This idea makes me smile for the next three stops. Then I start obsessing about Jason again. It’s like that for the next couple of hours. I go from scared to bored to giddy and back again as I sit riding the subway back and forth across the city.
Finally, I start getting lonely too.
I check my watch. It’s almost five. Jason will’ve left school ages ago. Has he seen his room? What’s he doing? (Swimming down the toilet after my cell, ha ha?)
I get off at the stop near Katie’s and call her from the pay phone by the drug store.
“Hi, it’s Leslie.” I hear pots and pans and a bunch of people laughing.
“Leslie! Where were you this aft? I locked your locker. It was a mess.”
“Katie, I have to talk to you.”
“Sorry. My aunt and uncle are visiting from out of town. We’re having a reunion. I’m supposed to entertain my little cousin.”
“This is an emergency.”
In the background, Mrs. Kincaid hollers, “Katie, get off your cell. Chloe wants to play with you.”
“Okay,” Katie calls out, then whispers, “I gotta go. I’ll call you back later.”
“You can’t. I’m not at home. I don’t have my cell. Katie, I’m not safe. I’m—look, if you don’t see me again, it’s because I’m dead.”
“What?”
“I mean it.”
“Where are you? Call the police. No, wait, I’ll call the police.”
“Call the cops and Jason’ll kill me.”
“Leslie, don’t cry. Forget what I said. Come over right away. We’ll—I don’t know, we’ll figure out something.”
Twenty-Five
When I get there, Katie’s out front on the sidewalk. She’s got her cousin Chloe playing hopscotch. I’m pretty sure this is so I won’t have to ring the doorbell and get intercepted by her mom.
Chloe looks like a glass of skim milk, all scrubbed and polished like she’s going to church. Your basic trophy kid. The kind parents show off to make other parents jealous. I almost feel sorry for her. Instead of friends, I’ll bet all she has is a bunch of stuffed animals. I picture her playing house with them, all alone in a cheery antiseptic bedroom plastered with Disney characters.
At the sight of me her lip wobbles and her eyebrows do the Wave.
“It’s okay, Chloe,” Katie says. “This is my friend Leslie. Why don’t you go down to the basement and watch cartoons?”
Chloe does what she’s told. Fast.
“Leslie! You look awful!”
“No shit.” I tell her about the journal and Ms. James and Beachball and how me and Jason have broken up.
Katie’s all excited. I know she wants to jump up and down, but these days she’s making a big effort not to be so immature. She needs to work harder. This time, she shouts “Great!” at the top of her lungs.
“Don’t.” I shoot her a look. “I mean it. If you tell me God’s answered your prayers, I swear I’ll punch you.”
“I’m sorry. Only I’ve been so worried.”
“I know. Thanks.” I tell her about the nude photos. I don’t want to, but I can’t help myself, I can’t hold it in. Besides, she never blabbed about me getting hit.
Most of the girls at school would act shocked and give me a lecture. Then they’d ask to see for themselves. They’d pretend it was out of being a friend and wanting to share the horror, but really it’d be so they could act even more shocked and then run around telling everybody.
Not Katie. She gets very quiet, then hugs me.
Monster Mom sticks her head out the door. “Oh, hello, Leslie,” she says, not even pretending to smile. “May I have a word with you, Katie?” Before Katie has time to get to the porch, her mom starts in. “Poor Chloe’s sitting downstairs all by herself in front of the TV. Tell Leslie you’ll see her some other time.”
“But Mom—” Katie whispers urgently in her ear.
“That’s nothing to joke about.”
“I’m not.”
“Fine. Ten minutes.” She glares in my direction and disappears.
I want to die. “You told her?”
“Of course not. I said you were thinking of making a decision for the Lord.”
“You told her what?” I see myself in a white robe getting dunked in ice-cold water in the baptismal tub at Katie’s church.
“Never mind. Let’s get out of here. I’ll tell her I was so busy hearing your witness I forgot about the time.”
“She won’t believe you.”
“So? What’s she going to do? Have a fit in front of my relatives?”
Now it’s me with the bug-eyes. “You’re lying to your mom? I must be a good influence.”
Katie laughs as we hurry down the street. “I’m not as big a nerd as you think. I’ve started doing lots of bad stuff. In choir, half the time I don’t even know the words. I just move my mouth and smile.” Katie still has a ways to go in the sinning department, but I’m glad to see she’s taking a few steps in the right direction.
As we walk, we talk about my problem: do I get rid of the memory card, or keep it in case I need to make the McCreadys back off about my B&E?
“First of all,” she says, “you don’t even know for sure if you’re in trouble. Why don’t you call home and find out?” Katie’s pretty smart when she wants to be.
I use Katie’s cell. Mom answers. I tell her I called in case she was wondering where I was. Mom’s surprised. She thanks me for being considerate and says to hurry home because supper is about ready. I can tell she thinks I’m up to something.
Before she has a chance to ask me anything, I say, “Any messages?”
“Yes. Jason called. Something about missing you in the parking lot. But he said not to worry, he’ll see you tomorrow about what you were looking for. What were you looking for?”
“Nothing. I’ll be home right away. Bye.” Click.
