Breaking Faith Page 8

  “You researched this?” Ish says.

  Norma raises her brows. “Are you gonna do this or are you just gonna make fun?”

  “She’s right,” I say quietly. “We should be ready for anything. And we should have a pail, too, in case we feel like we have to puke.”

  Ish angles his head toward me. “I think if we’re at the point that we’re puking, we won’t have the presence of mind to do so in a pail so we can spare the broadloom.”

  Norma laughs. “Okay, enough—come on, let’s just do this.” She holds up her glass and takes a big swig of her vodka, followed by a wince and a bout of coughing. “Oh God, that’s awful! How the hell does he drink this shit?”

  Ishaan and I follow suit and have much the same reaction.

  We sip the rest of the vodka as we sit on the plush couches. I start to feel a distinct buzz almost instantly, and the feeling only grows as we force down the rest.

  “When do we take the Ambien?” My vision isn’t keeping up with my head as I move to look at Norma.

  “I guess now…I guess.” She laughs out loud, which makes us laugh like crazy.

  “Are you guessing, now is good, do you guess?” Ish slurs.

  She plucks out a little pill from the plastic bag and then reaches over so we can each take one. Ish takes his, and then I try to claw one out. Being very clumsy at this point, I drop it somewhere on the rug.

  “Oh shit. Get another one, Norma—I lost it.” My speech is slurred, too.

  “Uh—no, I can’t.” Norma settles into the couch like she’s cradled into a cocoon. “I’m too drunk to move, and in a minute or so, I’ll be too high to function.”

  “That sucks, Faith. That really sucks. Look for…” Ishaan’s words trail into obscurity.

  He is feeling pretty good, too—even in my drunken state, I can tell.

  He didn’t say another word after that. I don’t know how long I watched them both, but they sat very still and just stared into the distance, their eyes glazed over. I felt sorry for myself for losing my little pill so I couldn’t get high. Then I just let the music wash over me.

  I dozed off awhile later, but was awakened by Norma’s mother screaming at the top of her lungs. It seems that mixing Ambien and vodka makes you do weird stuff. Ishaan was found asleep in the bathtub with hydrogen peroxide in his hair. Apparently, you can’t leave it in that long, because his hair was pumpkin orange for months.

  We got into a lot of trouble. Norma’s mom had no idea we took her Ambien. It was the rest of the vodka in the water bottle that tipped her off. She called Gran and Ishaan’s dad and ratted us out. We weren’t allowed to go over there anymore. Norma and Ishaan were totally grounded, except, of course, for going to school. Gran just yelled and threw stuff at me, but grounding me was too much effort. That would mean that she’d actually have to put some energy into being my guardian.

  I also got a call from Connie the next day, and, shit, did she have a thing or two to say about the entire sorry-ass incident.

  “What the hell did you think you were doing? You’re in grade eight, for God’s sake, Faith. Gran told me you guys were passed-out drunk at that kid’s house.”

  “Oh, hi, Connie. I’m fine, thanks, and how are you?” My tone is business-like. “Yes, it has been a long time since we spoke. So sorry we haven’t kept in touch, but apparently your shit doesn’t stink and you’re too good for me now.”

  I hear a long exhale, followed by a pause. “Okay, you’re pissed at me ’cause I haven’t been down there, right?”

  “Do you think I care if I haven’t seen you in months?”

  Another pause. “Faith, stop making this about me—I called because Gran doesn’t know what to do anymore. She says those losers you hang out with are a bad influence on you.”

