by Shaun Plair
“Come on,” he said. “It’s the last time you’ll ever talk to me, remember?”
With a sigh, I responded, “I’m more of an acoustic kind of girl,” and it was out before I could decide what kind of music Ana should like. I had told him Sydney’s truth. Why am I in his car again?
“So like, Jack Johnson, John Meyer stuff?”
“Something like that.” The best I could think to say. I shifted my torso to face away from him and watched yellow streetlights paint the streams of water falling down the black canvas of the window.
“Okay,” he answered. “Sorry for before. Like I said, I was out of line. I was just jumping to conclusions, I guess. Wishful thinking.”
“Wishing what exactly?”
“That, I don’t know. That you might be someone I could talk to, or whatever.” His words hung heavily from his lips until they crashed on the denim of his pants and spilled to the floor.
“Thanks for taking me home,” was all I could say.
“Thank you.”
“For what?” I asked, hoping he wouldn’t say something else to make me want to open up to him.
“For riding with me.”
More time passed in silence.
“So what time is your curfew?” He glanced between the clock and the road.
“Twelve, same as driving curfew.” That made sense, right? Curfew back home was 11, but I was fifteen then, not sixteen. The clock read 11:56.
“Is your mom pretty strict about it?” His words stung, and Ana couldn’t shield Sydney from their venom.
“Well she’s serious about it, but a minute or two late should be okay.”
“I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble, especially after I made you ride with me.”
“I wouldn’t say you made me. Convinced, maybe.” I almost found myself smiling as I looked to him to await his answer.
“Where to now?” he asked.
We were at the Highland Oaks entrance, and he turned in before I could answer.
“Just stop here,” I blurted.
“No, I meant which one is your house—”
“I’ll walk from here,” I said, eyes bulging at the ridiculousness of my own words. This was the worst idea I had ever had. Or perhaps the string of decisions I’d made in the past two weeks were the worst ideas I’d ever had. Either way, this was bad.
“Ana, it’s raining outside, where’s your house.”
“Just let me out!”
“What’s the problem?” he asked, mirroring my increased volume, “I’m in the middle of the street.”
I looked around the dark, quiet neighborhood and found few lighted windows. The lawns were big and SUVs covered the driveways. It seemed everyone was in his or her home, sleeping.
“Take this first right,” I told him, “then it’s the first house on the left.”
I braced myself as he turned right and made a U-turn in the cul-de-sac, finally stopping in front of Dr. Gomez’s house, and put the car in park. I worriedly checked the house and breathed through my mouth as I realized all her lights were off. But Eric noticed my worry.
“Everything okay, Ana?”
“Thanks for the ride.”
I pulled my door handle and the door swung open, and left his car and promptly closed the door—a little too hard. I stepped slowly, edging my way around the right side of the large residence, looking up at all the windows for any peeping eyes while still looking like I lived there, for Eric. I turned back to his car, and he sat watching me. I waved, hoping he’d drive away, hoping it really would be the last time we talked.
The rain had slowed, and it was barely sprinkling now. I rushed to round the back corner of the house as I heard Eric pull away toward the main road. I stood there a while, planning to wait a minute before I dashed back toward the shack. My flip flops exposed my feet to feel the soft, tall grass that covered Dr. Gomez’ yard, and I watched them, not breathing as I listened for his car to leave earshot.
“Excuse me.”
Heart pounding in my chest, I found Dr. Gomez standing on her back porch, wrapped in a robe, her brown arms pulling it tight to hug a thin frame.
“Who’s out there?” Her words were poison, sharp and sour.
I stood in silence as she turned on her porch light. The light slapped my skin and she squinted and shrugged as it did. She shook her head. “Wait, weren’t you here before?”
“I’m just going to a friend’s house—”
“It looked as if someone just dropped you off here? Where are your parents?” Her expression requested a sensible response when I had none.
I had nothing but a flood of tears to respond with as I wailed, “Please, I’m sorry.” I stuttered the words out and she shrugged again.
“What’s going on? Do you need to call someone?” She stared at me like I was her pet rat, running on a mouse wheel in my cage. Horror.
I shook my head and sobbed out, “No, I’m so sorry, I’ll leave.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” She stepped to the edge of her porch.
“I’m sorry,” I coughed again before trotting off her lawn toward the sidewalk.
Defeated by the wave of tears that poured out, I moved into a slow jog through the back of Highland Oaks in the direction of the shack. I hugged myself as I jogged block after block in the dark, and coughed on my tears until I could see my shelter waiting for me. I ran up to it, and at my push the old wood door creaked open.
With a cough of sobs I walked into the bedroom, dropped my purse on the floor and slid off my shoes, replacing them with black socks. Sweat from the night’s discomforting end bred a faint must that worsened the sinking air. I changed into pants for sleep, hair scrunchie and phone in hand, and walked to the bathroom to point the phone’s light at my face and use the cracked mirror.
There stood Ana, and Sydney, all jumbled up into one strange image, confusion and pain blurring the view.
I remembered when I was thirteen, back then, when Mom would talk to me about growing up. She told me when women are young we always want independence, but we want our mommy or daddy worse when the independence isn’t so easy.
