Into the Deep

by Samantha Young

  Settling back against Jake, I nodded. “It does seem like the boy went all out inviting everyone.”

  “Alex is cool,” Lois shrugged. “He’s not like Brett and the others, you know, picking and choosing who’s worthy enough to talk to.” This was said with a slight hint of bitterness and resentment, something I understood since Brett and his idiot friends ragged on Lois on a weekly basis. She was short and somewhat voluptuous and showcased her curves in vintage fifties clothing. Her dark hair was always styled like a pinup girl’s and she was never without bright red lipstick. I thought she was awesome, but some people just didn’t get that Lois had a style and didn’t care if you approved of it.

  I grunted. “Alex’s mom is going to freak if she comes home to find out about this party.”

  We stood chatting for a while, me with my back against Jake’s chest, his chin in my hair as we drank and relaxed with Deke and Lois. Deke was quiet but he was also smart and quick-witted and really fun to hang out with.

  It was only about an hour later when Lois’s phone rang. After watching Lois groan and whine for about five minutes in the corner, she finally got off the phone and grumbled that her mom had been called into work at the hospital and she needed Lois to return home to watch her younger brother. Deke was Lois’s ride, so to our disappointment, the two of them left.

  “They’re cool.” I turned around to face Jake once they were gone. “We should hang out with them more.”

  “Then we will.” He gave my waist a squeeze. “Want another beer?”

  “Sure.”

  Jake kissed my nose before taking my empty and disappearing back into the house. He wasn’t gone but a few minutes when a drunk Lacey wandered out onto the porch, clearly looking for me. I braced myself.

  “Charley,” she weaved a little as she approached. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m so, so sorry, Charley.” She tripped a little and I had to steady her. “I’ve been such a bitch.”

  I didn’t disagree.

  “I want to make it up to you. Will you let me?” She leaned in too close and I could smell the apple sours on her breath.

  “Lacey, how much have you had to drink?”

  She put her finger and thumb together and scrunched up her face. “Just a little.”

  “I’m thinking you’ve had more than just a little. Come on, let’s get you water.”

  Her tight grip on my wrist stunned me. “No,” she said vehemently, her smile wobbly. “Just stay and chat.”

  I narrowed my eyes on her as I peeled her fingers off me. “I think water would be better.”

  “No!” she cried, trying to pull on me again. “Stay.”

  Suddenly, the blood was rushing in my ears as my heart started to race. “What … are you stalling me?”

  At her wide, blinking eyes and guilty expression, a sense of disquiet drifted over me.

  Jake.

  “Fuck,” I breathed and pushed past her, shoving my way through bodies as I hurried toward the kitchen. The pounding in my chest only grew harder and faster when I saw a commotion around the French doors at the back of the kitchen. People were gawking outside, questioning what the hell was going on.

  I bulldozed them, ignoring the yelps and complaints as I forced my way through and outside. The porch wrapped around the entire house and I had to push past the people standing on it, drinking and staring excitedly down on the backyard. As soon as I got past them, I could see why. The Rosters’ backyard was split into three parts. At the bottom was a fountain and pond, reached by a pebbled pathway in the middle of landscaping. At the top, the porch steps led onto a wooden patio with a large family patio dining set on the right and a monster grill on the left. Standing near the grill, Jake had his back to me and swaying in front of him was Brett. Damien, Jackson, and a couple of their teammates stood behind Brett, and Alex was nowhere to be found. I could feel the hostility building between Brett and Jake from up on the steps.

  My gut churned with unease as I hurried down toward Jake. Brett’s eyes flicked to me, his lip curled in a sneer, and Jake looked over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing. “Charley, stay back,” he warned, holding a hand up to me.

  Something in his voice caught me and I stopped. Returning my gaze to Brett, I saw the light from the house glint off the object in his hand. “Brett, what are you doing?” I whispered, horrified.

  He had a large kitchen knife.

  “He’s not going to do anything, Charley, he’s just talking with your boy,” Damien assured me with an arrogant smirk.

  Brett laughed and stumbled with the movement.

