by Jordan Ford
I can’t.
Thumping down the steps, I nearly slip on the ice, but catch myself before ass-ing over in front of everyone outside. They don’t know yet. They haven’t seen the slander covering the halls. But it won’t be long. Soon my name will be slathered in mud.
I spot Mack sauntering up the path with Colt and Finn in tow. They’re laughing about something but they all stop and turn as Tyler hollers at them to wait up. He vaults the fence and jogs over to them, his dimples on display.
Was it him? Did he help Mack photocopy these shitty drawings and paste them up all over the school?
I thunder towards Mack, slapping the sheet into his chest before cracking him across the cheek with my icy-cold fingers.
“Well done! You went for the long con. Nicely played.” I spit the words at him, rage making them jerk and trip out of my mouth. “You’re fucking brilliant, Mack! Is that what you want me to say?”
He’s standing there gaping at me, red fingermarks scoring his pale skin.
Colt and Finn have taken a step back, giving us some space while Mack slowly recovers from my attack, collecting the sheet of paper off the ground and gazing down at it.
His face crumples with a frown, then his eyes pop wide with horror.
“You piece of shit!” I push his chest. He doesn’t even have the courtesy to stumble backwards. Damn his stupid strength. “I trusted you!”
I’m screaming now, which won’t be helping my cause, but what the hell. It’s a completely failed cause anyway. I’ll never be able to escape my heinous past.
People are staring at us. I can feel their affronted gazes from every angle, surrounding us, judging me. No doubt feeling sorry for Mack.
“How could you do this to me?” I choke out the words, the tears threatening to reveal themselves in ugly, stomach-wrenching sobs.
“Kaija, I didn’t… I didn’t do this.”
I shake my head, backing away when he reaches out for me. “You were the only one who knew.”
“I didn’t do this.” His words are whispered in desperation, the agonized look on his face begging me to believe him.
I can’t.
It’s too dangerous.
There’s only one move I can make here.
I shove past Mack and I run.
#27:
Tear Down
Mack
“Kaija!” I drop my bag and chase after her. As usual, she makes me work for it. I pump my legs a little harder and finally manage to grab her arm before she reaches the end of the path.
“Let go of me!”
She thumps my arm, but I refuse to loosen my grip, instead dragging her against my chest.
“Stop!” She shoves and strains until I’m forced to step back. But I won’t release my hold.
I bend down so we’re eye-to-eye. “I didn’t do this!”
“Then who the hell did? You’re the only one who knew!”
“I don’t know, okay? But I’m gonna find out.”
“Oh, whatever! Like it’s going to make any difference now.” She wrenches her arm, trying to loosen my grip, but I won’t give in. How can she assume it’s me? Does she not believe how much I care about her?
Anger sparks within, no doubt fueled by a foreboding fear.
“Would you stop struggling? I’m not letting you go!”
“That’s not your choice. It’s over, Mack! Now get your hands off me!” She’s screaming in my face, her eyes wild and unrecognizable.
“How can you think I would do this to you?”
“I obviously don’t know you as well as I thought. Maybe you and Layla are in on this together. You’re acting like you give a shit about me just to cover her ass.”
“Don’t bring my sister into this.”
“Are you blind? She wants me out of the picture. If it wasn’t you, maybe it was her. How’d she wrangle the truth out of you, huh? What little manipulation did she play? Or did Roxy put you up to this? Is she in on it too? Maybe Finn? Tyler? Oh, or maybe Sam. I know how much she likes a good joke."
Her words are little arrows, hitting me with their poison tips and igniting my anger. "What? Of course not! Don't be ridiculous."
"Oh? Now I'm being ridiculous? Because my entire life—my deepest secret—was just plastered all over the school, a secret only you knew about, and that makes me ridiculous?"
"That's not what I meant." I huff.
"I'm done with this," Kaija says. "With this stupid school. With trying to put this behind me. With trusting people." Her eyes lock onto mine and all I see is cold disdain. "And I'm done with you."
