The Truth About Letting Go

by Leigh Talbert Moore

Just as fast as he dropped down, he’s up and pulling me into a hug. His arms are warm around me, and so faint on his shirt is the scent of the creek. How I wish I were there instead of here, away from all these kids just waiting for me to lose it. That thought alone helps me pull it together. I sit back and sniff.

  “I’m okay,” I say, pulling my hair over my shoulder.

  He holds my hand. “You can cry in front of me. I won’t think less of you.”

  Our eyes meet, and I really want to kiss him. I really want to break all these rules he lives by. It’s a fight I know I would win.

  And then I’d be the worst kind of person.

  So instead I take my hand back. I dust off my jeans and stand up.

  “You should be a journalist. Or a teacher.”

  He picks up the memo pad and the rest of our lunch as he stands with me. “It wouldn’t change what I believe.”

  I shake my head. “Whatever. Do what you want, Jordan.”

  The bell’s sounding as we enter the building and head to our locker wall. I stop at mine, and he goes to his. We collect our things in silence.

  But before I go, he stands and leans in front of me. “Hey, go with me to the Young Life bonfire on Friday. You should get out more.”

  “Still after my girl, Slim?” Colt comes up behind me and slides an arm around my waist. “Hey. I thought you checked out.” His voice is low in my ear before he kisses my neck. I’m not sure how I feel about Colt right now, but I don’t resist him. He’s still my partner in crime.

  “I had to talk to Jordan… research.”

  He turns to Jordan. “So what’s this on Friday? A bonfire?”

  Jordan stands, and I’m sure it’s to emphasize that Colt only comes to his nose. “It’s not your kind of thing. Church.”

  “Hey, I love the woods after dark.” He slides his arm from my waist down to my hand and laces our fingers. “Lots of places to get lost. We’ll be there.”

  Jordan turns and slams his locker. “Fine. I’ll text you directions, Ashley. Feel better.”

  I nod and he walks away. Colt watches him go with a grin then he looks down at me. “What?” he laughs.

  “You just assumed I wanted to go?”

  “What else is there to do in this town?”

  I roll my eyes. Now I really want to check out. Colt walks with me toward the office, still holding my hand. “So you’re sticking around for this panther thing?”

  We’re almost at the front, and I see an assembly has formed outside the metal double-doors. “What panther thing?”

  “Bronze panther. They’re unveiling it today. All the cheerleaders are doing whatever they do. Didn’t you know?”

  I shake my head, taking my hand back and crossing my arms over my stomach. “I dropped off the squad, remember?”

  “Cruel. When you know I love those skirts.”

  “Mandy wasn’t wearing her uniform…”

  “So hang out with me?”

  The band is outside as well, but I don’t see Mandy with the cheerleaders. She’s standing beside Mr. Patel like she’s about to give a speech. Then it hits me.

  “Her dad donated the money for the statue,” I say under my breath. “Of course he did.”

  “What’s that?” Colt’s brow creases as he watches me.

  “Mandy’s dad was quarterback for the first Shadow Falls team. That was before they changed the name. He also owns the development company that made it Creekside and built up Shadow Creek.”

  “Gotcha,” he nods. “I know all about shit like this.”

  The band blasts the first notes of the school’s fight song, and all my nerves are on edge. “I’m taking off,” I say.

  “Text you later.”

  The noise of the band and the cheerleaders follows me all the way to my house. My mind’s a million miles away, on my conversation with Jordan. I don’t even notice the walk before I’m at my door, slipping out my key, but the door isn’t locked. I open it and walk in frowning, wondering if Will spent the night in his room. I didn’t see his car this morning, but I wasn’t noticing much in the state I was in.

  My bag slides down my arm as I cross the living room. The sound of soft laughter echoes from the kitchen, and it’s not Will’s voice. It’s almost familiar. I remember it from just recently. I round the corner and freeze. My mom is there, dressed in tight nylon pants and a tank top. Her hair’s in a ponytail and it looks like she’s been exercising. Across the bar, leaning toward her is Eric James. He’s also dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, and he’s smiling in a way that seems very relaxed and comfortable. Just then she leans toward him on the bar. Their hands are almost touching. His eyes are glowing as he watches her, and my head feels hot and tight. I’m caught between screaming and turning to run.

