I looked away when she spoke. Rationally, I knew she was right, but I didn’t know who I was supposed to tell. Anyone who ever crossed Mark Moses only wound up having something even worse happen to him or her. I didn’t doubt he would kill me if I ratted him out, but Tegan stood her ground. She didn’t take her eyes off of me until I finally nodded and said, “Okay.”
My throat hurt, and my body ached. I cried until no more tears would come, but my body still shook with fear. I knew class started some time ago, but I couldn’t make myself move, so Tegan and I sat there silently until third block was almost over. For the first time ever, I ditched class, and I didn’t care. I didn’t want to go to Miss Barkley’s class either, but Tegan insisted.
Though I was there in body, I didn’t hear a word Miss Barkley said. By some grace, she didn’t call on me for once. After class, I went to my locker, grabbed my books and all but ran out to Skylar’s car.
When Skylar finally came out of her car, she threw her bag in the back seat and started to turn on the car, but then she paused to really look at me. “What’s wrong with you?”
I didn’t answer. I just turned my head away.
She tried again. “Silly?”
“Nothing,” I muttered. I thought for one terrible minute she was going to press the issue, but she dropped it.
At home, I went upstairs to my room, crawled into bed and cried while wondering how it was possible for things to change so quickly for the worse in just a couple of hours.
So much for not being claustrophobic, I mused sarcastically as I slipped into unconsciousness.
Saturday, November 17th, 2006
Sickness creeps through my veins
It seeps into the wounds I’ve tried to hide,
Infesting my heart and mind,
Pushing aside the ones on which I once relied
The pain that lie dormant has been rectified.
It cuts to the bone,
Leaving me split, broken, and bleeding out,
And I have no choice but to wander about,
Looking to the sky as I scream and shout,
Begging, pleading for these demons to get out.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
John Mayer’s Room For Squares was one of my all-time favorite albums. I liked his others well enough, but I’d listened to that one the most. Even though I could take him or leave him as an individual, as a musician I really appreciated his songs. I most often found myself relating to “My Stupid Mouth” for obvious reasons, but after my latest run in with Mark Moses, I found myself gravitating more toward the song “Not Myself.”
After waking up from my nap on Friday evening because of a nightmare induced panic attack, where I was stuck in a small black space and unable to move or breathe, I laid in bed and listened to “Not Myself” on repeat until Luke banged on my door.
“Turn that pansy shit off, would you?” he demanded. “I think I can feel my balls shriveling up a little more every time that stupid song starts over.”
I forced myself out of bed to turn off the music. Because I’d slept through dinner, I was hungry, but I didn’t feel like socializing. My hands and head hurt, but, more than either of those, my heart ached. I didn’t understand why Mark Moses had singled me out or how he could do such a horrible thing.
Sure, I’d dared to defy him, which I’d promised myself never to do again, but what had I really said that was so worthy of the “lesson” he decided to teach me? I didn’t think there was anything I could have said that justified being shoved into a locker. As hurt as I was, I was also angry. I’d never been so livid before in my life. I hated that Mark Moses, in one afternoon, had managed take my normally positive disposition and make me feel so absolutely hopeless. His strength and anger were so intimidating, and the result of standing up to him had been so humiliating and frightening; as much as I wanted to, I just couldn’t find the bright side I needed to make myself feel less helpless.
My knotted stomach continued to voice its hunger. Realizing that depriving myself of food wouldn’t help matters, I tiptoed down to the kitchen and made myself a sandwich. I only managed to swallow half of it. My throat still felt raw from all the sobbing, so I tossed the sandwich in the garbage and downed a bottle of water before I went back to my room where I fell back into a restless sleep.
The hot sun, shining across my face and lighting up my bedroom, woke me the next morning. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and rolled over to my side. I groaned and pushed my messy hair away from my face. My night had been filled with visions of cold, tight, dark spaces and Mark Moses’ face. I didn’t know how many times I woke up during the night with those thoughts still in my head.