"What? What are you talking about?" It feels like a knife blade through my stomach. Those eyes that captured me are now trying to slice me to shreds.
"I'm finished. We're finished."
A pain I've never felt before ripples through my ribcage. "Just like that? You're just giving up on us? All because of this?"
"There is no us," she says bitterly. "Every mate for himself."
"Kai—"
Her expression folds with a fleeting look of grief before hardening at the edges. Her green eyes swirl with anger and she uses my lapse in concentration to rip her arm out of my grasp.
“It never would have lasted anyway,” she murmurs.
I stare at her in shocked silence, still trying to wrap my brain around what the hell she’s saying to me. Her lower lip trembles as her eyes begin to glisten. She then lets out this whimpering kind of breath, spins on her heel and starts hauling ass down the footpath.
It takes me a second, but I chase after her, calling her name. Her words destroyed me. Her belief that I was somehow involved should have me turning away from her, but I can't let her go. Not like this. Not ever.
She's fast. I push harder, gaining ground, but she doesn't look back.
She screams around the corner and I yell her name again. “Kaija!”
I’m about to put on another burst of speed when my shoe hits a crack in the concrete and I hit the ground with a sharp hiss. I roll and spring back to my feet, ignoring the throbbing in my knee and elbow. My run ends up being more of a hobble. By the time I limp around the corner, she’s gone.
“Shit!” I fist my hair, scouring the street for signs of which way she may have gone…but I see nothing. She’s disappeared into thin air, and all I can do now is turn back to the guys.
I can’t think past her soul-destroying words. Did she really mean them? Or was she still getting over the shock of what’s just been done to her?
I’m going to kill whoever drew those damn pictures. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I stalk back to my friends who stood by, far enough away to witness everything, but not close enough to hear what went down.
“You alright?” Colt points to my knee.
I glance down at my ripped jeans and give him a short nod. The graze stings but it’s not bad. It doesn’t hurt at all compared to the aching in my chest.
“O-kay.” The word slides out of Tyler’s mouth as he points down the street. “So Kiwi Girl’s gone a little cray-cray.”
My death glare makes him snicker, his dimpled cheeks turning a hot red. He holds up the brutal sheet of paper. “This isn’t true, is it?”
With a low growl, I snatch it from him and tear it in half before stalking into the school. The guys chase after me, their silent questions lashing me on the back.
I can’t believe this.
Who the hell would do this to her?
Storming into the building, I notice a gaggle of freshman girls bunched around a sheet of paper. Their hushed whispers and wide eyes tell me everything I need to know. Marching over to them, I whip the sheet out of their hands and scrunch it into a tiny ball.
They all gasp in unison, the one closest to me shrinking away from my steam. “Stop reading that shit and get to class.”
They scamper like rabbits, jumping away and scurrying around the corner. I follow their trail and notice a line of white sheets pinned to the wall. People are hovering in front of it, gasping and whispering.
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“Is that the exchange student?”
“Yeah, the one who pranked the Raiders.”
“Whoa, I thought she was nice.”
“She is nice!” I yell, shoving them away and tearing the first sheet off the wall. “Get to class!”
“The bell hasn’t rung yet,” the guy beside me mutters.
I turn to him with flaring nostrils. He stumbles away from me, nearly tripping over his friend before recovering and shuffling down the hallway. The others pick up the hint and scatter, leaving me in peace so I can absorb the shitbomb that just exploded in our school. The line of posters is endless, photocopy after photocopy of the hideous comic. Kaija is portrayed as a stick figure with big boobs and long curly hair. The speech bubbles are filled with kiwi-isms, like someone’s looked up ‘kiwi slang words’ on Google. I force myself to read through the eight boxes. They show Kaija to be a world-class bitch, taunting this meek girl until she’s lying on a bed with Xs for eyes and pills scattered on the floor beside her. With a feral snarl, I start yanking the sheets off the wall, working my way down the hall, tearing and ripping, following the path of destruction. The bell rings, but I ignore it. By the time I reach Kaija’s locker, the hallways are empty except for Colt, Tyler and Finn, who are working to tear down the last of the posters.
