Breathless Read online

  * * *

  Friday afternoon, I was surprised when I got home from school and my two big brothers, Noah and Gordon, were there. I hadn’t seen them since sometime over the summer. They didn’t come home too often, and I was really happy to see them.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked them, after I’d given both of them enormous hugs.

  “It’s Homecoming,” said Gordon. “We came home.”

  “Besides,” said Noah, “we wouldn’t miss your big night for the world, Zaza.”

  My big night? My brothers didn’t know I was going to have sex with Toby, did they?

  My mother decided to order in Chinese food, since we all had to get into costumes and get ready. That way, none of us had to worry about cooking or cleaning up. My dad and Chance went to pick up our enormous Chinese order. When they came back, they needed help to cart all the food back inside.

  Spreading all the food out on the dining room table, I was reminded of how wonderful my family was. We were loud. There were a lot of us. And we weren’t your traditional family. But there was so much love and laughter in my house. Noah and Chance were fighting over egg rolls. Cameron and Nick were making bets on who could eat the most rice. Jason and I helped my mom pour iced tea for everyone. My father roared at everyone to sit down.

  We did. Everyone grabbed for the Chinese carton containers and began opening them up. It was pandemonium.

  “Who got orange chicken?”

  “That’s mine!”

  “No, it’s not. It’s mine.”

  “Here’s another orange chicken. Calm down.”

  “Where’s my crab rangoon? Don’t tell me you forgot the crab rangoon.”

  “No, I ordered it. It’s in here somewhere.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t want to eat with chopsticks!”

  “So get yourself a fork!”

  “I need rice.”

  “Who ordered this? What is this?”

  “Here’s your crab rangoon. Hope you’re happy.”

  And on and on it went. We traded food. We chattered happily. I realized that I might be angry with my parents sometimes, but that I really and truly loved them, and I loved my home. We were so happy together. Everything we did was part of our own little ritual. Our own way of doing things. I felt like I was contained in bubble full of happiness.

  As I ate my pork fried rice, I thought about how wonderful our family was, and I thought about why my parents had decided to be foster parents. My mother hadn’t thought she’d be able to have children. She and my dad started out their relationship on their own, just the two of them. My dad’s parents had died when he was in his early twenties. My mother’s family hadn’t approved of dad, and my grandmother had resolved not to have anything to do with my mother after that. My grandparents had a lot of money, and dad was too poor for them. They’d told my mom that if she continued to date my father, they’d cut her off. She’d chosen my dad over her family. She had one older sister, my Aunt Stephanie, who had tried to keep in touch with mom. I remembered seeing her once when I was very young, and we sometimes got Christmas cards from her. But Aunt Stephanie wasn’t much of a force in my mom’s life, either.

  So there they were, a young couple, all alone, and probably going to be childless. They’d decided to adopt. After adopting Noah and my other older brother Gordon, my mother had gotten pregnant with me. She said I was her little miracle. But even though their home had now been full of children, my parents hadn’t stopped. They’d wanted to open their home to as many children as they could. And that was why we were the way we were.

  It might have been annoying sometimes. It might have meant that people teased me at school. But in the end, it was a great way to live. I loved my family. I sat at our dining room table, watching everyone interact. Watching the teasing. Watching the good-natured arguing over food. Even listening to the deafening noise. It was all amazing. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  After dinner, we tossed the empty containers and stored the leftovers in the refrigerator. Then we went to put on our costumes. Last night, I’d decided on a complicated up do, my hair twisted into an intricate bun on the top of my head. But as I stared at myself in the mirror, I thought about what Jason had said and changed my mind. Instead, I just pulled up a few strands at the front of my head. I left the rest of it down. If Jason thought my hair was pretty down, then maybe Toby would too. I curled the ends of my hair a little bit, so that it floated around my shoulders. I put on the dress I’d gotten from Goodwill. I applied makeup.

  Surveying myself in the mirror, I decided I looked fresh and innocent, which was how a Vestal virgin should look. I hoped I looked good enough for what was about to be the most important night of my young life. I couldn’t believe I was actually going to lose my virginity to Toby that night. I was too excited for words.

  As I preened, my mother knocked on the door. I let her in. “Oh,” she said when she saw me. “Azazel, you look beautiful.”

  “Thanks,” I said, grinning. “I’m excited for the dance.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “It’s a big night.”

  Why was everyone calling this my big night? I hadn’t told my mother about my plans with Toby.

  “I brought you something,” she said. “For your costume.” She held up a necklace. Dangling from a silver chain was a circular pendant. Inside, connecting the circle, were the points of a star, only the top point of it faced downwards.

  “I don’t know if it’s period, mom,” I said. “I’m supposed to be from ancient Rome.”

  “Just try it on,” she said, moving behind me to clasp it behind my neck. I held my hair up for her. She was right. The necklace was the perfect length for the costume. It settled just above my cleavage—which wasn’t overstated. There was a dress code for this dance, after all.

  I touched it. “It’s pretty,” I said.

  “It’s very old,” she said. “I received it right before I got pregnant with you, from Mrs. Cantle. You remember her?”

  “Kind of,” I said. Mrs. Cantle had died a few years back. She’d been really old, over a hundred. She’d lived in Bramford her entire life. Everyone thought she was kind of strange. I remember that in kindergarten, a few of the kids said that she was a witch.

  “Well, she gave this to me, and she told me to wear it, and a few weeks later, I found out I was going to have you.”

  “Neat,” I said. I liked the necklace more and more.

  “It’s good luck,” she told me. “And I think tonight is a good night for you.”

  What did my mom know?

  My mother hugged me. “Oh, Zaza, you look so grown up,” she said. “I can’t believe that you’re already seventeen. I feel like I was holding you in my arms just days ago.”

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Didn’t adults know this kind of thing was totally cliché? Why did they say the same things over and over, anyway?

  “Listen,” she said. “You’re ready.”

  Ready for what?

  “I know you’re going to do a wonderful job. I might not feel ready to let you go. You’re my little girl. But I know you can do it. I know you won’t let anyone down.”

  “Mom,” I said, confused, “what are you talking about?”

  She laughed. “I’m sorry, sweetie. You’ll find out soon. I love you so much.”