Stacey pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. Her eyes drifted anywhere but toward him. “I’m not anorexic, Calvin. How could you even think that?”
Calvin blew out his breath. Should he argue with her?
“Anorexics starve themselves, okay?” Words spilled out of her. “I eat plenty. Just because I don’t want to eat burgers or catfish fried in … bacon grease or whatever doesn’t mean I’m starving myself. But you just don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like to be called names because you’re fat, or to have people think you’re not worth getting to know or—or assuming you won’t amount to anything.”
“Yeah? That’s what you think? Well, I was fat once. Until I started riding my bike and getting more exercise. So I do know what it feels like. But you know what? Anyone who thinks someone is less valuable as a person because they’re overweight isn’t worth listening to.”
“Even if it’s your own father?” she blurted.
“What?”
Tears shimmered in her already red eyes. No makeup. That’s why she looked so pale. Probably wasn’t the first time she’d cried that day.
Calvin’s gut clenched, and his anger teetered. He’d hurt her.
Stacey lowered her head, allowing her hair to fall forward like a curtain over her face. She mumbled something. Calvin lifted his hand but lost the will to touch her halfway toward her arm.
“I didn’t hear …” he said.
She sniffed and lifted her head, looking at the school building rather than at him. “I never told you this before. I didn’t want you to worry about me and treat me like … like I’m fragile or something. My mother does that, and I hate it.”
She stopped, and he waited. Two students walked behind her, staring at him like it was any of their business. He narrowed his eyes at them. The pair went on to the parking lot, leaving Stacey and Calvin alone.
Stacey raised her hand to her eyes as if to rub them, but her fingers trembled at her forehead, hiding her expression from him. “We moved here because … because …”
“Because of your sister. Because she was getting in trouble and things were getting bad in the area where you lived.” The words coming out of Calvin’s mouth felt false, although that was exactly what Stacey had told him before. Yet he knew. There was something more serious, and it had to do with Stacey. Otherwise she wouldn’t be crying now.
“My uncle. Mom’s brother. He … did things. Said things to me.”
Calvin’s heart stopped beating. At least it felt that way. “Did what? What did he do to you, Stacey?” His voice was too loud.
“I’m still a virgin, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Shoulders hunched, Stacey looked around, but no one was close enough to hear.
Okay, okay. Silence the panic. Don’t run for Dad’s shotgun yet. “What happened?”
“It’s really hard to talk about. Like, it’s my family, you know? But he’s … not right. Messed up in the head. He drinks too much. Daddy wanted to arrest him, but Mom begged him and, I guess, to keep our family together, Daddy transferred to Stiles County.”
Blinking, Calvin tried to process this information. “But what did he do to you?”
“He told me … he told me, that he liked … chubby girls. And if I ever wanted to … you know. And he stared at me. All the time.”
“Your dad should have arrested him.” Calvin could barely break his teeth apart to talk.
“He didn’t actually do anything illegal. Just … looked at me and said things.”
“And your parents were okay with that?”
“Calvin, he’s the only family my mom has left. She tried to help him with his drinking and stuff, but Daddy just got mad and—” A violent tremor ran through her, bringing forth a whimper. “We had to leave. We thought it would be better here. And … there’s more. But I can’t tell you right now, Calvin. I can’t. You just have to trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
Was that it? “So your uncle made a pass at you, and that’s why you don’t eat properly?”
“Calvin!”
“What? I’m trying to understand this.”
“No. Enough. Look, I was fifteen, and they yanked me away from everything I knew. They said, ‘we’re going,’ and we left. Renee didn’t want to, and neither did I. They wanted to lock us away where nothing bad would ever happen to us. But guess what? No one controls me anymore, Calvin. No one. Including you.”
He winced and shook his head. “I’m not trying to control you.”
“You are! Why can’t you just believe me when I say I’m okay? Why can’t you trust me?”
