Manipulation (Shadows)

by Jolene Perry

  “Cereal.”

  “You must go through a lot of cereal.” She laughs. I love her laugh.

  “I do.”

  When she leans forward, her hair falls down.

  “Are you up for one more experiment?”

  “What now?” She folds her arms. “Do you need to check my tonsils or something?” Sarcasm drips, but I love it from her anyway.

  “Well…that would be nice, but no, that’s not what I was talking about.” I reach forward. “Can I touch your hair?”

  “Okay.” She leans forward, her hair falls down and touches her lap.

  I lean forward so I can slide the strands through my fingers. I’m sure staring at her this way isn’t going to help the intensity any, but I can’t look away. I send thought after thought to her. Kiss me.

  “So, what’s the experiment?”

  “It didn’t work.” I drop her hair. “Your hair is safe.”

  “What did you try to get me to do? Or say?”

  “I’m a moron, looking for a kiss where I’m not going to get it,” I tease.

  “Dean.” She shakes her head. “Don’t. When we kiss I don’t want to feel like you forced it on me.” She starts down the ladder.

  “Wait, did you just say, when? As in, you think that at some point—” Okay, what is wrong with me? My throat’s suddenly thick and I don’t know what to do with myself. This was me at twelve, not eighteen. “At some point we will?”

  “If we don’t get sick of each other first.” She smirks and walks out my door.

  I scramble down the ladder wondering what kind of embarrassment will be waiting for me in the next room.

  “Tomato soup and grilled cheese, is that okay?” Bill asks.

  “Great,” I answer. And surprisingly normal.

  “It actually looks really good, but my little sister is probably home and she’s sort of having a hard time right now.” Addison bites her lip in apology.

  “Maybe next time.” Bill smiles and takes his dinner to the living room.

  “I’ll be back in a sec,” I tell him. “For dinner.”

  “You don’t have to walk me out.” Addison shakes her head.

  “I’ll walk you out and make sure you get in a car.” It’s the least I can do.

  She nods once and steps out the open door. We walk down the stairs in silence. One of the most intense afternoons of my life, with a girl I feel like I’ve known forever, but we still feel new, and I’m not sure what to say.

  “Oh, your jacket.” She starts to shrug it off when we get outside.

  “You’ll need it for the ride home.” I want to reach out and touch the hair around her face but stop myself.

  “You must think I’m crazy.” She looks away and heads for the corner.

  “Not at all. People who wear boots? And people who shuffle their feet? That makes me crazy.” It was the perfect thing to say. http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15837392-manipulation

  “So…” I stand just off the sidewalk with her, watching for cabs. It’s a busy street, and might take a few minutes. “I think we should do this again, at your place.”

  “Oh.” She looks down. “I’m kind of embarrassed about where I live.”

  “And you think I wasn’t?” What on earth would Addie have to be embarrassed about?

  “It’s different.” She shrugs.

  “It’s fine. I’m sure you’re not comfortable bringing me there. I shouldn’t have suggested it.” What the hell am I thinking? It’s one thing for a hot girl to ask her way back to my house, but for me to want to see hers? It feels different.

  “I don’t want to offend you, Dean. I mean, it has nothing to do with you. It’s just—”

  “It’s fine. I’ll see you in class.” But I am offended—even though I half expected her to tell me no.

  “See you.” She throws her hand up and a cab stops next to us. “I’ll get your coat back to you, soon.” She opens the cab door and takes my hand. Thank you.

  I step closer, and I swear the energy from her hits me before we touch.

  Thank you. And just like that, as our hands slip away, the afternoon is over, and with that one touch, I’m way less offended. This probably means I’m hosed here, because I really don’t see her slumming it with me for long.

  I walk back to the apartment feeling different. I’m not sure how, but I’m different. Changed. And if I thought I couldn’t get her out of my thoughts before, I can’t imagine how I’m going to sleep tonight.