  I edged a little closer to Jake whose whole body was tense, ready to move if Brett got it into his dumb head to actually use his weapon. “I think he’s a little too drunk to be handling a blade,” I snapped at Damien. “Take it off him.”

  “Don’t,” Brett waved the knife in my direction and Jake moved, blocking me from his view. “Don’t talk like I’m not fuckin’ here. Shurrup. This is between me and your boy.”

  “What the hell is going on?” Alex pounded down the porch steps behind me, two of the seniors at his back. He stopped abruptly at my side when he saw Brett was waving a knife, his cheeks paling. “Brett, what are you doing? You’re shitfaced. Give me the knife and stop being an idiot.”

  Brett’s already rosy cheeks darkened. “I’m the idjit?” He took a step toward Jake, concentrating so that he didn’t sway this time. “I’m not the one who let thish fucker take my girl. He … he and his family’sh not welcome. Need to know it.” He swung his arm at Jake and I lunged forward only to be hauled back by Alex.

  My heart was in my throat as Jake jerked to the left, narrowly missing the knife edge. He backed up a few paces, his hands help up in placation. “Come on, Brett, you’re wasted, man. You don’t want to do this. Put the knife down.” His words were calm, coaxing, but I could see the anger burning in his gaze.

  “Pfft.” Brett faltered again, his left arm spreading out for balance as his right one still pointed the kitchen knife at Jake. “You dessherve a cuttin’. Fucked nearly all the girlsh at thish party. Now you’re fuckin’ a prime piece like Charley. Not right. She ain’t yoursh. This town ain’t yoursh. Don’t want fuckin’ Caplinshes in our town. We’ll get you out.” He grinned, an uncontrolled leer. “Then I’ll get your girl on her back and show her how real men fuck.”

  Alex’s fingers bit into my arms at Brett’s crude taunt. The anger I felt brewing from him was unfortunately already at the boiling point for Jake. I shook my head, not wanting to distract him by speaking, but willing him to remain calm, to not let Brett rile him.

  Even in his drunken stupor, Brett caught the rage in Jake’s face. He laughed. “Yeah, that cut deep, knowing ash shoon ash you’re gone, I’m puttin’ my dick in that—”

  “Brett, shut the fuck up!” Alex shouted, pushing me behind him as he took a furious step toward his friend.

  “—and she’ll love every minute.” Brett ignored Alex and finished off by springing at Jake again, his right arm swinging upward as he tried to slash him from stomach to chest.

  I whimpered, every part of me desperate to stop him but knowing anything I did might make it worse.

  Jake slid back on the balls of his feet, dodging the cut, and then he moved too fast for a drunk Brett to compute. He tripped to the side away from Jake, shaking his head, and I watched the muscles bunch in his shoulders with anger as he stupidly and devoid of coordination swung around and ran at Jake. Jake sidestepped him again, making sure he was moving away from Damien and Brett’s other idiots.

  Brett couldn’t slow his momentum.

  He fell over his own feet, crashing awkwardly onto the patio floor, face planting against it.

  Everyone was silent as we waited tensely for his next move.

  But he didn’t move. Instead he elicited this strange, muffled whine.

  I knew the moment we all realized something was wrong. I felt the shift in the air, the breathl
ess waiting.

  “Brett,” Damien said, laughing hollowly, “come on, man, get up.” He strode over to him and bent down, gently pushing Brett over.

  People cried out behind me and I heard the guys cursing. Brett stared up at Damien, fear in his eyes, and then he dropped his gaze to the knife lodged in his ribs. “Get it out, man,” he cried hoarsely, tears in his voice, his trembling hands reaching for the blade.

  “No!” I shouted, rushing toward him. “Don’t let him pull it ou—”

  But it was too late.

  Brett yanked out the blade and blood soaked his shirt.

  I fell to my knees beside him, ripping off my light jacket and bundling it into a ball I pressed against his wound. He gave a pained grunt but I held it there, keeping pressure on it. Shaking, I shot a command at a pale, trembling Damien. “Call 911!”

  He didn’t move, frozen with shock.

  I glanced back over my shoulder at Alex who stared down at his friend in horrified disbelief. My eyes flicked to Jake whose hands were in his hair, desolation written all over him. “Jake, call 911!”

