Forget school. I’m not going back there today. Screw Harrison Boyd. Screw Noah Diaz. And screw Anthony Vincent for watching on in silence. I know I can knock on Mrs. Delaney’s door and tell her what just went down, but I’m already dealing with enough as it is, and I just want to get out of here. I’m shaking now, but I tell myself it’s because of the cold.
I head away from school as fast as I can, past the elementary and middle school next door, past the fire station and the churches. I don’t realize where my steps are taking me until I arrive at the cemetery gates.
I pick up speed again, pushing through the gates as I desperately try to remember where to go. It’s been months since I last visited. The headstones are all dusted with snow, some of their engravings hidden completely, and I become frantic but also furious at myself for taking so long to find it. I come to an abrupt stop, take a deep breath, then look around again. Everything appears so different when it’s covered in a white sheet of snow. I move slowly, taking the time to check each headstone, until finally I find the one I am looking for.
With a gloved hand, I wipe away the snow from the headstone to reveal the engraving beneath.
DEBRA MURPHY
SEPTEMBER 5TH, 1979 – AUGUST 18TH, 2016
A BELOVED WIFE, MOTHER, DAUGHTER, AND SISTER
DEEPLY LOVED AND SORELY MISSED
I drop to my knees in the snow. The tears break free before I can stop them, streaming down my cold, rosy cheeks. My chapped lips tremble and my chest rises and falls with each sob that escapes my throat.
“I’m sorry,” I weep, my voice a whisper. “Mom, I’m so sorry.”
I think of all the mistakes I’ve made in the two years that I’ve been forced to live without a mother to guide me. All the cries for attention from Dad, all the distractions, all the pretending to be someone I’m not. I don’t know who I am. I’ve drank too much beer, I’ve skipped classes too many times, I’ve said and done too many things I regret. I look up at the cloudy sky through my blurred vision and imagine Mom watching over me. How disappointed would she be now? I’m not the daughter she raised.
Mom raised me to be a good person. To look out for people, to always smile, to do my best. And I tried. I really did, but this is hard. Dad barely remembers that I exist, too consumed by his own grief to realize he still has two daughters who need a parent. I let Harrison film that stupid video and now it’s out there in the world, following me wherever I go. I even kissed Kai last night, a boy who did not want to kiss me, because I have no idea what I’m doing anymore.
I hear the crunching of footsteps in the snow behind me, then a body sits down next to me. I glance sideways, entirely numb, and stare blankly at Kai. It’s so cold my tears feel frozen against my cheeks. Kai is staring straight ahead at the headstone, his knees pulled up to his chest. His gaze shifts to meet mine.
“Your grandma?” he asks gently.
My heart seizes and I look down at my lap, blinking back a fresh batch of tears that are brimming. He obviously hasn’t processed the dates fully – it can’t possibly be my grandmother – so I’m forced to correct him. To say it out loud. “My mom,” I croak. “Brain aneurysm.”
“Oh,” Kai says. I can hear the surprise in his voice, no doubt taken aback. Just the other night I told him my mom was at work. He looks back at the gravestone.
A guttural sob rises in my throat. I even lied about Mom. I denied my mom her own truth. I’m the worst daughter in the world. I press my hands to my face, muffling my cries with my gloves. I’m shuddering uncontrollably, but it’s long overdue. I always like to tell myself I’m strong, I’m someone who keeps her head up and just keeps on moving forward, but every once in a while, I lose it. I guess it reminds me that I’m human.
I drop my hands and look at Kai again. “What are you doing here?” I ask through my tears, sniffing. I thought I was alone. Just me, Mom, and the snow. I feel so vulnerable right now, so bare and exposed, more so than I did on Monday when that video was being watched by everyone. I’m stripped bare in a totally different way.
