Stand Alone

by P. D. Workman

  After a while, Justine slowed down. She continued to skate at a walking pace, eating her burrito. The big burritos were legendary at the school, and though they were well-wrapped in plastic, they were messy to eat. Even though Justine was careful, it leaked, and her semi-clean shirt was again stained. How did anyone eat those things without wearing it? What Justine wouldn’t have given to see Darlene and Macy trying to eat their burritos, neat and dainty, touching the corners of their mouths with their napkins. With their figures, she was amazed that they would consider eating those burritos anyway. A salad would be too fattening. A thought occurred to Justine. What if they had been talking just to see what her reaction would be? Maybe they didn’t actually want the burritos after all, they just wanted to see how she would react, if she would step in and make a fool of herself by buying them something they would never even consider eating. Justine felt her face flush, and her heart started to pound again, with anger instead of exertion. They had just been messing with her? They just wanted to see if she would spend her money on them? Waste it? Show interest in being friends with them so that they could make fun of her yet again? Justine was so angry that she slammed the last half of her burrito in a garbage can as she rode past. Her blood boiled.

  She took a lap around the pond, blowing past the dog walkers and women pushing strollers. They gave her irritated looks, but no one told her that she had to stay out of the park. She went down one of her favorite hills, and did some half-hearted jumps. Then it was time to be back at school again. Justine returned to her locker before the bell rang, not wanting to get singled out for being tardy twice in the same day. She walked past Macy and Darlene, who whispered and giggled to each other, eying Justine as she walked past them.

  In math, Megan turned around when Justine sat down. She gave Justine a friendly smile. Megan had short hair and round black-framed glasses that Justine thought made Megan look sort of like Velma on Scooby Doo. All she needed was an orange sweater.

  “Hey, Justine.”

  Justine nodded, not smiling back.

  “Hey,” she acknowledged curtly, and opened her books.

  “You okay?” Megan questioned.

  “Fine, Why?”

  “I dunno, you just look like you’re upset or something. I’m just asking.”

  “Just leave me alone,” Justine growled. “I’m fine.”

  Megan turned back around. Phillip was turned around in front of Megan, and said something to her. Megan shook her head and they put their heads together and talked quietly for a moment, both of them looking back at Justine during the conversation. Justine couldn’t hear what they were saying about her, but near the end of the conversation, she heard a name that stabbed her in the heart. ‘Christian’. Megan cast one more pitying glance at Justine and faced the front as the teacher started the class. Justine put her face down in her folded arms, closing her eyes, the painful memories washing over her. Her heart ached.

  After school, Justine headed home to grab a snack. She was tired and stressed out and just felt like vegging in front of the TV with her favorite junk food. But as she skated up to the house, she saw that Em’s car was already parked out in front. She had gotten out of work early, or else brought her work home with her to continue to work on. Neither one boded well for Justine. There would be no time to herself to relax with Em home.

  With a deep breath and a sigh, Justine opened the front door and clomped into the house. Em looked up from her papers spread over the kitchen table.

  “Hi, sweetie,” she greeted cheerfully. “How was school today?”

  Justine rolled her eyes and cut through the dining room into the kitchen.

  “Just need something to eat,” she said.

  “I already got something ready for you. I know how hungry you are when you get home from school.”

  Justine looked at the plate of cut-up apples and glass of milk on the kitchen island.

  “Seriously?” she breathed. What was she, five? She stuck her head into the fridge and looked around. Em had obviously already cleaned it out. The rest of the leftover pizza was gone. So was the mac and cheese Justine had made the previous day. Justine moved on to the cupboards, pushing around boxes of cereal and various dry goods. Em’s purge of the kitchen had failed to find a bag of chips that Justine had stashed. Justine pulled them out and unrolled the top of the bag to dig in. No pop or chocolate milk in the fridge. But Em wasn’t able to give up her daily cup of coffee, so that was still available, and Justine put a cup in to brew.

  Em came into the kitchen a few minutes later, probably smelling the coffee, and looked at Justine eating her chips and drinking her espresso.

  “Justine! We’re trying to eat healthy! You can’t have that!”

  “I can have what I want,” Justine told her, cramming another handful of chips in her mouth, just in case Em decided to try to take them away from her.

  “No, you can’t eat just whatever you want. It’s bad for your body, and it’s bad for your mood and for your brain. We agreed that we needed to start eating healthier, and to clean up all of this junk in your diet. Dr. Morton says  …”

  “I never agreed to anything,” Justine cut in. “You and Dr. Morton decided all this, not me. I never agreed to give up my food and start eating salads and crap. And you can’t make me.”

  “Healthy body, healthy mind,” Em lectured. “There have been studies that show that with nutritional and biomedical treatments, you can change the chemicals in the brain  …”

  “I’m not a lab rat,” Justine snapped. “You can’t experiment on my brain!”

  Em laughed.

  “We want you to feel better. We want you to feel like you are safe, to be happy  …”

  “You don’t make me feel safe by messing with my brain. I don’t want you to change my brain!”

