“Fine, but don’t read anything into it. It’s just a ride.”
He nods. “Okay.”
Following him to his car, I stuff my hands into my coat pockets so he won’t get any ideas about holding onto to one. And to remind me not to let him. When we reach his car, he opens the door for me. I can’t help thinking about the differences between Evan and Reece, sure Evan wouldn’t appreciate the comparison.
Other than the directions I give him, we drive in silence, me with my hands still hidden in my coat, Evan with his hands on the wheel. He pulls into the medical office parking lot and turns to face me, his mouth contorting with indecision. Clearing his throat, he stares out the windshield. “Do you need a ride home?”
“No, my mother’s picking me up.”
He shifts in his seat, griping the steering wheel. “Can I call you tonight?”
I open the door and answer as I climb out. “You can call. I’m not sure if I’ll answer.” I shut the door before he can say anything.
His car stays at the curb, probably hoping I’ll change my mind and go back and talk to him. I’m tempted. Too tempted. I turn my back to him and enter the building before I cave. I’ll talk to him. It’s simply a matter of how long I can hold out.
The waiting room in Dr. Weaver’s office is empty. I could start on my homework but alternative school is undemanding. I finished everything in class. I no longer need all the makeup assignments I’ve been working on.
An ache laps at the edges of my heart, seeping through like osmosis. I don’t need Evan to tutor me anymore.
Dr. Weaver, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and reading glasses perched on his nose, appears in the doorway to his office. “Julia, come on in.”
The room is filled with bookcases overflowing with books, upholstered furniture rather than office chairs, and plants by the window. While the environment isn’t intimidating, the idea of sharing my thoughts with a man paid to listen rankles my nerves. I sulk into the room and sink into the overstuffed chair sitting in the corner by the window.
When I first started seeing Dr. Weaver, I often spent most of the session staring out the window and not saying a word. Now, I talk more, but not by much.
Dr. Weaver sits in a chair by his desk, a file open next to him. “Julia, I’ve had some discussions with your mother regarding some of her concerns.”
Inwardly I groan, but outside I’m silent, staring out the window. The spotty clouds have filled in. The cloud shrouded sky casts a gray pallor on the world outside.
Dr. Weaver turns on a lamp. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve had a trying few weeks.”
I cross my legs and lean back into the chair. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“Would you like to tell me about it?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t that be redundant, seeing as how you already know?”
He checks over my file then takes off his reading glasses. He dangles them by their arm. “You know we’ll never make any progress until you become more cooperative.”
Suddenly, I’m mad. Mad at Dr. Weaver for wasting my time. Mad at Mom for believing the worst in me and Dad for leaving. Mad at Evan for hurting me when I’d just begun to trust him. Mad at Monica for leaving me alone, but most of all mad at me for not dying. But I say none of these things. Instead, I screw on my plastic smile. “Oh, you want me to list them?”
He lifts an eyebrow and sticks the end of his eyeglass arm in his mouth, waiting.
I turn back to the window. “Let’s see. I was failing most of my classes, got a tutor, my dad left, my mother accused me of being a slut, and I got sent to alternative school. All in all, a very productive week.”
“Sarcasm won’t solve your problems.”
“Oh!” I feign excitement. “So you’re saying if I give up sarcasm, my problems will be solved? Why didn’t you tell me that months ago?”
I hate the way I talk to him. He’s a nice man, but he’s the only person I can vent my pain and anguish on without repercussion. Even if he doesn’t realize it, I always feel better when I leave.
We sit in silence, my pot of anger and resentment simmering to a boil.
“Tell me about the boys you’ve been seeing.”
I laugh, but it’s derisive and grates my own nerves. “There’s nothing to tell. Evan was my tutor, but now I don’t need a tutor anymore. That settles that. The other boy is Reece. I only met him yesterday. He took pity on me and my huge pile of books and offered me a ride home. End of story.”
“I’m sure the absence of your father is bound to be hard on you, the loss of a supportive male figure in your life.”
“First of all, you and I both know my father hasn’t been a supportive male figure for months. Second, Evan and Reece don’t have anything to do with him.”
The rest of the session I refuse to talk about Evan. Even if I wanted to, I don’t know what to say. I haven’t sorted him out yet myself. Dr. Weaver reminds me that with all the turmoil in my life, now isn’t a good time to make important life choices, like boyfriends.
This is the funniest thing I’ve heard in days.
When my time is up, Mom’s sitting in the waiting room. She looks up from her outdated magazine, her gaze shifting from me to the psychologist standing in the doorway. I move to the hall while she and Dr. Weaver talk. I’m always invited to listen to their conversation, but I don’t care what they have to say.
When she’s finished, we walk to the car in silence. We’re halfway home before she finally speaks. “How was your appointment?”
I slump into the car door, looking out the side window. “Fine.”
“Tell me about your first day at your new school.”
“It was great. I got to be calendar person and Suzy shared her cookie at snack time.”
Mom sighs. “At least I’m trying, Julia. I wish you’d do the same.”
I sit up, rage building. “Trying? Really? By calling me a slut? By sending me to that school? I suppose you and Dr. Weaver decided to dope me up like a zombie. Maybe you should just send me off to the mental hospital.”
