My Deliberate Mistake

by Claire Svendsen

  My Deliberate Mistake

  Claire Svendsen

  Copyright © 2013 Claire Svendsen

  All rights reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, places or events is purely coincidental.

  Cover art by phatpuppyart.com

  Photo by Tracy Tee Photography

  Typography by Catriona Crehan

  Formatting by Jason G. Anderson

  No matter what happens in life, my family taught me never to give up. This book is for you.

  PROLOGUE

  I’m sitting in the driver’s seat with my hands at ten and two just like Dad showed me. I’ve buckled my seat belt but the force of impact still jolts me forward. The belt catches before my head slams into the steering wheel, snapping against bone. I can’t breathe and start to panic. Try to scream but no sound comes out. It’s too late to turn back now.

  Water splashes against the windows as the car drowns, taking us with it. Everything out there is green and muddy, nothing like the aquarium we went to on a sunny August day last summer. No clown fish or dolphins, just a rusty tin can stirred up from the bottom of the lake and shredded plastic bags.

  The seat belt is stuck. I struggle, my fingers shaking but eventually I get it undone. Water trickles through the cracked window as the last sliver of light disappears from the top of the windshield. It smells like dead fish. We’re fully submerged and sinking fast.

  My shoulder hurts but I ignore the pain and scramble through to the back seat.

  “Julia?”

  She’s limp on the floor behind the driver’s seat, curled up in a tight ball like a kitten. Blood runs from a cut on her forehead. Blonde hair fanned out like the mermaid doll she still sleeps with at night. Hair the same as mine only I know it looks better on her, everything always does. I snuggle down beside her warm body, the way we used to when we were toddlers, the way we probably did in the womb. Two halves of a whole, two wrongs make a right.

  The car creaks and groans as the lake sucks it downwards. I close my eyes and push my head into Julia. Her breathing is shallow, the blood from her wound running faster now.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  Water pools around us. It’s cold and I’m shivering but Julia isn’t, her body is as cool as the water. I know it won’t be long now. I wait to drift off into eternal sleep. I’ve read a lot about drowning. Everyone says it doesn’t hurt. I hope they’re right.

  But there are lights, then the sharp smash of glass. Water floods in and I choke on it. Feel like I might throw up as it burns my lungs. Hands pull me out but I hold on to Julia. I won’t let her go. We’re in this together. They can’t take me away from her.

  1.

  “What happens after the car hits the water?”

  I’m stuck in a torture chamber, waltzing around my web of lies. Doctor Silverman has only been at it six months and still thinks she can break me. Fat chance. I run through shrinks like normal girls go through boyfriends. She’s unlucky number thirteen.

  “I don’t remember,” I lie.

  Knees clutched to my chest, I’m curled up in the big chair with the purple throw. Doctor Silverman leans forward intently. She knows I’m holding out on her.

  “But you do remember. Now tell me.”

  But I can’t. My life flashes before me, the one I’ve lived since I drove our car into the lake when I was twelve. The parents who’ve hated me ever since. The lie I told because I was sure I’d die too, only I didn’t. I’m stuck here. The leftover my parents don’t want. Every time they look at me they see Julia and it tears them up inside. Never mind the fact that she planned to kill us all.

  Dr. Silverman sits there expectantly. She’s wearing her ugly blue skirt and pale yellow blouse, spilling over the side of her chair with fat that has no place to go. I call her Big Sally, only not to her face. It helps to think of her as anything other than a doctor delving around in the deepest recesses of my brain, doling out mind altering drugs. She’s not all bad though. She got me out of Hillcrest. There’s nothing like an enforced stay in a lock down psych ward to keep you on the straight and narrow. So you see I want to give Big Sally what she’s been waiting for. Only I’ve lived the lie for so long, it’s hard to remember what the truth is anymore. But that’s a lie too. Deep down I know what happened and I know what I did. I should just get it over with. I should tell her now.