  THIRTEEN

  Addison

  After the distraction of Dean, the full-force of Chase and what he did, hits me again. I slump in the seat of the cab, grateful for Dean’s jacket. It’s way too big, of course, but we’re close enough to the same height that it works okay. It smells like him, anyway. I breathe in next to the collar. Way better than cab. Way better than anything I can think of right now. I’m a mess. Chase, Dean, Chase, Dean.

  “Right here.” I tap the driver on the shoulder.

  He pulls over, and I drop a fifty on his seat.

  I scramble out and wonder if anyone’s home. My phone rings and I jump, again. Crap, I need to get a hold of myself.

  It’s Chase. My heart stops. Do I answer? What do I say?

  I answer the call but don’t say anything.

  “Princess? Are you there?”

  His tone feels stupid, condescending and patronizing. “Don’t call me that.”

  “What’s—”

  “I saw your picture in the paper this afternoon.” It’s all I can manage to get out. Where’s all the screaming and swearing I should be doing?

  “Princess…” He uses this sweet, mellow voice that used to always calm me down. Now it just pisses me off.

  I throw my phone into the middle of the street before thinking. It bounces off a car and immediately gets run over. I’m shaking again. Why did I give him this power over me? And now it feels like I have no one to talk to. Deborah will look down her nose at me, even though she thought it was the coolest thing ever. Even Ellie knew better. Now I want to talk to Dean, but I just threw my phone out into traffic. Perfect.

  I step in the building, slump against the elevator and wish for my bed. And dinner. Or maybe just ice cream. Maybe Ellie will want to sleep with me again. That would be nice, too. As the elevator moves up, I pull out my sanitizer and try to wash cab off me.

  When I walk in the house, Mom’s in the living room, stopping me still. She’s like this stranger in my house in all her perfectly manicured blonde glory. We’re the same height, but I’m shaped like a boy. Mom has curves, just enough to look like a woman.

  “Hey, Mom.” I smile. As angry as I am with her for never being around, I miss her but then can’t ever find words when she’s actually here. I don’t think I’ve seen her for two weeks. Or more.

  “Don’t ‘hey’ me.” Her face is hard. “Do you have any idea how much your little stunt is affecting us? Still?”

  “I…” Her words hit me over and over, shattering like plates thrown against a brick wall. Tonight isn’t the night I need this. If they’d known about Chase, maybe I could get some sympathy. Maybe.

  “It’s completely embarrassing for my daughter, of all people, to be doing what you did. If you needed to go somewhere, I could have gotten you there.” Each word is clipped and angry.

  “Sorry, Mom, I—”

  “My poor brother had to take you to court.”

  “Mom that was weeks ago, now.”

  “Be quiet!” Her hands are on her hips and even though we’re the same height, she’s now miles taller.

  “Ellen.” Dad stands up and touches her arm.

  She shrugs him off. “We don’t have anything to talk about, Addison.”

  This is how my mom dismisses me. But I want to talk. I want to talk about the boy who broke my heart today. And the boy who’s fixing it, changing me. She won’t want to hear it. She’ll probably never want to hear it, and I have no idea why.

  “This is your cue to leave, Addison
.” Mom sits back down and picks up her glass of wine.

  I meant to. I meant to leave before she could say something. Before she could dismiss me even further. When did we get to this point? Has it just happened slowly? Or did it happen over time? I’m wiping tears, again, as I walk down the hallway.

  Even my door feels heavier than normal. I’m starving. There are two Zone bars on top of my small fridge. I grab one, flop on my sofa, and start to eat. What a mess I got myself into. My starry-eyed optimism when I was sixteen carried Chase and I together for way too long.

  I take the last bite of my first bar and open the next package. The chocolate and peanut butter melt in my mouth and help me relax. Why didn’t I invite Dean here? Am I that embarrassed about where I live? His place just felt so warm, lived in, nice. This place feels like a big eff-you to everyone who lives below us. Or, that’s how it feels to me. Dean, I’m sure, already sees me as some weird spoiled brat. No need to make things worse.

