“I wish you’d let me talk to your teachers, so they’d know to keep an eye out.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want anybody to know.”
“Meagan, there’s nothing to be ashamed of—”
“I know,” she cut in. “But still…I’d rather keep it between us, okay?”
“If you insist,” he said reluctantly. “But I’m driving you to school and picking you up this afternoon. And promise me that if he bothers you, you’ll text me. Okay?”
“You don’t have to be so overprotective,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
“Better to overprotective than… under-protective?” He stumbled a little on the word, then laughed. “Alright. Let’s get going.”
***
Kendall
***
Kendall slouched in her chair in the principal’s office, while her dad talked to the headmaster. The hearing this morning had gone better than she’d anticipated, but that stupid judge had granted Jordan’s request to sentence her to group therapy. For an entire year. Any hope of skipping town was dashed now, unless she wanted the police and her parents looking for her.
“I’ve had a chance to look over your daughter’s transcripts,” Principal Jackson said, with that hesitant tone most people took on once they’d looked at Kendall’s file. “And I’m not sure she’s a good…fit for our institution. Perhaps she’d be happier across town at Westview?”
Jordan gave an arrogant chuckle, and Kendall knew the principal was about to be put in his place. “I already have one daughter enrolled here.”
Kendall felt a sharp stab of pain in her gut. Since when did Kelly become his daughter? They’d only known each other for like…six years, if that.
“Surely you don’t expect me to send them to different schools,” Jordan continued. “And besides, Kendall was already enrolled here once. Last year.”
“Yes, I remember,” he said, with a note of disdain in his voice. “We got very well acquainted during her short stay at Clearwater.”
“Regardless, to send them to separate schools would be inconvenient, to say the least.”
“I realize that Mr. Harvelle, but…Kendall’s less-than-exciting academic history aside, it looks like she’s been in a great deal of trouble this year alone. We have a certain…image to main—”
“Let me see that.” Jordan leaned forward and swiped the folder from the principal’s desk. He took a minute to read over the list of Kendall’s indiscretions—at least the one’s she’d been caught doing—and then turned a scrutinizing look to her. Kendall sunk further into her chair, avoiding his gaze, but she could still feel him studying her. Finally, he slammed the folder shut and put it back on the guy’s desk. “I realize Kendall is no saint, but I believe this can be a fresh start for her. If we send her to Westview, she will, without a doubt, fall in with people who will only hinder her recovery. Surely you understand what a crucial time this is for her. I would think someone in your position would be supportive to a teen who’s trying to reform herself.”
Principal Jackson sighed, then looked from Jordan to Kendall. “What about you, Miss Harvelle? Do you have anything to add?”
Looking over at her dad, and his hopeful, urging expression, she could practically read his mind. Tell them you’re trying to change. Apologize for your behavior. Help me out, here. Turning her gaze back to the principal, she said, “Got any cute teachers?”
Hearing Jordan’s disappointed sigh, and the small scoff of embarrassment, she felt guilty. Wishing, once again, she could be the daughter he wanted.
“Kendall’s in treatment,” Jordan said. “She starts a therapy program this afternoon. We’re hopeful that the results will be good. So, how about we start her out here on a trial basis? If things don’t go well, then we’ll consider transferring her to Westview.”
The older, balding man considered this for a minute. When it looked like he was leaning toward ‘no’, Jordan sighed in boredom. “Come on, Tom. You don’t want me to take this to the school board. You know I’ll win. I always win.”
“Very well,” Principal Jackson said reluctantly. He held eye contact with Kendall. “Keep in mind, young lady, that your spot here is dependent upon your good behavior. Any trouble out of you will not be condoned.”
“Yes sir,” she said, with just enough sarcasm to make him wonder if she was being sincere or not.
He stood, crossing the room to open the door to his office. “If you two will see Mrs. Masters in the guidance office, she’ll get you the forms you need to sign and draw up a class schedule. It’s been nice meeting with you today.” He lingered at the door, tapping his loafer against the tile while he waited for them to leave.