Kaija’s locker was covered—I can tell by the leftover tape marks and the pile of ripped paper on the floor.
Go back home, you murdering little slut!
The words taunt me. How could someone write that? How the hell did anyone find out?
I can only imagine Kaija’s horror as she walked into the school and saw this.
And she thought I did it.
“Shit!” I yell, smashing my fist into her locker.
The force of my punch brutalizes my knuckles, but I’m too pissed to feel the pain. I slap my hands against the metal and force air to my brain. I’m so dizzy with outrage I can barely see through the haze.
I sense Finn’s gaze and turn to glare at him. His dark eyes are calm, yet wary. He’ll jump in if I go all ape-shit. Thankfully, everyone’s in class, so the only people I can go after are my boys and they’ll sack me before I hurt them.
I clench my jaw, trying to hide how riled I am. Kaija shared that intimate secret with me, poured out her heart, trusting that I wasn’t going to tell anyone.
And I didn’t.
“When I find out who did this…” I shake my head.
“We’ll help you kick his ass.” Tyler plants his feet beside me and crosses his arms.
I lean forward and rest my head on the cool metal. My hand is starting to throb, but I don’t want to look at it.
“I’m really sorry, man,” Finn murmurs.
“There’s so much more to the story than this.” My voice shakes, feeling Kaija’s shame and humiliation. “I can’t believe she thinks I’m responsible.” I sound broken now. The rage is wearing off, replaced with a deep sadness that’s cutting me in half. How could she have so little faith in me? Was everything I’d been feeling a freaking joke? I thought it was reciprocal, but…obviously not.
“Who would do this to her?” Colt’s face is rumpled with concern. What’s the bet he’s thinking about Tori, trying to figure out how he can keep his girl safe from this kind of attack?
What the hell’s he worried about? Tori’s so clean she sparkles. But Kaija has a past…and she had every right to keep it a secret.
My brain is spinning with how it could have gotten out. Did she say something to someone else? Did Anderson Foster go through her room and unearth some nugget?
I slap the locker and stand tall. “I’m gonna kill him.”
“Hey, slow down.” Finn raises his hand at me, his long dark fingers stretching into the air. “Don’t go making assumptions. You’ll only make enemies out of the people who might be able to help you.”
I grit my teeth, then huff. “I’ve gotta find out who did this.”
“Retribution can wait.” Finn jerks his head toward the end of the hallway. “You need to go find her first. Make sure she’s okay.”
“She doesn’t want to be found. She just dumped me.” I close my eyes and look to the ceiling.
“Aw, come on. That’s bullshit,” Colt murmurs. “I saw you guys together. You’ve got something going on. She’s in shock right now. As soon as she’s cooled off, she’ll be able to see straight again. You need to be there when that happens.”
“You have to try, bro.” Finn slaps my shoulder. “Go on. We’ll cover for you.”
“Do you want me to come with?” Tyler, when he’s acting serious, is as solid as a freaking redwood.
I give him a short, closed-mouth smile before shaking my head. “I’ve got to do this on my own. Can you just make sure, all of this”—I point to the paper on the floor—“is gone by the end of the day?”
“You got it, man.” The guys all nod and Finn holds out his fist. I pound it, then hitch my bag onto my shoulder and take off for the parking lot. The sound of tapping feet in the hall forces me to duck into an alcove. Thankfully, the teacher doesn’t spot me, and I sneak out while she walks away.
Tearing out of the school, I make a beeline for the Fosters’ place. Surely that’s where she would have gone. If it were me, I’d be hiding up in my room, punching pillows and shouting out every vile word I could think of.
All I can hope is that she copes with it in a similar way. If she can have a scream-fest, it might calm her down enough to listen to me.
I’m not sure how I’m going to make her believe me. As I drive to her place, I can’t think of any words that are right. How do you convince someone that you haven’t betrayed them when you have absolutely no proof of your innocence?