Calvin exhaled and looked at his shoes. “Okay, the note was a dumb idea. I’m sorry. But some of the stuff I read online—”
“You think I’m lying to you?”
“No.”
“You think I’m crazy? Is that it?”
“No.” Calvin ground his teeth on the word.
“Then what?”
“Prove me wrong, Stacey. Please.”
“How am I supposed to do that? Stuff my face and turn into a chunky bunny again? So only drunk old men are attracted to me?”
“Huh? No. No! But Stace, I don’t understand—”
She swiped her hand across one wet cheek. “Well, why don’t you look it up on the Internet. And by the way, maybe you should catch up with Tyler or you’ll be walking home.”
Calvin’s jaw dropped. Stacey hugged her purse beneath her crossed arms and tilted her chin upward.
He swallowed. “Seriously?”
Stacey’s face stayed hard even as another tear rolled down the side of her nose. She’d meant it.
Calvin groaned and rocked his head back to look at the sky.
“Better run. I see the Camaro, right over there.”
He jerked his head around. The bright red car slid between the parked vehicles, heading for the main driveway out. When he looked back, Stacey was already walking back toward the building.
“Fine! Whatever. See ya.” Calvin whirled and ran along the curb, his backpack hammering his shoulder blades. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled as Tyler turned toward the exit. “Ty! Wait!”
The Camaro’s tires skidded on the damp asphalt. Flannery opened the side door and stood. Calvin kept his eyes down, avoiding whatever scowl or look of shock she might be wearing as he crawled into the backseat.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said before either of his friends could voice a question.
Was it a breakup? Had he ruined everything? Had she confessed what happened in Rocky Mount only to show him what a jerk he was to say anything about the way she ate?
Calvin played with the straw in his Coke, studied the crisscross indentations in his forearm made by the metal mesh table at Oliver’s, and only half listened to the conversation going on between Flannery and Tyler. They should have just dropped him off at home.
After the fifth or sixth time, Flannery stopped asking him what had happened in the school parking lot. Instead, she gave him disapproving looks across the table, as if she blamed him. A note? Really, Calvin? And anyway, she probably wanted to be alone with Tyler so she could flirt with him.
Tyler made lame, forced jokes and sucked down his chocolate shake, like he was trying to make things normal, to break the literal ice between them.
Calvin stared at the few vehicles parked diagonally next to menu boards. A mom accepted food from a roller-skating waitress while three little kids bounced around in the back of her van. A man sat alone behind the wheel of a pickup with a magnetic sign on the doors. General Jake’s Greenscapes. General of what? A couple of jocks from school turned up the thumping music in their car, probably so they couldn’t hear the “oldies” crackling through the drive-in’s ancient ceiling speakers.
Calvin imagined a blue Honda Civic flying into the parking lot and screeching to a stop next to Tyler’s Camaro, Stacey jumping out without closing the door and flinging herself into his arms. Tears and kisses, promises that everything would be okay.
He blinked, and the parking space was empty, shining with moisture from the earlier rain, a purple-and-blue oil slick in the middle.
Flannery’s cell phone chirped. She pulled it out of her pocket and read a text. “Well, here’s some good news for you, Calvin. My dad found your throttle cable. Says he should get it by the end of the week.”
Calvin closed his eyes. “Thank you, God.”
Empty prayer. Just something to say. He could be happy later.
“So, you’ll be able to fix your bike,” Flannery said without smiling. “Think you can keep it running until summer?”
“Flan,” Tyler muttered.
“Okay, sorry. But seriously. My parents are talking about going camping and fishing soon as school lets out. They were looking at some places, and we found one about four hours from here that has riding trails too. Badin Lake.”
Tyler slurped the last of his chocolate shake. “I’ve heard of that place,” he said, setting the cup down. “ATV and dirt bike trails. Some are supposed to be super hard.”
Flannery brightened. “Right! So I was thinking, maybe y’all could come with us. We could take the bikes and do some serious riding.”
“I’d rather do the motocross track than trails,” Tyler said. “We could go back to that MX track with the little cabins.”
