Where the Staircase Ends(43)

“Who’s she with?” I made a mental list of the available guys at the party. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if she hooked up with someone else. It would make it easier to break the news to her about Justin. That was a conversation I was not looking forward to having. Sunny didn’t like losing, especially when it came to guys.

Amber shrugged and took another bite of her pizza, taking all of the cheese with her so that only sauce and bread remained.

“Should we try to carry Jenny inside?” I asked, jutting my chin in her direction. “She’s not going to be very happy if she wakes up outside tomorrow.”

Amber shrugged again and grabbed a wet towel off of the back of one of the lawn chairs. “We already tried to move her, but even the guys couldn’t get her to budge because she’s, like, dead weight?” She walked over toward the lawn chair Jenny was sprawled across and placed the dripping towel over the top of her. Then she nodded and gave me an I’m-so-smart look, pleased with herself for having found an alternate solution. “I’m going to bed now, okay?”

“’K,” I said. “I’ll go check on Sunny and do the same.” Jenny would be pissed as all get out when she woke up, but it could be worse. At least she didn’t break anything this time.

Sunny’s bedroom door was closed, and I could make out the muffled sounds of laughter coming through the wood. I knocked a few times and listened.

“What?” Sunny called, her voice sounding tight.

“Hey Sunny. It’s Taylor. Everything okay?”

She was silent for a few moments, and I heard the low rumble of a guy’s voice.

Finally she answered, “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just don’t come in, okay?”

There was more laughter from the other side of the door. I rolled my eyes, knowing when I wasn’t wanted.

Of course I was super curious to know who was with her. Outside of Justin, she hadn’t mentioned interest in anyone in a while. But it wouldn’t be the first time Sunny came back from The Fields with a new boyfriend. There was the PDA session with Greg Younger, the post-party hook-up with Jackson Terris (super-hot senior who dumped her for a cheerleader), and of course Mark Schroen. They were together for the entire summer after they hooked up in the back of his Jeep at The Fields’ makeshift parking lot. In fact, maybe it was Mark. She was perched on his shoulders the last time I saw her, and they seemed pretty cozy. More important was the fact that it wasn’t Justin, because Justin liked me.

“Justin likes me,” I whispered out loud, trying out the words to see how they felt. I smiled so hard it felt like my grin might pop off of my face.

I went back into the Africa room and climbed into the bed on the opposite wall from the broken lamp, avoiding any glass that may have fallen into the other twin bed. The covers felt cool and inviting, and I let out a long, exhausted sigh. On a whim, I checked my cell phone and saw one missed text message. I didn’t think it was possible, but I smiled even bigger when I saw it was from Justin.

Justin: GNite Sweet Taylor

I could have died right then and there because I was so happy. In hindsight, it seemed silly to have wished for something so finite on a night that felt so full of possibilities. But of course no one ever believes they’re actually going to die when they think things like that. I certainly didn’t.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN


SIGNS OF LIFE





One thousand steps. I never really thought about how high up in the sky I would have to climb to get to one thousand, because it seemed like an impossible number. I remember reading somewhere that the Eiffel Tower has over two thousand steps leading to the top, but most people opt to take the elevator. Why? Because climbing over two thousand steps to get to anything would be insane. Like, whack-job dress-up-like-your-mother-and-murder-people-in-the-shower crazy. Which pretty much made me certifiable.

I started counting the steps out of boredom sometime after the snow began to slow down. Without the drifts to hop on or the snow to play with, I was going a bit crazy, and I assumed I’d reach the end of the stairs long before I could actually count to one thousand.

I was wrong.

My foot slid as easily onto the one thousandth step as it had the first, and what little resolve I’d managed to hold on to slipped through my fingers. My throat turned thick with frustrated tears, and I had to kneel forward because my knees were shaking. Even though I wasn’t the least bit tired from climbing so long and so high, I didn’t think I could manage to lift one more foot to climb one more step. I was done. I’d had enough.

I crouched on my heels and wished more than anything that I had a door to slam. That always made me feel better when I fought with my mom. It didn’t matter who was right or what the fight was about, a solid slam of a door always made me feel like I was back in control of the situation.

But of course there were no doors for me to slam and no one to yell at. I couldn’t even throw a snowball because the snow had slowed to a trickle and there wasn’t enough sticking to the stairs for me to scoop up. Instead I banged my fists on the step in front of me, letting out a scream of frustration.

A string of spit escaped my lips and dribbled down my chin. I was too angry to bother wiping it away, so instead I let it hang there, not caring that I looked like a rabid animal clawing its way up a stone mountain. Just how big was this piece-of-shit staircase? Did it even have an end? I had the inkling I’d become Sisyphus. He’s that guy who had to push a rock up a hill for eternity, and every time he got to the top the rock would roll back down and he’d have to start all over again. What if the stairs went on forever and I was stuck walking for eternity with no way to turn around and go back down? It didn’t matter whether or not I was already dead—I would die again.