“Couldn’t bike to school in this weather, so I had to walk, which made me late,” Kai says quietly, though I notice the soft way his eyes are taking in my expression, trying to understand the pain in my eyes. “I got to school just as you were leaving. You looked upset. I’m sorry, but I had to follow you. What happened?”
I wipe away my tears and shake my head. “Just Harrison and Noah. They were trying to scare me. It was nothing,” I lie, playing it down. Being assaulted and harassed inside a janitor’s closet feels like a new low for me, but I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to get Kai involved.
He looks skeptical. “Nothing, but yet you’re in tears?”
“I’m not crying because of that,” I mumble, which is partly the truth. I’m crying because of everything. It feels like I’ve made too many mistakes. Nothing seems to be going in the right direction, but I’m pretty sure I’m the one to blame. It’s like I can’t drag myself off this train of self-destruction. “I’m just having a rough morning, okay?”
To my surprise, Kai inches closer to me so that our bodies touch. He slides a bare hand into my gloved one. I stare down at our interlocked hands, both of us silent as the breeze whips around us. It’s such a small gesture, Kai’s hand in mine, but it feels so warm and intimate. It lifts the weight off my chest.
“Okay, well, I’m here. Why don’t you tell me about her? Your mom.”
I force my gaze up to look at him through eyes full of tears, and I realize then that no one has ever asked me to talk about my mom before. Most people probably want to think I’ve moved on. I keep my head up in the hallways at school with a smile plastered across my face. I show up to parties and football games and am often the center of attention. I’m happy, right? Except, no, I’m not. Not really. I fake it, so no one ever asks how I’m doing, or if I’m okay, or if I want to talk.
“We lost her two years ago . . .” My voice hitches and I inhale a fresh breath of air, staring back at her gravestone in front of us. “Completely out of nowhere. It was like the ground disappeared from under my feet. Mom was like the backbone of our family, and without her . . . we haven’t been doing too great.”
I look down at my hand in Kai’s again, and he is massaging soft circles against the back of my hand with his thumb, never taking his eyes off me. I can feel him watching me, even though I can’t bring myself to glance over at him. He is listening carefully and giving me all the time I need to get my words in order. I’m grateful, because I’ve never really spoken these thoughts out loud. Never really admitted the truth to anyone.
“My dad . . . my dad . . .” I stutter. “He’s not the same anymore. I don’t even know who he is lately, and he’s drowning so deep in his own grief that he doesn’t care about my sister and me. It’s like when mom died, a big part of him died too.”
“You miss them, huh?” he asks, and it catches me off guard that he asks if I miss them, and not just her.
His words hit home at full force, because it’s true – I don’t just miss my mom, I miss my dad too. I miss my dad, which sounds insane when I see him every day. I pass him every morning in the kitchen while we silently navigate around one another, and I see him smoking in the armchair in the living room every evening, and I watch him slip further away from me with every day that passes, but I miss feeling safe. I miss feeling cared for and I miss feeling loved. That awful day two years ago, I lost both of my parents.
I nod in response to Kai and squeeze my eyes shut again as a new batch of tears wells up. I choke a little as I try to suppress my sobs, but then I let go and allow myself to feel the way that I do. I let myself cry and I don’t care that Kai can see me; I don’t care that he knows I’m not as strong as I make myself out to be.
Kai hooks an arm around my shoulders and pulls me in close. I collapse against his chest, burying my face into his coat while he rests his chin softly on my head. I can feel the warmth of his breath as he holds me tight, secur
ing me in his embrace like a safety blanket. He holds me for a long time until I’ve wept two years’ worth of tears.
“You’re a nice guy, Kai,” I murmur with a small smile as, at last, I dab at my eyes and sit up. “Do you know that?”
Kai’s face brightens. “This is my better side,” he admits with a breath of laughter. He gives my hand a squeeze and playfully nudges my shoulder. “And since we’re both skipping school right now anyway, there’s no point in going back there. Hot chocolate on me?”