“We can do that too! Go MX riding for a weekend, and go trail riding for like, a whole week.”
Calvin ground his fingertips into his eyes. Did they really expect him to think about summertime when he was on the brink of breaking up with his girlfriend?
“Cal? What do you think?” Flannery asked.
He dropped his hands to the table. “Dad probably wants me to work in the garage with him this summer.”
“You worked practically all spring break! He’s got to give you some time off this summer.”
“I guess.”
“You guess? I’m trying to cheer you up, dude.”
He sniffed. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“Ugh! I hate it when you’re like this.”
“Flannery.” Tyler groaned, throwing his head back. “Can we not do this again, please?”
Calvin rattled the ice in his cup then thumped it on the table. “Right. Are y’all finished? I’ve got homework.”
“Cal …” Tyler got up when Calvin did.
“I’m bummed about Stacey, okay? Flan? Tell your dad thanks for finding the cable. And … I’m sorry.”
Flannery’s thumbs danced on the tiny cell phone keyboard. “Calvin … says … he’s … sorry …”
“What? No! I didn’t mean—”
“I’m joking!” She sent whatever her real message was and rose from the metal bench. The phone went back into the pocket of her shorts. “Look, I know you’re upset. Just don’t take it out on everyone else. Okay?”
Calvin rolled his eyes. So he had to apologize, but Flannery didn’t? No doubt he’d have to go through the same routine with Stacey.
If she even wanted to speak to him again.
Chapter 14
Let hm w8, Zoe had said in her text message. Let hm suffr til he begs u 2 4giv hm. DO NOT call hm 1st. Zoe could say that. After hearing about Calvin’s note, she hated him.
But text messaging aside, Zoe wasn’t here in Stacey’s bedroom. She wasn’t here to boost her morale with anger and colorful language. Stacey suffered alone, her nerves like a static machine and her eyes making pillow puddles every time the digits on her alarm clock rolled over another five, ten, fifteen minutes and Calvin didn’t call.
Eight fifteen. His family would have finished with dinner long ago. The dishes would be washed and put away, and his mother trying to wrangle the little kids into bed. Calvin and Lizzie might be settling down to do their homework on the dining room table.
Stacey’s stomach was an empty cavern. Who could eat under this kind of stress? She’d made excuses and hidden her uneaten food in her room. Now, sitting with only a tiny pink vanity lamp to light the room, Stacey’s sobs sent a burning echo into the dark abyss of her belly and a warbling distress call to her heart. Flutter. Flutter. The stress murmur she’d had all her life kicked in worse than she’d ever felt before.
Why did she have to tell Calvin about Uncle Murray? Why? She didn’t want him to feel sorry for her. Didn’t want to remember what happened and all the fights before they moved. It was just … if Calvin knew … it wasn’t just bullies at school …
Stacey yanked three tissues from a box on her bedside table. She blew the junk from her nose, grabbed two more tissues to wipe her eyes, then an antiseptic wipe to kill the germs. She’d fill her little trash bin with tissues before morning.
Did Calvin have any clue what he was doing to her?
Eight thirty. Fully dark outside. Calvin’s mother would light one of her homemade scented candles on the table for her busy students.
Stacey’s breath rattled past her lips as she flipped open her chemistry textbook. The letters blurred, became meaningless.
She’d forgive him for everything if he would just call.
Her cell phone lay on the bed next to her wrist, the little screen black. Betraying her.
What would Calvin say was the Christian thing to do? Forgive seven times, or whatever it was Jesus said?
Her fingers caressed the outline of her phone. She nudged it, touched the first digit of Calvin’s number. Two. The number showed white on the screen.
She could hear Zoe’s groan and cry. You’re pathetic!
Eight thirty-five.
Outside her window, frogs in the long, wet grass by the street chirped their nightly song. The world turned. Life went on.
