Conventionally Yours (True Colors) Page 4

  “I’m playing.” I gritted out the words. And I would. I’d prove him wrong. Prove everyone wrong. I’d play. I’d win. And maybe it would be the longest two-week trip ever, maybe I’d have to live with headphones on to tune out Alden and all his judgments, but I was going, and nothing was going to change my mind.

  * * *

  The weeks leading up to the road trip passed in a blur—logistics planning, helping Maxine get the house ready to sell, taking every spare hour Bian could find for me at the grocery store before my position ran out, and trying to ignore that another group of friends was preparing for graduation day while I was over here spinning my wheels and living on SpaghettiOs. I went to all the graduation stuff Friday and Saturday morning, though, because I wasn’t a shit friend. Next year would be the turn for all the kids I’d started Gracehaven with. I wanted…

  Fuck. What did it matter anymore what I wanted? It wasn’t going to happen. And honestly, I fit in less and less with my old crowd, leaving me in a terrible funk when I arrived at Professor Tuttle’s place Saturday afternoon to help pack. The plan was packing Saturday with an eye to a crack-of-dawn departure Sunday morning. Luckily, he also lived in the historic district, so it wasn’t that far to tote my gaming duffel and backpack. The rest of my stuff—which wasn’t much more than a sad stack of three boxes—was in a friend’s basement so that Maxine wouldn’t have to worry if the house sold while we were gone. No way was I telling the others that I was essentially homeless now, and I took a deep breath as I approached the tall, narrow row house, trying to put on the fun-loving face I knew they all expected of me.

  Professor Tuttle and Professor Herrera kept their yard as neat as Maxine’s, early June pink flowers in tidy beds that lined the way to an equally narrow backyard and detached garage where I found Jasper and Alden. Payton was flying out later in the week, after they had recovered from all the graduation parties I’d be skipping that night. Last thing I needed was Alden lecturing me if I yawned when it was my turn to drive. And speaking of the burr in my paw, he was already frowning as I walked up.

  “I’m not late,” I said, hating my defensive tone.

  “Your punctuality isn’t my issue. The suitability of our transport is my more immediate concern.” As with his literalism when the game had been delayed, I could tell he was worked up because his speech was more formal, affect more wooden, as he turned his critical gaze on the car parked in front of the garage. And, huh. I couldn’t say I’d ever seen Professor Tuttle drive. His house was located about equidistant to the downtown and the campus, and despite his age, he often walked to our gaming sessions or his class lectures.

  But clearly I should have given more thought to his car preferences. Because parked there in the driveway was a boat. A gleaming, black boat of a car with tinted windows. Looked to be a Lincoln, at least twenty years old and totally at home in FBI and Mafia movies alike. It was the largest sedan I’d seen outside a classic car show, and the trunk alone could easily hold half a basketball team worth of bodies.

  “Is this thing up for the trip?” I hated to agree with Alden about anything, but I didn’t want to be broken down in the desert in something that had seen better decades, possibly better centuries.

  “We discussed this.” Jasper took on a long-suffering tone that pointed to an ongoing argument with Alden over the car. “Neither of you owns a car. Mine is a tiny hatchback with 200,000 miles and a transmission that I pray for weekly. The professor says this is in perfect repair. Quit acting like he should have sent you guys a CarFax report before you signed up to go.”

  “Who’s knocking Black Jack?” Professor Tuttle came out of the rear of his house, crossing a small patio to join us. “This beauty was the one real luxury I allowed myself when my first book hit the bestseller lists. Julio’s always had our practical, everyday car, but for a trip, nothing beats a good, old-fashioned luxury sedan. I’ve kept it for just such an occasion.”

  I couldn’t say I agreed, but as it was clear the car had sentimental value to him, I wasn’t about to go on record dissing his ride. Besides, I was too invested to back out now.

  “Pretty sure I can drive it,” I said, trying to find some confidence. “My folks have a newer Suburban. If I can park that, this won’t be an issue. As long as you’re sure that it’s ready to go, let’s pack.”

