She was alone.
Chapter 25
Calvin’s booted toe thumped a steady rhythm against Tyler’s front tire. Harder, harder, to draw the pain from his chest to his foot, where it’d be easier to endure.
Not working so well.
The student parking lot had nearly emptied out. Only a few cars remained around Tyler’s Camaro, including a Honda Civic parked several rows away, a blue blob beyond the teary film in Calvin’s vision.
How could she? Why? What happened to “I love you”?
He kicked the Camaro’s tire again.
“Noah Dickerson,” Tyler said. “I can’t believe that.”
Calvin shook his head. “Believe it, dude. I saw him.”
“But Noah is a total player.”
“Tell me about it. And he’s making a play for my girlfriend.” Calvin jabbed his thumb into his chest.
Tyler folded his arms and flopped back against the car door. “Nah, man. This can’t be right. Stacey’s too smart to get involved with a guy like him.”
“Was. I don’t know what she’s thinking anymore.”
“Cal, that guy has slept with half the girls in this school.” Tyler’s words came to him as if through a fog. The door to the school building had opened, and Zoe came outside, followed by Stacey. They both stopped dead, hanging on to each other and staring at something. Probably his Yamaha still parked in the biker’s section of the lot.
“That many?” Calvin mumbled.
“Maybe not half. You know what I mean,” Tyler went on.
Stacey’s head turned. Across the wide driveway and two dozen parking spaces, her gaze locked with his. What now? Did she tense up as he did? Could she sense his hurt and anger telecasting across the lot? Why, girl? What did I do to deserve this? And on the first day of finals!
“Uh-oh,” Tyler said.
Stacey spun around and lunged toward the building. Zoe grabbed her shirt and pulled her back. They tussled and argued a moment. Then Zoe dragged Stacey off the sidewalk and onto the asphalt, giving Tyler’s Camaro a wide berth. Stacey walked stiff-legged, her feet flapping on the pavement loud enough for Calvin to hear. She put a hand up to her face. Hiding from him.
“I hope you’re happy, farm boy,” Zoe yelled. “Look what you’ve done.”
“Oh, real nice.” Tyler practically climbed onto the roof of his car. “Hey! Who’s the cheater here?”
Calvin couldn’t find words or the voice to speak them. He clasped Tyler’s shoulder and pulled him back to earth.
The two girls staggered to Stacey’s car. They pressed together by the Honda then Stacey went to the passenger door as Zoe slid behind the steering wheel.
“Think that girl is smart enough to drive?” Tyler asked.
Calvin couldn’t laugh. Zoe had won. She’d drive Stacey home, and the two of them would conspire and find ways to blame it all on him.
What did I do except love you, Stacey?
The tires screeched as Zoe drove away. Nice touch.
“What’re you going to do now?” Tyler asked when they were gone. “Want to come to my house?”
“No, thanks. I think I need to be alone.”
Sadness crept into Tyler’s eyes, and the muscles around his jaw tensed. Calvin had seen the look before, at the funeral. Tyler didn’t know what to say. It didn’t matter. Nothing he could say would undo Stacey’s betrayal. That he was here, slowly baking in the afternoon sun, giving Calvin that compassionate look, was enough.
Tyler sighed. “Well, keep the rubber side down, bro.” He clasped Calvin’s shoulder for a moment then unlocked his car. He paused with the door open. “Love stinks, man.”
Calvin pulled one side of his mouth into a half smirk. “Not always. But right this second it pretty much bites.”
Time blurred as Calvin plodded across the lot to his motorcycle and strapped on his helmet. The Yamaha started on the first kick, but dingy exhaust appeared in his rearview mirror when he revved the engine. No. No trouble now. Don’t you betray me too.
He duck-walked the bike backward out of the space then screamed through the parking lot. A glance right told him the road was clear. He leaned deep into the turn. One mile south on Old Bentley, then a hard left onto Victory Church Road. The wind battered his face as always but didn’t penetrate to bring that thrill he’d counted on. Exhaustion battled the urge to beat the bike and his body until he couldn’t feel anything at all.