  I laugh out loud at my grandmother’s analysis of what constitutes a bad influence on children. “Connie, are you for real right now? Like, do you hear yourself!” I can’t help it, I am shouting. “Our mother is dead, Gran doesn’t care if we live or die, you left us to go live in Disney World with your rich father’s family, and I’m stuck here playing ‘mom’ to our younger sister!” I take in a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re right, Connie—it’s all Ishaan and Norma’s fault. I’m not a product of my environment at all—there are no drug dealers around here, making buying shit as easy as going to the corner store, and my middle school is a preppy college, like the one you go—”

  “Okay, shut up!” Connie yelps. “First, that’s not true about Gran at all; she does care. And nobody made you drink—you chose to. Don’t give me that ‘poor me’ thing, ’cause that’s Mom talking right there, so fucking woman up! Second, I’m busy studying because I want to get into a decent university. Studying is when you open a book or look over your notes before a test—try it sometime! And third, I know you guys took something else with that vodka. Don’t bullshit me, ’cause I know you did! You don’t color your own hair, like your friend did, if you’re passed out on vodka alone!” I feel my face get hot. Did she figure it out? And if she did, did she tell Gran—or, worse, Josie?

  “Now, I’m going to repeat the question, Faith. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Okay.” I let out a heavy sigh. “I screwed up. I’m sorry—it was a stupid thing to do.”

  “That’s putting it mildly. A stupid thing to do would be forgetting to put on a helmet when you’re riding your bike. This is completely off-the-charts stupid!”

  “Okay, I know. It was irresponsible and dangerous.”

  “You took Ambien or something with the vodka, right?”

  I pause. Then finally I answer, “Not me, but they did. I lost mine.”

  “Shit! I knew it,” she hisses at me. “You’re friggin’ lucky you didn’t die, you stupid—”

  “Okay, Connie. I said I’m sorry—jeez. I told you, I’m done with that stuff.” I hear breathing on the other end.

  “All right. But I swear to God, if you ever—”

  “I won’t! I promise.” The floor creaks upstairs. Gran is working, so Destiny is probably on her way down from doing her homework.

  “Are you coming over this weekend?” I ask, forever hopeful. “Destiny misses you, too.”

  “Not sure,” she answers curtly. “I’ll have to see.”

  I don’t respond, as I feel her reply merits none. “So, anything else, then?” I ask.

  “I guess not,” she replies. “Stay outta trouble—I’ll call again.”

  “Fine.” I want to add bitch, but think better of it because I remember how much I hate that word.

  “Say hi to Des for me, and remember, she looks up to you. That should be reason enough for you not to screw up again. We’ll talk soon.” Then the line clicks dead.

  I feel a tap on my shoulder and I jump. “Jesus, Des, you startled me.”

  “Who was that?” she asks as she heads toward the kitchen.

  “No one. Someone doing a survey,” I lie. I am getting really good at it.

  “Oh.” She opens the fridge.

  “So did you finish your homework?” I ask.

  “Almost—I did my math, now I just have to finish up my science, then I’m done.” My little sister, Destiny. Now there is a kid who loves school, despite all the odds stacked against her. She’s smart, but not the kind of smart that you have to work at; she’s the kind of smart that comes from common sense. She can apply anything she learns to a new situation—a real think-outside-the-box kind of smart. One day, she could really make something of herself, do some good, like be a doctor and cure cancer, or go to Mars, or something like that. Then there’s me—I can’t even figure out integers. I think about what Connie said.

  “Maybe I’ll go up and do some of my math, too.” What the hell—it won’t kill me to try. I didn’t bring home my books, but I still have a textbook that I thought I lost under my bed.
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br />   Destiny looks up from her peanut butter sandwich with wide eyes. “Really? You’re gonna do your homework?” She knows me too well. “That’s great, Faith. Wow!”

  Jesus! It’s pretty sad when your little sister sounds like your kindergarten teacher.

  “Yup! Here I go—wish me luck.”

  “Good luck.” She smiles at me and chomps on her sandwich.

  I did do my homework that night—it’s amazing what the brain retains, though I hardly listen during class as my attention is constantly drifting. I struggled, but I went back a few lessons and, hey, I got it. After that, I thought again about what Connie said; about setting an example for Destiny. Connie has balls even bringing that up, knowing full well that she has pretty much washed her hands of any responsibility toward us. I think about it a lot. There’s no point in dragging Destiny into my bitter little world, but if Connie thinks she can tell me what to do, she’s crazy.