She loved listening to the newest pop on the radio, just as I did, and when my friends rode with us they were always shocked when she’d pass by oldies stations and knew every word to the latest rap song. One time, one of my favorite times, a friend of mine rode with me to our middle school’s basketball game, and Timberlake’s “Cry Me a River” played on the radio. All three of us shrieked in delight. Mom turned the dial up to the point where my ears hurt—but neither my friend nor I complained, just sang, off-key and at a horrific volume, and dramatized each and every syllable of every word Justin sang. Mom added volume at our favorite parts, until at once the song died and we all let out an extended sigh. And we laughed. And I looked at her as she continued driving, her black hair shaken wild from the dancing, face still electric from the thrill. Even then I thought, How lucky am I?
As usual, the memory invited all the anger in the world into me once it ended. With my hair tied in a limp ponytail, cell phone in hand, I strode back to the bedroom and slipped under the top blanket. I forced every thought that came to me out with a tear. And I prayed to God to help me get away from everything. I begged Him to help me to find security—the security I knew could never exist.
Hello?
You made it back alright?
Hey Ana, did you make it home okay?
Hey hun, text us when you get in.
Taylor and Kylie had taken turns texting me. To all of the girls, I sent: Hey guys I’m fine, sorry I forgot to text you.
For the first time, I missed the way life used to be, and couldn’t even stop myself from missing it. I longed for a proper bed, one with a mattress and comfy sheets and pillows. I longed for a hug and kiss goodnight, and hearing “good morning” every day when I woke up. I longed for the ability to have my friends over, and having a car to get around in. Reality was, I longed for family.
Chapter
11
Monday morning, the girls, David, and David’s friends congregated by the main staircase to see each other for a while before class started. Hesitant to join, I knew everyone would be thinking about and emphasizing the awkwardness that would loom between David and me. All of them would crowd around me asking What about David? with their body language, with no idea how tragic that night actually was for me. David was the last thing I was worried about.
I joined the group and Kylie kissed my cheek while Brandon hugged and kissed Arianna. Everyone else rolled their eyes. “You two are already getting old,” Brit said, and everyone shared a laugh as Arianna slapped Brit on the butt. From there, people broke off into conversations about the weekend and the party. David, now standing to my left, nudged my arm.
“So, what happened Saturday night?” He kept his smile broad while upset eyes gave him away. He waited while I contemplated how to answer. I’d forgotten all about him after I went to talk to Eric.
Not invested enough to think of a better lie, I answered, “Oh, I couldn’t find you after we got separated, where did you go?”
“I had to take off, my little sister needed a ride home and I had to go get her.”
I tried to turn the blame. “Oh, you should’ve texted me or something.”
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to.”
I had no energy for catering to his feelings. But if Ana could figure a way to stay around, he’d be good for her long-term image.
“I did want you to,” I said. I forced a bleak smile.
At the instant I was feeling obligated to find something new to say, the bell rang and Brittney grabbed my arm, saving me. “Let’s go, Ana.” How come Sydney had never found friends like this?
“We’ll talk later, okay?” I said to David. It would be insane to toss away a perfect guy like him. Though insanity was becoming my thing.
Brit soon turned left while I continued straight, and I waved to her before tightening my grip on my book bag, preparing to speed to class. Preparing, that was, until I ran into lime-green high heels and black curls. Ms. Kelly Hawthorne was waving at me, and then beckoning me to speak with her. I smiled reluctantly and crossed the hallways to stand next to her. As if I need another PTA reminder right now.
“Hello, Ana,” she said. The twang in her voice not as sweet as I remembered it.
“Hi, Ms. Hawthorne.”
“Just so you know, we’re having a PTA meeting this Sunday for those who couldn’t make it last Thursday. We haven’t been able to reach your parents over the phone, so I hope you can relay the message.”
“Oh okay, thanks. I will.” I nodded and smiled the best smile I could.
“So how was your first week?”
“It was good. I like it so far.”
“You’ve made some friends I hope?”
“Yep, a few at least.”
“Well good. I’ll make it a point to make sure you’re settling in all right.”
“Oh no, you don’t have to do that.”
“Oh, don’t worry hun. I know it’s nice to just have someone to go to when you need something.”
I could only nod in agreement.
“Go ahead on to class Miss Ana.”
I waved, grateful to be free again. The pale hallways had emptied out, so I could see all of the pasty walls and white floors that led to my homeroom classroom. I stepped forward down the hall, to begin Ana’s second week of school.
And then the day sped along, and it took the bell that ended third period to inform me I’d been cruising on autopilot for most of it. I stood from my seat and walked into the hallway with anxious thoughts overflowing my mind.
Turning down a new hallway, I felt a finger touch my left shoulder. I turned to the left—no one there. Then, to my right was Kylie, walking alongside me, smile wide as the horizon.
“Gotcha. What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing,” I told her, “just headed to class.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Obvious. You know good and well what I want to hear, what happened Saturday night after we left? With Eric?”
Why wouldn’t these people leave me alone? My energy for maintaining the mystery was draining.