  Justine was sure that if Em could get Dr. Morton to agree with her, she’d be hooking up electrodes to Justine’s head.

  “It’s not like we’re operating on you, or injecting you with noxious chemicals, or even trying more prescription drugs. We’re just talking about eating healthy, nourishing your body. Maybe when you were sick as a baby, your body and brain didn’t get everything they needed. Maybe with the trauma, the nutrients that were depleted when you were sick, maybe way back then, that changed things, so  …”

  She trailed off. Justine stared at Em, deliberately crunching the chips. She washed them down with another swig of coffee.

  “You can’t make me,” she repeated.

  “If I only buy healthy food, and that’s all that’s around the house  …”

  Justine filled her mouth with a large handful of chips and chewed them, her cheeks bulging. Em breathed out in frustration, and threw her hands up in disgust. She turned and walked out of the room. Justine nodded to herself and washed the lump of chips down.

  “Don’t mess with my food,” she said to the silence of the room. “I’m not gonna let you starve me.”

  Em left her in peace for a while, and Justine went up to her room to look at her homework. But then Em was there, opening her door suddenly without knocking and intruding on Justine’s sanctum. It made Justine jump, and the burst of adrenaline instantly made her angry.

  “Get out of here!” Justine shouted, hurting her throat with the violence of the scream. “You can’t come in here like that! Dr. Morton said you have to respect my privacy!”

  Em’s face was set grimly. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line, and Justine found herself glancing around for escape routes. Em was upset about something, and if Justine had somehow pushed her over the line  …

  “Where is the money that was in my purse?” Em snapped out.

  Justine forced herself to assume a casual, unworried attitude, lounging back on her bed and shrugging widely.

  “I don’t know. Where is the money that was in your purse?” she questioned.

  “You stole it from me. You went through my purse and you stole my money!”

&nbs
p; Justine raised her brows.

  “Why would I do something like that?”

  “Because you’re an ungrateful sneak! I can’t believe that after all I have gone through to help you, to provide for you, to try to raise you and make you feel safe, you steal from me! Why, Justine?” she demanded, her voice screeching upward.

  Justine winced at her rising tone.

  “Seriously?” she said. “You’re going to get all over my back because you misplaced your money? Nice parenting, Em.”

  “You stole it!”

  “Prove it,” Justine said calmly, eyes wide and innocent.

  Em stared at her, eyes bright with fury. Justine struggled to keep her anxiety from showing.

  “I know you stole it, and you know you stole it. This isn’t a court. This isn’t about proof. This is about you violating my space and stealing my money.”

  “Well, if you’re so sure I stole your money, what are you going to do about it?” Justine challenged.

  Em’s brows drew down fiercely.

  “You’re grounded, for one. And I’m going to talk to Dr. Morton about this. You’re going to have to do chores to work this off.”

  “Oh, you’re going to tattle to Dr. Morton?”

  “I’m looking for a way to help you, Justine!”

  “Talking to that quack doesn’t help me. Has he been able to help me in the last ten years?”

  Em looked at her for a moment, the angry look starting to fade.

  “I think he was helping you for a while there,” she said slowly, “but then  …”

  Justine’s anger rose at the insinuation that she was sick and they could make her better.

  “There’s nothing wrong with me,” she challenged. "You’re the one with something wrong with you. You think you can just order me around and if I’m not a nice compliant child, that there must be something wrong with my brain. And Dr. Morton is happy to take your money for you and to keep telling you how messed up my brain is. It’s a scam, Em. He’s just a quack. All of those stupid therapies—holding time, play therapy, the stupid dog training tricks—you think that you can change me, but you can’t!” Em opened her mouth to interject something, and Justine shouted over her. “You can’t!”

  “You were starting to do better,” Em pointed out. “You and I were starting to be able to get along better, to have a relationship. And then  …” she shook her head, eyes teary. “What happened, Justine?”

  “Nothing happened,” Justine said firmly, staring her directly in the eyes. Em opened her mouth. “Nothing happened,” she repeated again, her voice harsh, her throat sore from shouting. “Nothing.”

  Em shook her head. Her eyes were sad, the rage over the stolen money gone. She had that loving, pitying look that made Justine feel trapped. Em came across the room, and Justine shrank back, not because she was afraid of being hit, but because she knew what was coming.

  “Don’t touch me,” she warned.

  Em sat down on the bed and put her arm around Justine. Justine stiffened, and didn’t return the gesture.

  “I love you, Justine.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “I’m your mother. You’re my baby. And no matter how much you try to push me away, I still love you.”

  Em’s grip tightened, and she rocked slightly. Justine squirmed in her grip.

  “I’m not a baby any more,” Justine protested. “You can’t hold me!”

  “You’re still my daughter. I still love you. And I know that you need hugs, even if you tell me you don’t.”

  Justine pushed her away, squirming out of her grip.

  “Just keep your hands to yourself,” she objected, “or I’ll call Child Protective Services.”

  “And tell them that I gave you a hug?” Em questioned with a short laugh.