  “What’s going on?” I say in something between a shriek and a shaky whisper.

  Mom jumps around, and the look on her face is pure guilt. “Ashley! When did you get home?”

  “Just in time, it seems.”

  A frown pierces Dr. James’s forehead and he leans back, pushing his hands down the front of his shorts. Sweaty palms?

  “Ashley,” he says, taking a cautious step toward me as if I were a wild animal. It’s possible that’s how I look. “Your mother and I met up on a run. I came in to change the air filter for her.”

  My jaw’s clenched, and I still haven’t decided if I’m going to throw something. “The air filter,” I repeat. My whole body is trembling.

  “Sweetie, your dad always changed it, and I didn’t want to pay for a service call.”

  She says it like it was just another item on a checklist. A Dad job any random man could step in and do. Just like it’s nothing to have a man in our house, watching her and smiling like that. My eyes go blurry and my stomach is in knots. I turn and run to my room, slamming the door and throwing my book bag against the wall before the tears hit my cheeks. I hate her. Dad would never get over it if something happened to her, and she’s already lining up a replacement.

  I’m squeezed into a ball in the middle of my bed, and my body pillow is clutched over my head, around my ears. I don’t know how long I’ve been that way when I hear a soft tapping on the door. Instantly, I burrow my head deeper between the pillows. The door opens and my mom steps into my room, waits a moment, then softly walks over and sits on the foot of my bed. I crawl farther into the pillows away from her.

  “Sweetie,” she says in a soft voice. “Why don’t you talk to me about what you’re thinking.”

  I push my head away. I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t want to see her. She shut down and started cutting ties with Dad the moment we knew what was coming. She turned into a stone and never once showed any signs of remorse all the way to the end.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she repeats. “I don’t know if this is because you don’t like Eric or if it’s something else—”

  “ERIC?” I shout, throwing the pillow I was clutching across the room. My whole body is hot and cold, and I don’t care if tears are streaming down my face. “When did he become Eric? Last week or six months ago?”

  Mom looks down at her hands and inhales slowly. “We’ve been neighbors for years, Ashley. You don’t call neighbors Doctor whatever.”

  “He was smiling at you like he knew you better than a neighbor.”

  “We’ve talked a lot in the last few weeks,” she says softly. “It helps to have someone who understands.”

  “So that’s it?” I shout. “You bury yourself in work, don’t even look back as Dad gets sicker and sicker, and now that he’s gone—”

  “Stop right there!” Mom stands up hard. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. And you have no right—”

  “You have no right! I’ve been searching for somebody, anybody to care in this house. Will’s gone, buried in schoolwork. You’re never here. Until now. With him.”

  “He offered to talk to you, too. Remember?”

  “I don’t need his help.”

  “We
ll, maybe I do,” she says, turning and going to my door. “And you have no right talking to me about withdrawal. You’ve been gone since the day he died.”

  “Because I can’t stand sitting around here watching you not mourn him!”

  She turns and slams the door so hard my pictures fly out from the wall. I turn and slam my face into my pillow and sob. I cry so hard the muscles in my stomach pull my knees to my chest. I cry so hard it feels like a vein is popping out of my temple. I cry so hard, I’m screaming into my pillows.

  After a while, all I can do is shake. I’m lying on my bed holding myself in a tight little ball, but I can’t cry anymore. That need to break something is back, and I start searching for my phone. I crawl out of my bed and across my room to my book bag. I lift the cover half expecting it to be smashed into a million pieces. I threw my bag so hard I’m lucky I didn’t smash everything in it. I find my phone and hastily punch up a text to Colt.

  Need to do something. I type. Epic.

  Eleven? PU same time-place?

  Deal.

  I drop the phone and drop onto my bed weak and shaking. I’m exhausted. If I can hold on for a few more hours, I can get some relief.