Hitting the driveway, the Yamaha’s rear tire slid in the gravel. Calvin instinctively stuck out a foot to save himself from a spill and cussed as his brain told him to hit the throttle instead. He wobbled upright and slowed to crawl over the gravel. In front of the closed workshop doors he hit the kill switch then leaned forward, crossing his arms over the gas tank. His helmet clunked against the odometer. His rapid gasps fogged the chrome gas cap.
How could they go from being so close to this? And what was he supposed to do now? He’d told her he’d be waiting for her to go to the doctor—words spoken in anger and frustration. Maybe even smart words. But now he was faced with the wait, already feeling like each second wore away at his heart and soul like sandpaper, gritty and scratching. Like those moments after Michael’s funeral when he faced the rest of his life without his brother.
What now?
Six months ago he’d felt like part of him had been buried with Michael. Then Stacey stepped up to fill that gaping hole inside him a little. Not fully, and not in the same way, but she’d brought him to a place where he could smile again.
And then … and then … the anorexia, like a bony finger clawing, clawing, clawing, scratched Calvin’s scars, reopened the wound until he could feel the pain pouring out again.
I can’t do this. I need her.
It was his fault. In front of who knows how many people at school, he’d screamed an ultimatum at her: Go to the doctor, or we’re finished. He’d been pushing her, making demands of her, expecting her to change—
To save her life!
Maybe she’d turned to Noah Dickerson because a guy who made no commitments, jumping from one girl to another, wouldn’t demand anything of her.
Except her virginity.
No, it didn’t make sense. That night in the pickup truck she’d pushed Calvin away. After all the months of dating, of less-than-innocent flirting despite their agreement that they wanted to wait, she’d refused him.
Maybe that moment had been an unspoken ultimatum from her. Love her the way she was, or she’d move on. Maybe that sexy outfit was her way of showing him that all her dieting was worth it, so he’d stop hassling her. It didn’t work. He’d only amped up his efforts.
She listened to every word about Michael, but when she needed me to listen, I blew it.
He squeezed his eyes shut and poured his guilt and grief onto the gas tank in a moan.
“Calvin?”
His shoulders jerked and his eyelids popped open.
“What’s wrong?” Mom’s hands were on him before he could object. She pawed his shoulders, his arm, his thigh. “Honey, are you hurt? Did you fall on your bike?”
“No.” He leaned away, put his arm up to ward her off. “Don’t touch me.”
She planted her hands on her hips but angled her head toward him. No reprimand in her expression yet. “What happened?”
The helmet suddenly felt very heavy on his head. Awkward. He wouldn’t be able to hide anything from his mother. With her focus narrowed in on him, she’d drag the truth out of him.
“Stacey,” he choked out. Calvin yanked off his sunglasses, tugged at the helmet strap until it obeyed, and removed his helmet. He raised his arm to throw it but resisted.
“Oh, Calvin!” Mom’s body seemed to deflate some. “I’m so sorry. You want to tell me about it?”
He didn’t. Yet he did. The thought of talking through every event and all his worries over the past weeks, of revealing Stacey’s betrayal at the end with the most notorious girl-hopper at South Stiles High School, weakened every joint i
n his body and made his brain go foggy. The one-sided advice she’d give, the parental platitudes and timeworn wisdom—could he stomach it?
“No, Mom. No. Maybe later. I just … I’m really tired. I’d like to be alone.”
She stroked his arm up and down and tilted her head. “Okay, sweetheart. Can I fix you something to eat?”
Food? He could almost laugh. “That’s okay. I’m not really hungry right now.”
With several glances back, Mom went inside. Calvin opened the workshop door and put his motorcycle away, placed his helmet on the shelf and closed the door again. He trudged up to his room with his backpack, dumped his books out on his unmade bed, then dropped to the floor on his knees and pressed his forehead to his mattress.
“Why, God?”
