Sing Me To Sleep Part 22

Sarah wobbles and groans. c.r.a.p. We better hurry. I turn away from Derek, and Leah helps me get Sarah into the elevator Meadow has waiting.

"Bye, Beth," Derek calls after me.

Stupid Sarah. She ruined our see you laters.

The elevator doors close. c.r.a.p. Derek said, "Bye."

Sarah puts her hand over her mouth.

Meadow says, "Hang on. Not here. Or we'll all be banned from every future trip."

Sarah sways.

Leah steadies her. "And Blake was drunker?"

I take Sarah's head and arms. Leah and Meadow each take a leg, and we carry her down the creaky old hall to our room.

She makes it to the bathroom-barfs in the bidet.

We clean her up and get her undressed, and she barfs again. This time in the sink.

I'm brus.h.i.+ng my teeth in the shower stall tomorrow.

It's after one by the time we get settled. Our bus leaves at five. I'm pumped full of every hormone my body can create. It seems useless to try to sleep. I lie down anyway and try to relax. Stupid Blake. Stupid Sarah. I didn't get to say good-bye to Derek.

But it's not good-bye. It's just . . .

Later, babe-

Don't say good-bye, love,

So I can dream of

The day you' ll hold me close again.

Close my eyes,

And you will be there.

I swallow my fear

That you will fly too far from me.

I can hold on now

To your promises.

Forget all my questions-

Just believe. . . .

chapter 16.

SEE YOU LATER.

Next thing I know, there's a choir mom outside the door, pounding hard. "We load in fifteen minutes."

I roll off my bed and into our travel clothes-pink track pants and a white T-s.h.i.+rt with my comfy old choir hoodie if it gets cold on the plane. I dash for my turn in the bathroom. The place still reeks of puke. "Gross, Sarah! "

I do what I need to and brush my teeth, using the shower faucet, then hand the place over to Leah. I stand over my bed, grab an elastic, and harness my hair. I stuff my nights.h.i.+rt and toiletries into my suitcase. My makeup is in my purse. I can put my face on later. Who cares? We're eating breakfast on the bus. I zip up my bag, and I'm good to go.

Sarah is a disaster. I get her bag packed while Leah dresses her. Meadow hogs up the bathroom.

Terri pounds on our door. "Let's go girls. The plane won't wait."

A curse on 8:00 a.m. flights to Paris forever.

I grab my suitcase-give up on the elevator-haul the bag, b.u.mpety b.u.mp, down the three flights of stairs. I dump it by the bus, turn to go back for Sarah.

And he's there. Derek. Looking paler in the brisk morning breeze, huddling in his Amabile hockey jersey, trying to suppress that cough of his. It sounds worse. He's holding a pink rose. He looks at my track pants. "I figured you like pink."

I pull a face. "Meadow likes pink."

He frowns. "Sorry."

I take the rose and breathe it in. "But I love this."

"I wanted to-"

"Thanks."

"Last night-"

"Yeah."

We move together, kiss for the last time in wonderland.

He whispers, "See you later."

I drink him in. Our bodies wind together, and our lips move in harmony. I don't let him go until the bus honks. "Later."

The girls are whoo-whooing at me when I board. c.r.a.p. They all watched that exquisitely private moment. I realize how awful I must look. Derek didn't even flinch. I make one of the younger girls move so I can have a seat by the window on his side. I press my face up to it and search for him.

He waves. Coughs. Waves some more.

Shoot. Shoot. Shoot.

I hope he's not getting sick.

I eat a nasty packaged croissant with plastic chocolate in the center as the bus rolls down the Swiss autoroute. It winds along the lake and pa.s.ses by vineyards. The girls start counting how many castle-like places we go by.

I hang over my music binder, tuck the rose into the rings and scribble. I keep scribbling at the Geneva airport while we wait for our flight, scribble all the way to Paris.

My heart's yours

And yours is mine.

You are what I crave-

I won't live until I'm kissing you.

With your love,

I can change my fate.

I circle the date,