  Chapter 13

  It’s dark when I open my eyes again. I jump up and look at the clock—10:48. Just enough time to change, splash water on my face, brush my hair. I run across the room and grab my black leggings and mini, a long-sleeved black shirt. I run into the bathroom and brush my hair back into a ponytail then pull a black scarf out of the back of my closet. If I have to, I can tie this around my face like a mask. I hear the noise of Colt’s truck right on time and go to my door where I stand and listen before opening it. As usual, silence meets me on the other side. I turn the knob slowly, soundlessly, and carefully step out. Everything is dark. If Mom’s still here, she’s in her master suite on the other side of the house with the door closed. She’ll never know I left.

  In the truck, Colt’s smiling and happy. I jump inside and walk on my knees across the seat, dropping into a straddle on his lap facing him. Then I pull his face to mine and take a long kiss. His hands grip my thighs as I plunge my tongue into his mouth. They’re sliding up and down, working their way under my skirt and rocking me forward on his lap. I don’t resist. I’m looking for an escape from the furious pain I’m feeling. But it doesn’t come. I pull back for a quick breath and try again, this time a longer kiss, my tongue slowly curling around his. Searching for it, I rock my hips on his lap, and his hands slide from my legs up to my waist and under my shirt. Lightly he cups my bra, circling with his thumbs. I’m starting to feel it, that release, when I pull back and look into his green eyes. What am I hoping to see there?

  He smiles. “So you’re not mad anymore?”

  I drop onto the passenger seat and his eyes travel up and down my outfit. “We robbing a bank?”

  “Bonnie and Clyde,” I say.

  He laughs. “I’m not looking to get shot.”

  I turn and face front, putting my feet on the dash. “I don’t care what we do. You’re the mastermind.”

  He reaches under the seat and pulls out the ever-present flask, passing it to me. I gladly twist off the top and take a large mouthful of vodka. It burns like always, but I know the calming, fuzzy feeling will hit soon. I take another long drink.

  “You didn’t give me much notice.” He points to the brown canvas bag on the floor, and I pull it onto the seat beside me. In it are two black sock hats, a can of black spray paint and a DVD. I pull the plastic case up, flip it over, and frown.

  “Girls Gone Wild?” My nose wrinkles. “First, this is a hundred years old, and second, you think I’ll like it?”

  He laughs. “It’s not for you, although we can give it a preview if you want.”

  “Then what?”

  We’re taking the same route to school we took the night of our first non-prank and subsequent wrestling match, to the bushes behind the soccer field.

  “Like I said, not much notice,” he kills the engine. “But still hilarious. I know how to switch out the school news video. We’ll replace it with this one—”

  “And half the school will get a thrill. Doesn’t seem fair.”

  He pulls one of the black hats over his fair hair and tosses me the other one. “I’d say a little more than half. There’s probably a few girls who’ll dig it.”

  “Whatever.” I drop my feet and sit up, pulling the hat on. “And what about the spray paint?”

  “Leftover from another job.” He grabs the DVD out of my hand, and I grab the can.

  It’s a humid night, and the layers of black clothing are making me sweaty and itchy. The school grounds are quiet as we dash across the field and up to the back of the first building. I’ve never been at school after hours, and the whole place seems strange and a little creepy. I look over at Colt, and he puts a finger to his lips then he slips a hand around my waist and pulls me close.

  “Don’t look up. Keep your eyes down the whole time. Stay close to me, and when we’re done, we can do it on Patty’s desk.” I feel him grin. “That’s a crime worth committing.”

  “Is it a crime?” I whisper.

  “Breaking and entering?”

  I shake my head, and he takes off with me close behind. The doors are all locked, but the window next to the chemistry lab is open. He slips a gloved finger under the large, single pane and lifts it out. Then he jumps up, catches the counter, and swings a leg through the opening. Once inside, he turns around and reaches out for my arms. I grasp his and he pulls me inside. Instinctively, I look up, and immediately, Colt catches the top of my head, pulling it down. His mouth is in my ear.