Once they were outside the office, he shut the door behind them. Jordan looked down at his watch. “Well, that was time-consuming. Let’s head over to guidance. I’m late for a meeting.”
Kendall rolled her eyes as Jordan led the way. “Wouldn’t want to keep the divorcee waiting.”
“I am not a divorce attorney,” Jordan said, sounding insulted. “I’m a prosecutor.”
She tried to hide her smile as they went into the guidance office. If she couldn’t get her hands on any alcohol, getting under her dad’s skin was the second best way to have fun. After he signed the necessary paperwork, Jordan left, giving her a ‘be good’ warning look.
A few minutes later, she was walking the halls, looking down at the class schedule and trying to find her locker. It was number 134, but she was in the five-hundreds and couldn’t figure out which way to go to reach the lower numbers. Just as her head was about to explode, she spotted Seth at one of the lockers across the hall. Relieved to see a familiar face, she tip-toed up behind him and planted a kiss on his neck.
“Hey there, hottie,” she whispered into his ear.
He turned, looking pleased to see her. Then he glanced around, in that familiar and insulting ‘did anybody see?’ way. “Kendall,” he said once he’d confirmed the hall was empty. “Good to see you again.”
“What kind of snobby school do you go to, Seth?” she asked, chuckling as she leaned against the locker next to his. “They didn’t want to let me back in the door.”
“They’re probably too afraid you’ll keep all the guys from concentrating.”
She shrugged. “Well, I was going to ask you to point me in the direction of my locker, but…” she glanced toward the exit sign with a devious grin. “How about we just blow this off all together?”
He looked reluctant, so she leaned close, pressing up against him and putting her lips against his ear. “Did I mention that my house is probably completely empty by now? All those rooms. Could keep us busy all day.”
“That sounds incredibly fun,” he said, pushing her back a little. “But try to go easy on the PDA. I have a girlfriend.”
She pushed down that initial feeling of insulted jealousy, quickly replacing it with carelessness. “Is it serious?”
“She thinks so.”
Kendall raised an eyebrow.
He shrugged, a smirk playing at his lips. “No, not really.”
She nodded decisively. “Then the offer still stands.”
“As much as I would love to, if I miss school, I miss practice. I miss practice and my coach tears me a new one. He’s brutal. Just ask the guy you ran over.” He slammed the locker shut and picked his backpack up off the floor. “But, I can help you find that locker. Is that your schedule?”
Sulking, she frowned as she handed the sheet of paper over to him.
He scanned the paper until he found her locker number. “Wow. You’re completely in the wrong neighborhood.”
“Tell me about,” she mumbled.
Looping an arm around her waist, he led them down the hall and around the corner. “It’s this way.”
***
Group Meeting
***
The members of the support group gathered in the meeting room. Surrounded by inspirational posters, dimly lit lamps, and the sounds o
f soft chatter, Kelly looked nervously around the room, sneaking a glance at Gage.
She noticed that he wouldn’t look directly at her, and wondered how long this cold-shoulder would last.
“Meagan,” Daphne said, “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better. How’s the leg?”
“Hurts a little,” she said. “I think I was just being stubborn when I insisted on going to school today.”
“Well, healing does take time,” she said. “Alex, what about you? How are you feeling?”
“Great,” he said, giving a smile to prove it. And Kelly couldn’t help but notice that he was, once again, sitting next to Kay.
“Good.” Daphne smiled proudly as she looked around the room. “It seems we’re short a member. Has anybody seen Ryder this afternoon?”
They all shook their heads.
“I talked to him earlier,” Meagan said. “He sounded fine.”
“I’ll give him a call after the meeting,” Daphne said. “I’m sure you guys have noticed we have another new member. I’d like everybody to say hello to Kendall.” Daphne motioned to Kendall, who was sitting across the table from Kelly. “She’s Kelly’s sister.”
“Stepsister,” the girls corrected her together.
“Oh, of course. I’m sorry.” Daphne turned her attention to Kendall. “Would you mind telling everyone a little about yourself?”
