I turn off my phone before a response comes in. No time to deal with his petty shit.
As I open box after box and create soaring stacks of photos and albums, books to keep, books to get rid of, and crap to ask my mom what to do with, the anger builds. And I’m thankful for the anger because it’s circulating in my veins and keeping me warm.
Who the hell does he think he is? Have I been a selfish friend to him all these years? I don’t think so. I’ve listened to him whine more about Bray than he’s had to listen to me complain about Farren. If anything, we’re both selfish friends to Theo. He never grumbles about anything.
Has my crush on Bray been that obvious over the past year? I thought I did a good job of reeling it in by being touchy feely with my girlfriend more than I cared to be.
My annoyance grows. Books are tossed around. Photos are scattered about. Red blood seeps from my index finger; I guess I nicked myself with the box cutter.
Running back to the attic after dressing my wound downstairs, I get mad again. This time at myself. The mess I created in my temper tantrum will take way longer to clean up than it did to create.
I bend down to pick up an open yearbook that split from its cover after hitting a wall. Handwriting catches my eye:
Mark, you’re the coolest dude in the world. I know who to call when I need the hookup on the best party over the summer. I will always remember Hits From the Bong. See you on the other side. Peace out, bro. Jason
Mark, Gin and Juice baby. Forever and always. Watts.
Mark, I’m still laughing over Mrs. Williams’s class. You have balls and then some. Mrs. Williams: Why didn’t you do your homework? Mark, the king of everything: Because I got high. Thanks for being the supplier. Quentin.
Listening to a mixed tape on my dad’s boombox that I found in the box with the yearbooks, I chill out to his ode to the high lifestyle. The memories left by my dad’s fellow students all sum up that he was a weed dealer and lived in a constant euphoric state.
I can’t believe he has the nerve to bitch over a little bit of drinking. I’ve never touched pot or any other drug in my life.
“Zain?”
I jump from the floor and hit my head on a rafter.
“Shit, Mom,” I say, rubbing the knot that’s forming on my noggin. “Thanks for the warning.”
“Watch your mouth or I’ll give you soap poisoning.” She gently smacks me on the back of the head. “I did call you—twice.” She walks over and hits the stop button, silencing Last Dance with Mary Jane. “Dinner’s ready.”
Everyone’s already seated around the dinner table. My dad bows his head and says a prayer. He ends it with, “Please guide Zain on a pathway that leads to a righteous life. He’s in need of Your great counsel.”
I scoff. “Says the man known as the supplier in high school, whose senior theme song was Busta Rhymes Get High Tonight. Oh yeah, don’t forget your nickname: Gin and Juice. You’re such a hypocrite. And I’ll have you know, I’m a saint compared to what you were in high school.” I grab his glass of wine from the table and down it. “How about we both go to AA together?” I fight the urge to spit the disgusting liquid out.
The muscles in my dad’s neck bulge, and his eyes pierce me deeper than the cold in the attic did. “Go to your room.”
After grabbing two dinner rolls out of a basket, I storm upstairs. Crashing onto my bed, I pass out before I can eat. I wake up just before midnight with rolls smashed underneath my back and a cold plate of food sitting on my bedside table. A note covers the icy chicken. Stop provoking your father. Love, Mom.
At least my mom loves me. I roll over and go back to sleep.
Chapter 18
“You’ll feel some slight discomfort,” the nurse says, inserting a clamp to hold me open. “I’m swabbing your cervix with antiseptic, and your ibuprofen should be in effect. We’ll send you home with a few extra.”
She connects a cannula to a hose and puts it inside my vagina, but I’m already going numb.
I look around the sterile room, lying on an exam table with my feet in stirrups, but this time, I get to solve my problem.
“Okay, I’m ready.” I close my eyes, anxious and excited, exactly how it feels to be on a rollercoaster when the rumble starts.
I feel pressure and suction at my lower abdomen, but she’s right, it doesn’t hurt—just feels weird. And with each second, I’m closer to where I started, a whole future ahead of me.
The suction stops.
“All done,” she says.
I sigh, relieved. All that internal fuss over a simple procedure.
The room transforms.
I’m in a rocking chair, soothing a baby with gray eyes like Zain’s. His cheeks are chubby, but his chin is tiny, and his pink lips stay open like a doll. He’s warm against my chest and smells like coconut oil. I think of the time I considered aborting him, and I cry because this baby is perfectly innocent and no part Percy.
Yet again, the room transforms.
This time, I’m hovering above, watching as Percy plays house with a girl about Milo’s age, and I’m in the kitchen cooking for us, still under his control because he pays the bills. Beth reads a paper, still clueless and not at all afraid when he leaves with the baby to change her diaper.
Brochures slide to the floor as I lurch into a sitting position and clutch my chest.
No baby is going to go near Percy. Death would be favorable.
Jillion grumbles but doesn’t wake.
I sneak into the bathroom and hurl in the toilet before splashing my face with cold water and staring at myself in the mirror. Messy hair, pale complexion, bloodshot eyes.
