by Elle Kennedy
My shot whizzes into the net and the clock runs down. We beat St. Anthony’s 3-0.
Even Coach is in good spirits as we file into the locker room after the third. We’ve shut out the other team, stopped the beast that is Braxton, and added a second win to our record. It’s still early in the season, but we’re all seeing championship stars in our eyes.
Logan flops down on the bench beside me and bends over to unlace his skates. “So what’s the deal with the tutor?” His tone is casual as fuck, but I know him well, and there’s nothing casual about the question.
“Wellsy? What about her?”
“Is she single?”
The question catches me off-guard. Logan gravitates toward girls who are rail-thin and sweeter than sugar. With her endless curves and total smartass-ness, Hannah doesn’t fit either of those bills.
“Yeah,” I say warily. “Why?”
He shrugs. All casual again. And again, I see right through it. “She’s hot.” He pauses. “You tapping that?”
“Nope. And you won’t be either. She’s got her sights on some douchebag.”
“They together?”
“Naah.”
“Doesn’t that make her fair game then?”
I stiffen, just slightly, and I don’t think Logan notices. Luckily, Kenny Simms, our wizard of a goalie, wanders over and puts an end to the convo.
I’m not sure why I’m suddenly on edge. I’m not into Hannah in that way, but the idea of her and Logan hooking up makes me uneasy. Maybe because I know what a slut Logan can be. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve seen a chick do a walk of shame out of his bedroom.
It pisses me off to picture Hannah sneaking out of his room with sex-tousled hair and swollen lips. I didn’t expect it to happen, but I kinda like her. She keeps me on my toes, and last night when I heard her sing… Shi-it. I’ve heard the words pitch and tone thrown around on American Idol, but I don’t know squat about the technical aspects of singing. What I do know is that Hannah’s throaty voice had given me fucking chills.
I push all thoughts of Hannah from my head as I hit the showers. Everyone else is riding the victory high, but this is the part of the night I dread. Win or lose, I know my father will be waiting in the parking lot when the team heads for our bus.
I leave the arena with my hair damp from the shower and my hockey bag slung over my shoulder. Sure enough, the old man is there. Standing near a row of cars, his down jacket zipped up to his collar and his cap shielding his eyes.
Logan and Birdie flank me, crowing about our win, but the latter stops in his tracks when he spots my dad. “You gonna say hello?” he murmurs.
I don’t miss the eager note in his voice. My teammates can’t understand why I don’t shout to the whole fucking world that my father is the Phil Graham. They think he’s a god, which I guess makes me a demi-god for having the good fortune to be sired by him. When I first came to Briar, they used to harass me for his autograph, but I fed them some line about how my father is wicked private, and fortunately they’ve quit badgering me to introduce them.
“Nope.” I keep walking toward the bus, turning my head just as I pass the old man.
Our eyes lock for a moment, and he nods at me.
One little nod, and then he turns away and lumbers toward his shiny silver SUV.
It’s the same old routine. If we win, I get a nod. If we lose, I get nothing.
When I was younger, he would at least put on a fatherly show of support after a loss, a bullshit smile of encouragement or a consolatory pat on the back if anyone happened to be looking at us. But the moment we were alone, the proverbial gloves would come off.
I climb onto the bus with my teammates and breathe a sigh of relief when the driver pulls out of the lot, leaving my father in our rearview mirror.
I suddenly realize that depending on how the Ethics exam goes, I might not even be playing next weekend. The old man definitely won’t be happy about that.
Good thing I don’t give a shit what he thinks.
10
Hannah
My mom calls on Sunday morning for our weekly phone chat, which I’ve been looking forward to for days. We rarely have time to talk during the week because I’m in class all day, rehearsing in the evenings, and fast asleep by the time Mom finishes her night shift at the grocery store.
