Something Like Fate

by Susane Colasanti

  “It must be really hard for you. Especially with the accident and everything.”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “Someone told me.”

  “When?”

  “Last year.”

  “Someone just randomly told you?”

  “Not exactly.” Connor squeezes some Oobleck. It changes from a liquid into a solid. “There was this one time in art when you were leaning over a painting and I could see under your bangs a little. I saw part of your scar, so I asked a friend if they knew how you got it.”

  “Oh.”

  “Is that why you never go swimming at the pond?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sorry, we don’t have to talk about this. It’s not—”

  “No, it’s fine. I feel like talking.”

  I tell Connor everything. It feels good to talk to someone I can trust who’s not directly involved. I’m just thankful that there’s still someone left to listen.

  37

  “Thanks for coming out, everybody,” I say. “Let’s go over who we are and what we do.”

  The first meeting of One World is always exciting. Our club gets bigger every year. You never know who’s going to join. Some people can surprise you.

  And then there are the ones who will never change.

  Bianca and Marnie keep laughing. Every time I start talking, they laugh.

  “Is something funny?” I ask Bianca.

  She goes, “Definitely.”

  Then they burst out laughing again.

  I continue the orientation. “I’ve been a member of One World since ninth grade. As president, it’s my job to let you know about community events, like park cleanups and educational out-reach.”

  Marnie raises her hand.

  “Marnie?” I go.

  “Yeah, I was just wondering if you’ll also let us know about upcoming workshops.”

  “Like what kind of workshops?”

  “Oh, I don’t know . . . maybe one on how to steal your best friend’s boyfriend?”

  Some other girls laugh and whisper. None of them is on my side except for Sophie, who just joined. Danielle won’t even look at me. The boys (all two of them) awkwardly shuffle their feet.

  “Maybe,” I say, “but I don’t think you should sign up for that one. No guy would ever want you, no matter how many workshops you took.”

  The boys snicker. Everyone’s gaping at Marnie, waiting to see what she’ll do.

  Marnie goes, “At least I’m not a slut.”

  “Shut up, Marnie,” Sophie says.

  I go back to explaining about the club and what our goals for the year are. At least Sophie’s not evil. Too bad she’s not in my lunch. Not like I have an appetite anymore. I should just avoid the cafeteria all together. Maybe I’ll eat lunch under the stairs from now on.

  I’m still not hungry later that night when Mom yells that dinner’s ready, but there’s no way I can avoid her. If I don’t go down to dinner, I’ll have to endure an endless barrage of questions I don’t want to answer. So after I feed Wallace and Gromit, I go downstairs.

  My parents know something’s wrong. There’s a lot of nervous chitchat about nothing.

  “Don’t these tomatoes look incredible?” Mom gushes.

  “Incredible,” Dad confirms.

  “I just picked them.”

  “Guess the garden’s winding down.”

  They glance at me. Then they exchange a look across the table. They think I’m not aware of the look, but I can sense it.

  I stare at my plate, scraping my fork against it, pushing the potatoes around.

  “Honey, you haven’t touched your dinner,” Mom says.

  “I’m touching it,” I tell her. “I’m just not eating it.”

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You have to eat,” Dad says.

  “I’m not hungry. I had a really big lunch.”

  They exchange another look. I’m sure they know I’m lying. When you’re as little as I am, losing even two pounds makes a difference. I’ve probably lost more than that since school started.

  Mom’s like, “You know you can talk to us. About anything.”

  “I know.”

  “Or . . . I can take you to the health center if you want to . . . discuss this with a specialist.”

  “What kind of specialist?”

  They do their look again.

  I go, “Will you guys stop looking at each other and tell me what’s going on?”

  Dad’s not touching this one. He stabs another tomato slice.

  “You haven’t been eating,” Mom goes. “We’re concerned.”

  “Is that what—you think I’m anorexic or something?”

  “You’re too thin.”

  “I don’t have an eating disorder.”

  “But you’re not eating—”

  “That’s not why!” There’s no way I can tell them. It’s just too embarrassing. “I’m . . . there’s just some stuff going on. I’ll be okay.”

  They let me leave the table. I hide out in my room for the rest of the night. When I go to bed, I can’t fall asleep. I’m all restless and jittery. A warm breeze flows in through my window. Maybe taking a walk will help me get tired enough to sleep.

  I put on a T-shirt and shorts and grab my flip-flops. Then I sneak down the stairs, avoiding the creaky one.

  When I’m about to open the door, I hear the porch swing’s chains clanking. I yank my hand away from the doorknob. Leaning over to the window, I peek out.

  Blake’s lying on the swing.

  I open the door slowly so I don’t scare him. He sits up.

  “What are you doing here?” I whisper.

  “Can I stay here tonight?” Blake asks.

  “Why are you—”

  “Just can I?”

  “Yeah. Of course.”

  I sit next to him on the swing. We sit like that for a long time before he says anything.

  “I can’t go home,” Blake says. “My dad kicked me out. We had the nastiest fight ever.”