  I stand up and pick up our home phone. Dean’s number… Okay. I try to relax and see it in my head. I dial. And wait. And hope it’s the right one. I step back to my couch and sit.

  “Hello?” His voice is smooth, like always.

  “Dean?”

  “Hey, Addie.” His tone lightens.

  “I can’t believe I got your number right.” I breathe out.

  “Where’s your phone?”

  “Under traffic on Park Avenue.” I let myself laugh once, because it really was a stupid and dramatic thing to do.

  “So, that’s the view, huh? From your window?” There’s an edge of tease to his voice that puts me at ease.

  “That’s the view.” If he’s going to be here, it doesn’t much matter if he knows where I live.

  “So, what’s up?”

  “I called to say thanks, and to see if you want to follow me home after class in a couple days.” I can’t believe I just asked him.

  “Sure.” There’s a pause. “But are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” Mostly I just want time with him, but there’s no easy way to say that.

  “Do you graduate in a couple of weeks?”

  “Next week.”

  “Oh, me too. I thought somehow the private schools would be different.”

  “Guess they’re not.”

  “What’s next for you?”

  I sit back and breathe in. Talking to Dean I can do. “NYU.”

  “I’m doing the Tisch school. They specialize in all kinds of artistic degrees. NYU’s too pricey for me, considering Tisch is probably going to give me a nice scholarship.”

  “I’m glad you’re doing something with your art. It would be a waste if you didn’t.” I think again to the drawing of me. No one’s ever done something like that for me before. Something so personal.

  “Well, I’m still not sure how I’m going to get through. Bill and Jeannette offered to let me stay here, but I’ll have to pay rent.”

  “Right.” I’m looking forward to freedom and Dean is about to face a lot more work. “Thanks for today, Dean. It means a lot.”

  “I’m glad. Really. I’m terrible with girls. I mean, I’ve had girlfriends, you know, but I generally screw things up.”

  “Oh.” Does he consider me a girlfriend? I don’t know what we are right now, but it feels good. It feels like more than friends, even though we’ve done nothing outside of holding hands for brief moments and experiments. “So, what you’re saying is I need to warn you if you’re headed in a bad direction, is that right?”

  He laughs. “Something like that.”

  “Just don’t make me do things, okay?” I already feel naked and vulnerable around him.

  “I can do that.”

  I’m grinning like an idiot and picturing Dean on the other end, on one of those huge chairs in his miniature living room, smiling too.

  “So I’ll talk to you later?”

  “Later.”

  Am I so pathetic that I need a guy to make me feel better? But it’s not just a guy. It’s Dean. And that somehow makes it all okay. Or does it?

  “Knock, knock, Bunny.” Dad opens my door a crack.

  “Hey, Dad.” I pull my legs to my chest and don’t move from my spot on the couch. What does he want? When was the last time he set foot in my room?

  “Your Mom’s had a rough few weeks.” Now’s when Dad comes in to apologize for my mother who probably would have been fine without children.

  “I guessed.” All I want right now is to keep my voice neutral.

  “You didn’t look like yourself when you got home. Is everything okay?” His voice is so relaxed and quiet, not at all what I’m used to from him.

  “You don’t want to hear it.” This is really weird. My dad in my room, asking me about…anything.

  “Boys, then.” He sits on the other end of my couch.

  “Yeah.” I watch him carefully. What does he want?

  “Trent? The one who took you to Prom?” He seems distracted, like he’s here for something else, and we’re just passing the time before he gets to it.

  “Yeah,” I lie. It’s easier than explaining anything else to him, especially right now when I’m too confused to understand my own head.

  “I figured the boy stuff was about Chase. And the announcement in the paper today.”

  I open my mouth to say something.

  “It wasn’t hard to figure out. I didn’t say anything.” He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

  I close my mouth and feel guilt wash through me. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad to tell them what was going on. Well, most of what was going on.

  “I don’t know everything that happened between you two, and I probably don’t want to know.” A near smile hits the corners of his mouth, but he continues to stare at the floor.