The fact she thinks it might be Layla is eating at me too. My sister wouldn’t go that far…would she? My doubts are growing with each passing minute, making me feel sick.
Slamming on the brakes, I bring the car to a swift stop outside the Fosters’ place. The street is eerily quiet. Everyone’s at work or school. I’m not used to being in the neighborhood when it’s empty and I find it unnerving. Jumping out the door, I race up the path and start ringing the bell as soon as I can reach it.
“Kaija!” I holler, backing away from the door and looking up at the windows. I’m straining for signs of life, anything to indicate her presence.
Nothing.
The curtains don’t move. What I think is her bedroom window doesn’t slam shut, which means she’s probably not up there. I study the drainpipe, wondering if I can climb up and look into the window. The gap is too small to squeeze through and there are probably safety locks keeping it ajar.
I run my hand through my hair with a frustrated groan, then pound on the door again.
“Kaija, come on! I’ve got to talk to you!”
Nothing.
I walk around the side of the house, peering in windows, but the longer I stay, the more I sense that no one is home. The Fosters’ house is empty.
Which leaves me with only one question—where the hell is my girl?
#28:
Time To Go Home
Kaija
The airport.
I usually love this place.
It’s full of vibrant energy and has this busy atmosphere that’s constantly buzzing—baggage trolleys, bustling people, hellos, goodbyes, cuddles, tears, laughter, and smiles. It all mixes together into one big melting pot to create the most fascinating place in the world. You can learn more about universal human behavior in one day at the airport than you can in six months of social sciences class. That’s what I think anyway…and it’s one of the reasons I love coming to the airport, any airport.
But not today.
Today, I hate the airport.
Unfortunately, it’s the only place that’s going to get me where I need to go.
Home.
That word normally fills people with warmth and comfort.
It tastes like ash in my mouth.
A lady’s voice come
s over the intercom. “Flight UA739 to San Francisco, now boarding at Gate 12.”
I check my watch. I still have four hours before my flight departs. I tuck my backpack under my feet, hoping I remembered everything. Grabbing my stuff was a chaotic rush. I flew through the house like a tornado—snatching, yanking, stuffing. I no doubt left my crap scattered throughout the Fosters’ home. I can’t care about it. I just have to get out of here.
Trentham Domestic Airport is about a forty-minute drive from Nelson. The cab fare was ridiculous, but I paid it anyway. What choice did I have?
Thankfully, the guy at the United Airlines counter was super nice. Maybe he could sense the way I was battling tears. I’m not sure, but his tender, sweet voice kept me calm. After several minutes of hunting, he managed to find me a same-day ticket to LAX and told me I’d need to buy a ticket to Auckland when I got there. He warned me the wait in LA might take a while, especially if I couldn’t catch one of today’s flights. I told him I could handle it.
I passed over Dad’s credit card and it was done. Just like that.
The phone in my pocket buzzes. I close my eyes, not wanting to check the message. It’ll be Mack. I don’t want to talk to him. I still can’t believe he did it to me. My emotions are too fragile to entertain the idea that his desperate gaze was telling me he didn’t do it. I can’t think about it.
All I can do is leave.
I hope my note to the Fosters was enough.
My hurried scribble will give away my tenuous state. I’m grateful no one will be home until late afternoon. By the time they find my thank you for having me letter, I’ll already be in the air. They’ll no doubt call my parents immediately. I’ve already tried to counter the inevitable by making a quick, breezy call to my mum. I masked the real reason for my shaky voice by saying that I was badly homesick. She bought into it and told me to call her as soon as I reached LA. I have to keep her posted on my progress. She’s got a big hug ready for me when I get home.
Home.
I don’t want to go.
The tears I’ve been wrestling with sting so bad. I close my eyes and let them build behind my lids. My lips scrunch into an ugly line as I squeeze my temple. That cartoon was brutal…and the whole bloody school saw it.