  “About what?”

  “He found out about my locker.”

  “How?”

  “Mr. Bradley called him. Too bad he didn’t stop to consider that not every parent is the understanding type.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Now I don’t have to worry about coming out to my dad anymore.”

  Blake’s always been convinced that his dad would kill him if he found out that Blake is gay. I knew his dad would be mad, but I never thought anything like this would happen. What kind of person throws his own kid out of the house?

  “I’m never going back there,” Blake says. “Do you think I could stay with you for a while? I’ll totally pay for food and stuff.”

  “I’m sure you can. I’ll ask my mom in the morning.”

  Blake stretches out on the swing again, resting his head on a folded blanket he took out of the trunk. “Sorry I was mad at you.”

  “Seriously? This is all my fault! I can’t believe how stupid I was.”

  “You didn’t know Ryan could hear.”

  “I didn’t mean to tell Jason. I am so sorry.”

  “It’s like my horoscope said last week. What was it? Something like, ‘Information meant to be released can’t stay secret forever. Now’s the time for change.’”

  “See how it always knows?”

  “Um, yeah, I think I’m convinced.”

  I get up and hold my hand out to Blake. “You can’t stay out here. Come sleep in my room.”

  “Won’t Jason be jealous?”

  “I never knew you could be so funny after midnight.”

  Inflating the air mattress would be too noisy, so I get my sleeping bag out. I put a fresh pillowcase on one of my pillows for Blake.

  “Take the bed,” I go.

  “No, I’ll take the floor.”

  “Take the bed.”

  “You run a tight ship around here.”

/>   Blake gets into my bed and falls asleep right away. I’m still strung out on the adrenaline rush from finding him on my porch in the middle of the night. How can he just fall asleep like that?

  In the morning, I find Mom washing vegetables in the kitchen.

  “Mom?”

  “Oh!” She drops a beet in the sink. “You scared me.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Do you want a sandwich or leftovers for lunch?” Mom asks. I told her I wanted to start bringing my lunch instead of buying. When she asked why, I said it’s because the skanky school lunches are wrecking my health. Which is true.

  “Um, a sandwich is okay.”

  She goes back to washing vegetables.

  “Mom?”

  “What is it, honey?”

  “We need to talk.”

  We sit at the kitchen table. I tell her there’s a rumor about Blake. I tell her about his locker and how his dad threw him out. I leave out the part about my telling Jason that Blake is gay.

  “So Blake can stay here, right?” I go.

  “That poor boy.”

  “I told him it would probably be okay.”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “Blake’s dad can’t just force him out of his home. That’s illegal. We should probably tell the police. Or child protective services—I’ll have to look into it.”

  “Why can’t he just stay here for a while?”

  “If his dad refuses to take him back, the authorities might want him to stay with another relative.”

  Staying with another relative isn’t the easiest solution when there’s only one possibility. Blake’s uncle is the only other family he has. Blake told me about Uncle Rick. He’s a construction worker who chops wood for people before the winter and grows Christmas trees to sell in the city.

  I go, “But his uncle is the closest relative and he lives, like, an hour away.”

  “Well, Blake might have to move in with him.”

  “No way! Then he’d have to transfer to another school.”

  Mom just shakes her head.

  “This sucks,” I say.

  “Let’s see what happens with Blake’s dad first. Things like this tend to blow over after a few days.”

  “It’s not fair that he can’t stay here.”

  “We have to do what’s best for Blake.”

  I glare at her. “Really? Because it sounds more like you’re doing what’s best for you.”

  Upstairs, I roll up my sleeping bag. When Blake gets out of the shower he comes back to my room, rubbing a towel over his hair.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask.

  “Good.”

  “Good?”

  “Yeah.”

  “This might be a stupid question, but why?”

  “Don’t you get it? I don’t have to be afraid anymore. I don’t have to dread what’s going to happen when my dad finds out. If this is the worst of it, then I got off easy.”

  “What about everyone at school?”

  “They’re dumbasses. I don’t have time for ignorance.”

  Blake’s handling this way better than I thought he would. Either he’s having some sort of mental breakdown or he worked through this super quickly.

  He goes, “Did you talk to your mom?”

  I get busy tying up the sleeping bag. “Um-hm.”

  “What’d she say?”

  “She said . . .” I stop tying. “She said no.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because she’s being impossible.” I’m so mad at Mom for not letting Blake stay. In retaliation, I’m planning to take an extra-long shower and leave the bathroom light on when I’m done.

  “Am I at least allowed to stay here tonight?” Blake says.

  “I can try to ask for one more night, but . . .”

  “Damn,” Blake says. “What am I supposed to do now?”

  38

  The best poster I made for One World was ripped to shreds.

  It took me two hours to make. The lettering was pristine. I used eight different colors of glitter. I even made cool graphics and glued them on.

  Someone yanked the poster down. They ripped it up. They threw the pieces all over the floor.