My subconscious has been showing me my worst fears through my dreams. But if I can’t get an abortion, raise the baby, or put it in foster care, I’m left with no solutions.
The bathroom intercom crackles to life with a morning wakeup call followed by the song, Mary, Did You Know?
I laugh at the irony. Mary didn’t ask to get pregnant either. She’d never had sex, not even nonconsensual. And she had a boyfriend like I did. But Joseph didn’t lambast her when he found out she was pregnant. Or maybe that part didn’t make it into the Bible. Some angel visited Joseph to advocate for Mary so he’d still marry her and raise Jesus together.
It’s a nice story, but where’s my angel?
After a big pancake breakfast, we gather in the sanctuary for a lesson by Reverend Hulbert.
I don’t hate God, if he exists, but He doesn’t seem to like me.
“Why do bad things happen to good people?” Reverend Hulbert asks.
He’s sitting on the altar steps with a Bible in his lap. The rest of us are in the first three rows. The sun hasn’t even risen.
I yawn.
“Brayleigh,” the reverend calls.
I shrink into myself.
“Wanna take a guess on why bad things happen?”
Everyone’s looking at me, expectant. Better get this over with. “Because bad people suck.”
Can I say suck in a church?
He smiles, and a few of the homeless laugh.
“That’s right, Brayleigh. Not everyone is good.”
“Some people need Jesus,” Jillion says before blowing a bubble. She’s been chewing gum since breakfast. I didn’t even see her eat.
“Everybody needs Jesus,” Reverend Hulbert says.
“Even good people?” I ask. “I mean, what’s the difference between a Christian and someone who doesn’t believe but still treats people right?”
He thinks about it for a second. “I could give you verse after verse, but it wouldn’t do you any good if you don’t believe God’s Word is divine. So, I’ll say this. People can do good things and say the right words, but that doesn’t make them good in God’s eyes. He knows their motives.
“Maybe they give a per
son in need one hundred dollars. That’s great, but if they did it so they could feel good about themselves and brag to their friends, that doesn’t make them a good person. The devil likes to tempt us to do wrong, and wrong can often seem right when God isn’t your guide. God is the only one who is truly good. He wants us to learn from Him and try our best to show others His love.”
Reverend Hulbert smiles. “It’s easier to do that when you have a relationship with him. That’s the difference.
“So, bad things happen to good people for a few reasons. One: People are fallible and make poor decisions that lead to bad outcomes. Two: Other people do bad things to good people because God allows freewill. Three: God has a plan.”
This is annoying. “I get the whole freewill for good people and learning from mistakes, but bad people should be stopped.”
“Then life would be the Minority Report,” Reverent Hulbert says. “If people don’t commit their crimes, they won’t accept responsibility for them.”
I rub my head. “What about things that don’t have to do with people, like a tornado that takes out a town? What’s the purpose of that?”
“Maybe it needs to happen so that a family is forced to move, and God will bless them there, or the tornado brings a community together, or as someone lies dying under the rubble, they realize they have no control and only God can be their refuge, so they accept Him into their heart. There is no death for those who believe and walk in the ways of the Lord.”
Several amens go up, and I guess it all makes sense, but it still doesn’t seem fair.
He continues with his sermon, telling us the story of Job and how he underwent hardships. “Now, if you turn to second Corinthians chapter four verse seventeen, you’ll find a verse to lift your spirits,” Reverend Hulbert says before reading the scripture. “What it’s saying is that the more suffering you endure on Earth, the greater your reward will be in Heaven.”
He stands. “I’m not God, and I don’t have all the answers. But I do have His Word. If any of you would like a copy, you can take one from here.”
He picks up some Bibles from the first pew. “The Church bus is waiting outside for any of you who need a ride. I hope to see you back for supper if you have no place to go. I’ll stick around for a bit here and in my office if any of you need prayer or have more questions. You’re dismissed.”
We all rise, and I’m surprised he doesn’t ask us to convert.
He meets me at the end of the row and cups my hands. “Brayleigh, bless you, child. God wants you to know he has a plan for you, and it’ll work out soon.”
He’s all smiles, but I want to tell him he’s an idiot and to leave me alone. Nothing about my situation has an easy fix. Not even for God himself. Why would He help a girl like me, if He even exists?
Chapter 19
One would think I’d wake up feeling refreshed after sleeping for over ten hours. But I’m still tired when I roll out of bed at a quarter past five. Practice begins at six, and I want to get there at least fifteen minutes early to confront Sebastian. He didn’t respond to my request to meet him early, so who knows if he’ll even show up.
Sebastian’s 4Runner is absent from the parking lot when I arrive at school. I hang out in my car until five minutes before six. Still no sign of him, so I head inside.
He rolls in fifteen minutes late and ignores me like yesterday.
After paying for my burger and fries, I sit down with Theo and some of the other basketball players at our normal lunch table. Three people are missing: Sebastian, Farren, and Bray.
Ten minutes later, Sebastian and Farren walk in and sit at the farthest table. It’s odd to see them together. Neither of my friends care about my ex-girlfriend, especially Theo. He gets along with everyone, except Farren. They’re like oil and water.