Kendall looked uncomfortable, and Kelly tried to remember ever seeing her that way before. But she couldn’t recall a single situation where Kendall wasn’t armed with witty remarks and insults. “My name’s Kendall and I just moved back here.”
“Where are you from?”
She shrugged. “All over.”
Daphne waited, giving her a chance to elaborate. When she didn’t Daphne pressed, “Want to share what brings you here tonight?”
“Not really.”
“When I spoke to your father, he said you had a bit of a drinking problem. Let’s talk about that.”
“Let’s not,” Kendall sighed. “He overreacted.”
“But you were drinking the night you hit Alex, weren’t you?” Daphne asked, leaning her elbows on the table. “Wouldn’t it be fair to say that the alcohol has caused some problems in your life?”
“My life already has problems,” Kendall said, fixing her eyes into a glare. “I’d say the alcohol is my medicine.”
Daphne nodded in understanding. “So you use it to self-medicate?”
Kendall sat up, her mouth dropping open. “I didn’t mean—”
“And it makes you feel better, for a little while, at least, doesn’t it?”
“Look, it was just a joke. I don’t self-medicate.”
“Do you often joke to keep from being…personal?”
“Wow,” Kendall said, flopping back in her chair. “You give the term ‘dime store psycho-babble’ a whole new definition.”
“A very funny joke.” Daphne gave the girl a small smile. “This is a safe place, Kendall. You can get personal here.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it.”
Daphne nodded again, and turned her attention to the rest of the group. “As humans, we’re naturally defensive. It’s a reaction to being insecure, or unsure. But, over time those defenses can begin to create problems. Leading to dysfunctional relationships, or the lack of inter-personal relationships altogether. That’s why I believe it’s important for everyone to have someone they can talk to. A trusted friend, or in some cases a counselor. That’s why I’m very proud of everyone who showed up here tonight.”
Kelly found it hard to focus on what Daphne was saying. She just kept looking at Kay and Alex, noticing they kept stealing secret glances at each other, and at Gage, who looked away every time she looked at him. But he had been looking at her, hadn’t he? She wished she knew for sure.
“Kelly,” Daphne asked, breaking into her thoughts of jealousy and confusion. “Have things been going any better at home?”
She glanced nervously at Kendall before she answered, her stomach sinking when Kendall raised an eyebrow at her in question. “Yeah. A lot better.”
“Good. What about you, Meagan? Aside from the broken leg.”
“Honestly…things are getting intense. But all I’ve done lately is talk about it, so I’m all talked out right now. Maybe some other time?”
“Whenever you’re ready,” Daphne assured her. “Since nobody seems to be in a chatty mood, how about a journal assignment? I want you to write about a childhood memory. Just the first one that comes to mind.”
There was a soft scuffle in the room as everybody took out their journals and opened them. Daphne sat back in her chair, studying the expressions on their faces as they wrote.
The assignment took up the rest of the hour, and before long the group was dismissed. As the teens scattered, Daphne caught up with Kay by the door. She tapped the girl’s shoulder and pulled her aside. “Do you have a minute?” Daphne asked.
“Sure.” Kay stepped back to let Kelly and Kendall, who were still bickering about something, pass by. “What’s up?”
Daphne waited until Meagan, moving slowly but confidently along on those crutches, left. Once they were alone, Daphne spoke again. “I just wanted to check in and see how things were going with that ex-boyfriend. Sometimes those kinds of relationships can be difficult to end.”
Kay stared at Daphne, puzzled.
“The one who was abusive,” Daphne reminded her gently.
“Right.” Kay chuckled nervously, once again surprised by her own lies and the lengths she’d go to in order to protect her father. “Everything’s fine.”
“You’re so very convincing,” Daphne said with a smile. “Want to try that again?”
Kay moved to the bulletin board to put some space between them. “Honestly, it’s been a little harder to get away than I’d thought. But the…the hitting has stopped,” she added quickly, afraid Daphne would have to take action if she thought Kay was in physical danger.