  He looked like he wanted to puke but he pulled himself together enough to take out his cell.

  “Char …”

  I turned back to look down at Brett, his terrified eyes on mine, tears sliding down his cheeks. Swallowing hard, I forced my voice to stay calm. “You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be fine.”

  Warmth touched my fingertips and my attention fell on my jacket. The blood was soaking through it, the bitter tang of copper making me breathless. His body began to shudder hard beneath my touch and he coughed, little flecks of blood spraying out from between his lips.

  “No,” I whispered, panicked adrenaline tightening my chest. Not only was he going into shock but I had the dire suspicion that he’d punctured a lung. “Guys, he’s going into shock.” Looking up at his friends I told them fiercely, “We can’t let him. We need to keep him warm. We need blankets. Give me your jackets now.”

  His friends fumbled with their clothes as Jake murmured that the ambulance was on its way.

  I heard Alex tell me he’d find blankets. I heard crying and gasps and questions and fear and horror settle in behind me. I ignored it, bowing my head toward Brett, feeling helpless as he shuddered and choked, his eyes begging for help.

  The guys tucked their jackets around Brett and Jackson pulled off his T-shirt and handed it to me. I balled it up and quickly replaced my soaked jacket.

  Although it tore me up inside to meet Brett’s gaze, I had to. He pleaded with me. Pleaded.

  “We’ll get you taken care of Brett. Okay, we’ll get you fixed up.” On my peripheral I saw Damien tuck his jacket around Brett’s sides. “Yeah,” I whispered numbly. “Keep him warm.”

  Suddenly Brett’s choked sounds drew quieter to a wheeze. Then to a stutter.

  “No,” I shook my head, applying more pressure, “Brett, stay with me. The ambulance is almost here, buddy.”

  His eyes were wide as they stared into mine and I knew that no matter what I said, he just couldn’t hold on. The shuddering faltered …

  His body relaxed.

  His breath … stopped.

  The panic was gone from his eyes.

  In its place was nothing.

  “I’ve got the blankets!” Alex shouted, his footsteps smacking against the wood as he hurried toward us.

  I fell back on my heels, my blood-soaked hands unsteady. I felt like I was in a nightmare. The darkness pressed down on me as I turned to look up at Alex.

  His mouth fell open at my expression, his eyes darting to his friend, before coming back to me, questioning me through a shimmer of tears.

  I shook my head, the tears blurring my vision. “He’s gone.”

  “Will you tell him I’m asking for him?”

  Mrs. C. nodded at me, her expression sympathetic. “I will, Charley.”

  Feeling as though I was wading through water thick with mud, I walked back to my car. For a moment I stared up at the Caplin house, hoping that the front door would open and Jake would come out before I pulled away.

  The engine of the car purred to life.

  No Jake.

  My reverse lights came on.

  Still no Jake.

  The car backed up onto the street.

  Not even a twitch of a curtain.

  Feeling sick, I pulled away, noting the police car sitting just around the corner. Was that for the Caplins? Worry bit at me the entire drive home, and when I eventually pulled my mom’s car into the drive, I couldn’t remember how I got there.

  Two nights ago, on an ordinary Friday night, at an ordinary high school party, Brett Thomas lost his life. My classmate. A sixteen-year-old kid. He bled out under my hands from a self-inflicted knife wound that punctured his lung. He might have survived long enough for the ambulance to make it if his body hadn’t gone into shock.

  I wanted to blame someone. I wanted to blame Brett for being a complete moron, or his dad for raising a complete moron and then encouraging him to be the king of morons. But there was too much blame already flying around, and since my boyfriend was a target of that blame, I was kind of sick of the whole verb.

  The wee hours of Saturday morning were a blur. We all existed in a fog of unreality as those of us who witnessed the attack were taken to the police station. To my surprise, Amanda Reyes had been there to witness it all. I hadn’t even noticed her. Thank God she was, though. She was one of only a handful of extremely credible witnesses since there were only a handful of sober kids at that party. Good thing too she was on Jake’s side.

