Handcuffs

by Bethany Griffin

  “I’ll take Kyle and Marion home. Bye, Parker,” she says in a rush.

  “I’m going with you,” I tell her. There is no way she’s driving around with these freaks alone. No way. This is all so crazy, if I go with her, maybe we’ll both make it back to our house alive and everything.

  “There’s no reason—”

  “I want to know what’s going on here,” I tell her.

  “Nothing is going on.”

  “Then it won’t matter if I ride along with you.”

  I stay in the front seat because I don’t want my sister near Kyle. Even though he’s been pretty benign, being around the object of his obsession may not be the best thing for him.

  The Henessys live about ten minutes from our house. They moved into the nicer, newer subdivision before Kyle started hanging out in our tree. My parents took it as an enormous insult, because they had been sharing our backyard with the Henessys since before I was born, having cookouts and things like that.

  “You’d better make sure your alcoholic sister is sober enough to drive,” Marion hisses. The only other sound for nine and a half minutes is the hum of the Jeep’s tires skimming over the back roads as we drive through three interconnected subdivisions to reach the Henessys’ great big well-lighted house, where there is no for-sale sign anywhere in sight.

  “I didn’t know you knew where I lived,” Kyle says to my sister. For a stalker he’s awfully vulnerable.

  “I remember,” Paige says.

  “So do I,” Marion says. “You passed out in our living room.”

  “What’re you talking about?” I ask no one in particular and get no answer at all.

  Paige puts the Jeep in park. Kyle gets out, walks around, and opens the door for Marion, who practically falls out onto the sidewalk because she’s trying to keep her distance from Paige. Confident, bossy Marion is sure different when she gets away from her disciples at school. Of course, she used to completely worship Paige when we were little. Kyle doesn’t say goodnight or slobber on my sister after all. He stands in the driveway looking confused and lost for a minute, and then he follows Marion inside.

  Paige and I drive home in silence. I spend the whole trip trying to think how to ask her what the heck is going on, how to break the ice, and before I say anything we’re pulling past Kyle’s Explorer with its flat tire and into our garage.

  35

  Before I go to bed, I leave messages on Raye’s phone and on his. I wish I had just stayed at the party, but I don’t know. I really needed to get out of there, though I won’t be able to explain it to either of them. I know I won’t be able to make them understand.

  I draw an all-new house plan. Something smaller and without the ice-skating rink. I imagine an ice rink would make it expensive to heat in the winter, anyway. That guy Albert from the electric company would probably call and tell me off for wasting energy.

  When I’m done I pad down the hall and borrow my brother’s Crayola markers and start coloring my illuminated manuscript. It isn’t as beautiful as I wanted it to be, what with the bright primary colors, but it keeps me from screaming, or pulling out my hair, or stealing one of my parents’ vehicles and driving back to the party to see what’s going on. He could have at least called to check on me. I try not to ask myself why I am always hoping for him to call and then being let down.

  Saturday is uncommonly confusing because I don’t know whether to press my luck. Should I consider myself officially ungrounded or lie low for a while? I’m thinking that maybe Paige’s bizarre behavior will take the heat off me. That’s the way things have worked for the sixteen years up to this point.

  I slip downstairs to swipe something to eat and test the waters. Mom is on the phone, wandering around the kitchen.

  “So, Theresa, I would really appreciate it if you would get me some estimates for houses in Florida. Yes, Chris was offered the job he applied for on Tuesday, and I could always transfer. I think Florida would be great for Preston. With the beautiful weather he could spend so much time outside.” I was reaching for a Pop-Tart, but now my hand is frozen in midair. “Yes, I know it’ll be Parker’s senior year, but to be honest with you, we haven’t been that impressed by the education she’s getting at Allenville. And Chris and I would love to get her away from her boyfriend.” Mom turns and looks directly at me. She knows I’ve been listening.

  I take the Pop-Tart and head back to my room without a glass of milk. I figure I had better lie low for a very long time.

  Florida. I can’t even contemplate it. The fact that they would go to such extremes to ruin my life makes me want to ram my fist through something. What have I done all this work for, getting money from Kyle, if they’re just going to move us away from here?

  Mom calls me down less than an hour later. My sister is sitting on the couch, appearing sober, and talking to Dad. They want to take us all to Red Lobster. This kind of thing doesn’t happen much. What with my brother’s inability to sit still and my sister’s nonstop social life, we never went out even when my dad had a job and we could afford to. The last time I went to a restaurant with them was for the rehearsal dinner for Paige’s wedding.

  I wasn’t even supposed to be in the wedding. I’ve always had this secret desire to dress up and be a bridesmaid, but Paige didn’t want me. Not until one of her bridesmaids couldn’t make it home from college. So I got drafted to wear a too-big dress and carry a bunch of purple geraniums. It was the first time I ever tasted champagne, the first time I danced a slow dance on a dance floor, and the last time I danced a slow dance on a dance floor. For one thing, ice princesses simply do not dance, and for another, one of West’s best buds was looking down the front of the hideous purple dress that was too big for me, the imposter bridesmaid. I was wearing purple satin panties and a matching bra, but I wasn’t particularly interested in having some Neanderthal check out my underwear.