Mom’s jaw tightens. The vein on her neck pulses as her hands squeeze the steering wheel. “Don’t tempt me, Julia,” she says through gritted teeth.
I gasp.
She turns toward me, her face revealing the shock I feel. “Julia, I didn’t mean that.”
I don’t say anything.
She lifts her hand to her mouth, chewing on her thumbnail. “It’s been difficult for everyone these last few months, not just you.”
“Are you saying you wish I died?”
Her eyes pop open in horror. “No! No! Never.”
“But if I’d died you all could have moved on and not been stuck with… me.”
“Julia, no! I couldn’t bear it if you’d died.”
We’re silent the rest of the way home. What she said sinks in, settling into the already cracked foundation of my soul. I go straight to my room and sit on my bed. My room is the one place I feel safe, even if it’s incredibly lonely.
I pick up the picture of Monica and me. Focusing on her smiling face, I try to remember the school picnic where the photo was taken. We both had on jeans and short-sleeved t-shirts, although Monica’s was bejeweled. She’d debated for days what to wear, and I told her it didn’t matter. It was just a picnic. Turned out it did matter. It’s how I remember her now.
I set it down and wait for the tears that usually follow.
Nothing.
Maybe I really am dead and my body just doesn’t know it.
I lay down on the bed as my cell phone vibrates in my pocket and butterflies tap dance in my belly. I pull it out, knowing it can only be one person. The question is, do I want to talk to him? Compared to the nothingness, I need the rush of emotion he gives me.
I press the button. “Hello.”
“Hey, Newbie, how was your first day at prep school?”
Reece. I bolt upright on the bed. “How did you get this number?”
“
Calm down. It wasn’t that hard. You didn’t answer the question. How was your first day?”
“Delightful.”
He laughs. “Did you follow the rules?”
I relax a little, laying back down. “I had a number two pencil with me at all times. Figured I could use it as a weapon if I had to. I like multipurpose items.”
“Pretty and resourceful. I like it.”
I’m glad he can’t see the blush that flames my face. “I can’t always count on my looks to get me by.”
“And there you have it. The triple threat. Brains. Tell me why you don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Who said I don’t have a boyfriend?”
“Because if you had a boyfriend, he would have driven you home yesterday.”
I can’t argue with that. “One benefit of alternative school is the lack of homework. You forgot to mention that gem.”
“What? And spoil all the surprises? That would have been like telling you your Christmas present.”
“Well, it only added to an awesome first day. Mrs. Pumpernickel sends her love.”
“Mrs. Humperdinkle.”
“Oh, yeah. Her too.”
He laughs, rich and wholehearted. It’s like drinking hot chocolate, warming my stomach and then spreading to the rest of me.
“Reece, why did you get sent to the alternative school?”
“Oh, you know. This and that. What about you?”
“Same thing. This and that. How’d you get out?”
He laughs. “I escaped. If you’re nice to me, I’ll send you a cake with a file and map of the underground tunnels.”
“Thanks.”
“Talk to you later, Newbie.”
“Bye.”
I lay there with the phone next to my ear long after he hangs up and wonder how my life got so complicated.
For once, I’m not complaining.
Chapter Fourteen
Mom insists I eat dinner with the family. I almost snort, like she’s made a joke. Anna asks if Mom’s heard from Dad, but she shakes her head, looking down. She pushes around the food on her plate with her fork.
I choke down a few bites then return to my room and shut the door. I lay on my bed, bored with no homework to occupy my time. It hits me that two weeks ago I hadn’t done my homework and never worried about how to fill my time.
Maybe I am getting better.
I find my old MP3 player tucked in my dresser drawer. It’s dead, which is no surprise since I haven’t listened to it in months. My docking station sits on my desk, slightly dusty and neglected like most everything else in my life. I hook up the player and search for a CD, one of my old favorites. Music fills the room, a dark and melancholy song, a soundtrack to my unrest.
My backpack still lies on the floor where I tossed it. I pull out my notebook and turn to the last page, only partially full of drawings. My hand resumes drawing after the R adding an E. When I start drawing a second E, chills tingle up my neck into my scalp.
Oh, my God. I’m writing Reece.
A rap on my door startles me and I drop the pen on the paper as the door opens. My mom’s pale, frightened face pokes through the crack. I’d never seen Mom look this scared, not even when Dad left.
“Mom?”
“Julia, the police are here.” Her voice quivers. “They want to talk to you.”
My heart pounds so fast I’m sure it will fly out of my chest. I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed, swiping my clammy palms on my jeans. “Why?” I stumble over the word.
“I don’t know. They wouldn’t say.”
I swallow, my brain scrambling to figure out what I could have done. Is it a crime to hide in the choir room? I don’t think so. I take a deep breath and hold it in for a several of seconds before pushing it away. I might be more oxygenated, but my anxiety still persists.
Mom opens the door. My shaky legs follow her into the living room. Anna hugs the door way to the kitchen, staring with big, wide eyes. Two uniformed police officers fill the room. One of the officer’s hands hangs on his belt, drawing my gaze to the gun at his side.
