that?"
"I'm your older brother and I'll say what I want. You had me scared shitless."
Taylor flattens her lips. "Well, get over yourself. You're not in charge of me."
He reaches for her upper arm. "I am when Mom is incapacitated and Dad is halfway across the continent."
Stupidly, I comment, "Your dad will be here soon, right?"
Jason's blue eyes darken to a near navy color as he tells me nonverbally to butt out.
"You're not my keeper, Jason Tillson," Taylor shouts. Tears begin to escape her eyes. "And you're not the only one hurt and upset over Mom. Was it
you
who found her? No! Was it
you
who had to call nine one one? No! Was it
you
who rode in the ambulance with her? No! It was me ... all three of those things. So, I think you need to just ... just...
ne me dites pas quoi faire!
"
Jason is stunned, as am I. I don't have to be psychicâor Frenchâto know that Taylor just told him to back off and leave her alone, and how!
"Taylor!"
It's too late. She spins on her heels and runs off toward the gym, no doubt looking for Ryan.
I feel I need to help. "The more you push her, the more defiant she'll become. Just let her handle this in her own way, Jason."
"What do you know, Kendall?" Jason doesn't mean to snap at me, I'm sure, although I'm the target of his pent-up frustrations. "You have two parents that are still together. You have a mom that's okay. One that hasn't been seeking plastic surgery to change herself and psychotherapy to deal with the desertion of her husband."
"I know that, Jaseâ"
"Don't tell me how to deal with my sister and we'll be fine." He follows in Taylor's wake and I choose
not
to follow.
At home, later, Taylor decides to join us for dinner. Dad's working late and Kaitlin's spending the night at Penny Carmickle's, so it's just us girls and Mom. It's a quiet dinner with questions of how the day was, how Taylor's mom is doing (still unconscious), and what our plans are for tonight.
"We have a bunch of movies from Netflix," Mom says. "Why don't you girls stay in tonight? You can pop some popcorn and turn the lights off."
"That sounds like fun. What do you think, Taylor?"
She pushes her butter beans around on her plateâwhich I don't blame her forâand gives a half smile. "Sure. Whatever."
This is not the Taylor I know. Then again, her life was drastically altered yesterday.
We help Mom clean the dirty dinner dishes and then retire to my room with a bowl of freshly popped Orville, gigamonic Diet Cokes, and the red envelopes full of movies. I slip in
Moulin Rouge
âa favorite I can never get enough ofâand settle into the pillows propped at the foot of my bed.
Taylor, however, changes into a fresh pair of jeans from her suitcase and pulls a brush through her long hair.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"I have to get out," she says in a huffed breath.
I sit up. "Is it something I did? Something I said?"
"No, Kendall! You're amazing. It's not you. Anything but. I just ... I need toâ"
Just then, a small rock pings on my window. WTF? I bound out of bed to see what the deal is. When I look down, there stands Ryan MacKenzie in his letter jacket, waving for me to open up.
"Is Taylor ready?" he asks in a loud whisper.
"Are you kidding me?"
She brushes past me. "Don't hate me, Kendall." She gives me a European goodbye, one kiss on each cheek like we've just met at a café in Paris for a latte. "Whatever you do, don't tell Jase, okay?"
"Ummm..."
"Promise!" Then she climbs out the window onto the awning and shimmies over to the post that holds the front porch. Has she been practicing to be on
Survivor
or something with moves like that?
"How will you get back in?" I call down as quietly as I can.
"Leave the door unlocked. I'll be in before dawn."
And then she and Ryan are off into the darkness. Son of a bitch. What the hell am I supposed to do? Make a fake Taylor to stuff into my bed in case Mom comes in to check on us? My friend has made me an accomplice, whether
"I'm your older brother and I'll say what I want. You had me scared shitless."
Taylor flattens her lips. "Well, get over yourself. You're not in charge of me."
He reaches for her upper arm. "I am when Mom is incapacitated and Dad is halfway across the continent."
Stupidly, I comment, "Your dad will be here soon, right?"
Jason's blue eyes darken to a near navy color as he tells me nonverbally to butt out.
"You're not my keeper, Jason Tillson," Taylor shouts. Tears begin to escape her eyes. "And you're not the only one hurt and upset over Mom. Was it
you
who found her? No! Was it
you
who had to call nine one one? No! Was it
you
who rode in the ambulance with her? No! It was me ... all three of those things. So, I think you need to just ... just...
ne me dites pas quoi faire!
"
Jason is stunned, as am I. I don't have to be psychicâor Frenchâto know that Taylor just told him to back off and leave her alone, and how!
"Taylor!"
It's too late. She spins on her heels and runs off toward the gym, no doubt looking for Ryan.
I feel I need to help. "The more you push her, the more defiant she'll become. Just let her handle this in her own way, Jason."
"What do you know, Kendall?" Jason doesn't mean to snap at me, I'm sure, although I'm the target of his pent-up frustrations. "You have two parents that are still together. You have a mom that's okay. One that hasn't been seeking plastic surgery to change herself and psychotherapy to deal with the desertion of her husband."
"I know that, Jaseâ"
"Don't tell me how to deal with my sister and we'll be fine." He follows in Taylor's wake and I choose
not
to follow.
At home, later, Taylor decides to join us for dinner. Dad's working late and Kaitlin's spending the night at Penny Carmickle's, so it's just us girls and Mom. It's a quiet dinner with questions of how the day was, how Taylor's mom is doing (still unconscious), and what our plans are for tonight.
"We have a bunch of movies from Netflix," Mom says. "Why don't you girls stay in tonight? You can pop some popcorn and turn the lights off."
"That sounds like fun. What do you think, Taylor?"
She pushes her butter beans around on her plateâwhich I don't blame her forâand gives a half smile. "Sure. Whatever."
This is not the Taylor I know. Then again, her life was drastically altered yesterday.
We help Mom clean the dirty dinner dishes and then retire to my room with a bowl of freshly popped Orville, gigamonic Diet Cokes, and the red envelopes full of movies. I slip in
Moulin Rouge
âa favorite I can never get enough ofâand settle into the pillows propped at the foot of my bed.
Taylor, however, changes into a fresh pair of jeans from her suitcase and pulls a brush through her long hair.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"I have to get out," she says in a huffed breath.
I sit up. "Is it something I did? Something I said?"
"No, Kendall! You're amazing. It's not you. Anything but. I just ... I need toâ"
Just then, a small rock pings on my window. WTF? I bound out of bed to see what the deal is. When I look down, there stands Ryan MacKenzie in his letter jacket, waving for me to open up.
"Is Taylor ready?" he asks in a loud whisper.
"Are you kidding me?"
She brushes past me. "Don't hate me, Kendall." She gives me a European goodbye, one kiss on each cheek like we've just met at a café in Paris for a latte. "Whatever you do, don't tell Jase, okay?"
"Ummm..."
"Promise!" Then she climbs out the window onto the awning and shimmies over to the post that holds the front porch. Has she been practicing to be on
Survivor
or something with moves like that?
"How will you get back in?" I call down as quietly as I can.
"Leave the door unlocked. I'll be in before dawn."
And then she and Ryan are off into the darkness. Son of a bitch. What the hell am I supposed to do? Make a fake Taylor to stuff into my bed in case Mom comes in to check on us? My friend has made me an accomplice, whether
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