  Damien and Jackson heaped all fault on Jake, maintaining that Jake hit Brett and he went down on the knife. Alex, Amanda, the seniors, and I told the truth, and when Sheriff Muir asked Damien and Jackson to repeat their witness accounts, they admitted that in the end, Brett tripped over his feet. Still, they irrationally maintained that Jake was responsible.

  Jake was detained longer than any of us, but from our witness accounts and those of the students on the porch, along with the results of Brett’s blood alcohol level, word reached me on Sunday that Sheriff Muir wasn’t pressing charges, and that the case was more than likely going to be closed as an accidental death.

  Trenton Thomas had been loaded ever since Saturday, telling anyone who would listen that it was all the Caplins’ fault. It didn’t help that Trenton’s own brother-in-law advised the likelihood of prosecution was minimal because of the lack of evidence against Jake. Now that Muir was near to closing the case and no one had been arrested (i.e., Jake), I knew the sheriff and his deputies were on alert for Trenton’s reaction. That’s why they had a car outside Jake’s home.

  I looked down at my hands on the steering wheel and an image of them bloody flashed before me. Clenching them around the wheel, I drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

  My dad was waiting for me as soon as I walked inside. “How is he?” he asked, his face pinched with concern.

  I shook my head. “He won’t see me.”

  In the aftermath, Jake had frozen me out. He wouldn’t talk at the station, which I put down to shock, but that Saturday afternoon my calls and texts went unanswered. I’d tried calling his house but his dad said Jake was sleeping. Finally, going out of my mind with worry for him, I decided to pay him visit.

  Mrs. C. wouldn’t let me in the door. Jake wasn’t up to a visitor.

  A visitor? I wasn’t a freaking visitor!

  But nope. He didn’t want to see me.

  Patience. I just needed to be patient. What had happened to Jake, the position he’d been put in, was absolutely awful, and I knew Jake. I knew that right now, he was in his room blaming himself for what happened. That thought caused a splinter in my chest, and all I wanted was to go to him and make sure he knew that no one else believed that.

  Of course, with the exception of Trenton Thomas, but that guy was an asshole.

  An asshole who’d lost his son.

  I slumped, shaking my head. No one,
not even an asshole like Thomas, deserved to go through that kind of pain.

  Whatever my dad saw in my eyes, it had him hurrying across the room to pull me into a tight hug. I held onto him, shaking but forcing myself not to break down. My mom stood in the kitchen doorway, her sad, glittering eyes telling me she loved me and that it would all be okay.

  Pulling back from Dad, I sighed. “I should maybe go to bed.”

  “Your sister has been waiting on Skype for you. You want to talk to her?” Dad asked.

  I nodded, feeling a little crack appear in my armor. It sucked that Andie wasn’t here. It had been a long time since I really needed a hug from my big sister.

  The laptop was waiting for me in the dining room and I slid into the chair at the head of the table. After sending her an invite, her face popped up on screen.

  “Hey, Supergirl,” she greeted me sadly, “how are you?”

  I shrugged, holding it together.

  “Oh, sweetie,” Andie leaned closer, “do you need me to come home?”

  “No,” I shook my head. “Don’t ruin your trip. I’m fine. I’m just worried about Jake.”

  Andie grimaced. “Poor kid. He’s going through a lot.”

  “He won’t answer my calls, Andie. I haven’t spoken to him since Friday night. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Give him time. I imagine he’s in a pretty dark place right now. And don’t feel bad that he’s not letting you in. Sometimes people just need alone time. No matter how much you love someone, you can’t always be what they need in that moment.”

  Grasping onto that, I whispered, “You think?”

  “Yes, sweetie, I do.” Her brows puckered together as she searched my face. “Now what about you? How are you handling it? Mom told me you were there. That you tried to help Brett.”

  His eyes were imprinted on my brain.

  My lips trembled, this feeling building up from my chest, this pressure, a need to let it blow out like a massive gust of wind. “I felt so helpless,” my voice cracked on the last word, my eyes dropping. “He was so scared and he was just looking at me, silently pleading with me to do something.” The sobs burst forth, my shoulders shaking, my ribs rattling. “I can’t get it out of my head.”