Premonition

I finished packing early. As a reward, I grabbed my blanket, a bowl of popcorn, a bunch of mini candy bars, and the remote control. Snuggled on the couch with my snacks, I turned on the television. For my last night at home, I planned to enjoy a Walking Dead marathon that lasted until my eyeballs popped out.

There was a sudden thud outside our apartment door. “Oh, crap!”

My mother’s words sounded slurred from in here—but they were still clearer than I wished they were. Oh crap, indeed. So much for my final cozy night on the couch…

My crazy, drunk mother was home.

She tried to shove the key into the lock, but she must’ve dropped it. She cursed and banged on the door again. “Riley! You in there? Open the door!”

I gave the television one last, longing look. I shoved a mini Twix into my mouth, braced myself, and headed to the door.

I opened it, and she fell through, landing in a heap on the cheap industrial carpet.

“Hey, Mom.”

She squinted up at me through her bangs. She was wearing a jean jacket, Capri pants, and rubber flip-flops. She would’ve looked almost normal, except for the fact that she was crumpled on the floor. Her toenail polish was a bright, crazy blue, a color she never would have tried before…

Mom slowly picked herself up, her eyes trying to focus on my face. “I realized something tonight. Something big.”

I nodded, even though I had no idea what she was talking about. I gingerly took her arm and led her inside, trying not to breathe too close. She reeked of the VFW. Once we got to the couch, I dropped her as if she were a hot potato about to explode. “Okay then. Good night!”

She collapsed onto my blanket, probably crushing the remote. “Oh no you don’t. I said—I realized something tonight!”

“Oh.” Oh joy.

She scrunched up her eyes, waiting for me to say more.

“Yay?”

“Don’t you be fresh to me, young lady!” Even drunk, she managed to be irritated by me.

“Well, maybe you can tell me about it in the morning, when you’re feeling…better.” I knew she wouldn’t be feeling better, but it would be easy for me to avoid her as she slept it off.

I tried to escape to my bedroom, but she caught me by the wrist.

“Riley.”

I had to fake enough patience to avoid a fight. “Yes, Mom?”

She warily released me. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I had an epiphany.”

I wanted to ask how many drinks had brought it on, but I kept my mouth shut.

She leaned forward conspiratorially. “It has to do with your dad. Your sister.”

I recoiled as if she’d slapped me. She never mentioned my sister. As in, never. As in, not once since the memorial service. “What?”

She held up a finger, shaking it at me. “When your number’s up, it’s up.” She sat back, her glazed eyes shining in triumph.

“That was your big epiphany?”

“That’s right.” She nodded, two hectic spots of color in her cheeks. “Both of them—it was their time. It was fate. You can’t fight fate. When it’s your number come up on the wheel—BOOM!” She clapped her hands, making me jump. “That’s it. There’s nothing you can do.”

There was nothing I could do. It was official: the cheap Chardonnay had finally eaten her brain.

“Well. That’s—that’s deep, Mom.” I coughed “Really.”

“I told you not to be fresh to me!” Her voice, thick and miserable with booze, carried the sharp edge I hated.

“I’m not being fresh.” I struggled to keep my voice from shaking. “It’s just that you never say anything about Katie, and when you finally do, it’s gibberish. I wish you’d respect her memory more.” I wish you would talk about her when you weren’t shitfaced.

She sat up straight. She’d become small, shrunken, her collarbones jutting out painfully from underneath her jean jacket.

I’d feel sorry for her, but I wasn’t big on feeling these days.

“I don’t talk about your sister because I can’t bear to,” she said, teetering precipitously close to tears.

Aw, hell no. “It’s okay, Mom! I’m sorry I said anything…I’m just being sensitive. You know—teenaged hormones.” I smiled at her brightly, knowing she would never remember this conversation tomorrow. Hormones, my butt. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d talked to my mother about something personal.

“Oh honey, I know. I mean, I don’t know…but you’ve been taking care of yourself, right?” In a rare moment of maternal concern, she looked me over. She must not have liked what she saw because she frowned.

“Yes, Mom. I’m fine.”

Her shoulders slumped. “You’re going to Hollingsworth tomorrow, and I don’t even know if you’re ready. You don’t have to go…”

“It’ll be good for me. It’s the best school in the state.” I fake-smiled so hard my jaw hurt. I’d applied to Hollingsworth, the town’s exclusive boarding school, when I realized my mother was never going to sober up. Number one in my class at my public high school, I’d received a full scholarship. I was moving into my dorm tomorrow morning to start my summer work-study program. My senior-year classes didn’t start until after Labor Day, but I’d jumped at the chance to move out of the depressing basement apartment I shared with my mother and work on the grounds crew all summer.