  “Biggest thing I’ve driven is a Prius,” Alden muttered, looking decidedly unsure of himself, which was novel enough to give me pause. I couldn’t say I’d seen him that much outside of filming the show—him outdoors and not under the store’s fluorescent lights was jarring enough, and him anything other than self-assured and opinionated almost never happened. Even when rattled and falling back on factual-yet-cutting remarks, he always stayed supremely confident.

  “I can drive your shifts,” I volunteered, both to get us to move on and to finally have a comeback for his offers of loaned decks and subpar cards.

  And as I’d expected, my proposal got him straightening back up to perfect posture, chin lifting. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Of course, you will.” Professor Tuttle clapped him on the shoulder. “Now let’s bring out the rest of my stuff before we start arranging our baggage in the trunk. There’s an art to it. Biggest things first.”

  We followed him to the French doors that led to the kitchen and dining area where a neat stack of bags waited. I took most of it, leaving a few things for Jasper, who was right behind me, but I wanted to make sure Professor Tuttle didn’t have to carry anything.

  “Hey, I can help too,” Alden protested on the way back to the car.

  “We got it.” I set the bags down next to a backpack I recognized as Jasper’s and a massive suitcase better suited to a European expedition next to a bag for one of the high-end natural-food stores in town. Looking over at Alden, I gestured at the elephant-sized luggage. “Did you leave anything in your room?”

  I meant it to come off as a tease, but from the way Alden bristled, he took it as a personal attack. “I packed thoroughly, yes. You want to be prepared, you know.”

  No, actually, I didn’t know, having been entirely unprepared for everything that had happened this past year. But I’d managed to make it through, and the way I saw it, there was no sense in overpacking. Or overpreparing. Life would do what it was going to do, and the most any of us could do was to just roll with the punches and hope it didn’t suck too badly. Too many plans simply led to disappointment.

  “Leave some room for spontaneity,” I said to Alden. No point getting philosophical. “And you brought food too?”

  “Of course. Road food is inherently unhealthy. And you’ll waste all your money on that stuff if you’re not careful.” Alden spoke deliberately, as if I were eleven with too much money to spend at the camp store or something. To me, road food was one of the best parts of a car trip, but his words made me feel stupid for looking forward to it. Before I could come up with a good retort, Alden added, “My moms are making muffins for the morning too.”

  “Oh, I do love Judith’s cooking.” Professor Tuttle clapped his hands together.

  “Yeah.” Alden sighed a little as though it was such a burden, having awesome parents. I’d had a biochem class with Professor Goldstein, Alden’s mother, sophomore year, and I knew both from things she’d said as well as clues Alden dropped that his other mother was some sort of bigwig doctor.

  And two moms? How fucking lucky could a queer kid get? I imagined that Alden’s coming out—if there had even been need for one—had been greeted with a cake and streamers. That they were baking him send-off muffins was no surprise, and if a bitter tang gathered in my mouth, I tried to swallow it and other less-than-charitable thoughts.

  “Surprised the moms are letting you off the leash.” The words escaped my better efforts and earned me a disgusted look from Alden.

  “I’ll make sure to leave some muffins for Professor Herrera too,” Alden offered, giving Prof
essor Tuttle his full attention, effectively dismissing me.

  “He’ll love that. Now, let me just duck back inside a moment.”

  “You need help?” I turned to follow him, but he waved me away.

  “No, no. I’ll be right back. Call of nature, and I want to make sure I didn’t leave anything upstairs.”

  More like he probably wanted to escape the tension between Alden and me, but I was still smarting too much from Alden’s comments to apologize for my own crack, especially not when Alden waited until the professor was back in the house to remark to Jasper, “I’ve been thinking. Given the age and sentimental value of this car, perhaps certain ground rules are prudent. Like no drinking or smoking.”

  “I don’t smoke.” I didn’t know what he’d heard, but that wasn’t among my many vices. And he might have been addressing Jasper, but I knew darn well that he meant his rules for me, and I was having none of it. “And if you’re implying that I’d be stupid enough to try to drive—”

  “But I heard—” He stopped, the silence damning. I had a pretty good idea what kind of crap he had heard. “You did have a car, but it was taken away. I’ve been worried that perhaps you don’t have a license anymore.”