  I start to defend myself, but he puts his hand up between us. He’s not done yet.

  “I don’t know how things ended between you…” He’s not looking at me, he’s stumbling for words a bit—something my dad rarely does. “Sorry, Addison.”

  I need to change the subject because talking about what Chase and I did together is not on the list of acceptable things to speak with my dad about. “I need a new phone.”

  He finally looks my way, and it’s like the man underneath the face I see from my dad is there. It’s sort of astounding that I feel like I’m seeing the actual person for the first time. “What happened to yours?”

  “I lost my temper when Chase tried to call. A cab ran it over.” I know how Dad hates the cabs.

  “Those damn cabbies are everywhere.” He sighs. “Fine, use your card and pick one out tomorrow.”

  “Thanks.” It feels awkward, like he’s still waiting for something or is hesitant about something. And just the simple fact that he’s in my room is throwing me.

  I blink and something dark moves behind Dad. He stiffens, but doesn’t move. But then as I squint toward my door, nothing’s there. It was dark, and just flashed. I spin to see my curtains still resting open. Maybe it was just a shadow from outside, but just like the other day in my closet, my heart starts banging inside my ribs.

  “You okay?” Dad touches my knee, still stiff, and I swear trying to look more relaxed than he is.

  My body warms up and relaxes slowing my heart back down.

  “Yeah. I’m okay.” My eyes scan back and forth behind him, but there’s nothing. I pull in a deep breath. Either my imagination or a shadow from the window. No big deal. Anyway, I feel all relaxed again, so I’m thinking it’s just my imagination.

  “You’re still planning to go to NYU right? Sticking around?” he asks.

  “Yeah, but if Ellie’s in Paris…” Why would I stick here? Why wouldn’t I try to be closer to her?

  “I’ll make sure you see her.”

  Why am I suspicious about my dad being so nice? I mean, he’s only gruff and yelling when I’ve done something stupid, but he’s okay most of the time. My suspicion doesn’t make sense. But he is in my room.
/>   “You know you can talk to me, right?”

  “Uh… sure.” This is new.

  “Okay. I just don’t want you involved in anything that’s over your head, that’s all.”

  “Are we back to the train tickets?” Is that where this is coming from?

  His eyebrows shoot up. “Not, that.” He shifts his weight. “Just…” I swear he attempts a half-glance behind him. Did he notice it too? The movement? But he can’t have, because it had to be nothing. “Be careful out there.”

  I stay silent. I’m not sure where this overwhelming amount of paternal love came from, but it doesn’t feel like Dad. That, and, it’s sort of an ambiguous warning. Asking him if he saw something move in my room suddenly seems ridiculous, and I’m not sure that we have anything else to talk about.

  “Chase is kind of a prick, like his Dad.” Dad chuckles.

  I sputter out a nervous laugh. I can’t help it. Dad doesn’t really say anything bad about anybody, not anybody that we both know, anyway.

  “Night, Bunny.” He stands up, takes a long look around my room and starts for the door.

  “Night, Dad.”

  He walks out, leaving me feeling more confused than ever. How does he know so much? Is it normal parent stuff or has he been tracking me somehow? Are we both seeing nothings that shouldn’t be here? Maybe Dad pays more attention than I give him credit for.

  The feeling of being watched pinpricks its way up my spine and I shake it off to get ready for bed—suddenly way more things on my mind than I’m ready for.

  FOURTEEN

  Dean

  Really, most of my work for school is done. The past few days have been a haze of trying to get everything turned in before graduation. I’m trying not to think about Addie every moment of the day and avoiding any kind of deep conversation with Katy. I don’t know what to tell her about Addie yet, and she’ll definitely want to know.

  It’s our last Life Skills class today. I’m disappointed and relieved. Relieved that it’s over, but disappointed that I’ve lost the easy excuse to see Addison. I jog up the steps and into the classroom, but she’s not here yet. And I realize how much I’m anticipating seeing her when my chest hits the floor at her absence.