I devour my remaining fries, trash my tray, and walk over as they hover together and whisper back and forth.
Sebastian looks up when I’m six feet away and says, “I have nothing to say to you. If I did, I would’ve met you this morning.”
“Well, I have a lot to say to you, so just listen.” The chair scrapes the tile floor when I pull it out.
Farren leans back in her chair and crosses her arms over her chest. Sebastian mimics Farren’s posture as his eyes spiral.
“First, I wasn’t ignoring you on Sunday. I didn’t get your messages until yesterday afternoon because I busted my phone.
“Second, there’s nothing going on between me and Bray.
“Third, get over yourself. What’s your fucking problem?”
He sneers. “What’s my fucking problem? Your stupid ass girlfriend almost got me arrested last night, claiming I assaulted her foster father. Luckily, I had an alibi thanks to my parent’s security camera. It shows my car was in the driveway the entire time. But it’s still not fun waking up at two in the morning by flashing blue lights in your yard when you’re supposed to be at practice in four hours.” He stands quickly, knocking his chair back. “So, how about you get over yourself.”
All eyes in the cafeteria are trained our way. I close my eyes and speak through my teeth with forced restraint. “Sit down and let’s discuss this without an audience.” I motion for him to take a seat.
He picks up his chair and plops down, kicking his feet up on the table. “Just admit it. You and Brayleigh have had something going on behind our backs for a while now.” He motions between him and Farren.
“Bray and I have had something going on. A friendship. And that’s it. Will you stop it? Why would I go after my best friend’s girlfriend?” I don’t have to admit what’s been going on between us in my dreams. “And I’m not the cheater.” I stare Farren down.
Farren releases a cackle. “Then how come someone saw you two together yesterday?”
“What?”
“Someone asked Farren what was going on between you and Brayleigh,” Sebastian says. “They said they saw Brayleigh enter the church then later saw you at the gas station next door.” So, it was really her. Maybe she’s stuck volunteering like me.
“Well, thanks to Farren here, I had to pick up my volunteer schedule from Candy Cane Kids, which is right across the street. If someone saw us in the same vicinity, it’s merely coincidental. I haven’t seen Bray since Saturday. Can you just stop this bullshit?”
Farren followed me after school yesterday. I know she did. She’s a lying piece of crap. She loves to create drama, and Sebastian is falling victim to it. I need to get him away from her to have a meaningful conversation and resolve this matter.
The bell rings.
I stand and walk with them to dispose their trays, whispering to Sebastian as we head our separate ways, “Stop listening to her lies and meet me before practice tomorrow.”
He rubs the back of his neck and gives me a subtle nod.
Chapter 20
Jillion insists we meet her friend for coffee, and after a morning of useless job searching, I agree. I’ll need money to adopt my brother and find a place to live. But it also needs to work around school.
I have one semester left. I’m lucky Merryville High doesn’t make straight-A students with less than three absences take final exams. I’d be screwed otherwise.
Christmas break will do me good. Give me time to have an abortion and recover before school starts back.
Bile travels up my throat as I think of the dream I had. No matter what, I can’t return to Percy. If I do, I’ll never escape his grasp.
“You okay?” Ray asks from the backseat of his car.
I refused to ride with him to the coffee shop since he could be a pimp or kidnapper. He’s mid-twenties and has cropped hair and a trimmed beard, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe.
When he offered to let me drive, I took him up on it.
I may have planned poorly with the Schneiders, but at least I got my driver’s license. Not
that I’ll have a car to drive anytime soon.
“Yeah, just had a big breakfast.”
I parallel park by Spencer’s coffee shop and hand the keys back to Ray.
Coffee beans and sugar coat the air as Jillion follows us in, and we take a seat by the baked goods while Ray orders for us.
“Ray will hook you up,” Jillion says.
I raise my brows. “If so, why don’t you work for him?”
“I may have slapped one of his clients last week,” Jillion says, “but I’ve learned my lesson. Ray said bring me another girl, and I’ll let you come back. Let’s say I was glad to see you last night. I’m getting tired of all those Bible lessons.”
“You seemed to enjoy it with all your amens.”
“I put on a show so they don’t get suspicious.”
“About?”
Ray sets down a plate of finger sandwiches, and a barista hands us our coffees. I’m not a big coffee drinker, but it’s free and steamy, so I won’t complain. I’ll add a cup full of sugar while they’re distracted.
Ray stirs his coffee. “You can start with Jillion tomorrow afternoon.”
“She hasn’t told me what I’ll be doing” I take a sip of the coffee. Yep, definitely needs sugar and maybe some of that french vanilla creamer.
“Waitressing,” he says.
“Really?” Waitressing? What kind of waitressing job is it if the employer comes to pick me up for an interview?
“My company serves high-end clients. It’s a mobile business.”
“Like a catering company,” Jillion says, “but Ray mostly manages us girls and makes sure our outfits will fit.”
“Outfits?”
“Our clientele is peculiar,” Ray says.
“Different parties, different themes,” Jillion says. “It’s winter, so nothing too outrageous.”
Unwrap My Heart Page 7