He sighs. “I'd be a horrible friend if I said yes, so no. I am not mad. Just disappointed that you didn't feel like you could confide in me about something like that.”
“Forgive me, too!” Tex throws herself into our hug, and Jamie puts his arm around her.
“What am I going to do with you two?” We laugh and fall against the truck, Jamie struggling to keep both of us upright. “What do they think of this?” He means Viktor and Peter.
“They do what we tell them,” Tex says. “We wear the pants. Right, baby?”
“If you say so,” Viktor says. I just wink at Peter and he blinks back.
“Whipped. They're totally whipped,” Jamie says.
“We could say the same about you,” Tex says, jostling his shoulder.
“I guess,” Jamie says, blushing. I tickle him in the stomach and he wiggles away. “You're the best, Ave.”
No, I'm not, but he smiles and I almost believe him anyway.
***
“Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes!” Aj calls when I walk in the house. She dives at me and gives me a huge hug. Her blood overwhelms me, but I braced myself before I walked in, and I've got Peter's hand on my back.
“Hey, Aj. Can you let me breathe now?”
“Sure, kiddo. How are you?”
“Same old, same old.” I just have a psycho immortal after me, both of my best friends are involved with immortals, my mother has terminal cancer, and I have finals. Nothing major.
“Oh come on, school's almost out. What shenanigans are you going to get up to? I'm sure they'll involve this guy,” she says, pointing to Peter. “Hello, again, Peter.”
“Nice to see you, Jenny.” He keeps his hand on my back and Aj notices. I give her a look and she stops staring.
“I brought whoopie pies. Sorry, Peter. I forgot about the lactose-intolerant thing.”
“That is fine. I will watch Ava enjoy them.”
“Okay, then,” Aj says, giving him a weird look. I guess I'm so used to Peter saying strange things that I'm immune.
We have dinner, which Peter doesn't eat, and whoopie pies, which Peter doesn't eat. The last time Aj was over, I purposely stabbed myself with a knife because I felt so guilty. Peter keeps squeezing my hand and I know he's trying to tell me not to do it again.
“So I heard the cat is out of the bag,” Aj says, gesturing to the wilted flowers that are starting to make me sick with their sweet smell. I want to throw them from the roof and watch them smash on the ground, but I don't tell Mom that. They make me sick. Just a reminder of the fact that everyone who's anyone knows that my mother is going to die.
“It's a relief to finally tell everyone. Although, the phone has been ringing off the hook and we have more tuna casseroles than you can shake a stick at,” Mom says.
Aj throws up her hands, as if pleading to the gods. “Why do they make tuna? Does anyone like tuna casserole?”
“Well, I might like it if it didn't make me violently ill. I'm sick enough as it is,” Mom says, trying to make a joke, but it falls flat.
“So you're doing okay, though? Otherwise?”
“I'm feeling as well as can be expected. I'm going to start having appointments once a week to see how I'm doing and do tests and so forth.”
“So you're good, though?”
“It's not happening yet. We'll call you when it gets close.”
“I'll be here as soon as I can. I'd fly here if I could,” Aj says, taking Mom's hand.
“I know you would.” They hug and I want to cry. I look at Peter.
“Everyone wants wings,” I say so low that only he can hear me. He pulls me in for a hug.
“You can't always get what you want,” he whispers in my ear.
“What are you two whispering about over there?” Aj says, breaking our embrace.
“Nothing.”
“Don't you get all lovey-dovey on me, Ava. You're not that kind of girl.”
“What kind of girl am I?”
“You're my awesome niece who doesn't give boys the time of day and would rather read a book than get wasted.”
“Well...” I say. I was that girl once upon a time, but that was a long time ago. “People change, I guess.” I'm uncomfortable with everyone staring at me.
“I guess,” Aj says.
“Dessert?” Mom tries to get up to get the whoopie pies, but collapses back into her seat, clutching her head.
“Claire?! What's wrong?” Dad holds onto her as she groans. Aj gets up and goes to her other side.
“Claire, talk to me.”
“I'm fine,” she says, opening her eyes and looking at all of us. “I just had a little head rush. I'm fine. Nothing to fuss about. Everyone sit down. You're being ridiculous.”
“Call Dr. Chase,” Dad says, snapping his fingers at me. I look at Mom for confirmation.
“Sam, I'm fine. Just let me have some aspirin and a little rest. I have an appointment on Wednesday. There will be plenty of time for him to poke and prod me. Things like this are going to be normal near the end.” I hate how she says, 'the end.'
“Claire, I don't want you saying that it's nothing just so we'll leave you alone. It's not going to happen,” Dad says.
“Can everyone back up for a moment?” Mom's voice is sharp for the first time. “I just need some air.”
We move, but not very far. She braces her hands on the table and gets up.
“I just need some space, please. Thanks.” She goes to her bedroom, and we all stare at each other, unsure of what to do.
Dad moves to go after her, but Aj grabs his arm. “Let her have a few moments. It's hard being under the spotlight, Sam.”
Dad looks at her hand, holding his arm like he wants to wrench it away, but he sighs and sits down. “I just don't know what to do anymore. She keeps getting sicker and I don't know what to do. If I take her in, they'll just pump her full of drugs and then she'll refuse to take them. I don't want to fight with her, but I hate seeing her feel bad. What do I do, Jenny?”
“I don't know, Sam. There isn't a good answer.” She gives him a hug, which is nuts because they aren't normally affectionate with each other. I glance at Peter, but he never looks uncomfortable, and even if he is, he hides it. Although, he's lived through some crazy situations, so my family drama is probably tame in comparison.
“I think I should go,” Peter says, trying to excuse himself. Well played.
“I'll walk you out.”
“Sorry about this, Peter,” Dad says. My mouth drops open.