The worst thing about living in Massachusetts is not being able to see my parents. I miss them so frickin’ much, but at the same time, I needed to get far, far away from Ransom, Indiana. I’ve only been back once since my high school graduation, and after that visit, we all agreed it would be better if I didn’t come home anymore. My aunt and uncle live in Philadelphia, so my parents and I fly there for Thanksgiving and Christmas. The rest of the time, I speak to them on the phone, or if I’m lucky, they’re able to scrape together enough money to come see me.
It’s not the most ideal arrangement, but they understand why I can’t come home, and I not only understand why they can’t leave, I know I’m to blame for it. I also know I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to them.
“Hey, sweetie.” My mother’s voice slides into my ear like a warm embrace.
“Hey, Mom.” I’m still in bed, snuggled up in a blanket cocoon and staring up at the ceiling.
“How did you do on the Ethics midterm?”
“I got an A.”
“That’s wonderful! See, I told you there was nothing to worry about.”
“Trust me, there was. Half the class failed.” I roll onto my side and rest the phone on my shoulder. “How’s Dad?”
“He’s good.” She pauses. “He picked up extra shifts at the mill, but…”
My body tenses. “But what?”
“But it doesn’t look like we’ll be able to get to Aunt Nicole’s for Thanksgiving, sweetie.”
The pain and regret in her voice cuts me like a knife. Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them away.
“You know we just had to fix the leak in the roof, and our savings took a hit from that,” Mom says. “We don’t have money for airfare.”
“Why don’t you drive?” I ask weakly. “It’s not that long…” Uh-huh, just a fifteen-hour drive. Not long at all.
“If we do that, your father will need to book more time off, and he can’t afford to give up the hours.”
I bite my lip to keep the tears at bay. “Maybe I can…” I quickly calculate how much savings I’ve got. Definitely not enough for three plane tickets to Philly.
But it is enough for one ticket to Ransom.
“I can fly home,” I whisper.
“No.” Her response is swift and unequivocal. “You don’t have to do that, Hannah.”
“It’s just for one weekend.” I’m trying to convince myself, not her. Trying to ignore the panic that claws its way up my throat at the thought of going back there. “We don’t have to drive into town or see anyone. I can just hang out at the house with you and Dad.”
There’s another long pause. “Is that what you really want? Because if it is, then we’ll welcome you home with open arms, you know that, sweetie. But if you’re not one hundred percent comfortable with it, then I want you to stay at Briar.”
Comfortable? I’m not sure it’s possible for me to ever feel comfortable in Ransom again. I was a pariah before I left, and the one time I came back to visit, my father landed in jail for assault. So no, going back is about as appealing as cutting off my arm and feeding it to wolves.
My silence, however brief, is all the answer my mother needs. “You’re not coming back,” she says sternly. “Your dad and I would love to see you on Thanksgiving, but I’m not putting my own happiness ahead of yours, Hannah.” Her voice cracks. “It’s bad enough that we’re still living in this godforsaken town. There’s no reason for you to ever step foot here again.”
Yeah, no reason for me to do that at all. Except for my parents. You know, the people who raised me, who love me unconditionally, who stood by me through the most horrific
experience of my life.
And who are now stuck in a place where everyone despises them…because of me.
God, I want them to be free of that town. I feel so guilty that I was able to leave, and worse, that I left them behind. They’re planning on moving the first chance they get, but the real estate market has been on a downswing, and with the second mortgage they took in order to pay our legal fees, they’ll go bankrupt if they try to sell the house now. And although the renovations my dad is doing will boost the house’s value, they’re also taking money out of his pocket in the meantime.
I swallow the lump in my throat, wishing like hell that circumstances were different. “I’ll send you the money I’ve got saved up,” I whisper. “You can put it toward the mortgage.”
The fact that she doesn’t object tells me they’re in an even worse position than they’ve been letting on.
“And if I win the showcase scholarship,” I add, “I’ll be able to pay my residence and meal fees for next year, so you and Dad won’t have to worry about it.” I know that will help them out even more, because the full scholarship I got from Briar only covers my tuition. My folks have been taking care of the other expenses.