  I hate to say it, but Ishaan, Norma, and I didn’t learn our lesson either. I mean, if you’re going to go ahead and ignore every lesson that’s been taught to you about drug and alcohol abuse, do you really think we’d learn something from our own experiences and not do it again?

  We were rebels and badasses. We were certain that acting out against our parents and every other adult who controlled us would be payback for all the screwed-up things they did to us. In our hearts we knew that it would hurt them; we wanted it to hurt. But in the process of hurting them, we were hurting ourselves a thousand times more.

  Chapter 13

  Grade nine came with lightning speed in a dense fog of weed-induced stupors, having spent the summer of my fifteenth year mostly high on Norma’s little bags of tricks. September rolled in, and so did my first year at Centennial Secondary School, to which I said, “A-goddamn-men to that.” In terms of my personal appearance, just as a point of reference and to enhance visuals, I had graduated from looking like I was wearing Cinderella’s hand-me-downs to wearing Value Village clothing like I meant it—with a slightly gritty edge and a hint of sexualized adolescent.

  Norma helped me out in the fashion department, as she had a real flair for vintage—in fact, I’ll go as far as to say that I almost felt attractive. And for what it’s worth, Connie did try to call more often and come over more regularly, which I hastily attributed to guilt. I often reminded her about her equal responsibility to set an example for her little sisters, and I heartily stressed the plural s in sisters.

  We started out high school exactly as we expected. Norma, Ish, and I were all in different homerooms. The administrators thought that somehow separating us would prevent us from hanging out with each other—duh. Plan did not work.

  We found lots of ways to chill together, mostly in the cafeteria during breaks and then in the evenings. And since no one could stop us, we were allowed to hang out again, with some provisos, of course. No drinking, no drugs, no weed. We had managed to convince our parents that our immature judgment had led us to test our boundaries—and make horrible mistakes. But now we knew our limitations and wouldn’t take advantage and we were so sorry and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

  It was all bullshit, of course. What’s amazing is that our parents/guardians fell for it over and over. Oh hell, you can’t blame them; they must have hope. Otherwise they’d have to admit to themselves that they’re crappy role models and raised us wrong.

  By the time November rolled around, I had one hell of an attitude. I dressed mostly in black, to match my disposition, with my belly exposed and my boobs in a bra that made them look like bullets. I had grown to be an unlovable young person. It was easier to be pissed off at everyone—it helped me deal with the Darkness if I was angry all the time.

  Gran was always on my back about some stupid thing: pick up your clothes, clean your room, make your lunch, do your homework (which I did in secret, just to piss her off).

  Christmas was staring us down, and in a few weeks we would be on holiday. Since we were an “equal-opportunity school,” some of the staff members, who felt particularly generous with their time, offered to take the grade nines snow tubing before the break. The teachers kept going on and on about our behavior and their expectations, and, of course, we were all angelic and everything and swore up and down that we would behave. We even signed a contract, which was attached to our permission slip letters and requests for payment. By the way, I never had to pay for trips, because of my “family situation.” Sometimes that embarrassed me to hell, but it was either that or I didn’t get to go.

  Anyway, Norma, Ish, and I were freaking out at the idea. What better way to enjoy a great high than to go shooting a bazillion miles an hour down the side of Blue Mountain totally buzzed out of your head? So yeah, we were in.

  Since it was an overnighter, we all packed a duffel bag, which they checked for inappropriate substances—like we would be stupid enough to put it in our suitcases.

  Connie, who had kept in touch after sermonizing over the Ambien incident, made a pre-emptive call the night before we left for Blue Mountain.

  “Hey.”

  I’ll admit, it always cheers my perpetually gloomy mood when I pick up the phone and hear her voice. “Hi, Connie. What’s up?”

  “What’s up with you?” she says. “Blue Mountain tomorrow?”

  “Yeah,” I answer. “It’s kinda lame, but what the hell.” I’m trying to be cool.

  “It’s not lame; you’ll have a lot of fun. I went there with my school a couple years ago. Just keep an open mind.”