Anywhere but here sounded good.

“I need to go to bed. I have to get going early tomorrow.” Eager to flee, I backed toward my room.

She shook her finger at me. “You remember what I said. When your numbers up, it’s up.”

“Okay, Mom. Go to sleep.” I rushed to my room and closed the door, relieved to be away from her. I grabbed my headphones and flopped onto my bed. I turned my music way up, blocking out any other noise. If my mom fell on the way to her room, I wouldn’t hear it.

That was fine by me.

I must’ve fallen asleep with my headphones on because there was music in my dream, and then there wasn’t, and then there was someone sitting on my chest and yelling in my face.

“Jesus!” I yelled, coming awake all at once and knocking my mother onto the floor.

“I was trying to tell you the other thing,” she yelped.

I looked at the clock. It was midnight. My mother was slurring. I put my headphones on the nightstand and sat up a little. “Well, you’ve got my attention. Tell me then let me go back to sleep. Please—I have an early run.”

“Good girl,” she croaked from the floor. “You keep up the running. You’ve always been a good girl.”

This was news to me. “What did you want to tell me?”

“Don’t be a sheep.”

I opened my mouth, but it just hung there, dangling from its hinges.

“I said, don’t be a sheep, Riley!”

“Okay…”

“Don’t just okay me—I mean it. Don’t follow directions blindly. Think about everything you do.”

“You’re seriously giving me this advice? You can’t even talk straight.”

She sat up a little. “I’m not online. There’s that.”

“You’re not a sheep because you’re not on Facebook?”

She either shrugged or her neck lolled. “If you’re online, they can find you.”

I smacked myself in the forehead. “Who? Who can find you?”

“Are you online?”

“No,” I admitted. It’d be pretty sad to have an Instagram feed filled with…my drunk mother, my homework, and my runs, because that’d be about it.

I flopped back onto my bed, studying the water-stained popcorn ceiling. “Why are you telling me this?”

She sighed. “Because even though I haven’t helped you in a long time, I want you to be safe.”

“Okay…I think I’ve got it. (A) When my number’s up, it’s up, and (b) don’t be a sheep—in other words, stay off Snapchat. Are we good?”

“No, we’re not. But you remember what I told you.”

I started to drift off, trying to get away from what she’d said. I didn’t understand it, but I didn’t think that was a failure on my part. It was a cardboard box of Chardonnay talking, disguised as my mother.

She snored from her spot on the floor.

Oddly comforted by the sound, I finally drifted off to sleep.

I woke the next morning feeling vaguely annoyed, and then I remembered what’d happened. I rolled over, but she was gone.

I’d slept in my sweats on top of my comforter. Even though it was early June, I shivered, feeling stiff. New Hampshire was like that: sweatshirt weather until late June, followed by three months of ninety-degrees and one-hundred-percent humidity, followed by winter. Rent was cheap in Hanover for a reason.

I changed quickly into my running clothes, wanting to be safely out of the house before she woke up. She might’ve staggered back to her room, or maybe she’d passed out somewhere in the kitchen-slash-living room. If I had to step over her on my way out the door, that would be bad. A pang of guilt hit me. I shouldn’t have left her like that last night, passed out on the floor.

But it was the fact that she’d mentioned Katie… She must have been off-her-rocker drunk.

I cautiously left my room, but she was nowhere in sight. Relieved, I went and made myself a piece of toast, drinking some orange juice out of the carton while I waited. When it was ready, I slathered butter on it, folded it in half, and popped most of it into my mouth on the way out the door. I might choke, but I was in a hurry for a good reason. I wanted to get a decent run in before I headed to Hollingsworth. Nervous and excited about going to the dorm and meeting the other students, I knew nothing could calm me down like running.

I put my ear buds in as I started the loop around Occom Pond. There were a few other runners out, getting their miles in before it turned unbearably humid. I wondered if my mother would wake up before I left for Hollingsworth—probably not. Her weekend ritual involved drinking until she passed out, sleeping till noon, rinse and repeat.

During the week when she worked at the laundromat, she skipped the sleeping-till-noon part.

I couldn’t wait to get away from her. This made me a bad daughter, but I needed to get the hell out of Depressing Central, where every day was a hung-over memorial service for the people we’d loved, lost, and didn’t dare talk about.

I rounded the corner on the path. A tall, sinewy man with a silver crew cut ran toward me, and it was too late for me to get out of the way. I bumped into him, and he glared at me, his lip curled into a nasty sneer.