“Hannah, I don’t want you worrying about money. Your dad and I will be okay, I promise. Once we finish the updates on the house, we’ll be in a much better position to list it. In the meantime, I want you to enjoy college, sweetie. Stop worrying about us, and start focusing on you.” Her tone becomes playful. “Are there any new boyfriends I should know about?”
I smile to myself. “Nope.”
“Oh come on, there has to be someone you’re interested in.”
My cheeks heat up as I think about Justin. “Well. There is. I mean, we’re not dating or anything, but I wouldn’t be against it. If he was interested.”
Mom laughs. “Then ask him out.”
Why does everyone think that’s so easy for me to do?
“Yeah, maybe. You know me, I like to take things slow.” Or rather, not at all. I haven’t gone on a single date since Devon and I broke up last year.
I quickly change the subject. “Tell me about that new manager you were bitching about in your last email. It sounds like he’s driving you nuts.”
We chat about Mom’s cashier job for a while, though it hurts like hell to hear about it. She used to be an elementary school teacher, but she’d been let go after my scandal, and the bastards in the school system had even found a loophole that made it possible for them to pay her the shittiest severance possible. Which had gone straight to my family’s mountain of debt—and had barely made a dent in it.
Mom tells me about my dad’s new obsession with building model planes, regales me with the antics of our dog, and bores me with details of the vegetable garden she’s planting in the spring. Noticeably absent from the conversation is any mention of friends or dinners in town or the community events all small towns are known for. Because like me, my parents are also the town pariahs.
Unlike me, they didn’t race out of Indiana like their asses were on fire.
In my defense, I had desperately needed a fresh start.
I just wish they were able to get one, too.
By the time we hang up, I’m caught between overwhelming joy and profound sorrow. I love talking to my mother, but knowing I won’t see her and Dad on Thanksgiving makes me want to cry.
Fortunately, Allie pops into my bedroom before I surrender to the sadness and end up spending the rest of the day bawling in bed. “Hey,” she says cheerfully. “Wanna grab breakfast in town? Tracy says we can take her car.”
“Only if we go anywhere but Della’s.” There’s nothing worse than eating where you work, especially since more often than not, Della ropes me into staying for a shift.
Allie rolls her eyes. “There’s nowhere else that serves breakfast. But fine. Let’s just eat in the dining hall.”
I hop out of bed, and Allie hops right into it, sprawling on the blanket as I walk to the dresser to grab some clothes.
“Who were you on the phone with? Your mom?”
“Yeah.” I slip a soft blue sweater over my head and smooth out the hem. “I’m not seeing them for Thanksgiving.”
“Aw, I’m sorry, babe.” Allie sits up. “Why don’t you come to New York with me?”
It’s a tempting offer, but I promised my mom I’d send her money, and I don’t want to completely deplete my savings account by blowing it on a train ticket and a weekend in New York. “I can’t afford it,” I answer ruefully.
“Crap. I’d pay your way if I could, but I’m broke because of that Mexico trip me and Sean took in the spring.”
“I wouldn’t let you pay for me, anyway.” I grin. “We’re going to be starving artists when we graduate, remember? We need to save all the pennies we can.”
She sticks out her tongue. “No way. We’re going to be famous right out of the gate. You’ll sign a multi-record deal, and I’ll be starring in a rom-com alongside Ryan Gosling. Who, by the way, will fall madly in love with me. And then we’ll live in a Malibu beach house together.”
“You and me?”
“No, me and Ryan. You can come visit, though. You know, when you’re not hanging out with Beyoncé and Lady Gaga.”
I laugh. “You do dream big.”
“It’ll happen, babe. Just you watch.”
