The Death of Us by Alice Kuipers Read Free Book Online Page B

and move closer to Ivy, who stops talking to Kurt and starts dancing.
    I hear myself laugh. “This is fun, Ivy!” I yell.
    She cups my ear and yells back. “We’re only just getting started!”

FOUR
JULY 31ST
Kurt
    X ander checks his phone. Looks down the hospital hallway. Stares at the floor. Mrs. Foulds perches on the couch. The lamp on the small table flickers, a single blinking eye. With the old couches and the cartoons blabbing on the TV, the waiting area looks like my birth-mom’s living room. I remember when I was no bigger than that TV. Eating fries. Dipping them in ketchup. The rug had a hole in it. I stuck my finger through.Mom lay next to me, half asleep, giggly. I loved her most like that. I stroked her black hair. She pushed me off, growling, “Don’t get ketchup on me.” Then there was that knock on the door.
    My head hurts. I sit on the other couch. Look around. Touch the dollar around my neck. Rest my chin on my hands, which are pointed upright as if I’m praying. I’m not religious, don’t go to church or anything, but deep down I know someone’s there. There’s gotta be. Xander withdraws and pads off down the hallway. I’m left with Mrs. Foulds. The hum of the hospital is my soundtrack. I need a cigarette. Or a pen. Something in my hands.
    Can’t help wondering about the last few minutes in the car and how they ended up going off the bridge. Did they know what was coming? Or was it stomach-lurching-through-the-eyeballs shock, like on a roller coaster.
    This is sick.
    A doctor approaches. White-haired, odd eyes—each a different colour. He says, “Mrs. Foulds, come with me, please.”
    She nods, raising one hand to her mouth.
    He gives nothing away. The sound of their shoes echoes down the hallway as they retreat.
    This is what it means to be alone.
TWELVE DAYS EARLIER
Ivy
    Callie’s shiny-eyed drunk. I shake it on the dance floor with her, then dance over to Kurt, who says something I can’t hear. His cheek stubbly, his mouth close to my ear, the sound sharp in my eardrums. I dance super close, and he moves with me. My boobs squish against him, sorta accidental. Guys like that; it makes them feel like a protector. Mom always goes on about how men need to be the saviour, or something like that. Seems to me like guys just want to get laid. Christ, Kurt looks like Diego. With my eyes half closed, I could be back in Diego’s arms. Now I’m nearly crying. Lame.
    Kurt points to Callie dancing with Xander. Kurt seems to be saying he wants us to head over. I look up at him through my lashes. A major Mom trick.The tip of my tongue flickers out of the corner of my mouth. Diego couldn’t resist but Kurt has a faraway expression, as if he’s not in the room at all. It makes me
really
want him.
    I put my index finger on his cheek and he stops staring off into space. I beckon him to follow. There’s a lineup near the washrooms and I lead him past it, along a hallway until we find a quieter room full of couches and beds, hanging fabrics, trippy music. I pull him down next to me so we’re half sitting and half leaning on each other on a huge cushion.
    I say, “I’m not usually this, uh, forward.”
    He raises an eyebrow. “No?”
    “Don’t tease.” I laugh and pick imaginary fluff from the cushion. “So, what’s the deal with the house?”
    “What?”
    “You’ve got a boat like that and then you’re taking out the trash at that place.”
    “It’s nothing.”
    “‘Fess up.”
    He scratches the back of his head. I wait—people don’t like silence, they want to fill it. He says, “My birth-mom. I visit her sometimes, help out.”
    I wait for him to say more and he does, lowering his voice. “I don’t like talking about her. Everyone knows anyways. Edenville’s not exactly … She’s not, yeah … it’s kind of …” A muscle pulses in his neck.
    I say, “I didn’t mean to dig …”
    “I was adopted when I was five.”
    “Right.”
    “My adopted mom met me through her work