The only relief I felt after my restless night of sleep and the sun shining in my face came from the fact that it was Saturday morning. That meant no school, which also meant no Mark Moses. No stolen lunch money. No lockers. I was safe. For today, anyway.
Saturday also meant I had plans. I would be out with Tegan, and I’d get to see Jackson. Everything would be okay. It would be a fun filled Mark-Moses-free evening. At least that was what I told myself to get myself moving. The trauma from Friday had curbed my previous exhilaration. I just figured it would take a little while for me to work back to that level of excitement.
My day started off okay. It took me a few minutes to shake off the twitchiness from a night full of bad dreams. After a glance at the clock, I realized it was later than I thought. My stomach was mutinous with hunger. Last night’s meager dinner apparently hadn’t been satisfactory, so after a trip to the bathroom to relieve my bladder, brush my teeth and attempt to tame the beast that was my hair, I went downstairs and popped a pepperoni pizza Hot Pocket into the microwave.
Mom was in the utility room doing laundry, and she stuck her head around the corner to ask, “How are you feeling today?”
Last night I’d told her I was just tired and didn’t feel like eating when she came up to my room to tell me dinner was ready. She hadn’t acted like she believed me. Most of the puffiness around my eyes from crying had faded by then, but she stuck around for a few minutes to feel my forehead for a temperature and asked me if anything was wrong.
I knew I should have told her then about what happened at school, but I didn’t feel like talking about it. I’d only managed to stop crying earlier because I fell asleep, and I didn’t want to soak my pillows with more tears. More than that, though, I just felt so stupid. Mark Moses was wrong, and he had no right, but my shame and fear seemed to overpower my indignation.
Instead of confiding in Mom, I’d claimed I was tired. It was when she finally left me that I started listening to “Not Myself” on repeat.
By the light of morning, I felt guilty about lying to Mom—even if it was, technically, just a lie of omission, but I still didn’t feel like talking about it, so I said, “I’m feeling better. The sleep helped.”
Mom eyed me as I poured myself a glass of water and checked the time left on the microwave. She looked like she wanted to press the issue, so I changed the subject.
“If it’s okay with you, I made plans to go bowling with a group of friends tonight,” I said. “And Tegan invited me to stay over after.”
“That sounds all right with me,” Mom agreed. I was somewhat surprised she didn’t ask her typical question: are you sure it’s okay with the Tylers if you say over? She also didn’t tell me to “check with your father first,” either. I was thankful on both accounts, though, because I just wanted to take my Hot Pocket and escape to my room. I figured I’d lie around until it was time to get ready to go out.
Up in my room, I ate my lunch while I checked my e-mail. As usual, it was all junk. I checked MySpace, but there wasn’t anything new or interesting in the bulletins. As I was closing out the Firefox window and about to sign off of AIM, which I had set to automatically connect when my computer started up after I started talking to Jackson, I got an instant message. I smiled when I saw the screen name.
jackyourhart: Hello, Silly.
thesil
lywallflower: Hey, Jackson. What’s up?
jackyourhart: Not much. Just woke up.
thesillywallflower: Late night?
jackyourhart: Yeah, you could say that. I went out with some friends. What about you?
thesillywallflower: What about me?
jackyourhart: What are you up to?
thesillywallflower: I just ate lunch and was checking my e-mail. Nothing too exciting.
jackyourhart: It sounds like you’ve done more than my lazy ass has.
thesillywallflower: Not really, but if that’s what you want to think, that’s okay.
jackyourhart: So, are you excited about bowling tonight?
thesillywallflower: Yeah, I guess so. I haven’t been bowling for a long time. I’ll probably get my ass kicked.
jackyourhart: Not if you’re on my team. I’m a master bowler. I’ve got mad skills. Everyone should bow down before me.
thesillywallflower: Yeah, right. I hope you’ll excuse me if I don’t do any bowing to your greatness tonight.
jackyourhart: We’ll just see what you have to say after I lead us to victory.
thesillywallflower: Yeah, yeah.
jackyourhart: So I guess I better find some lunch. My stomach is growling something fierce, but I’ll see you tonight. At 8, right?
thesillywallflower: Yep.
jackyourhart: Do you need a ride or anything?
thesillywallflower: I think I’m riding with Tegan and her sister.
jackyourhart: Okay, sweet. I’ll talk to you later.
thesillywallflower: Yep, see ya.