I sincerely hope so, especially for Allie’s sake. She’s planning on moving out to L.A. the second she graduates, and honestly, I can totally picture her starring in a romantic comedy. She’s not Angelina Jolie-beautiful, but she’s got a cute, fresh-faced look and comedic timing that would play well in those quirky romantic roles. The only thing that worries me is…well, she’s too soft. Allie Hayes is hands-down the most compassionate person I’ve ever met. She turned down a free ride to UCLA’s drama program in order to stay on the east coast because her father has multiple sclerosis and she wanted to be able to get to New York at a moment’s notice if he ever needed her.
Sometimes I’m afraid Hollywood will eat her alive, but she’s as strong as she is sweet, and she’s also the most ambitious person I’ve ever met, so if anyone can make their dreams come true, it’s Allie.
“Let me brush my teeth and wash up, and then we can go.” I glance over my shoulder on my way to the door. “Are you around tonight? I’m tutoring until six, but I thought we could watch some Mad Men afterward.”
She shakes her head. “I’m having dinner with Sean. I’ll probably crash at his place tonight.”
A grin tugs on my lips. “So you guys are getting serious again, huh?” Allie and Sean have broken up three times since freshman year, but the two of them always seem to wind up in each other’s arms again.
“I think so,” she admits as she follows me into the common room. “We’ve both grown up a lot since the last break-up. But I’m not really thinking about the future. We’re good together right now, and that’s good enough for me.” She winks. “And it doesn’t hurt that the sex is fan-fucking-tastic.”
I muster up another smile, but deep down, I can’t help but wonder what that feels like. The fantastic sex part.
My sex life hasn’t exactly been sunshine and rainbows and sparkly tiaras. It’s been fear and anger and years of therapy, and when I was finally ready to try my hand at the whole sex thing, it certainly didn’t work out the way I wanted. Two years after the rape, I slept with a college freshman I met at a coffee shop in Philly when I was visiting my aunt. We spent the whole summer together, but the sex was awkward and lacking passion. At first I thought maybe we just didn’t have chemistry…until the same thing happened with Devon.
Devon and I had the kind of chemistry that could set a room on fire. I was with him for eight months, insanely attracted to the guy, but no matter how hard I tried, I wasn’t able to get past my…fine, I’ll call a spade a spade. My sexual dysfunction.
I couldn’t have an orgasm with him.
It’s so fucking mortifying even thinking about it. And even more humiliating
when I remember how frustrating it was for Devon. He tried to please me. God, he tried. And it’s not like I can’t have orgasms on my own—because I can. Easily. But I just couldn’t make it happen with Devon, and eventually he grew tired of working so hard and not seeing any results.
So he dumped me.
I don’t blame him. Must be a major hit on your manhood when your girlfriend doesn’t enjoy your sex life.
“Hey, you’re white as a sheet.” Allie’s concerned voice jerks me back to the present. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I assure her. “Sorry, I spaced out.”
Her blue eyes soften. “You’re really upset about not seeing your parents for Thanksgiving, huh?”
I eagerly take the exit she gives me, nodding in agreement. “Like you said, it sucks.” I manage a shrug. “But I’ll see them at Christmas. That’s something, at least.”
“It’s everything,” she says firmly. “Now brush your teeth and make yourself beautiful, babe. I’ll have coffee waiting for you when you come back.”
“Aw gee, you’re the best wifey ever.”
She grins. “Just for that, I’m spitting in your coffee.”
11
Garrett
Hannah shows up around five in a thick parka with a fur hood and bright red mittens. The last I checked, there wasn’t a speck of snow on the ground, but now I’m wondering if I somehow slept through a blizzard when I was taking my catnap.
“Did you just fly in from Alaska?” I ask as she unzips the puffy parka.
“No.” She sighs. “I’m wearing my winter coat because I couldn’t find my other one. I thought I might have left it here.” She glances around my bedroom. “I guess not, though. Ugh. I hope I didn’t leave it in the music room. I just know one of those freshman girls is going to steal it. And I love that coat.”
I snicker. “What’s your excuse for the mittens?”