  “I have to have dinner with my family tonight,” I tell him on the phone. “At Red Lobster.” I just keep talking, like he cares. I couldn’t stand it, I had to call him, but I haven’t mentioned the party, or Kandace Freemont, or me leaving abruptly.

  “What time?” That’s a weird question. Is he pretending to be interested or something?

  “Supposed to be six, but Paige will be running late, so probably closer to seven. Why?”

  “We’ll be there.”

  “What? Who?”

  “Me and the folks, little brother. We’ll share some calamari and talk about where they want me to go to college. See you at seven.” He hangs up.

  That was weird. I call Raye. She shows no interest in taking her family to Red Lobster, but she has plenty to say about everything he and I did not discuss.

  “Why did you run out?” she asks.

  “I’m not cut out for the Allenville party scene,” I tell her. How else can I explain?

  “That’s a real surprise. You have to be an alcoholic slut to enjoy an Allenville party. That or an extrovert.”

  I laugh. “I don’t think I qualify as either.”

  “I changed my mind,” she says. “If you two break up, I totally want him.” Her voice is light—is she joking?

  “Too bad. You can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Universal rule of friendship.”

  “But you asked me last week if I would want him.”

  “And your answer was no.”

  “Now it’s yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I liked his style last night. Pushing Kandace away.”

  “Raye, he didn’t have any style. He was kind of a jerk. I left because he just walked away from me.” I’ve spent so much time beating myself up for walking out, for possibly messing things up again, that this is the first time I’ve let myself feel irritated with him. And just because I’m talking Raye out of wanting him, which I know is really just her teasing me. I remind myself that he gestured with his head, that he was waiting for me to join him, but somehow it wasn’t enough. And then t
here’s the thing with always waiting for him, always being on edge. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.

  “Yeah, I guess you’re not the only one who’s attracted to jerks. Ian is being a complete jerk too. He went and comforted Kandace Freemont, you know. Totally ignored me the rest of the night.” Her voice is low, bitter.

  “What, why?” God, poor Raye.

  “He said he felt so sorry for her, it was the least he could do.” I can’t tell if she’s sarcastic or sad or what. That’s what sucks about cell phones, you can’t always tell how the other person is feeling. “It’s all screwed up, isn’t it?” Raye sighs.

  I hate all this freaking drama so much.

  36

  Dinner at Red Lobster. I’m wearing a black skirt and a red sweater, more because he said he’d be there than because I care how I look at a seafood chain. Preston sits by me. I don’t know what’s up with his recent liking for me. He keeps asking me to draw things for him. It’s kind of flattering. I feel pretty fond of him right now too. Dad sits on his other side. Mom and Paige are across the table.

  “So what classes are you taking this semester, Paige?” Dad asks. Paige mumbles something about public speaking. What a joke. She straightened her hair and it’s silky and wispy. I wish I were cool enough that she would talk to me instead of rolling her eyes at me.

  I see him. I feel him. I hear him across the room. A hostess in a black vest is seating him and his family at a booth. He looks at me.

  “Parker, your father asked you a question,” Mom says.

  Dad repeats himself for me. “It’s okay, honey. I just wanted to know what your favorite class was this year.”

  “Advanced British lit,” I answer.

  “Oh yes, Shakespeare and Beowulf and all, right?”

  “I guess.”

  “I can spell salamander,” my brother says.

  “That’s a pretty long word for him,” Mom tells Dad.

  It turns out my brother has no idea how to spell salamander, and on that depressing note, the appetizers arrive. We spend ten minutes trading dipping sauces, and the waitress brings my brother a refill of what appears to be Coke but is really Diet Coke, and when he takes a big drink, because he doesn’t like Diet Coke, he spits it out all over the place.

  Mom mops him and the table off with a stack of napkins, and Dad fondly remembers the days when Red Lobster had cloth napkins rather than paper. The food comes.

  I see him stand up. A young waitress checks him out, but I don’t feel anything. He didn’t come here to Red Lobster to see her, did he? He stops and says something to her and she smiles. I’m sure it was nothing.

  I excuse myself, though I have a bad feeling that all my fried shrimp will be gone when I return. That’s one of the hazards of sitting by Preston.

  I slide into an alcove beside him. There are tons of people waiting for tables, but somehow there is just enough space for me to press myself next to him.

  “Oh, Prescott, you have made my parents so happy.”

  “They like the family dinner thing?”

  “They lap it up.”

  I could lap you up, I think. Oh my God, where did that come from? I can feel my face getting hot.

  “Good, I’m glad they’re happy.” I think about my parents fumbling for something to say, about his parents jumping to spend an hour with him. It all makes me a little depressed.

  I start to ask him what he said to the waitress, what was so funny, but I don’t.

  He kisses me. I know there’s a family with two young kids and an elderly couple with a full view, but there is nothing in me, no part of me, that cares at all. In fact, I wouldn’t mind if the entire staff of Red Lobster were watching. My heart beats faster as I realize people probably are watching, rolling their eyes or whatever. I’m not completely comfortable with this after all.

  “I’ll have to get back soon.” We come up for air, and I open my eyes.