  “Yes you should,” Julia whispers in my ear.

  I ignore her. No one knows Julia is still here, not even Big Sally. If I tell her, I know she’ll send me back to Hillcrest even though she thinks the place is bullshit. The last time I was there one of the male nurses shoved his dick in my face and forced me to blow him. Of course no one believed me. That’s what happens when you’re crazy. Your credibility is flushed down the toilet and people think they can fuck with you and never get caught. No one may have listened to me but the next time he tried it, because of course once wasn’t enough, I punched him in the balls so hard he vomited up his macaroni and cheese. He never touched me again.

  “Do you think this summer thing is really a good idea?” She’s changing tactics but it won’t work.

  “It has to,” I say. “It’s all I have left.”

  2.

  I’m on a train, one that sure as hell isn’t going anywhere magical. Unless you think a tumbledown college in the backwoods of Florida sounds particularly special. My seat smells like stale fries and sweat and the man across the aisle is sleeping with his mouth open. When I got on the train I saw him eyeing my black nail polish with that look on his face, the one that says he thinks I’m dangerous. He’s probably afraid I’ll slit his throat while he’s sleeping so I expect he’s faking those loud snores for my benefit.

  My stomach grumbles loudly. I’d kill for a juicy burger right about now. Too bad money is going to be tight for the summer. The intensive art program is expensive and that means I’m on a budget. A stupid, sucky budget thanks to doctors who weren’t in my insurance network and so many medications that I’m stuck in the doughnut hole. I know that sounds like a nice place to be but it’s not. It’s a place where you have to pay for your own pills or rather, your parents do. So you end up with no money left for college and you’re screwed. Or rather, I’m screwed. But if I win the scholarship this summer I’ll get to go and that’s why I’ll shut up and eat my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches because I’m lucky to have this one last chance. I can’t mess it up. Begrudgingly I take one out and eat it. The bread is squashed and tastes of plastic but at least it shuts my stomach up.

  “You’ll be careful, won’t you?” Mom said as I slapped on the peanut butter earlier that morning.

  “Yeah,” I nodded.

  She stood a few feet away from me, wringing her hands like she did when she was worried.

  “I have a bad feeling about this summer.”

  Since the accident Mom’s had bad feelings about lots of things. Her shrink calls it post-traumatic stress disorder. I just call it annoying. The bad feelings only rear their ugly head when it’s something I want to do. Trip to the dentist? No bad feeling. Art exhibit in town? Exceptionally bad feeling. I started sneaking out my window when I was thirteen. Of course she was too drunk to notice but I can’t exactly blame her for that. In fact it was better when she was drinking. Now she’s still a wreck only there’s no alcohol to mask it. Sober Mom who hates me is far worse than drunk Mom who knows I did something but can’t remember what it was.

  I put down my knife and turned to face her, something I rarely bother to do anymore.

  “Are you saying I can’t go?”

  She didn’t answer, her face pale as she looked past me and out to the back yard. We don’t make eye contact
, at least not anymore.

  “Because it’s too late to sign up for anything else. That means I’ll be here all summer long.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said. “Of course you must go. Your art is important to you and it’s your last chance to get into a good college.”

  By that I know she means a college far away from her. Just like all the out of State summer camps they enrolled me in so they wouldn’t have to spend time with me.

  “Have you packed all your meds?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Ana. Have you packed them?”

  “Yes,” I snapped.

  “And you’ll take them when you’re supposed to, and call Dr. Silverman if you feel yourself slipping?”

  “I’ll be fine Mom,” I said. “I’ll take my meds.”

  “You know you won’t take them,” Julia laughed.

  She’s probably right. When I’m on them my paintings are dull and lifeless, a mere fragment of the talent I know I possess. This summer my art has to come alive. If it doesn’t shine, I’ll never get noticed and I need the scholarship. I need it more than air or food. I have to get away from here, permanently.