“Julia Phillips?” asks the other officer, a tall dark haired man with a bushy mustache.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I wonder if we should call a lawyer. I wonder if Mom even knows a lawyer.
“We’d like to ask you some questions about Evan Whittaker.”
I’m sure my eyes are popping out of my head. “Evan?”
The officer points to the sofa. “Why don’t we sit down?”
I’m grateful to take a seat, unsure how long my wobbly legs will hold me up. He plants in the chair across from me. The other policeman, the one with his hand on his belt, stands next to the door. Maybe he thinks I’ll try to escape.
“Can you tell me about your relationship with Evan Whittaker?”
Mom sits next to me, eager to hear my answer.
I fold my hands in my lap, twining my fingers together. “Um…he was my tutor.”
The officer clears his throat. “Was?”
“I changed schools today. I don’t need a tutor anymore.”
“Did you ever notice Evan acting strange? Any change in his behavior?”
I scrunch my nose. “Strange? I hardly knew him. What do you mean by change?”
“His friends and family say he changed over the last week. Some of his friends at school said he has gotten close to you.” He raises an eyebrow and waits for my answer.
My chest tightens and I resist the urge to take a deep breath. “Like I said, I hardly knew him. He offered to tutor me. We spent some time together after school because he helped me with three classes.” My fingers grow numb and I loosen my grip.
“Did you do anything with him off school campus?”
“He drove me home. That’s about it.”
He writes in his notebook and looks up. “When was the last time you saw or spoke to Evan?”
My stomach drops. “Why? What happened to him?”
“He’s under suspicion for something we’re not at liberty to discuss. We’re trying to locate him. Have you seen or talked to him today?”
My thoughts race to seeing Evan after school. I’m not sure what he’s done, but I can’t tell them about this afternoon. The only hitch is that I have to lie to the police. I look into the officer’s stern face and my decision wavers.
Evan’s image pops into my mind, the sadness and hopefulness in his eyes earlier today. What if I’ve driven him to do something stupid? “No, I haven’t.”
The policeman’s eyes bore into mine.
I resist the impulse to squirm and meet his gaze. “We go to different schools now. I have no reason to see him.”
He hesitates then stands, holding out a business card. “If you see him or talk to him, please give us a call.”
“Yeah, sure,” I say, taking the card.
He stops at the door and turns to look at Mom. “Sorry to disturb your evening, ma’am.”
She wraps her arms across her chest, griping her elbows. “That’s quite all right, officer. Good night.”
They leave through the front door and I stand, waiting for the next interrogation to begin.
“What’s this all about, Julia?”
I roll my eyes. “Mom, you heard what I told the police. That’s all I know.”
“Are you sure?”
I stare into her face. I can see she believes the worst about me. “What do you think I’m hiding?”
My question catches her off guard. “Well, I don’t know…”
“He was my tutor. I no longer need a tutor because you made me change schools. What more is there to tell?”
She puts her hands on her hips, tilting her head to the side. I haven’t seen this look of exasperation in months. “Julia.”
I mimic her movement. “Are we done?”
We lock gazes for several seconds, a contest. Finally, she turns away. “Sure, run back to your room.” Her tone is snotty.
I whirl around to return to
my sanctuary and slam the door. The encounter with the police bothers me, but my standoff with Mom affects me more. Maybe she blames me for Dad’s abandonment, too.
I pace, sorting out what happened. I can’t imagine what Evan could have done, what kind of trouble he could have gotten himself into. No matter how hard I try, I can’t come up with anything. Anything that warrants police involvement seems preposterous.
I sigh and drop to my bed, covering my head with the pillow. Maybe I should call Evan and find out why they’re looking for him. As I reach for the phone, it rings in my hand. I nearly jump off the bed.
Evan.
“Evan, what’s going on?”
“Julia,” he whispers. “I need to see you.”
“Evan, the police were here asking about you. What happened?”
“What did you tell them?” The sharp edge in his voice could chisel ice.
“Nothing. That you were my tutor. You dropped me off at my house. That’s it. I didn’t tell them we had gotten… closer.” It embarrasses me to bring it up, but now isn’t the time to be squeamish. “They also asked if I’d seen or talked to you today. I told them no.”
His breath rushes out. “Thank you.”
“Evan, what’s going on?”
“Julia, I have to see you tonight. Can meet me?”
I look at my bedroom door. There’s no way Mom will let me out, especially to see Evan. “I don’t think so. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Please, it has to be tonight. Tomorrow will be too late.”
The words too late make my heart pound. “Evan, you’re scaring me. Why are the police looking for you?”
“I promise I’ll explain it all to you when I see you.”
I hesitate. I’m already in so much trouble.
“I’ll also tell you what I know about the bracelet.”
I bolt off the bed. “You know about the bracelet? You said you didn’t.”
There’s a momentary pause. “I didn’t want to scare you.”
My breath catches in my throat. I have to force out my words. “Why would it scare me?”
“Julia, it’s hard to explain.”
“Does this have anything to do with the love knots?”
He hesitates. “Yes. I’ll explain it all to you, but I need to do it in person. Please. I’m begging you. I have to see you one last time.”
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