“Why don’t you take out those ear buds?” he yelled without stopping.

“I’m sorry.” My voice probably came out too loud because I was blasting my music.

The man didn’t turn around again.

I hurried through the rest of my run, wanting to get home and take a shower, eager to put the last twenty-four hours behind me.

* * *

My mother snored in her room. I snuck to the shower. It would be so nice to avoid a messy scene, especially after last night. I rushed through the shampoo and conditioning process, impatient to finish and finally get out of there.

As I towel-dried my long, thick hair, there was a familiar snuffling outside the window. One of the quirks of our basement apartment was a window located in the shower. I stuck my head around the shower curtain and was greeted by the friendly face of my landlord’s bulldog, Ernie.

“Hi, buddy.”

He snuffled in approval and scratched at the screen.

I reached out my hand, and he put he put his face down so I could pet him through the dusty screen. “I was going to say goodbye to you, you know. And I’m only going to be on the other side of town. I’ll come back to visit you.”

He sneezed, blinked at me, then went to roll in a patch of mud. My eyes burned with tears as I watched him get filthy. Ernie had been the one bright spot of moving here. “Don’t get too dirty,” I warned him, “or you’ll have to take a bath.”

He ignored me, gleefully rolling on his back.

I went back to drying my hair, which took forever. I peeked back through the screen, but Ernie had gone inside. I quietly grabbed the things I’d packed and literally snuck out of the apartment to the sound of my mother’s snores. I went around the side of the building, hopped on my old mountain bike, balanced all my crap, and rode down the sidewalk.

I had a sleeping bag, my laptop, my sneakers, pajamas, my journal, and a couple changes of clothes. These things comprised my most cherished possessions. I could come back for the rest. And when I did, I wouldn’t have to stay, and that was everything. I did a mental fist-pump as I headed down Main Street toward the Hollingsworth campus. Thrilled that I’d been able to work this one thing out, I pedaled happily, the wind blowing the hair back from my face.

I couldn’t wait to start over. I so needed to start over.

It took me twenty minutes to reach the ritzy boarding-school campus. I stopped and locked my bike, looking around. Growing up in Hanover, I’d been around the school my whole life. The campus was pretty, but I’d taken it for granted. Now, it looked different to me. The red-bricked colonial buildings were stately, imposing, and full of promise. The green that connected the campus was enormous—a place I’d be able to spread out, have a snack, and read a book around others like me—quiet, serious and introverted.

“What’s up, girl?” A loud voice boomed, making me jump.

A tall, dark-haired boy with coffee-colored skin stood next to me, all bones and bright-white teeth, sporting a black hoodie and smiling expectantly.

I opened my mouth then closed it.

“You speak English? Or…” He furrowed his large eyebrows. “¿Hablas español? ’Cause I’m half-Puerto Rican. I can roll with that.”

“I speak English. You just surprised me.”

He smiled again, easily. “Oh, okay. I wasn’t sure. You looked a little lost.” He held out his hand. “I’m Josh. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Riley. Are you…a student?” I’d never seen him before. He was so tall and smiley. I would’ve noticed him if I’d seen him around town.

Josh shrugged. “Something like that. I’m here for the summer work-study program. You?”

“Yeah. I just transferred here for my senior year. I’m checking in for the summer work-study program, too.”

He flashed those teeth again. “Ah, I get it. You’re poor.”

“Uh,” I stammered, flustered.

“I’m just teasing you, sheesh!” He eyed my bike. “Are you local?”

I nodded. “I’m from Hanover.”

He patted my shoulder, which was way below his, and beamed at me. I might need sunglasses to look at those teeth. “Riley Payne from Hanover…wow. I’m honored to meet you.”

“Huh?” I swallowed hard. “Why are you honored to meet me? How do you know my last name?”

“I never met anybody from here before. And I saw your name on the list, of course.” He flashed me another megawatt smile. “I have to get going, but I’m looking forward to seeing you around. You’re my newest friend.” Josh got on his iPhone and sauntered off. I watched his big thumbs as they fired off a rapid text.

“Nice to meet you,” I mumbled.

The sun warmed my face as I headed toward the steps of the administration building. Josh seemed nice, but he was definitely weird. Still, he’d called me his friend, and friends were something I’d been in woefully short supply of at Hanover High.

Maybe Hollingsworth would be good. Maybe I’d make friends. Maybe I could salvage my thus-far painful high-school experience.

I started up the stairs. That’s when I saw him.