  “It wasn’t a freaking DUI,” I growled at him, fierce enough to make him take a step back. “And I am a damn good driver. Like I said, I’ve driven big SUVs. I’ll be just fine with this car. You’re the nervous one, not me.”

  “I’m not nervous.” Alden plucked at something on the cuff of the sweatshirt he wore over khaki shorts.

  “Sure you—”

  “I’m going to go check on the professor.” Not waiting for a reply, Jasper headed for the house. A natural peacemaker for our little group, he’d never been much on conflict, and I should have felt bad for chasing him off, but Alden and his stupid-ass assumptions had me too worked up.

  “You are. You’re scared about this trip.” I stared Alden down. “You’ve been like a nervous rabbit ever since the tickets appeared—all twitchy and on edge. Maybe you should just bail.”

  “Like you did on school?” Alden shot back. Then he flushed and looked away, as if he hadn’t meant to rise to my bait.

  “That’s what you think? That school was too hard for me? Or that I flunked out?” It felt good, actually fighting with him instead of us just taking random swipes at each other.

  He shrugged, picking at that fraying cuff again. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “You never say what happened, but you did like to party.”

  “And so does half the damn school. You don’t know dick. If you knew the truth—”

  “Conrad! Come quick!” Jasper’s panicked yell cut through my rage. I turned toward the house, emotions reluctant to disengage from Alden, but then Jasper called out again, “It’s Professor Tuttle! Call 911.”

  And with that, every dream I’d clung to for the past few weeks froze, crumbling like flowers caught in a surprise spring blizzard. I should have known better than to pin my hopes on anything.

  Chapter Six

  Alden

  Jasper hadn’t called for me, but I still ran after Conrad, already fishing my phone out of my shorts.

  “I can call,” I yelled, already dialing. “What do I tell them?”

  “Professor Tuttle fell down the stairs carrying a box of books. He’s conscious but hurt bad.” Jasper lowered his voice to speaking tones as we entered the house. His skin had taken on a sickly green cast. “I’ll go unlock the door for the paramedics. Tell them to hurry.”

  “Got it,” I said right as the dispatcher picked up, and I relayed our information to her, trying to catch my breath enough that she could understand me. Even though I was flustered, I still got the address right. I always was far better with numbers than words, and I trailed after Conrad who’d already headed to the front staircase. My stomach roiled as uncertainty over what we might find rushed through me.

  Professor Tuttle lay in a heap at the base of the stairs, copies of his book scattered all around him. There wasn’t any blood that I could see, but the low, pained moans were enough to make my hand clench tighter around my phone.

  “Please hurry,” I told the dispatcher.

  “You should hear sirens any moment,” she soothed me. Gracehaven was a small enough city that the main fire station was only a few blocks past the other side of downtown. “I’m going to let you go so you can let the EMTs in.”

  She was gone before I could tell her that Jasper was handling that, leaving me to stand helplessly by while Conrad knelt next to Professor Tuttle. I was the one who was supposedly going into medicine, and I was ashamed at how my hands were shaking and my sinuses burning. My head kept ringing with memories of how my moms were always remarking on how badly I handled unexpected disasters, their assumptions that I would freak out often feeling like a self-fulfilling prophecy that ratcheted up my anxiety and dulled my ability to cope.

  “Can you hear me?” Conrad asked Professor Tuttle with none of my own hesitance.

  “Yes, yes.” The professor sounded weak, but also more like himself than I’d expected. “Still here. Just a bit of a…predicament.”

  “Don’t try to move,” Conrad ordered as I finally picked up on the sound of sirens in the distance. “Can you feel your toes and fingers?”

  It was the sort of question I should have thought to ask, but my throat remained too tight to even squeeze a reassuring word out—not that I was sure what one should say in such circumstances. I couldn’t lie and tell him everything would be okay, not when it so clearly wasn’t.