  I pick up one of the pieces. It has an Earth Jason made on our arts-and-crafts night. I used the Earth for the “o” in “World.” I decorated it with green and blue glitter. Our glitter Earth was perfect.

  Too bad the real Earth isn’t.

  I can’t handle the cafeteria. Just because we’re not allowed to go off campus for lunch doesn’t mean I have to eat in there. I’m planning to avoid lunch entirely by doing club stuff or going to the library instead. Staying busy is key.

  Today I’m eating lunch under the stairs. I really needed some alone time. If someone catches me, who cares? It’s not like they can humiliate me any more than they already have.

  Blake would eat with me, but he’s not here today. My mom gave in and let him sleep over one more night. Uncle Rick came to pick him up this morning.

  After talking about it with Dad, Mom called child protective services to make an anonymous report. They said that verbal abuse can be as serious as physical abuse. All types of abuse have lasting emotional damage. Blake’s dad has been verbally abusing Blake for as long as he can remember. No one should have to live like that.

  So Uncle Rick arranged for Blake to stay with him until college. I’m not sure what’s going to happen to his dad. I’m just so relieved that Blake doesn’t have to live with him anymore. Uncle Rick lives forty-five minutes away and works in the opposite direction, so Blake has to take the train to school and back. They’re moving Blake’s stuff today while his dad’s at work.

  While Blake and I were watching a movie last night, Jason kept calling. At first I didn’t pick up. I knew that if I talked to him, it would be even harder to keep my promises to Erin. But his messages said that he was going to keep calling until I talked to him. Blake said Jason was already suffering enough and why couldn’t I at least hear what he had to say? So the next time Jason called, I picked up, walking to my room.

  “You answered,” Jason went.

  “I promised Erin I wouldn’t talk to you.”

  “I know. I have to talk to you anyway. Can I come over?”

  “No! She’ll never trust me again—I told her last week that I wouldn’t see you or anything.”

  “She doesn’t have to know.”

  “I’ll know.”

  “Is she more important than me?”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “What’s staying away from me going to prove? She already knows we were together this summer.”

  “That’s no reason to make it worse.”

  Silence.

  “You know I feel horrible about everything,” I say. “I hate that things are like this.”

  “Then why do they have to be?”

  “Because she’s my best friend! That’s how it is!”

  “No, that’s the way you’re making it. It can be any way we want.”

  “So, what, being with me right now sounds like a good idea to you? Being seen together in school, in front of Erin? Torturing her even more than we already have? We’re supposed to walk down the hall holding hands and eat lunch together like last year and then you can drive me home from school?”

  “Um. Yeah.”

  “No way! That would make everything so much worse!”

  “You don’t want to be with me?”

  “Of course I want to be with you! You know I do.”

  “I used to. But I’m not sure anymore.”

  All this time, I was so concerned about how I was hurting Erin that I didn’t stop to think about how all of this was affecting Jason. Of course I knew we were both miserable. But when I said I couldn’t be with him, he agreed even though he didn’t want to. That’s how much he cares about me.

  “I don’t want things to be like this,” Jason said. “But more than anything, I
want you to be happy. If it’s going to make you miserable to be with me, then I’ll stay away.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “It kind of is.”

  That was the worst conversation ever. Not only am I hurting Erin, I’m hurting Jason, too.

  I was thinking that it was impossible for things to get any worse until Communications. The good thing about this class is that it’s in the computer lab. You can totally get away with doing stuff you’re not supposed to be doing. Bonus: We have a sub today who’s giving us free online time.

  Except free online time is not the break from reality I was hoping for. I want to float away in an online bubble until school’s over. Only, that’s kind of hard to do when people keep laughing. And looking at me. I mean, whatever, people have been laughing and looking at me forever. But they’re obviously laughing and looking for a more specific reason this time.

  I glance at one of the computer screens on the table in front of mine. Am I crazy, or am I seeing a picture of myself? Online. A horrible picture I would never post anywhere.

  An IM pops up on my screen. It says:

  Want to see?

  There’s a link. I click it. When the website comes up, I’m immediately nauseated. I was assuming they wouldn’t be this obscene.

  I was wrong.

  The website is called Committee Against Sluts. Underneath the horrible picture is the caption, LANI IS A SLUT.

  In between more pictures, there are comments about how I’m disgusting and can’t get my own boyfriend so I have to steal one from my best friend. One comment is about how I think I’m so righteous for saving the planet, when everyone knows I’m just doing it to get into a good college. This other girl (I’m sure a girl wrote this because only girls could be this catty) ranted about every supposedly conceited thing I ever did, all the way back to middle school. I can tell by some of the things she wrote that it was Danielle.

  Danielle actually wrote this.

  She was my friend.

  So which one did Erin write? Is she the one who started this website? It’s impossible to tell who started it. Maybe a bunch of people did. Now that it’s out there and everyone’s seen it, there’s nothing I can do.

  My heart hurts. How can someone who means so much to a person mean nothing the next day? I thought that Erin would always be there for me, no matter what. I thought that was the one true thing I could count on.