I’m having a hemorrhage, but Katie gets me to calm down. Obviously Jason knows I trashed his room and computer and stole the memory card. Equally obviously, he hasn’t done anything about it. “And he’s not going to,” she says.
“Oh no? What about this ‘see me tomorrow’ bit? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He’s trying to scare you. Come on, what can he say? ‘Leslie stole the porn I made of a bunch of under-age girls?’ I’ll bet he’s peeing himself wondering what you’re going to do. Did you ever stop to think that maybe he called to find out if you’d told?”
I’m amazed. Who would have thought Katie could be so crafty? Anyway, according to her, I don’t even need the memory card, as long as Jason thinks I have it. “Your only problem is if it gets found. If I were you, I’d ditch it. That way Jason’s history, and you’re home free. Before you know it, life will go back to normal, and you can pretend none of this ever happened.”
That makes sense, except for the last part. I’m good at pretending, but not that good.
Together we take a vow of silence. I even let Katie say a prayer. Then I pull out my Bic and burn the card. We watch as the edges melt. I toss the charred remains down a drain hole.
All of a sudden, the pressure’s gone. It’s up in smoke. I can breathe again. I’m free.
I wish I knew who the other girls were. I wish I could tell them they’re free too.
Twenty-Six
Next morning, I wake up thinking about Jason’s message. I know Katie says to relax, but I can’t. No way I want to see Jason till he’s had time to cool down.
I cough loud enough for Mom to hear. “I don’t feel well.”
Mom comes into my room and touches my forehead. “You’re fine.”
“I’m not.” Cough, cough.
Mom sighs, brings me the thermometer and goes to make breakfast. I rub it till it reads a couple of degrees high. Then I join her. “See?”
She knows I’m faking. She shakes it down and makes me do it again, this time watching me like a hawk.
“Do you mind?” I garble, lolling the thermometer around in my mou
th. “I can do this myself, you know.”
“I’m not stupid, and you’re not skipping.”
“I’m not skipping, I’m sick.”
We fight all through breakfast. I make sure to cough so much my throat hurts for real. As for Mom, she gets a headache. “Leslie, I don’t have time to argue anymore. Get dressed. You’re going to be late.”
“You want me to infect the whole school? Talk about considerate. I hope it’s meningitis. I hope I die, so you can feel guilty. I hope you get it too. That’ll be a laugh, watching you hack away with double pneumonia.”
She puts on her coat. “I’m not writing a note.”
“Great. Get me expelled, why don’t you?”
She leaves.
If you’re going to skip, it’s better to do it with a friend. Being stuck alone gets tired real quick. I flick around the TV. Nothing but news, cartoons and the Shopping Network. I wish I was stoned.
Then the phone rings. Is it him? If Mom weren’t so cheap, we’d have call display. In case it’s the school, I answer with my sick voice. Good move. It’s the attendance secretary checking because I’ve been marked absent first period.
“I’m sick. My mom’ll write a note.”
“And what about yesterday? You left without signing out.”
“I was too busy puking, do you mind? What are you? The CIA?” I hang up.
I turn off the TV. I walk around the apartment a couple dozen times. I make faces in the mirror. I’m so bored I even read the newspaper. The headlines, anyway. When I get this bored at Dad’s, I sometimes watch the porno flick he keeps at the back of his filing cabinet under his old tax returns. I think it was a present from his stag party back when he married Mom. The hairstyles kill me, and the guys all have zits on their bums. I used to find it funny, but since all this stuff started happening with Jason, the thought of it makes me feel like heaving.
The phone rings again. I figure it’s the secretary calling back. Or Mr. Manley. I answer with my sick voice. “I told you, I’m sick.”
But it’s not the school.
“You can’t fool me, angel.” Jason’s voice is very even. “You took something of mine. I want it back. Plus your journal.”
“I don’t think so.”
Pause. “Is your mother home?”
“What’s it to you?”
A long pause. “I know where you live.” Click.
I let myself down onto the couch and try to breathe. Is he coming over?
How can I keep him out? Our building doesn’t have a doorman. The outside door downstairs is locked, but he could get in whenever a tenant comes or goes. I know. I’ve let in lots of strangers and seen others do it too. If they look respectable, you don’t mind. If they don’t, you don’t want to get them mad.
The phone rings. I think it’s him. It rings again. What if it’s the school? Rings again. I’ll say I was sleeping and didn’t hear it. Rings again. And again and again and again, until I can’t stand it anymore. I pick it up.
Silence on the other end of the line.
“Who is it?”
Breathing.
“I said, Who is it?”
Breathing.
I slam the receiver down and dial *69 to find the last number that phoned. I don’t recognize it. I call anyway. It rings and rings and rings. Then someone picks up.
“Is that you, Jason?” I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
Silence.
“Listen, asshole, I’m calling the operator. You’re in big trouble.”
I hang up. I report the number. But there’s nothing the operator can do. The call came from a laundromat.
This place is too creepy. I have to get out, go for a donut or something. I have a shower. Get dressed.