“Honestly, he just drove me home. We talked about … music and stuff.” I shrugged. “That was it.”
“So why was he practically stalking you, waiting for you at the car? He was approaching creeper status. What did he want?”
“Seriously, I don’t even know.”
She shook her head and scrunched her eyes, and searched the room for a new subject to talk about.
“Well, see you later I guess,” she finally said, only looking at my feet.
“Yup, see you.” I was glad she hadn’t asked more as she turned to walk toward her class.
Soon I was out of the building and in the fourth-period trailer, back in the seat across the room from Eric’s. He had promised to leave me alone, but I didn’t feel any less nervous about being in his presence. He entered as the bell rang, and he passed my desk without looking up from the floor. I shrank into my chair as class began.
And then it continued, and trying not to watch him was exhausting me. Stop caring. He didn’t make eye contact with me. He looked nowhere but right at the teacher, at notes on the whiteboard, or down into his desk with his head folded in his arms. He was piercing me, making me so on edge I could have screamed. Just don’t care.
With ten minutes left of class, Mr. Kyle wrapped up the lesson and assigned reading from the textbook, giving us time for a head start. I watched Eric to see if he might look at me then, but when the teacher sat down, Eric’s head went right down with him, and it didn’t come up again until the bell rang ten minutes later. I rushed to leave immediately, but as I stood to go, papers fell like skydivers from my bag to the floor. While everyone in the class gathered their papers and left the room, I crouched on the floor gathering my mess, hoping I wouldn’t slip and look at Eric again.
When I finally stood again, my papers secure in my bag, he was walking past me, and he nodded to me and smiled, then continued out the door. I grabbed my stuff and stepped out behind him, shuffling down the steps and to the pavement.
He flipped his hood atop his head and secured headphones in his ears as he stepped away, and I couldn’t help but wonder how this day might be going if I’d given him a different answer in that closet at the party. The lonely, stupid, helplessness feeling in me was only growing stronger every day.
I stared at him, deciding whether I should have been feeling whatever I was feeling.
I pressed my lips together and decided. He was why I made Ana in the first place. He represented everything I’d been working to protect myself from.
Gym showers, gas station, shack. I met with the group in the mornings and held awkward conversations with David, or easier conversations with Mr. Shortish, whose name turned out to be Nick. Morning classes were fine. Fourth period was still fogged with anxiety, knowing Eric knew just a little too much about me, even though I’d admitted to nothing. But it was bearable. Then, I’d have lunch and the girls and I would talk about the latest music and movies. We updated each other on our crushes—I’d just listen for this part, or dodge questions, and Eric Brantley would sit at his empty table, alone, headphones in, head down. He didn’t once look at me, and I would try not to look at him. Then I’d go home, and later, when homework was done, I listened to music, and I slept.
And so my second Friday at Rock Bridge came, the morning blowing in with an easy breeze. Walking the streets toward school, I felt the serene sensation I always felt with the coming of fall. After today, crazy and unfortunate as it was, I would have officially made it through two weeks living on my own.
Not much special happened that morning, beside a not-so-typical announcement during homeroom.
“I’d like to let you all know, a speaker will be coming in to address the school next week,” Mrs. Daniels began. “He’s a prisoner with a background in drugs and gang activity. We’ll all head to the gym
during homeroom next Tuesday to hear him speak.”
Kids dropped their heads back on their crossed arms on their desks while I thought of getting myself into jail as an alternative to going home to Dad—if it came to it. It was always good to have a backup plan, right?
Later on, on the way to fourth, Kylie approached me as she always did, and we locked arms.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Not much, I just kind of need to talk to you about something.”
“Oh … okay, what is it?”
“It’s not a big deal, just boy stuff.” Relief.
“The best kind,” I joked. “Shoot.”
“Well um, do you like David?”
Crap. I had only felt relieved because I thought it was about her boy stuff. Not mine.
“Um, I think we’re just good friends right now, I think. At least for now.”
“But like, how? I truly don’t understand it. You say you’re not talking to anybody else, so how could you possibly turn down a guy like David?”
She was so adamant about what she was saying, I was bombarded. I stumbled out, “I just … I don’t know. There’s just other things I’m worried about right now, you know.”
“Like what?” She almost catapulted the words at me.
“Just, a lot of shit you probably wouldn’t understand.” She looked down as we slowed, reaching the spot where we usually left each other. She slipped her arm out of mine and let her hands hold the straps of her book bag.
“You know, I thought something was going on with you. But if you don’t tell anybody what it is, even if you’re protecting yourself, you’re probably hurting somebody else.”
I couldn’t argue; what could I do?
“See you later.”
I mumbled, “Uh, yeah, see you.…”
I stayed unmoving for a moment, then walked outside to be slapped by the winds that had embraced me just that morning. My hair swayed, prisoner to the wind’s demands. I closed my eyes for a step or two and slowed my pace. What was the point of all this, if it didn’t make me any less dejected? Any less alone?
Entering the History trailer, I saw the desks had been moved into groups of four and picked a seat in the back. No one was sitting in that cluster yet, so the other people in my group would have to choose me.