Glass Girl (A Young Adult Novel)

by Laura Anderson Kurk

“Did she?” Henry’s breath was warmer than the steam on my shoulder.

  I shrugged as goose bumps trailed down my arm. “Yes.”

  “And Wyatt went for it?”

  “Kind of,” I said. “He was so…cool but not when it came to girls. She made him nervous and he was working up to asking her out. Flirting. ‘Testing the waters,’ he told me.”

  Henry chuckled. “I get that. Horse rides and picnics and camping. Some of us move slower than others.”

  I tightened my hold on Henry’s arms that wrapped around my waist. “Matthew was not okay with the flirting. And, afterwards, we found out from his parents that he’d been in counseling since Hannah broke up with him. They were really worried about him. He hit her—pushed her around—when they were together. We didn’t know that until after.”

  “Okay,” Henry said.

  “He got a gun…his dad’s handgun.”

  “Dear God.” Henry’s chest vibrated against my back.

  “One morning, he came in before school started. He never did that. My friends and I all hung out in the commons, you know, on the couches before the first bell. Wyatt did, too.” I readied myself for the nausea that always came when I told this story. “He walked straight up to me and asked me if I’d seen Wyatt, and I pointed to my brother. I showed him right where Wyatt was, right next to Hannah. I pointed at them.”

  I stopped talking to catch my breath, but the best I could do was a tight-throated wheeze and a whimper. I hadn’t even told the police I’d done that.

  “It’s okay, Meg,” Henry whispered, his stomach muscles flexing under my back. “What happened then?”

  “Um.” I closed my eyes and remembered. The smells always came to me first. I smelled Matthew’s sweat as he stood close to me, hiding something behind his back. “He yelled Hannah’s name. Wyatt and Hannah raised their heads and searched the room for who had called them. Hannah knew who to look for, though.” And I did feel very sorry for her because terror should never be mixed with love.

  The smell of metal had seemed so out of place among the scents of the breakfast being served in the nearby cafeteria. “I saw Wyatt’s face and I knew what was happening. He stood and held his hands out like he would when he tried to calm a dog. I couldn’t move and no one else seemed to know what we knew.”

  “Then what?” Henry said.

  “Then Hannah screamed and everyone started running and I saw the gun. Wyatt lunged over people, trying to get to me, but Matthew didn’t want me.”

  “He wanted Wyatt,” Henry whispered.

  I nodded. “Wyatt used one arm to push me out of the way and the other arm to force Matthew down. But…”

  “Matthew shot the gun?” Henry said.

  “More than once. Several people fell down around me. I ran with the crowd.” The scene had been so horrible that I’d never talked about it, really, with anyone who hadn’t been there. No human being should have to hear friends gasping and grunting as they died. “I left Wyatt there.”

  “That’s what he wanted you to do.” Henry shifted and turned me so he could see my face. “That’s what he meant to happen, Meg. He saved your life.”

  Tears flowed steadily down my cheeks, stinging the cuts. I didn’t mind the pain, though. I deserved it. “But three people died, boom, boom, boom, right away. And then Wyatt….”

  A shudder passed through me. “Some people said Matthew never planned to fire the gun—he only wanted to scare Hannah and Wyatt. Matthew’s parents told reporters that. They blamed Wyatt and accused him of causing the gun to fire when he fell on Matthew’s arm. It became a big argument about what people should do or shouldn’t do in these situations.”

  Henry shook his head forcefully, one eyebrow arched in disbelief. “You don’t carry a loaded gun unless you plan to use it. He knew people would die. Wyatt probably saved at least a dozen lives.”

  I nodded, using the water on my hands to soothe my cheeks. “I’ve told you more than I’ve told anybody now,” I said. “It’s okay if you want to just be friends.”

  But Henry just held on tighter. “What happened then?”

  “The P.A. system crackled and someone said two words—lock down. Then things got even crazier.”

  “I bet,” he said. “Everyone used their animal sense.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know you’ve heard that phrase ‘see like an animal’? When you’re in a stressful situation, your vision changes and your hearing is more acute and your body kind of acts on instinct.”