  “Don’t look up,” he hisses.

  My heart’s beating fast, and I’m sure I just blew the whole thing. “Sorry, I whisper. I don’t know why I did that.”

  He shakes his head and quietly runs across the room in a crouch to the door. I’m crouched right behind him waiting as he slowly opens it and peeks out. The only light comes from the tiny bulbs next to the Exit signs, and the whole place is cast in dim white. We run down the halls, our shoes making soft squeaks on the waxy tiles. I can’t help looking around the empty building. It still smells like school, but in this light, it’s more like something out of a horror movie. I half expect a slasher-killer to come flying out of the bathrooms, machete held high.

  Around two corners, and we’re at the principal’s office. Colt uses his shoulder to push through the glass doors separating the front desk from the lobby, and we go down the short hall to the back office. Another closed door, and when he reaches for the handle, it’s locked. He gives it a sharp jerk and then leans against the wall.

  “Can you pick it?” I whisper.

  “Got to run back to the truck for tools. Stay here?”

  I shrug and nod. There’s not much for me to do on this errand, and I don’t really want to stay in the dark, empty school alone. But I also don’t feel like creeping all the way back out to the truck just to do it all again.

  He kisses me fast on the mouth then takes off in the direction we came, and soon it’s just me, sitting in the narrow, dim-lit hall in the quiet. Another minute passes, and I start to feel antsy. What am I doing here anyway? This is stupid. I walk back slowly to the front desk. I look on the counter where the school secretary sits, and I see a card about the new panther statue.

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I walk over to the window facing front and there it is. Gleaming in the moonlight, a life-sized image of a panther walking forward, teeth bared, one foot curled up. Without thinking, I push on the front school door and then sharply inhale. I freeze, every muscle tensed, waiting for an alarm to blast.

  It doesn’t, and I exhale, opening my eyes and looking around. It’s dark and quiet, nobody’s coming, no police sirens in the distance. The perks of living in Shadow Falls, where nothing ever happens. The spray paint is still in my jacket, and I pull it out, shaking the metal can as the ping-pong ball inside rattles back and forth. I walk to the fro
nt of the statue, studying it. The cat’s mouth is curled back in a teeth-baring growl, and I wonder how often panthers growl as they walk. Just like the reason I’m standing here, I don’t really know the answer.

  After staring at it several moments, I pop the top off the can and point it at the statue. Two quick squirts, and he’s wearing a black handlebar mustache. I’m breathing fast now, and my heart’s beating hard. I’ve never defaced anything.

  With a trembling hand, I bend down and spray on the marble base of the statue right in front, in large block letters, Kiss Off ~ XXX ~ T.M.

  Trevor Martin.

  I stare at what I’ve done as if in a daze. Everything leading up to this point is pressing on my mind—the luau, my body pressed against Colt’s behind the bleachers as the students drink vodka-laced punch. Spiked communion wine, my body pressed against the seat of Colt’s truck as I struggle and fight. My brother giving me the book. My mother moving on with Eric James. Jordan telling me it’s about leaving things better than how we found them…

  A loud CRASH! makes me jump two feet. The spray paint can slipped out of my hand and hit the pavement. Hands clasp mine, and I blink, looking around and into Colt’s eyes. I didn’t even hear him drive up.

  “Get in the truck. Quick,” he hisses, scooping up the can and running to the vehicle.

  I wake up and turn, running back to the truck. I’m in and slamming the door, and we’re driving away in seconds.

  “I like the improv there at the end,” he says as we speed away from Creekside and back toward the neighborhood. “What now?”

  I look down at my lap and my stomach feels like a ball of concrete. “I want to go home.”

  “What?” He picks up the flask and tosses it to me. “Weren’t we up for something else. Involving less clothes?”

  My body feels heavy. I take a long drink of burning liquid. My sinuses are opened, but exhaustion is pressing down on me. “Just take me home.”

  Colt exhales loudly and doesn’t speak for a moment. Then he turns the wheel toward Shadow Creek. “Sure. We’ll catch up tomorrow night at the bonfire.”