  “And tell them that you touched me when I said no and made me feel uncomfortable. You’re not allowed to touch me like that. I know my rights. I don’t have to let anyone hug me or touch me. Not even you.”

  Em’s expression darkened, and Justine knew that she had struck home. But Em remained calm and firm. She would have made Dr. Morton proud. She forced a plastic smile, love no longer shining in her eyes.

  “As soon as Child Services talked to Dr. Morton, they would understand. Nothing would happen,” Em said with studied unconcern.

  They both stared at each other, daring the other to make a move. Eventually, Em stood up and headed out the door.

  “You’re grounded,” she reminded Justine as she retreated. She pulled the door shut behind her.

  Justine sat looking at the closed door, and swore at Em under her breath.

  CHAPTER 2

  JUSTINE SKATED AROUND TOWN aimlessly. Em would be expecting her home, but since Justine was grounded, there was no way she was going home, or she wouldn’t be allowed back out of the house again. She still had money in her pocket, and that was destined for junk food. Justine wasn’t about to starve to death with Em withholding food. She would at least have a good supper tonight.

  Justine turned a corner into an unfamiliar area, eyes sharp on the look out for any good hills or jumps or interesting areas to hang out. She was pretty far from home, so she wasn’t sure what was around. There were benefits to not going at home at night. She had a lot more time to range farther afield and make new discoveries. After a few more blocks, Justine found herself on a street which appeared to have once been main street of a smaller town, before it was swallowed up by the city. The drug store, pizza parlor, and theater looked ancient. There were a few other storefronts on a tiny strip mall now occupied by an acupuncturist, an accountant, and someone named “Albert Farcourt” who only had his name, and no profession, stenciled on the window. Justine slowed and looked around. She ground along the curb before jumping her board onto the road, and performed a wide circle on the street to return to the pizza place. Her stomach was already rumbling, and this quaint little place smelled so strongly of fresh bread and cheese that she couldn’t resist it. No one knew her here, and she could pretend that she was an adult, her own person, instead of just a school kid out breaking curfew.

  There was a bell dangling at the top of the door that rang as she entered. The restaurant was dim after the brightness of the afternoon sun outside. There were rotating racks in heated glass cases that displayed several different varieties of pizza available by the slice. Justine glanced at the prices on the chalkboard menu up on the back wall. The prices were a steal, and every order included a can of pop for free.

  An Asian woman bustled through the kitchen door to the order counter, smiling.

  “You want pizza?” she questioned brightly. “For you, I give Hawaiian or pepperoni half price. They’ve been out for long enough, I don’t want them to get dry. Okay? I get for you?”

  Justine sucked at the extra saliva washing her mouth, considering the possibilities.

  “Yeah,” she agreed, “one slice of each.”

  “And I get you a pop. You want Coke? Mountain Dew?”

  “Coke,” Justine said.

  “Regular? You no want diet, right?”

  Justine smirked.

  “No diet,” she agreed, nodding.

  The little woman dished her up the biggest slices of Hawaiian and pepperoni pizzas into a takeout container, and took a can of Coke from the fridge and placed it on the counter in front of Justine. Justine handed over the cash, and the woman busily rang it into the till and handed Justine her change.

  “There you go, skater girl. You come again.”

  “I will,” Justine agreed, beaming, and exited with her dinner.

  She liked the Asian lady. So many of the businesses that were around the school and her house hated skaters. They wouldn’t allow skateboards inside their stores, eyed her suspiciously like she was a delinquent intent on stealing from them or vandalizing their stuff. They sent security to follow her around the store. All because she had the sense to use wheels instead of just feet, or chose not to pollute the environment with a c
ar. For that she was automatically a criminal?

  Justine ate her pizza rather messily as she skated slowly around looking for a park to sit down and eat at that might also have some playground equipment or furniture to challenge herself with. Instead of a park, she came upon a dead-end street. She was turning around to go back the way she came when she saw the house. Justine’s eyes went over the house slowly as she assessed it. Too-long grass in the front yard. One window that was boarded up. Unclaimed flyers and mailers in the mail box beside the door. The house was obviously uninhabited. Empty.

  Justine looked over her shoulder for observers, then made a slow circuit around the street for anybody who might be paying attention to her. There was no one. Some houses had lights and TV’s on, but no one was standing by the windows looking out at the street. There was no one getting into the cars, or walking strollers or dogs down the street. It was more than just quiet, it was deserted. Justine stepped off of her board and flipped it up into her hand. No point in making more noise than she had to. People might remember the sounds of a lone skater out there in the evening. On tip-toe, Justine approached the house, examining the front windows carefully from a safe distance, and going directly to the gate that let her into the back yard.

  The back yard was a mess, not even tidied up like the front was. There was a rusted wheel rim from some long-forgotten junker. There were stones and bricks arranged in a rough circle for a fire pit. There were lots of crushed, empty beer cans and other debris around. Justine walked along the back of the yard, eyes alert for any burglar alarm or surveillance equipment and examining the door and windows to see just how secure the building was.