  “I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head. “I held my ears and my eyes got squinty and I thought I would faint any second. I couldn’t breathe.”

  “What came next?”

  “Our drill was to find the nearest classroom that hadn’t been locked yet. I ran into a classroom and huddled with others in a back corner. One of the guys herded a few stragglers in and then locked the door.”

  The ice cold fear I’d felt, not knowing if Wyatt was alive, pressed into the wall with other girls and surrounded by guys who were unspeakably brave, hit my body again in a wave. This was trauma—the gift that keeps on giving. I was done sharing. If I didn’t stop now, I’d have a panic attack in front of Henry. “No more,” I whispered. “Too hard now.” My teeth chattered.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he murmured, rocking me gently. “It’s okay. I’m right here. You’re safe.” He picked my hand up and inspected my fingers. “Just seeing if you were turning into a prune yet. You want to stay in the water?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “I’ll talk now,” he said. “Let’s go through your list of worries. First, I don’t want anything to do with Brooke. There’s only you. So on your long list, you can draw a line through that one.”

  I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that somehow, through the pain of the last couple of days, I’d made a mistake, and my heart had jumped to the wrong conclusion. Something unfurled in me and softened. The jealous anger, so tightly coiled in my stomach just an hour ago, eased.

  “Let’s talk about what’s next on that list of yours. Your mom—is she in a good place? Is this why she went back to Pittsburgh? To be treated? Is she struggling?”

  I nodded. “Depression and grief are unbearable together. She tried living on her own, but it didn’t work out. We moved her to a retreat center where they can help.”

  “You had to let her go…say goodbye again.” Henry touched my chin until I turned my face toward his. “That was really hard, wasn’t it?”

  “When I saw how she’s been living, it made it easier to admit she needed help.”

  He nodded, studying my face. “That’s lousy, but it wasn’t a statement of your worth to her. It was her way of asking for help and now she’s going to get better. You have to believe that.”

  As he talked, he moved out from under me and lowered me down to sit on the flat rock. My bathing suit snagged on the sharp edges. Henry stood in front of me, caging me in with his hands pressed against the rocks on either side of me. The crash I’d always experienced after talking about that day wasn’t happening because no one had ever held me while I talked about it.

  He leaned close. “Next, Wyatt. Sweetheart, he reacted. He did what good guys do. He used his body to shield others and he paid the price for that. But you didn’t play a role in that. I hate that you’ve carried that on your shoulders for even one second. This guy came with a target and he wouldn’t have left until he found Wyatt.”

  I sniffed loudly and sank lower in the warm water. “Maybe. I could have yelled for Wyatt to run, instead.”

  Henry shook his head. “That wouldn’t have worked and you know it.”

  I stared at the water and pictured that scenario. He was right. It would’ve just called attention to Wyatt anyway.

  “You’re upset with your dad, too, aren’t you?” Henry guessed. “Are you wondering if he’s made the right decisions?”

  I shrugged my shoulder at the suggestion of what had been nagging me for months
. What if Dad moved us too soon? What if he’d waited a few more months? Would Mom have had a chance to recover? Would we all be under one roof?

  “I’m amazed by your dad,” Henry said. “Yeah, maybe he uses work to escape a lot, but you’ve gotta understand his place in all this. He lost his son, but he tried to keep things together for you and your mom. He’s been slaying the dragons, not drowning himself in a bottle or giving up on his family. If that doesn’t tell you how much he loves you, I don’t know what does. I admire the heck out of him, Meg.”

  The guilt must’ve been painted on my face. It made me ashamed.

  “I’m not trying to make you feel worse,” he said. “I’m trying to show you that you can let go. Everything is okay. Your mom’s in a good place. Your dad’s trying his hardest. You and I are good, and I can take anything you need to dish out. I’m going to be here for you.”

  I’d had close friends before Wyatt died—friends I’d shared everything with. They slowly left me. They couldn’t handle the mess. The only person who stuck in there was Harris and he was Wyatt’s, not mine. I didn’t think Henry really understood what it meant to be there for someone like me.