“It’s stopped?” Daphne moved toward the other end of the bulletin board, but gave Kay the space she needed. “Or it’s stopped for now?”
Though she pretended to be reading a flyer about babysitting, Kay let Daphne’s words sink in. Once she really thought about it, she knew her father would never change. Leading her to the terrifying realization that she would have to initiate the change she wanted, and she wasn’t sure she was strong enough. “I guess we’ll see,” Kay finally whispered.
Daphne let the silence linger for a little bit before she finally turned around and leaned against the bulletin board, turning her focus to Kay. “My ex-husband was abusive,” she said, taking Kay by surprise. “Every situation is different, but it leaves me a little more understanding than most. I know how it can mess with your head; make you blame yourself for all sorts of stupid things. Before long…the line between you and him starts to blur, then disappears altogether. It’s a very destructive, tough cycle to break.”
Kay gazed at Daphne, trying to imagine this strong, smart and compassionate doctor getting slapped around in the middle of the night. The images just didn’t fit together. It seemed like Daphne knew how to stand up for herself, and Kay wondered how she could have ever allowed something so demeaning continue. “I’m sorry,” Kay said, realizing she was staring. “You just seem so…in control. I had no idea.”
“I just wanted you to know that I understand,” she said, giving that familiar and comforting half-smile to reinforce her words. “And I’m here to help any way I can. If you’ll let me.”
Part of her wanted nothing more than to sit down and spill the entire story, tell Daphne everything. But the loyalty to her father, reinforced for years by those heavy, brutal fists, was stronger. She edged toward the door, giving Daphne a heartfelt, “Thanks. I’ll remember that.”
***
Ryder
***
Ryder shifted uncomfortably on the lumpy, worn out mattress he’d thrown his blanket over. He hadn’t bothered to unpack yet, and proba
bly wouldn’t for the next week or so. With earbuds stuffed into his ears, he listened to a playlist on his iPod and stared at the ceiling.
Sophia had escorted him to Cornerstone this afternoon, and he’d been lying here like this ever since. It wasn’t that he minded, really. It didn’t bother him that the food sucked, or that viruses tended to spread like wildfire. He didn’t even really care that his roommate was a scrawny ten-year-old. But he always got a little moody whenever he was transferred from one foster home to another. It made him think of his parents, and he hated it when they were on his mind. On one hand, why should he think of them at all? He was sure they never gave a passing thought to him—if they did, how could they leave him like this? But on the other, they were his parents. They were supposed to give him a home, and love and support and all of those other things he hadn’t been able to call his own in years.
After his mother left when he was seven, his dad checked out emotionally. But Ryder had adjusted. He became accustomed to microwave dinners, cold Poptarts and coming home to find his dad passed out on the couch. At first he just thought he slept a lot. It wasn’t until a year later, when he took what he thought was an aspirin and spent the next two days loopy, that he realized his dad’s sleep was medically induced. It turned out that the pill wasn’t aspirin, but morphine, and he could’ve really gotten hurt.
His dad had yelled at him good for that one. Not because of the danger involved, but because the dent he’d put in his dad’s stash. Like that one little pill had made a difference.
He was twelve when his dad took off for a poker game one night, giving Ryder strict instructions to stay in the house and go to bed on time, and never came back.
For two weeks, he took care of himself. Living off of fried bologna sandwiches and dry cereal, forging his father’s signature on school forms, getting himself up for school on time every morning. All the while dodging questions from the nosey neighbor next door, who wanted to know why she never saw his dad’s car anymore.
He’d watched the news constantly and used couch-change to buy newspapers the day they came out, searching for any sign that his dad was injured or worse. When he found no trace of his dad, he began to tell himself stories to explain his absence. He’d been caught cheating in the poker game, was jumped and now wandered around without his memory. He’d been abducted by aliens. He was secretly searching for his mom, and didn’t want Ryder to know because he didn’t want to get his hopes up. And every day he told himself that tomorrow, his dad would come home. And things would go back to normal. As horrible as normal was, he missed it.
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