Page 46 of The Devil Wears Tartan

“Yeah, long time no see,” I tell him. “Look, I um...”

I trail off and lean against a wall in the apartment’s tiny entryway as I realize what a long shot it was to call, to expect him to be free to do this, to expect him to even want to do this.

“Hey, hey, hey.” His voice takes on that concerned tone, the one edged with a fierce protectiveness that used to comfort me when I was a kid. “It’s okay, Kenzie. What’s up, kid? Talk to me.”

“It’s my mom,” I whisper. I clutch the phone to my cheek and cross behind the couch to get to my room.

My mom is engrossed in an episode of The Simpsons, calmer now that she knows I’m not about to take off. I pull the door of my tiny bedroom closed behind me and sit down on the edge of my twin bed.

“Did something happen?” Chris asks.

“No, it’s just...the usual.” I let out a harsh huff of laughter. “She gave up on her newest prescription already. All it did was make her even more sleepy, but I still wish she’d tried for longer. She’s still refusing any kind of talk therapy. I think she feels like if she only treats it with drugs, she won’t have to admit it’s really depression. She’s...I mean, I could handle it if that’s all there was to handle, but there’s school, and there’s the studio, and there’s...”

Moira’s face flashes across my mind, staring at me with her hair dripping from the water I sprayed her with as her mouth got closer and closer to mine.

“And there’s this scholarship,” I finish, shoving any thoughts of Moira into a corner where I can ignore them. “My dance association has a huge scholarship up for grabs. I’m going for it, but the requirements take up a lot of my time.”

Chris lets out a low whistle that trails off into a trill of cascading notes. He’s actually really freaking good at whistling, and the sound brings up a hundred memories of the few years we all got to live together and at least pretend things were okay.

I’ve missed him. Every cell of my body wants to climb through the phone and reappear wherever he is to wrap him in my arms.

“You think too hard about things, Kenzie. You should relax,” he tells me. “Hey, we should hang out! What are you up to this afternoon?”

Warmth blooms in my chest at the suggestion, even though I can’t take him up on it. Sometimes I still feel like a kid around him, like the adoring little sister desperate to spend some time with her big brother.

“Yeah, about that. I have a favor to ask.”

I grimace, waiting for him to let me down, but he just chuckles.

“So you weren’t just calling to say hello? What can I do for you?”

“I mean, it was nice to say hello. It’s just I’ve got a highland competition today, an important one for the scholarship, and my mom...I’m worried about leaving her alone. She doesn’t want to be by herself, and like I said, she’s off her prescription. It would only be a few hours. She’s already watching TV. You could just chill with her until I get back.”

He stays quiet for a moment and then blows out a breath. “Uhhhh, I meannnn...”

“We have your favourite chips,” I sing-song, doing my best to sound cheerful even though a glance at my clock has my heart rate going into red alert.

“For the chips, okay, but the problem is I’m over in Vanier, and I don’t have a car or a bus pass, so...”

I hold back a sigh. “If I order you an Uber right now, can you do it?”

“Ah, that’s gonna be expensive, Kenzie. You don’t have to—”

“Actually, I do,” I interrupt, letting my voice get sharp for the first time since he picked up. “I really need to leave, like, half an hour ago, Chris.”

“All right, all right. Gotchya. I’ll be waiting for the Uber. Text me the plate number, okay? I’ve got you, sis.”

My shoulders sag with relief. “Thank you, Chris. Thank you so much. I promise I’ll head back as soon as I’m done.”

I end the call after saying goodbye and scramble to get the Uber app open. There’s a car only a few minutes away from his address. I put the order through, ignoring the price that comes up on the screen, and rush out of the bedroom to tell my mom the plan.

“Chris is coming,” I say, holding my phone up and pointing at the little car zooming up the map as proof. “He’s going to be here until I get back.”

Instead of lighting up like I expect her to, she frowns. “Get back from where?”

My jaw ticks. She’s had spells of feeling what she calls ‘foggy’ before, but it’s never gotten quite this bad.

“The dance competition. I’m leaving now. You’ll have to buzz Chris in when he gets here. He won’t be long.”

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