron, I have more important things to care about.

I slip past the douchebag and shut myself in the bathroom. Marisa always tells me not to drink straight from the faucet because we have no idea how clean their pipes are, but I don’t care anymore. I fill my cupped hands with as much water as I can and chug it all down and swallow a pill with another handful of water. It’ll take a bit before the medicine kicks in, but the relief hits me now. Feathery, cold-sweat relief.

I check the bottle. Only two pills left.

It’s okay, Dany. You just have to last one more day.

Outside, I can hear Aaron and Zahira whisper-arguing. I’m not sure I can handle that until the medicine completely kicks in.

I scrub my hands clean with soap and check my bandages. It hasn’t bled through. It can probably last until I take a shower later.

I take a quick inventory of my stuff and put out what I’ll need later. Toothbrush and toothpaste. Tiny bottle of shampoo because I don’t trust the bar of crusty soap JJ has sitting on the side of his splotchy bathtub. Towel—no. I’ll keep that in my bag for now. JJ’s towel bar doesn’t look like it can handle anything more than a tissue paper.

Aaron and Zahira are still arguing, but I don’t want to be in the bathroom anymore, so I come out as loudly as I can, hoping they’d hear me and stop fighting. But even with how much I made the hinges squeak and how hard I slapped the light switch, they’re still sniping away.

I peek into the living room. JJ is standing by the TV, one finger on his lip like he’s wondering how to break up the fight, and Aaron and Zahira are smack in the middle of the room. Center-stage for the angriest performances of all time.

“—the more and more I thought about it, the more scared I got,” Aaron is saying. He reminds me of a bird. Big round eyes like an owl, long sharp nose like a beak, bleached white hair going in every direction like duckling tufts. “I just—I didn’t—”

“I was scared too,” Zahira spits through her teeth. “Did that ever occur to you? Did that thought ever get through that stupid thick skull?”

Aaron flattens his hands together and touches them to his lips for a second, like he’s slipping in a speed prayer. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promises, and he sounds so…what’s the word…earnest? And his big eyes are sparkling like a kitten begging for milk. For a second I seriously thought about forgiving him.

Get it together, Dany. Don’t make it so easy.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says again because Zahira only scoffed and rolled her head back. “I will. Just—just tell me what I need to do.”

“Nothing!” Zahira says, snapping her head forward again. “Nothing you do will ever make up for the shit you put me through. You—”

And then she sees me lurking around the corner, and she sucks back whatever she was going to say. Aaron follows her eyes and turns around. I give him a look that makes it perfectly clear we’re not going to be friends.

“Can we talk about this more later?” Aaron asks. Pleads.

Zahira gives him a stare that is all knives.

“Zahira.”

He doesn’t get an answer, so he just leaves with a deep, deep sigh. But not before giving me a strange look, like he’s just now realizing he has no idea who I am.

Once the bedroom door closes, Zahira plants her hands on her hips and breathes out all the air from her lungs.

“I’ll go make some tea,” JJ says.

“And I need to take a piss,” Zahira seethes.

She breezes past me, and from the redness in her eyes, I get the feeling that’s not the real reason she wants to go to the bathroom.

JJ and I are alone now. I didn’t realize how much space Zahira’s anger was taking up until now that she’s gone. Suddenly the living room is extremely quiet and a few degrees colder.

“Well,” JJ says. “Take a seat. I’ll be right back.”

He disappears into the kitchen.

I look for a place to sit down, but JJ is a slob, alright. The mess in his car is nothing compared to his living room. It’s easier to describe what isn’t covered by cups and crusty bowls and magazines and envelopes and some kind of paperwork. A corner of the sofa where I guess JJ usually sits. A few spots on the carpet just big enough to step on. A section in the middle of the wooden coffee table that looks conspicuously empty. I bet the things that used to be there are what JJ is clattering around in the kitchen right now.

None of the sofas look safe to sit on, so I pick my way carefully through the mess to inspect the room instead. Even the walls are covered in stuff, shelves and pictures and posters for some band I’ve never heard of. I don’t understand how one person can have so much stuff. All my things fit in my backpack and the yellow suitcase that got confiscated by the cops. Even when Marisa and I lived in our townhouse, it never got to be this messed up.

I stop by a DVD tower and peek at the titles. I recognize a few movie names, but none of them look official. They’re all in cheap plastic cases with covers that are very obviously printed at home, all pixelly and slightly off-colour.

“You like movies?” JJ calls from the kitchen door, drying a tea cup.

I nod.

“You can pick one to watch. I’ll pop it in for you.”

I turn back to the DVDs and scan the titles more thoroughly. I almost gasp when I see a familiar one in its iconic bright yellow font.

In the kitchen, JJ puts a kettle on the burner and comes out to join me. I pull the DVD from the stack and suddenly feel embarrassed. Most of the movies in the tower are action movies, and I picked out one about high school and singing and basketball.

But when JJ takes it, his grin is so big I can see 80% of his teeth. “Oh, yeah,” he says, smacking the DVD against his palm and heading for the TV. “Hey, Zahira, you better come out! It’s throwback time!”

He pops it into the player under the TV, which I can’t help but notice is super old. Like, ancient old. It makes me wonder if he picked it out of someone’s trash and fixed it just for fun.

The movie starts, and I frown, realizing that even though they play the movie on TV a lot, I’ve never actually seen the beginning. I don’t even know the opening song.

But clearly Zahira does, because the moment the first note plays, she busts out of the bathroom.

“You can’t watch that without me,” she says.

JJ grins. “You two watch it. I’ll go get the tea.”

“Sit,” Zahira tells me, clearing out a spot on the sofa. I set my backpack down and curl up. Zahira doesn’t look so mad anymore. I glance at the bedroom, where Aaron disappeared into, but the door is closed, and I don’t think he’ll be coming out anytime soon.

JJ comes back with a tray of teacups and passes them out. I take a sip of the reddish tea. It’s spicy. Well, spicey, like it has a lot of spices in it.

“Like it?” JJ asks, and I nod. “There’s more in the kitchen if you want a refill.”

“Thank you,” I say, and cringe at how stiff and proper I sound. I take a big slurp of tea to make up for it.

The second song of the movie starts playing, and Zahira and JJ sing along at the top of their lungs. I know this song, but I don’t want to sing out loud, so I just hum. It’s weird seeing Zahira and JJ like this. They’re grownups. Marisa doesn’t seem that much older than them, but I can’t picture her singing along to this movie. I can’t picture her hanging out at a friend’s house. I can’t picture her laughing. Not like this. She’s always been serious, even before we went on the run. I know it’s because of me. Because she has to care for me. Watch out for me. Worry about me.

If we made it out of the country, would we laugh like this, too?

JJ gets a lyric wrong. Zahira laughs, and when the next chorus comes, she purposely gets it wrong too, and JJ smacks her with a pillow. When the next song plays, I sing a little under my breath, and the next song, I sing louder.

I want to stay here forever. After I reach Suddence, there won’t be times like this anymore.

But for now, I can let myself believe this has always been my life.