We Are the Ants(12)

? ? ?

The pasta carbonara smelled delicious, but I didn’t expect I’d get to eat any because of the yelling and fighting and Charlie’s occasional hysterical outbursts. Once the shock wore off, Mom got around to listing the various ways Zooey and Charlie were ruining their lives, and Charlie’s only defense consisted of shouting loud enough to drown her out.

I could have settled the argument by informing them that I wasn’t going to press the button. If the world needed someone as pathetic as me to save it, we were better off dead. Nana wouldn’t be shipped off to a home, and Charlie and Zooey wouldn’t be saddled with a little parasite neither of them was ready to care for. I’d be doing them a favor. Only, I’m still not sure what I’m going to do.

I found a bag of stale potato chips under my bed and munched on the crumbs. I was too worked up to sleep, but not bored enough to do homework, so I killed an hour on the Internet, which is how I ended up stalking Marcus’s SnowFlake page. It was flooded with comments about the party, and it looked like he was going to be hosting more than just a few friends. Based on what I read, I guessed he’d invited every kid at CHS. Well, almost every kid.

Marcus probably hadn’t even waited an hour after I’d turned him down before organizing the party.

Fuck it.

I shut off my computer and flopped across my bed, letting my head fall backward so that the blood rushed to my brain. The pressure increased, and I counted the quickening thud-thud-thud of my heartbeat. I wondered how long I’d have to stay upside down before I passed out. How long after that before I’d die. I wondered what Jesse had thought about after he’d stepped off the edge of his desk and dangled on the end of the rope. Charlie has a buddy who works for Calypso Fire Rescue, and he said Jesse’s knots were the best he’d ever seen. A perfect noose on one end, and a textbook clove hitch on the other. Once Jesse took the plunge, he couldn’t have changed his mind even if he’d wanted to.

I wonder if he thought of me in his final seconds. Or about his mom and dad, or his dog, Captain Jack, that he had put to sleep only a few months earlier. Maybe random thoughts invaded his brain the way they often do right before you fall asleep. Thoughts like how he’d never taste chocolate again or about the homework he’d neglected to finish. I doubt he thought of me at all.

If I die before deciding whether to press the button, will the sluggers abduct someone else and force them to choose, or will they let the world end? I should ask.

No . . . f*ck it.

I’m being stupid. If Marcus doesn’t want to be seen with me, why kiss me at all? I remember the first time it happened. I’d hung around after Faraci’s class to ask her a question about our lab. I went to the restroom after, and knocked into Marcus on his way out. I thought he was going to rearrange my face, but he kissed me. It was the first time since Jesse had died that I’d felt anything. I knew, even then, Marcus was never going to be my boyfriend or write me sappy love letters. I’ll never have with him what I had with Jesse—I doubt I’ll have that again with anyone—but I want to be more than Marcus’s standin. To him, I am the cheap pair of sunglasses you buy on vacation because you know you won’t care if you break or lose them.

Fuck it.

Nothing matters. If I don’t press the button, the world will end in 140 days. Marcus’s party, Charlie’s baby, Mom’s job, Nana’s memory. None of it matters. The sluggers didn’t give me a choice, they gave me freedom.

So what if Marcus hadn’t invited me? He hadn’t not invited me. No matter what happened, I could always let the world end and the universe forget. It would forget the party and Calypso and Earth. It would forget Charlie and Zooey and Marcus and Mom and Nana. It had already forgotten Jesse, and if I let it, it would forget me, too.

I could write my name across the sky, and it would be in invisible ink.

? ? ?

I showered and dressed, settling on jeans and a short-sleeve plaid shirt I’d borrowed from Jesse once and never returned. It had looked better on him, but that was true of everything. My hair was hopeless, so I did my best to make it appear purposely messy.

My stomach roiled as uncertainty gnawed at my apathy--fueled courage. I doubted Marcus would be thrilled I was crashing his party, and I wasn’t sure whether I was going because I didn’t care or because I was hoping to prove that Marcus did.

Mom, Charlie, and Zooey were still talking in the kitchen; at least they seemed to have agreed upon a temporary cease-fire, probably thanks to Zooey, who’s far more level-headed than either my mom or brother. Nana was reading a book on the couch and watching Bunker. I waved when I left, but she didn’t notice.

Audrey Dorn was waiting in the driveway in her cobalt blue BMW, a present from her parents on her sixteenth birthday. She smiled when I climbed into the car, and leaned toward me like she was going to hug me, but hesitated and reversed course when she saw the look on my face.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“I was surprised you called.” Even wearing Jesse’s shirt I felt underdressed compared to Audrey. She was wearing jeans too, but hers probably cost more than my mom made in a month, and her silver halter top sparkled like the noon sun on a calm ocean. “You used to hate parties.”

“I still do.”

“Did Marcus invite you?”

“No.”

Audrey mmmhhhmmmed at that, which made me regret calling her. I wouldn’t have, but Marcus lives on the other side of Calypso, and it was too warm outside to walk. She put the car in gear and sped off. At least she hadn’t pestered me about why I was going.