  “I know.” He nuzzles my neck a little. I have about a million worries about where this is going and where he’s been, but right now all I can think about is that after everything he still likes me. He wants to be with me. He brought his family to Red Lobster and here we are.

  “About the party,” I say.

  “I know, Park, I should’ve taken you home.”

  “I wanted to tell you why . . . ,” I begin, even though I don’t know why I left, exactly.

  “Well, well, well.” All of a sudden Paige is standing right over us. “What’s he doing here?” she asks.

  “Eating dinner,” he says. The look he gives my sister is not friendly. She doesn’t notice, maybe because the lighting isn’t so good in Red Lobster. Maybe because she doesn’t care.

  “Mom sent me to see if you were sick or climbing out the window. Wait until she hears you were making out with him in the waiting area.”

  “You would tell on me?”

  “You know what, Princess Parker? I’ve hit rock bottom. I have nothing better to do than tattle on you and Preston.” She gives a little smile, and I don’t know if she’s joking or not. The rock bottom part sounds about right.

  “I hate you,” I tell her. I turn back to him. “I hate her.” He nods as if this is reasonable.

  “I guess you’d better go, I don’t want you to get grounded again.” Feeling insanely happy that he cares if I am grounded again, I give him a quick hug and follow Paige back to the table. I don’t know why she has to act like such a bitch. It isn’t like I ever really told on her.

  “Parker, have you done something new with your hair?” my dad asks.

  “No.” There is an awkward silence. Really, I haven’t done anything different. Haven’t even changed the part or anything.

  “You look different. I don’t know what it is.”

  I’ve lost my virginity, Daddy. That’s the difference.

  Why does that pop into my head? What is the matter with me? I glance over at Paige. She raises her water glass at me in a mock salute. Is she going to tell on me or what? The lemon wedge falls off of her glass and she stares at it like she isn’t quite sure where it came from. I don’t think she’s going to say anything, and I feel very relieved. The absence of extra drama will always be a relief, for me.

  My brother is trying to color his coloring placemat with a piece of shrimp. Mom watches him for a minute, then sighs and asks for the check. It doesn’t add much in the way of color (the shrimp), but it does give the ocean-view picture a nice glossy sheen.

  Dad hands the waitress a credit card. I hold my breath. What if it gets declined? What if it’s declined and we don’t have any way to pay?

  She brings back the credit card slip and Dad signs it. When he thinks no one is looking he slides the pen into his pocket.

  “I guess it’s time to hit the road,” Dad says. He stands up. Mom fumbles for her purse under the table. Getting five people out of a restaurant can be a ridiculously slow process. As we walk past his table I stare at him but try not to show recognition. His mom looks up and sees me and gives a little half wave. I smile at her and follow my sister out the double doors to the parking lot.

  We pile into the Jeep and head home. I stare out the window and remember when I was little and going out to dinner was the highlight of my week. I thought it was so fun to sit between my brother in his high chair and Paige and order grilled cheese or chicken fingers and share a dessert with them. Things have changed and it makes me sad.

  My parents go into the kitchen to make after-dinner drinks, exclaiming about how expensive the drinks are at Red Lobster. When did they go from making me feel safe and secure to making me feel so sad and worried?

  I leave my parents, and their silly drinks, downstairs and go to my room to call Raye. When she picks up it sounds like she’s been crying. I knew after what she told me that she was most likely staying home tonight.

  “I broke up with Ian, again.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I just got tired of his not being in love with me.”

  “Wha
t about prom?” I know I often castigate prom, have even been known to call it the most overhyped night of a girl’s life, but Raye seemed really excited about going. She already picked out a strappy little black dress and matching four-inch heels. It was a hot ensemble, not foofy or frilly or sequiny in the least.

  I go to the computer and click over to the stupid Social Siren. There’s a little sign that says under construction. Interesting. Marion must be too screwed up worrying about her brother to spew any venom, even about her so-called intervention for Kandace Freemont. I’ve got nothing in my anonymous account from Kyle H. I wasn’t expecting anything, but I checked just in case. It’s kind of a relief to see an empty in-box. I feel pretty vile. I can’t even think how I’m ever going to repay him.

  “Parker?” Raye’s voice is quiet. For a second I got so distracted that I forgot I’m still on the phone with her.

  “Raye, will you come over and spend the night?” I ask, needing to make things better.

  “Do you have any chocolate chip cookies?”

  “No.”

  Loud sigh. “Okay, Parker, I’ll stop and get some on the way.”

  37

  It seems like hours before she arrives, and I’m lying on my bed trying not to get sleepy. The aftermath of too much family time, I guess.

  Raye picked up the kind of cookies you have to bake, so we head down to the kitchen. With the smell of baking and the warmth and the softness of the recessed lighting, our kitchen is probably the most comforting place on earth. I can’t imagine some other family sitting here happily. Of course, I can’t really picture my family sitting here happily either. Not anymore.

  Paige comes in and sits down at the table. House rules state that I can’t make her go away. Rules established by yours truly, when Paige and her high school friends thought they owned this kitchen, and the living room, and the den, and the telephone, and the big-screen TV, and the computer. We only had one computer back then, if you can imagine.