  “Okay, I will. Hey, you know…” I pause, feeling awkward and a bit like a brownnoser. “I’m trying to do my homework more.”

  “That’s awesome—so proud of you.”

  It’s surprising how six little words can lift a person’s state of mind. “Thanks.”

  “Lemme talk to Des.”

  “Okay, she’s right here.” I go to hand the phone off to Des when I hear Connie shout something out.

  “Wait! Before you put Des on, do me a favor.”

  “Sure—what?”

  “No drugs and no drinking on your trip, okay? You don’t have to admit you were going to or anything, but just—just not there. See it for what it is. I want to hear what you think of it all.”

  “Think of what?”

  “You’ll know what I’m talking about when you see it. Promise, okay?”

  “You’re so weird. Here’s Des.” I don’t promise her anything, but before I hand the phone over, I think about the progress we’ve made and how nice she’s being to me, so my icy attitude melts a little. “I’ll try.”

  ...

  “Hi, guys,” chirps the enthusiastic hotel rep, smiling from ear to ear. I mistrust people who are overly happy or enthusiastic. “Welcome to Blue Mountain. You’re going to have a great time, but before we can start the fantastic activities we have planned for you, we need to get you into your rooms. Follow me to the front desk, and we’ll get you all settled in.” The ninety or so of us tromp through the snow as she leads us from the school bus into the hotel. Norma, Ishaan, and I are at the very rear.

  “So what do you think we’re going to do today?” I ask.

  “Uh, maybe go snow tubing?” Ish’s bone-dry responses are always at the ready.

  “I know that—I mean, after that stuff.”

  “I hope we get some time to enjoy nature—go out for a walk or something later on tonight.” A corner of Norma’s mouth curls into a smile.

  “Yeah, later on tonight,” Ish murmurs. “Maybe we can partake of some of that combustible herbage you have hidden in your bra.” I smile at Ish. He can make anything sound classy.

  We split up and go to our assigned rooms, agreeing to find a way to duck out for a smoke.

  Norma and I are assigned to bunk with two other girls who couldn’t come up with another pair to sleep with—a girl who has just immigrated from Portugal and doesn’
t speak any English and a girl named Shawna who still picks her nose and eats it. Brilliant.

  Ishaan has to bunk with a trio of techie geeks who spend their evenings and weekends speaking Klingon and who don’t have enough other geeks to make up a foursome. Even more brilliant.

  ...

  I admit it: Snow tubing was actually fun. But I can’t let anyone know that. Only the total losers let on that they were enjoying themselves. Even the teachers had fun, for crissake. We all came out of the experience with rosy cheeks, no broken bones, and hungrier than we’d been in a hell of a long time.

  After changing out of our wet clothes and heavy boots into attire appropriate for dinner, we all reconvene in the hotel restaurant. We get to sit where we want, so, of course, I sit with Ishaan and Norma and wolf down dinner like I’ve never seen food.

  “When do you think we can get outside?” Ishaan asks, not shifting his gaze from his plate.

  “We’re going to have to play that one by ear,” Norma answers, her mouth full of portobello mushroom burger.

  “I think maybe we’ll have to try to go for a walk before bedtime,” I offer. “The information letter said they were going to have supervisors posted in our halls for the night.” We speak in hushed voices so the losers sitting with us at dinner won’t hear and rat us out.

  “I’m glad somebody read it. Shit, they think of everything,” cusses Norma. We sit silently for a few minutes, thinking.

  “Can we just ask if we can go for a walk to see the stars or something lame like that?” Ish asks.

  “Yeah, okay, Ish.” Norma rolls her eyes. “And then maybe, if, by a thousand to one, they say yes, we’ll end up needing teachers to come with us, and then maybe the entire grade nine population will want to come for a stroll in the moonlight, too.”

  I sip the last of my water and push the rest of my wings away—and then it comes to me.

  “Let’s just go,” I say. “What are they gonna do if we get caught?”

  “They can call our parents and tell them to come get us.” Ish feigns annoyance.