  “Why?” I said.

  “Why am I here for you?”

  “Why would you volunteer for that? My life spins from one chaotic event to another. Sometimes the only thing keeping me breathing is the shock. You’re graduating and you’ve got this whole beautiful life to live. You need someone with less baggage.”

  Henry was quiet. He turned and sat next to me, putting his arm around me, being gentle with my bruise. “For one, I think you’d do the same for me.”

  I closed my eyes, feeling his steady heart beating against my side.

  “Look,” he said. “I remember what it felt like to lose my granddad. I know that’s nothing like what you’ve been through, but it was hard for me. He was sick a long time and my parents were in and out of the hospital with him. My sisters and I had to take up the slack on the ranch. We had to ask for and accept a lot of help.”

  I held his hand in mine. It was huge and rough with calluses. I wanted to hang onto it. “Go on,” I said.

  “Here’s what I learned about life when we were going through that. We’re all human and mortal. We’re all going to suffer and die. But it’s how we are with each other during those times that proves God’s here with us.” He turned his hand over in mine and entwined our fingers. “He comes in through people. People who love us anyway. They jump right into the chaos with us and try to help us make sense of it. That’s what mercy is…it’s choosing to help, or forgive, or love even when it goes against all logic.”

  The last minute pardon by the governor, I thought. The kid who takes the blame for another and keeps his mouth shut. “Mercy…,” I whispered. “I’ve asked for it a few times, but haven’t seen it come around yet.”

  “Then let me be your mercy,” he said. “I’ll never be able to give you smart answers about why we suffer, but I can come into your world and try to be some kind of help to you.” He dragged a finger through the damp hair around my face, tucking it behind my ear. Then he touched one of my cuts.

  I hid my face in his shoulder. I’d felt like a lost cause for so long. Like I was trying to move mountains by myself and I couldn’t do it anymore. And why in the world had I been expected to?

  “I love you, Meg,” Henry whispered into my ear. “I’m not saying that now because I pity you or because I think it’ll make you feel better. I love you.”

  Say it again.

  “You have the most tender heart of anyone I’ve ever known,” he said. “I’m not the only one who sees that, either. Thanet does and Tennyson does. And your parents.”

  Henry’s words caused something to stir within me and it didn’t feel at all comfortable. It felt urgent and irresistible. I wanted it. I wanted to let go. I wanted to be unbreakable.

  “See how the moonlight comes in and lights this room a little?” he said. “‘Muh’ means moon in Shoshone. So the cave is Moon Cave.”

  We’d been in the cave long enough for the moon to rise. The cave glowed. Henry glowed.

  “The story about the Indian saving the woman he loved…that was Shoshone, right?” I said.

  He smiled. “It was.”

  “He was her mercy.” I touched Henry’s chest, just over his heart. “Wyatt was Hannah’s and mine and the other kids he saved.”

  “Yes. And your dad…he’s being merciful to your mom, now.”

  I nodded. “I wish someone had stepped in to help Matthew before he lost control.”

  “He was sick, Meg. I believe he found mercy, too. After.”

  Henry was so good and kind. He’d been my mercy for a while. I just hadn’t named it that.

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  He smiled my favorite smile and lowered his head to look directly into my eyes. His voice was soft and more serious than I’d ever heard it when he said, “Thank you.”

  A crazy, determined pounding started in my chest. I felt like I’d cracked open a door.

  My soul gulped in the air and shouted, “Finally, you thick-headed nitwit!”

  Why hadn’t it occurred to me before? Of course, I thought, of course.

  “I stopped living that day,” I said. “That was my mistake. It meant Wyatt died for nothing.”

  He hugged me hard and I felt him trembling. “So live,” he said. “Every day. No more fear.” He choked back emotion. I wanted to hold the beauty of that—of Henry being moved to tears—with me for the rest of my life.

  “I’ve been so angry with my mom,” I said. “I’ve even been angry at Wyatt for not just running.” I squeezed Henry’s shoulders. “And I’ve hated Matthew so much. It’s like acid—it’s eating me alive.”