After Jackson signed out, I put up an away message and stood up. Talking to Jackson brightened my mood immensely even though it wasn’t a long conversation that amounted to much. I was anxious to see him tonight. He always managed to make me laugh. He just had a very approachable and calming personality. If I didn’t have a gigantic crush on him, I probably would have felt completely at ease around him instead of feeling slightly spastic at the start of our face-to-face conversations.
I considered leaving him a message on MySpace saying I needed a ride after all just so I could ride with him and get to hang out with him alone for a few minutes, but I couldn’t think of a good enough reason to do that. Tegan and Tierney lived closer than he did, as far as I knew, so I decided I’d just have to wait to see him.
I returned my dirty dishes to the kitchen. For one lazy moment, I considered just putting them in the sink after I saw that that the dishwasher needed to be unloaded, but it wasn’t like I had anything better to do with my time. Once the clean dishes were put away and my dirty ones were in the washer, ready to be washed with the next full load of dishes, I went back up to my room.
I’d finished The Client on Thursday, so I decided to reread Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson. It had been a while since I’d read it, and I was feeling a bit like a wronged outcast, much like Melinda Sordino, so I thought it seemed like a good choice.
I spent the afternoon reading until I realized I should probably take a shower and put on some decent clothes. As comfortable as my pale yellow cotton pajama bottoms and thin black camisole were, I didn’t think they’d be considered appropriate bowling apparel. Not to mention, it wasn’t exactly warm and cozy outdoors.
Instead I chose to wear my new “worn and torn” dark wash jeans that Mom hadn’t exactly been thrilled over.
“It seems a bit ridiculous to buy jeans that are already worn out,” she complained.
“It takes the work out of getting them ready to wear,” I countered.
Mom had relented once I tried them on, though. They really were comfortable and fit like a dream. By some miracle, they actually made me look like I had a butt.
I also wore my new aquamarine tank top with a brown cotton hooded v-neck pullover over it. It felt soft and warm, and I would have got one in every color if Mom hadn’t limited me to just one. Tegan got a pink one, and we decided we’d trade whenever we wanted to wear a different color.
After my shower, I dressed and did my hair and make-up. I decided to brave eyeliner and managed to apply it without any disasters. My hair dried as flat as a pancake, as usual, so I just pulled it back into a ponytail. I went back into my room and took out my new black low-top Converse Chuck Taylor’s and started to lace them up. I hadn’t worn them yet because I’d been wearing my other new shoes—blue and white ADIDAS originals—since I got them. I hated breaking in new shoes, but I thought the chucks would be okay since I’d be changing into bowling shoes soon anyway.
As I was finishing with my shoes, Skylar let herself into the room. The only people around the house that seemed to know how to knock were Dad and Luke. Although I kind of thought that with them it was more out of not wanting to walk in on someone undressing than any actual respect for privacy. I was grateful either way.
Skylar and Mom didn’t seem to care. They’d just barge in whenever they felt like it. Sometimes I thought about just locking the door for the heck of it and seeing what would happen when they couldn’t get in. The mental image of Skylar slamming her face into the door when it didn’t open as she expected always brought a smile to my face.
“Tegan called while you were in the shower,” she said, leaning against my dresser.
“Am I supposed to call her back?”
“No, she was just calling to say they’d be by to pick you up at seven thirty, but I told her they didn’t need to.”