15
Kai and I grab an Uber to downtown Columbus. It’s totally random. We should be at school, but I’m happy to roll with Kai’s reasoning – we’ve already missed first period, so there’s no point going back. I don’t want to go back anyway. I want to get as far away from Westerville North and Harrison Boyd as I possibly can, with or without Kai. But having him accompany me is a definite bonus.
We climb out of the Uber twenty minutes later, out into the cold city streets of Columbus alongside the riverfront. There’s something about the city that’s so refreshing, like it’s less suffocating than the suburbs, even though it’s way more crowded. Maybe it’s knowing that all these people around me have no idea who I am. None of them know that there’s a video out there of me. The city feels more freeing that way – I’m anonymous and invisible. No one can judge me.
“So,” Kai says as we slide into a booth by the window of a café just across from the river. It’s so warm inside that the glass in the windows is fogged up with condensation, blurring the passersby on the sidewalk outside. “Do you come downtown a lot?”
I shake my head as I pull off my hat and remove my gloves. My cheeks sting from the cold, like my earlier tears have frozen into my skin. “Only sometimes with Chyna,” I say with a shrug. “Do you?”
“Nope,” Kai says. He looks out the window, watching the figures outside. The café is bustling with people, but we’re both resigned to silence. We’re usually so playful around one another, but today there’s no room for joking. We’re both somber.
Our waitress approaches and we order two large hot chocolates, topped with marshmallows and whipped cream. They arrive a few minutes later and we both wrap our hands around the steaming hot mugs. We haven’t fully defrosted yet.
“Vanessa,” Kai says as he scoops up a mouthful of cream with a spoon. He looks across the booth at me, his gaze capturing mine, and shoves the cream into his mouth. “Do you want to tell me what happened this morning? With Harrison? He threatened you – how?”
I should have known Kai wouldn’t believe me when I told him it was nothing. I look down at my hot chocolate, trying to waste some time, hoping Kai will change the subject if I stay silent for long enough, but he just stays quiet, waiting.
“He told me to stop messing around with him or I’ll regret it,” I say finally, not looking up. My voice doesn’t sound like my own. “He got aggressive. He put his hands on me.”
Kai sits bolt upright and lowers his spoon. “What?”
“It’s fine,” I say quickly. “I guess I deserved it. We have been screwing around with him. He’s bound to get pissed at me.”
“No,” Kai objects, shaking his head fast. “You don’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve for that video to be sent out, and you don’t deserve to be threatened, or touched. Harrison is the one who deserves everything he’s getting.”
I sit forward in the booth and hunch over my mug, touching the cream with the tip of my finger. I can’t look Kai in the eye right now. I still feel a little shaken up, but I also feel . . . angry. The right thing to do would be to stop all of this now before we make it any worse, before we really push Harrison to the edge . . . but I also want to mess with him more than ever. It’s a mental battle, and I find myself leaning toward taking the side I know is wrong.
I look up at Kai. “Are we still breaking into his house tonight?”
A touch of weariness runs over Kai’s face. “Maybe we should stop, Nessie,” he says hesitantly. “Sure, it’s fun messing with Harrison, but not if it means he’s going to retaliate. Remember he doesn’t know I’m involved. He thinks this is all you, and I don’t want you to end up getting hurt because of an idea I suggested.”
I narrow my eyes at him. It’s the first time I’ve actually heard Kai be sensible in regards to our whole revenge plot. It makes him look older, wiser. “I can handle Harrison,” I tell him, though I’m not sure I believe my own reassurances.
“Are you forgetting that I witnessed you literally fleeing from school an hour ago?”
I lift my mug, taking a long sip of my hot chocolate. I wipe the cream from my mouth. “Can I ask you about Sierra?” I say, changing the subject, sparing my own blushes. I know Kai probably doesn’t want to talk about it, but I’ve been thinking about him and her since yesterday.