  Mustache guy is snoring louder now. I guess he wasn’t faking after all. Trees slip past the window. Eventually the oaks are replaced with spiky palms, the soil turning from dark and muddy to light sand. My heart lifts. This will be the summer everything changes. It has to be. Maybe I’ll even let myself fall in love.

  I don’t like to think about the boys I’ve been with. The things I’ve let them do to me. I know that sounds like I’m a slut but I’m not. I do it to forget, to block out the voice. When a guy is inside me, Julia’s not there and for a brief moment I’m close to somebody who doesn’t hate me. But this summer I want more. I want love and tenderness and holding hands. This time I won’t settle for anything less. Unless Julia won’t let me.

  3.

  It’s nearly four when we pull into the station. Mustache guy is still sleeping. He must have taken a pill. There’s no way a normal person can sleep that long on a loud, bumpy train but then I’m a bad sleeper so what do I know. I’m lucky if I get three hours a night and I’m on medication.

  I drag my suitcase and portfolio out onto the platform. The heat is wet and suffocating. Sweat runs down between my shoulder blades and pools in the small of my back. I knew it was going to be hot in Florida but this is ridiculous. It’s like everyone is walking around in an oven, all of us cooking without even knowing it. I drag my stuff over to a bench in the shade and fan myself with the college flyer.

  Someone from the art program is supposed to pick me up. Students are being housed on campus in makeshift dorms. Apparently we’ll be supervised. I’m hoping not too much. The brochure makes it sound so romantic. Victoria College is one of the oldest in the state, the main house built by the Spanish hundreds of years ago. It’s also out in the middle of nowhere. They’d better not have forgotten about me.

  I sit and wait, there’s not much else to do. If I had my cell phone I could call the college and ask where my ride is but I lost it last week. I haven’t told the parents yet, I know they’ll be furious. Dad will scream that I’m irresponsible and Mom will look sad and disappointed at some imaginary point over my head. Like I need more of that and anyway, it’s not like I lost it on purpose.

  There’s a pay phone up against the wall. I fish around for some change and pick up the phone. It’s sticky and disgusting. There is also no dial tone. I slam the thing back down. Of course it doesn’t work. No one uses pay phones anymore. It’s just a matter of time before this one is ripped out. Gone forever like some old, mechanical dinosaur. Everyone at school is a cell phone junkie. Texting all the time and talking for hours. I hate talking on the phone. My tongue gets dry and fat and I can’t think of anything to say. So I guess I don’t really care that I lost my cell phone, except for now when I really need it.

  4.

  There’s a guy watching me. I can see him standing in the shade. He’s leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face. I feel hot just looking at him in his jeans and cowboy boots, and not in a good way. How can he stand it in this heat? My cotton shorts are stuck to my skin like glue. The thought of wearing jeans is unbearable. At first I ignore him, turn the other way, pretend I’m not interested. But there is something about him. He’s gorgeous but that’s not it, there is something else. It’s like he’s bursting to tell a secret. Eventually I can’t stand it any longer. I get up and drag my suitcase and portfolio over to him.

  “What are you doing?” I say. “Got nothing better to do than watch girls at the station? What are you, some kind of pervert or something?”

  He smiles. There’s a dimple in his right cheek and a sparkle in his blue eyes. Mischievous. I resist the urge to slap his face. Julia laughs. She likes it when I get mad. In fact she’s usually the one egging me on, whispering things I should say. She always seems to know just how to hurt people with words. This time she says nothing but I do.

  “Aren’t you even going to answer me?” I start to shout. “Are you deaf? Stupid or something? Hey, I’m talking to you.”

  People turn around to look at me. I’m drawing attention to myself and not in a good way. I should just shut up. Finally his smile breaks and he looks at me like I might actually be a crazy person.

  “You’re not talking to me,” he says quietly. “You’re shouting at me.”