  “Let it all go,” Henry said. “Mercy is a two-way street. If you give it, it comes back to you.”

  I could choose to forgive, even though it went against all logic.

  I could choose to love.

  “Mercy,” I whispered to Henry…to Wyatt…to my parents…and, yes, to Matthew.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  “Who names a baby Tennyson?”

  I looked up at Tennyson who’d joined me at my table in the back of the library.

  “I mean, who holds that sweet little baby, wrapped in a fuzzy pink blanket and full of potential, and says this one looks like a gassy, wrinkled-up old dude from England?” she said.

  She’d found a dusty encyclopedia from the nearest shelf and looked up her name. Alfred Lord’s picture was there and I think it surprised her.

  Tennyson was the most alive person I’d ever seen. I can’t even explain it. She vibrates all the time. These were the kinds of things I noticed about people. Their life magnitude. My ability to judge this on a sliding scale had vanished when Wyatt vanished. But it was coming back to me, and I pictured myself holding one of those ancient slide rules up to the characters in my life.

  “I like your name,” I said. “I told you that the second I met you.”

  “Yeah, but you’re you. You probably like every name.”

  “Uma,” I suggested, shrugging one shoulder. “I don’t like Uma.”

  “Because that’s not a name. It’s the sound of a burp you try to hold in.”

  I laughed. I’d been laughing more lately. Like I wasn’t too sad to enjoy a moment here and there of levity. “It’s okay to laugh,” Henry said often. And I trusted him completely.

  “It’s time for something I like to call the winter break trip advisory,” Tennyson said, sliding a folded paper my way. She’d written For Meg’s Eyes Only on the outside with a pink glitter pen.

  “What’s this?” I touched the glitter.

  “You can’t tell anyone.” She looked around for eavesdroppers. “For the last two years, my parents have let me invite people to our condo in Jackson Hole during winter break.”

  I nodded. “Um-hm.” Already positive I couldn’t go.

  “And you’re my numero uno, so….” She arched h
er eyebrows, waiting for me to finish her thought.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “You know things are weird for me.”

  She grabbed my arm. “Stop it. You’re coming with me, Meg. We have room to pile people in so my mom said I can invite as many as I want.” She winked and elbowed me in the side. This meant we were sharing a secret.

  I stared back at her, blankly.

  She sighed. “Seriously? I’m trying to tell you that you can bring Henry. To my condo. For two nights.” She wrapped her arms around herself and faked a slow dance. “Hot cocoa by the fire. Sleigh rides in the moonlight.”

  I considered the possibility of being in a different place, on a vacation with Henry. No cattle. No winter crops. No depressing meals at the hotel with my dad. But there would be so many questions to answer—Will the parents be there? Will there be separate bedrooms and bathrooms? Will you know what to do if you feel pressured? How much has your mom told you about the goals of a teenage boy?

  “I don’t think it’ll fly with my dad,” I said.

  “It’ll fly. I’ll have Martha call him this evening.”

  Tennyson’s mom, Martha, was not what I’d expected. She had that old-school mom look about her, with the thick shirts that went up to her neck and the khaki pants that were too thin. But I really liked Martha. She was always pleasant and always said the same things to me. “Oh, Meg, you’re the nicest friend Tennyson has. Say ‘Philly cheesesteak’ again.” She could be counted on. This might actually work with Dad.

  I tore off a corner of the invitation I hadn’t yet opened and wrote Dad’s cell number down. “Tell her to call this number in case he’s still at the office.”

  One side of Tennyson’s mouth rose in a cocky smile. I couldn’t help but smile, too.

  ***

  Thanet and I were in the middle of closing the bookstore when Henry knocked on the window. I glanced up in time to see him watching me. He had a black winter cap pulled low on his head and he wore the thick coveralls that kept him warm when he worked outside. He looked nothing like the boys in Pittsburgh and I loved it. He pressed a gloved hand to the window and tapped his fingers. I ran to unlock the door.