  “I…can. Everything hurts.”

  “I bet.” Conrad was the sort of sympathetic that I should have been. “Do you want me to find a blanket?”

  “No. My…phone. Right pocket. Call Julio. At…graduation party.”

  “I will.” Conrad leaned in, gently extracting the phone. “I’ll make sure he meets us at the hospital.”

  “No need…trouble you guys.”

  “We’re going,” Conrad said firmly, and I supposed we were. The ambulance crew arrived right then, a man and woman, Jasper trailing behind them along with two firefighters. Apparently they’d sent a truck too. Despite Professor Tuttle’s protests that he had sensation in his limbs, they strapped him to a backboard with a cervical collar before transferring him to a stretcher. His groans as they moved him made my teeth grind, that helpless feeling continuing to well up inside me.

  “All…so…unnecessary,” Professor Tuttle gasped as they got him settled on the stretcher, strapping him down. “Feel…foolish.”

  “Don’t,” Conrad said. “This is our fault. You shouldn’t have been trying to carry something down the stairs.”

  From the way he glared at me as he said it, it was clear that he blamed me for the professor’s injury. Which probably wasn’t that far from the truth. If we hadn’t been arguing, he might have been more likely to ask for help instead of trying to escape inside, and Conrad and his insistence on carrying triple loads would have been the one with the box. Which meant, really, it was my fault because I’d let Conrad’s comments and my anxiety about the car goad me into an argument that I wouldn’t have otherwise started. Stupid anxiety, always in the way, making me say exactly the wrong thing at exactly the wrong moment.

  Conrad’s harsh glare remained as they wheeled Professor Tuttle out to the ambulance, and we scrambled to Jasper’s tiny car to follow. Jasper drove like the emergency was an excuse to try out for the Indy 500, even though his car seemed prone to an ever-more-alarming series of noises—rumbles and shakes and squeals. While I rode in the back seat, praying that we made it to the hospital in one piece, Conrad spoke into the professor’s phone, leaving a message for Professor Herrera.

  “I’m not sure who else to call. They don’t have kids, do they?”

  “Nah,” Jasper answered as he badly parked in the hospital’s lot. He was on the white line, and the urge to
point it out was almost overwhelming. “Professor Herrera will come, and he’ll know who else to call. It’ll be okay, man.”

  I wished I shared both his certainty and his ability to calm Conrad down. Not surprisingly, the receptionist for the ER wasn’t able to allow us to go be with Professor Tuttle or to tell us anything more than we already knew. She directed us to have a seat in the waiting area.

  “Can you call your mom? The doctor one?” Jasper asked after we’d been there long enough for our breathing to even out and our silence to turn awkward. It was the first time one of them had spoken to me directly since the accident. “Maybe she can find out more for us.”

  “Good idea. I can do that.” Having a concrete task was good, and my hands were steadier as I got my phone back out. “HIPAA stuff probably means she can’t tell us much, but if he’s got a head injury, they might have already paged her. She’s on call this weekend.”

  “Excellent.” Jasper nodded, but Conrad kept right on glaring at me. Needing privacy and an escape from that anger, I took my phone away from them, stepping into a side corridor.

  “They haven’t rung yet, which is probably a good sign, honestly,” Mom said after I explained what had happened. “But I’ll call in, see what I can find out, and I’ll have Judith try Julio herself. She might know which party he’s likely at.”

  “Thanks.” It helped just telling her, knowing she was looking into the situation.

  “Do you want me to head there?”

  No. Things had been weird enough earlier, her and Mimi all excited about me having friends like I was a kindergartner with their first playdate, baking muffins and handing out unwanted advice. But I didn’t want to start another argument. “We’ll work it out.”

  When I returned to the waiting area, Jasper was nowhere to be seen, and Conrad was sitting with his head down, hands in his hair, shoulders slumped. He looked utterly defeated. I might not have the first clue what I was supposed to say to him, but I knew I couldn’t simply take the empty chair next to him and ignore his despair.