Kai shrugs and sits back in the booth, playing with his hands in his lap; it’s clear he’s uncomfortable. I know this isn’t an easy topic for him to discuss. “What do you want to know?”
I pause. It’s not an easy question for me either. “Did you love her?”
I stare at him, watching him intently. He looks pained and I wish I hadn’t brought her up, but it’s too late now. “Honestly? Yeah. I gave everything to that girl. Like, I really had this vision of us being together for real. High school sweethearts, you know? She just made me happy, I guess.” He smiles a little as his eyes bore into the table, but his entire expression looks heartbroken.
I had no idea that Kai and I were such polar opposites – he believes in happily-ever-afters, whereas I doubt they even exist. “It was that serious, huh?”
“It was for me, but I was so caught up in it all that I didn’t even realize she wasn’t as into the relationship as I was, and in the end she totally played me.” He lifts his head, clenching his jaw as he stares out the window. There’s probably a thousand different thoughts floating around his head right now . . . and I’m about to invade them with some more questions.
“So why aren’t you screwing with her?”
He turns slowly to look at me, his expression solemn. “Because I’ve already told her everything I needed to. She knows how I feel about her now, and there’s nothing more that either of us can say. Harrison, however . . .” His words taper off. “He did a damn fine job convincing my girlfriend that the grass was a million times greener on his side of the fence.”
I smile delicately at him over the rim of my mug, but not for long, because soon a devious grin toys at my lips. “Well, that’s why we’re going to break into his house tonight. So that you can let Harrison know exactly how you feel. Are you in?”
“I’m in,” Kai says, and he clinks his mug against mine.
16
We stand behind the oak tree outside Harrison’s house, the same one we hid behind on Monday evening. It’s now Thursday and it’s four minutes to midnight. We’re wrapped up in thick coats and hats to battle the elements, and I’m constantly rubbing my hands together to create warmth. It’s been a freezing journey over here, biking across Westerville on the slushy roads, and we dumped the bikes five minutes down the street. We’ve walked the rest of the way, and my limbs feel like ice.
“First we should try every door and window around the back,” Kai says, studying the house, deciding our best course of action. He peers around the trees, tapping his finger against his lips.
“Or we can just try the basement window,” I say. Kai looks over his shoulder at me, raising an expectant eyebrow. “It’s always left unlocked. It’s how Harrison used to sneak me in.”
“The basement?”
“What? You think Harrison let me use the front door?” I laugh bitterly and gently push past him, taking the lead.
It’s late, so although every car is in the driveway and it’s clear the Boyds are home, the house is also in darkness. There’s not a single light left on except for the porch light. I don’t know what Kai and I are hoping to find, except perhaps Harrison asleep in his room, but we’ve decided not to steal
anything. At least not tonight. We’re hoping to creep Harrison out instead. It’s not about taking something of his – it’s about letting him know that if we want to, we can. We’ll move some furniture around. Rearrange some family photographs. Anything that makes it clear someone was sneaking around the house.
“It’s now or never,” I say, and I sprint off across the lawn, tracing a path from the tree to the driveway, using the cars as a shield. Harrison’s truck is missing three of its wheels – it’s jacked up, lopsided and forlorn, and Kai snickers under his breath as we pass it.
The basement window is just around the side of the house. I lead the way, sticking close to the wall of the house, like a true secret agent. Harrison never wanted his parents to know about me, so I would sneak around the house exactly like I’m doing now, then climb in through the basement window where he would be waiting for me on the other side.
“That? ” Kai asks indignantly when we reach the window. “That tiny little thing?”
The window does seem smaller somehow, but perhaps it’s because we seem bigger when we’re wrapped up in so many layers of clothing. I cock my head at the window – it’s about an inch above the ground, and maybe three feet wide by three feet tall. I get down onto my hands and knees in the snow – hardened ice by now – and reach for the latch. With bated breath, I pull on the window, and it freely lifts open.
The Wrong Side of Kai Page 16