Frowning, I asked, “Why did you do that?”
“Because I’m going to drive you.”
Because Skylar hardly ever did anything out of the goodness of her heart, my guard immediately went up. “Why?” I asked cautiously.
She shrugged. “I’m going with you. Thought I’d save them from having to stop by.”
I stared at her with wide eyes for several beats. My heart seemed to drop into my stomach. I was beginning to wonder if my heart was ever allowed to just stay in my chest. It was in my head yesterday. My stomach today. Where would it end up tomorrow?
“Excuse me,” I said, shaking my head. I was convinced I’d misunderstood somehow. “You’re what?”
This time she smiled as she repeated, “I’m going with you.”
After the initial shock wore off, the confusion set in. “What do you mean you’re going?” I asked. “How do you even know where I’m going? And who invited you?”
“Yesterday in art class Jackson mentioned he was going bowling with you and some other people,” Skylar replied. “Since there’s a bunch of people going, I thought it was an open invitation.”
I stared at Skylar for at least a minute trying to process her words. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why she would want to go. She didn’t like bowling. She also didn’t want anyone to know I was her sister, yet she was going to go into the bowling alley with me. It simply didn’t add up.
“You’ll be seen out in public with me,” I commented.
“So?”
It was official. Aliens had abducted my sister and replaced her with a look alike. That was all I could come up with because Skylar would never hang out with me at her own free will. Then it hit me. Skylar would never hang out with me unless she had an ulterior motive.
During the ride to the bowling alley, I was on guard as I tried to figure out what Skylar’s angle was (and also annoyed as she puffed on her stinky cigarette), but it wasn’t until we were inside Suburban Lanes that her motives became blatantly obvious.
I spotted Tegan as soon as we stepped inside. Trying to ignore Skylar’s presence, I walked straight over to Tegan.
“Hey,” she greeted with a smile when she saw me, but then her brows furrowed at something she saw behind me. “What’s she doing here?”
Without looking, I knew she was talking about Skylar. “She invited herself along,” I replied, crossing my arms over my chest. I turned and looked over my shoulder, watching as Skylar talked with Tierney and Jesse and a few other people. “Have you seen Jackson?” I asked.
“Not here yet,” Tega
n replied. Then she motioned for me to follow her. “Come on. Let’s get our shoes.”
Disappointed that Jackson hadn’t arrived yet and annoyed with Skylar’s honing in on my evening, I sighed drearily but followed Tegan. Once we got our shoes and put them on, we went to join the others.
“Hey, Sil,” Tierney greeted as soon as she saw me. She gave me a hug, squeezing me extra hard, and I wondered if Tegan had told her about what happened yesterday. I couldn’t decide how I felt about that thought, but the hug was nice.
Then she introduced me to her boyfriend. “Silly, this is Jesse Millet,” she said. “And, Jess, this is Silly Granger.”
Obviously, I recognized Jesse from Tierney’s previous days (or years) of crushing on him, and I’d seen him picking Tierney up for a date at her house once, but we’d never been formally introduced until then.
“So you’re the one that puked on my mom’s plant,” Jesse laughed. His eyes, the color of coffee with just a hint of cream, glittered with amusement, but his smile was kind and his laughter was infectious.
“Oh, god,” I groaned, turning red. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s cool. No harm done,” Jesse said, holding up his hands as if to calm my embarrassment. “My mom hated that plant anyway.”
“Well, I guess that’s a relief,” I said, sheepishly, as Tegan nudged me in the side. She nodded her head behind me, and I turned to see that Jackson had just walked in through the double doors at the entrance. I stood up to wave to him, but Skylar beat me to it.
“Jackson! Over here,” she smiled and waved.
It was in that moment I hated Skylar and her perfect pearly white smile more than I ever had in the past. How did she keep her teeth so white anyway? I thought smoking turned them yellow.
Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1) Page 19