Just as I’m doing up my coat, there’s a knock on the door. Help. I don’t make a sound. Another knock. It’s probably not him—but what if? “Who is it?” Silence. I tiptoe to the door. I check through the peephole. I can’t see anyone. I keep the chain on and open it a crack. The elevator door down the hall is closing. The corridor’s empty.
That’s strange.
I take the chain off and open the door wide, ready to head out. And there at my feet is an envelope. My palms start to sweat. I open it. It’s a Get Well card. There’s a personal note inside.
“In sickness and in health,
Yours forever,
Love,
J.”
I lock the door and stay inside for the rest of the day.
Twenty-Seven
That night, Mom and I keep our distance. She doesn’t ask if I went to school, and I don’t tell her I didn’t. I’m going to school tomorrow, though. I have to face him sooner or later, so I might as well do it with other people around for protection. And besides, hiding out breaks my Number One Rule for trouble at school or at home: Never let them see you’re scared.
I get to school minutes before the bell rings. Katie, Ashley and the others are talking at the lockers. Katie gives me a smile and a finger-wave. She’s about to say something when suddenly her eyes go wide, like they do when she’s watching horror movies. I turn. It’s Jason.
“What do you want?”
“Don’t I even get a hello?”
“As in, go to Hell-o?” I say it loud, so everyone will be watching in case he tries to yank me away.
But he doesn’t. He shakes his head, sad and soulful. “There you go again. That’s exactly why I broke up with you.”
For the first time in my life, I’m speechless.
“You gotta do something about your attitude,” he goes on. “Not to mention the other stuff.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Do I have to say it in public?” He pretends to whisper, but it’s loud enough for everyone to hear. “Last Saturday? That guy feeling you up at the club?”
“You are such a liar.”
“Whatever you say. I don’t care anymore. I’ve had it.” Jason glances around at the eavesdroppers. They look away, embarrassed. Except for Ashley. He flashes the baby blues and winks at her. “Hi.” Then the jerk swivels and saunters off down the hall.
Ashley acts casual, but I know how she’s feeling.
“Don’t,” I warn her.
“Don’t what?” she smiles, all innocence.
“Just don’t.”
“You’re not my mother.”
“He’s not what you think.”
“How do you know what I think?”
“Trust me.”
“As if.” And she struts off to class with her nose so high I picture it scraping the ceiling.
Katie takes my arm. “Even if we told, she’d never believe us,” she says in my ear. “Besides, it’s not like he asked her out or anything.”
Let’s hope it stays that way. I don’t want anything on my conscience.
By the end of school, I’ve relaxed. I even figure Jason flirting with Ashley is good news, because it means he’s not taking the breakup so hard after all. Who cares if he pretends it was me who got dumped? He’s off my case. That’s what I’m thinking on my way home, anyway. The idea makes me so happy I turn my music way up and sing along.
I’m so into this other world I almost bump into him. He’s jumped the curb on his motorcycle and blocked the sidewalk. I pull out my earphones. “What do you want?”
“We have things to talk about.”
A heartbeat, then loud and firm: “You’re not getting it back. And if you don’t leave me alone—right now—I’m taking it to the cops.”
“Sure you are,” he mocks. “You don’t want people seeing those pictures any more than I do.”
I toss my head. “Don’t count on it.”
He smiles. “I admire your guts, breaking into my room like that, busting my computer. Mom saw me haul it out of the pool. Told her I tripped carrying it across my room, and it fell out the window. She bought it.”
“She’ll buy anything.”
“Great, eh?” He grins. “Explaining your cell was t
ricky, though. It plugged our toilet. Nice touch. I have a whole new respect for you.”
“Save it for someone who gives a shit.” I start to move around him.
“Hey, come on, don’t be such a tease.”
I’m past him.
“Where’re you going?”
I don’t answer. I don’t look back. I move fast. He revs his engine. He starts following me, slow, motor almost idling. He could run me down if he wanted. “You’re not supposed to be on the sidewalk,” I say, hard.
He laughs, guns his motorcycle onto the road, races to the end of the block and wheels around to face me. I turn and start walking back the way I came. I hear him gun the engine. He rides past me, turns back up onto the sidewalk and faces me again. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Get lost, Jason.”
“That’s my girl,” he winks. “Make me hot.”
I spit at him, but nothing comes out. My mouth’s too dry.
“I wouldn’t do that again.”
“Oh, really? You want to beat me up on a public street? Go ahead. There’ll be witnesses. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s watching out their window right now.”
“There won’t always be witnesses.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
His eyes go dead. “I love you, Leslie,” he says. And with that, he revs his engine. Before I can think to scream, the motorcycle lurches towards me. At the last second, it swerves back to the road and he takes off.
I phone Katie the minute I get home. I can hear her swallow. “He’s probably playing games. Pretty soon he’ll get bored and move on.”
“Or do something.”
“Don’t talk like that. It scares me.”
“You’ve never seen that look of his. So far, okay, maybe it’s all been a game. But what happens when he figures he’s lost? Jason doesn’t lose. Ever.”
“You’re psyching yourself out. He may be a bully, but it’s not like he’s killed people or anything.”
“Yet.”
Actually, “yet” is what I want to say, but I don’t have the nerve. Instead I mumble, “Yeah, you’re right.”
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