Was Calvin done with her? Too much drama. Maybe they’d hung on to each other too long anyway. After Michael’s death, he needed her, and she’d loved that feeling. She was important to him. But now, in his mind, she was broken, something he had to fix or throw away.
I don’t need to be fixed.
This was stupid. Waiting around for him to call, agonizing over it, unable to do anything else. Stacey pushed herself up. She had to get this thing resolved.
Zoe would hate her for it. Too bad, so sad.
Stacey punched two more numbers on her phone.
No, not good enough. Calvin would refuse to speak to her or hang up.
Stacey rocketed off the bed and yanked on a pair of jeans and her pink hoodie. She grabbed her phone, purse, and keys and flew downstairs.
Her father’s voice stopped her before she reached the front door. “Where are you going?
She turned toward the living room, where Daddy sat in his recliner with the newspaper in his lap. If she’d thought to grab a textbook, she could have used it as an excuse. “Uh, I’m going to Calvin’s house.”
“What for? It’s almost nine o’clock.”
State-mandated driving curfew. Of course her father would hold her to the law even though almost no one she knew paid much attention to those regulations.
“I—we need to talk about school.”
A subtle downward tilt of Daddy’s head and the narrowing of one eye told her he wasn’t buying it. “Call him. That’s what your phone is for.”
“I-I know, but …” She should have lied, said she was going for a short walk or even to sit on the front porch to have some fresh air.
Mom got up from her usual perch on the couch. She straightened her blouse and glided around the furniture. “Sweetheart, do you really think you should be going out?” She touched the back of her hand to Stacey’s cheek. “Your face is hot. Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m not sick.” She fought the urge to slap her mother’s hand away. Instead, she moved her face to the side. “Calvin’s having a problem at home, and I just want to go see him for a few minutes.”
Drawing on Mom’s sympathy for Calvin’s “loss” always worked. Yet Mom copied the exact questioning tilt of Daddy’s head. “You can’t sort out all his problems for him, sweetheart. I know you care, but he really should be drawing close to his family at
times like this.”
Change the subject, quick. “It isn’t about Michael. Calvin’s problem is his family.” Yeah. Familiar story. “He’s really upset. I’m just going over to give him a hug and talk for a few minutes. I won’t be late.”
She stepped back, caught her father’s glare. He started to get out of his recliner. Stacey bolted for the door.
Her sister’s scantily clad figure leaned against the rail on the front porch. Cigarette smoke swirled through the air. Stacey rushed past Renee without making eye contact, focused on how quickly her feet could navigate the stairs. Hopefully Renee’s smoking would be the greater offense when her father came out, giving Stacey a chance to escape. She unlocked her car door and fell into the driver’s seat without looking to see what happened on the porch.
Her pulse fluttered in her throat as she drove, her hands moved on the steering wheel with each beat. Stacey’s determination wavered, going back and forth like a caged animal unable to find any means of escape. What if Calvin was so angry that he wouldn’t talk to her? There’d be an ugly scene at the front door. Maybe they’d break up forever. But what if he was so devastated that he’d locked himself in his room and only her voice could bring him out?
Yeah, right. Maybe in some cheesy romance novel. She wasn’t worth that kind of despair from anyone.
She made the sharp turn onto Victory Church Road. One more mile.
A scream wanted to break out of her. It scratched at her insides, pushing, tearing. Maybe she was having one of Mom’s anxiety attacks. Little pills always sat in the medicine cabinet … so easy to steal one later.
Stacey gave her head a violent shake. Was she really thinking about taking drugs?
Someone was on the front porch of Calvin’s farmhouse. His mother, lighting citronella candles on the porch rail. Would Mrs. Greenlee tell her she should go home? Protect Calvin from his crazed girlfriend?
Had Calvin told anyone in his family why she’d puked in their bathroom? Or that she’d given the dog the fried catfish?
Stacey drove past the house, her eyes fixed on the road. Don’t look at me! Her heart felt like it would explode in her chest and kill her. Why was this happening to her? To them?
Running Lean Page 13