  My mouth drops open. His voice is rough like sandpaper but it starts a spark in the pit of my stomach. I quickly put it out. I’m not going to fall for this jerk. No way.

  “So you can speak then?” I say, not shouting this time. “Why were you staring at me?”

  “Is it against the law to stare at a beautiful girl?”

  I cross my arms angrily. “How many girls have you used that line on?”

  I linger on the word girls like it’s an insult but I know he doesn’t mean it that way. Inside I’m beaming. He likes me. The handsome stranger with the dimpled face and stupid cowboy boots likes me. I can’t believe I kind of like him too. I think I hate myself a little more right now.

  “Just you,” he says. “And maybe one other but she didn’t really deserve it. You do.” He sticks out his hand. “I’m Noah.”

  “Ana,” I say. I take his hand. It’s warm and solid with callouses. I’m embarrassed by the fact that mine is sweaty.

  “I know who you are,” he says. “I’m your ride.”

  I pull my hand away. “You’re what?”

  “From the college. You know, the art program. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” He points to my portfolio.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well come on then, let’s go.”

  He turns and walks off. Leaves me standing there with my stuff.

  “I thought cowboys were supposed to be all gentlemanly and shit,” I shout after him.

  He turns and smiles. “I’m not a cowboy, and you’re not a princess. You’ve got arms haven’t you?”

  What a jerk. I can’t believe I almost fell for his fake cowboy charm. Who the hell does he think he is anyway, God’s gift to women? I stand there waiting for him to stop and come back. Turn around and smile and say don’t be silly of course I’ll help you with your bags. He doesn’t. He just keeps walking away from me in his stupid cowboy boots.

  I take one last look at the train. I could go back. If Victoria College is going to be full of guys like Noah, then spending the summer here is going to be even worse than at home. Can I really stand it?

  “He’s threatened by you,” Julia says. “He knows you’re better than he is. He’s trying to get rid of the competition.”

  “Really?” I say under my breath.

  I like the idea that the cowboy jerk is intimidated by me. We had to submit work to the college before being accepted into the program. Perhaps he’s seen some of mine.

  I walk away from the platform and the train, heading towards the college and whatever awaits me. I don’t look back.

  “Goo
d choice,” Julia says.

  For once I think she’s right.

  5.

  Noah has a truck, of course. I hardly expect anything less. It’s brown. Or maybe it’s just rusted to hell but from a distance I can’t tell. Either way it looks like shit. I’m lugging my stuff towards it, cursing the fact that I packed so much junk. Sweat runs down my face but I don’t even care. All I want to do is prove Noah isn’t getting to me.

  “You can toss your stuff in the back,” he says.

  In the rusted to hell bed of a truck that has branches and dirt and smells of dog shit? Great. I wedge my suitcase under an especially thick limb, hoping that will hold it down. If it gets loose on the highway I’m pretty sure Noah won’t stop and I’ll be stuck washing my underwear in the sink all summer and wishing I were dead. Big Sally says I shouldn’t joke about death. Apparently it’s not the appropriate emotional response. Will I kill myself today or won’t I? Big Sally may not be able to see the irony but I can. It’s my life and I’ll joke about it if I want to.

  The passenger door squeaks open and before I can wedge myself inside, I’m greeted by the sloppy kisses of a huge dog. He’s brown with black spots and a bushy tail. I can’t tell what breed he is. Obviously the jump in your face and slobber you with kisses kind because he’s so excited, I can’t push him out of the way.

  “Hey,” I say. “Can you do something about your dog?”

  Noah laughs but does nothing. Eventually I use my shoulder to manhandle the dog out of the way. I wedge my portfolio between my legs, trying to keep it away from the dog’s drool. There’s no way I’m going to risk putting it in the back with all the crap. Not that the inside is much better and it’s even hotter inside the truck than out. The smell of wet dog and cigarettes oozes up out of the floor.

  “AC is busted,” Noah says. “Roll down your window.”