His body heated up quickly in the hot attic room, which didn’t give him a good feeling about whatever the answer might be. He couldn’t cry. Not yet. He was too angry. Calvin pushed himself to his feet and headed back downstairs. His social studies teacher had mentioned there would be an email containing their study guide for the final. Calvin thought consuming his brain with that stuff was as good an answer as anything else.
He made a detour to the refrigerator for a cold drink, zig-zagging around other family members surrounding Mom in the kitchen, then sat down at the computer. A new message downloaded to his email. He squinted at the sender.
XOEZOEFOX
Who was that? The address looked like a bunch of Roman numerals for a second, but then the middle letters jumped out at him. Zoe. Great. Did he really want to read whatever she’d have to say to him?
Delete it.
His eyes drifted to the preview window before his fingers could respond. Stacey’s name at the bottom of the short message stopped him.
You don’t control my life. I don’t need anyone telling me how to live or what to do. Stay away from me. We’re finished.
Stacey
Ice ran through Calvin’s muscles, freezing him to the spot, while water ran in the kitchen sink, and Lizzie argued that Zachary was old enough to clean up his own stupid mess, and Mom reprimanded them both.
Over. Done.
Chapter 26
He leaned against the frame of his back door, staring out at the workshop, where his bike sat waiting for him to fix it or pour gasoline over it and light a match. Yet another betrayal. The Yamaha couldn’t wait another week before it started running bad?
“Cal?”
He brought the phone back up to his cheek. “Yeah?”
“You’re picking Tyler up right after church Sunday morning, right?” Flannery asked. “You’re sure you’ll be able to get to my place before eleven thirty? Dad’ll be a pain if we don’t get on the road by noon.”
“Yeah, no problem. My parents already know I might have to cut out of church a little early. We’ll be there.”
A long pause, yet Flannery didn’t say good-bye. Calvin waited for another consolation speech.
“Cal, it’ll be okay. You’ll see.”
Really? He almost laughed. Was that all she had to say?
For the last two days of school, Stacey’s moon eyes in the hallway had cut laser-straight through the bodies of other students and carried an unmistakable message: You hurt me! Calvin imagined his own eyes communicated the same thing. Her pained glances had intensified the ache in his chest, but there was no conversation, no making up. If Stacey’s eyes didn’t say that, Zoe’s glare sure did. And Zoe seemed glued to Stacey’s side … while Noah Dickerson was nowhere to be seen.
He’d blown up over nothing. He’d destroyed their relationship over nothing.
“I don’t know, Flan. Maybe y’all should go without me. I’ll just be a drag.”
“Forget that! No way. Cal, you need this trip. You’re going, if I have to kidnap you and strap you to the truck like a deer.”
He did need it. Like a drowning man needed air. To be away from all that hurt him and feel the woods permeating his whole being, the bike’s engine churning beneath him. Would he be able to enjoy it for two seconds without thinking about Stacey?
“Okay, well, I’d better start packing then.”
“You’ve got two days.”
Not really. Not if he had to tear the bike apart to see why it was running like crud all of a sudden. On the ride home from school, the Yamaha’s motor stuttered every time Calvin cranked the throttle. Its acceleration was more like chugging up to speed. He hoped a new set of spark plugs would be all he needed to fix the problem. He so needed at least one thing in his life to have an easy solution.
“Uh, I might see you tomorrow at the shop.”
“Cool. We can skip over to Oliver’s for lunch.”
“Yeah. I’ll let you know. See ya, Flan.”
Calvin leaned inside the back door and set the phone on the dining room table. He crossed the driveway to the workshop and dug around in Dad’s toolbox.
Stay active. Don’t think about …
Careful to keep his fingers away from still-hot metal parts, he removed the spark plugs from the Yamaha. As he worked, he made a mental list of all the things he had to do before the trip: Dig out his camping gear and check it for holes or anything stinking or damp. Pack jeans, shirts, and riding gear. Flannery’s parents would be providing food, but a cooler for extra drinks or snacks might be handy. Clean out Dad’s pickup and find some cassettes that weren’t totally lame for the old player in the truck. Old-school metal bands; Tyler would approve. Make sure the heavy-duty cargo straps—enough for three motorcycles—were in good shape. He might have to pick up some more at the shop. Gas up the truck, load the Yamaha in—
Calvin’s heart sank. The electrodes of the first spark plug he’d extracted were so chalky he could rub the gunk off with his fingers. What did that mean? Calvin sat back on his haunches and stared at the spark plug dangling on its wire against the crank case.
Not fouled—that would result in dirty electrodes. No, not enough fuel. The engine was running lean. That’s what caused the popping in the exhaust over the past week and a loud backfire in the school parking lot.
Great. I’m running lean. As if I needed another thing to remind me …
Okay, so what would cause it? Bad plugs? Timing off? He’d have to ask Dad for help on this one, and call Flannery’s father at the bike shop to get some fresh plugs. Maybe extras for the trip, just in case. Another task to add to his list.
At least it would keep him occupied, so he wouldn’t lapse into pointlessly staring at Stacey’s pictures on her Facebook page, hoping for some status update that would give him a tiny ray of hope, or reading her past emails and poetry.
Flannery was right. He so needed this camping trip.
Chapter 27
The most tolerable place in Zoe’s house was the screened-in patio. Frizzy hair from the humidity was preferable to Zoe’s screeching little brother, her mother parading around with the angst and attitude of a teenage drama queen—without the style—and the chainsmoking stench and slobbish presence of the unemployed, live-in boyfriend. Zoe was possibly the most normal person in the family.
Stacey caught a clump of hair between her fingers and pulled it tight. Maybe that would keep it straight. Or not.
Still, it was better than being smothered at home. Summer vacation had started Saturday morning with a heaping plate of pancakes served by Mom On a Mission, and eggs and bacon with hash browns this morning. Lunch, dinner, dessert … the house smelled like food all the time. No way could Stacey hide or discard the mountain of calories and carbohydrates with the woman hovering over her. Puking it up after each meal had taken meticulous timing and promised a long, agonizing summer break.
Stacey tossed her hair over her shoulder and tucked her legs up to her chest. The webbed chaise lounge creaked beneath her weight. She imagined the plastic strips stretching and breaking and her big butt falling through to the concrete, her legs sticking up in the air and her arms flailing. Zoe would die laughing.
Zoe rolled her head in tim
e to the music playing through her iPod. “Don’t make me say I love you,” she sang, her voice thin. “Don’t make me call your name in the middle of the night.”
How ironic! Or pathetic. Stacey could relate to those lyrics. She’d hardly slept in a week. And since last Monday, she’d whispered and cried Calvin’s name over and over in the middle of the night, and now her pillow was stained with tears. She couldn’t confess this to Zoe, who now thought of Calvin as he-whose-existence-is-an-abomination-to-all-humanity.
“Mmm-mm-mm. My heart belongs to me.” Zoe fluttered her hand over her chest and jutted her chin with each beat. “Know what, Stace? I feel good. Fabulous, in fact. I’ve lost four pounds this week.”
“Four pounds?” Stacey hugged her knees closer.
“How about you?”
“Slowing down. Only one.” The scale called to her and terrified her at the same time. Mom’s meals would probably have her gaining fifty pounds in no time.
Zoe pulled her earbuds out. “Hey, you okay?”
Stacey looked at the glass of ice water on the floor next to her seat. Condensation rolled down the sides and pooled on the concrete. If she touched the glass then wiped her fingers against her face, she might cool the ache behind her eyeballs. “Um, no.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t … I can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
She pressed the heel of one hand into her left eye socket. Tears flooded out anyway. “Mom’s driving me crazy, and I can’t stop thinking about … Calvin.”
“Oh no.”
“I can’t take it anymore. I need him.”
Zoe sighed. “I really thought he’d call begging you to take him back by now.”
Stacey whimpered and covered her other eye too. “But he didn’t. Girl, you deserve someone who’s going to fall on his knees and plead for you to just look at him.”
“Who does that, Zoe? Seriously. Nobody does that.”
“Well, he should.”
“He doesn’t love me. I’m not good enough for him.”
Running Lean Page 24