by Ally Derby
“My bed,” I say as I try to look around him.
“Hads, promise first.”
“Fine.”
“Mom’s birthday is a week from yesterday, and I wanna have this finished. If you’re gonna be skipping school, I could use your help.” I try to look around him again. “No pass until I get a promise.”
“Fine, I promise.”
He moves away, and I walk in, moving around the very rustic log bed.
“Beautiful,” I tell him as I walk around it, running my hand over the logs.
“Needs some sanding, polyurethane, and then I need to saw out some slats to hold up the box springs.”
“She’s gonna love it.” I smile at him.
“The logs are from the woods out back here.” He has a glimmer of pride in his eyes.
“Which she’ll love even more.”
“Yeah, she will.” He nods. “She deserves much more, deserves a man who can take care of her.” He runs his hands over his head.
“She loves you, Dad.”
“Right.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Next is yours, that sleigh thing you wanted. Just have to get the right wood.”
“Four years ago, I would have loved it.”
He takes in a deep breath, letting me know my words stung him.
“Now, I want one just like this.”
He looks up at me. “Really?”
“Yes, it’s beautiful.” I walk over to the bench and grab the sander. “Let me help.”
After an hour, Dad motions for me to follow him, so I set down the sander and walk out of the shed behind him.
“Lunch.”
“I’m not really—”
“Chocolate chip pancakes.” He looks at me.
“Now I’m hungry.”
As he makes the pancakes, I sit and watch. Dad was never a good cook. When Mom used to do palm reading parties at people’s homes, he would be in charge of dinner, and it was always chocolate chip pancakes.
“Headboard and footboard feel sanded enough for you?” he asks as he flips the first few.
“Very smooth. I think it’s perfect. What do you think?”
“I say side rails and then we saw out the slats tomorrow. Really don’t need you for that, though.”
I shake my head. “I’m not going back there.”
“Gonna have to face the music sometime, Hads.” He flips another pancake.
“Maybe the day after tomorrow. Maybe never.”
“Didn’t raise you to quit, even if you think I did. Hell, I did for a while, but I’m on the mend now, and you need to do the same.”
~*~
I hear Mom and Dad talking while I am lying on the couch, watching TV. My name, the school, Mr. Roach, and the principal’s name are mentioned, so I turn the volume down to hear that she has a meeting with them in the morning.
Great, I think to myself.
“She doesn’t want to go back till at least Thursday, Pam. I would say that was all right.”
“She can’t miss school,” my mother tells him.
“Well, what are the other options?”
“She has to apologize first. They don’t take kindly to the fact that she didn’t show them respect.”
“From what you said, they didn’t give her a damn ounce of it, either,” Dad responds.
“She has two years and one month left in that school. She has to mend fences,” Mom says.
“Do they have to apologize, too?”
Hell yes, Dad. I fist bump him on the inside.
“Adults don’t have to apologize,” Mom says in a huff.
“Well, then Hads doesn’t have to go back tomorrow, Pam.” I hear the softness in his voice when he says her name.
“I can’t believe this is happening. She is such a good girl.”
“Small town shit smells just as bad as big city shit.”
“Except more people seem to enjoy getting involved. My God, the shop today was crazy. One of the girls said it was because of the controversy looming over my head, says I am good for business. Can you believe it?”
I am in my room while Mom and Dad are discussing me when I hear a knock on the door. I look up and see Bee.
“Your Mom said I could come up. Hope it’s okay,” she says from the door.
I nod. “Come on in.”
She walks over and sits on the edge of my twin bed. “You okay?”
I shake my head. “But I will be.”
“What happened at school, Hadley?” she asks in sad, confused tone.
“They pushed me,” I answer simply.
“Are you cutting?”
“No!”
“Okay, I’m sorry, but everything that’s going on around you is just so—”
“Crazy? Screwed up? Unreal? I agree.”
“Why did you post that video?”
I look at her and scowl. “I didn’t.”
“You did, though.”
“I dropped my phone and ran out of the room. I found it when I was leaving the room after Pax was—”
“Is Pax the problem?”
“Why would Pax be—”
“You two are always talking. I just hope you know Pax sees someone struggle, and he comes running to their rescue. He’s a nice guy, but I think maybe you see him differently, and if that’s the reason—”
“Is that what they are all saying? Is that what everyone thinks?” I gasp. “I walked in on her making bad choices, but now I’m the villain? Now I have—”
“She’s getting crap about it, too, Hadley. She had whore written on her locker this morning.”
“I feel bad for her—I really do—but right now—”
“Hadley, maybe you should apologize,” Bee suggests.
“I have.” I stand and start to walk to my door. “And she didn’t respond. Now, I appreciate the visit, but right now, I want to be alone.”
Bee stands and makes her way to the door. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“Okay, but do me a favor, if you were ever really my friend, tell those ass-hats at school I don’t cut. They can think I posted that all they want—”
“Everything points to you, Hadley,” she says sadly.
“Right, sure, of course, but I am not like that. True friends would know that. Goodbye.”
chapter six
Judged…
On Friday, my mother walks me into the principal’s office. I hear the two of them loudly and, sometimes, heatedly discussing me, the problem child.
I look up as Pax walks by the glass windows in front of the office and glances toward me. Then I quickly look down before his eyes set on mine. I hate that they all think this has everything to do with Pax Jamison. I hate that he probably thinks so, too. I hate that, for the past four months, I felt like Blue Valley could be home, but now it’s tainted—friends were not friends; I was not liked; and I am the problem student now.
Mom walks out. “Everything is fine, Hadley. If you need me, you call me. If they don’t let you, we sue them.”
“Now, Mrs. Asher, I think—” the Principal interrupts.
She looks at me. “We can home school. Say the word, Hadley, and we can—”
“I only have a few more weeks until school ends, Mom. Thank you so much. Thank you.” I hug her tightly, not caring that we’re in public or what anyone thinks, because she is the one person who believes me, knows me, and loves me—because she is my mom.
I immediately notice how they all look at me: the students, the teachers, all the staff, even my friends. Noticing Lana isn’t here in first period, I allow myself to think of how she must feel, and immediately, I send her a text.
I’m at school today, but you’re not. Even though things are crazy, I hope you know I am truly sorry. I want to talk to you. I want to tell you I have no idea how that posted. I want to tell you, and I want you to believe me.
She doesn’t respond.
When I am on my way to the library for lunch, Bee and Skylar look at me as I walk by. Skylar gives me a sad smile, on
e that says she pities me or feels bad, something I won’t know because they don’t even give a second glance.
I sit in the library, where no one approaches me. I hear whispers, but I don’t allow myself to eavesdrop. I don’t want to know what they are saying. I won’t allow myself to care.
Back in Buffalo, it was a big school, but when Dad was arrested for DUI, everyone knew about it. I have no idea why I attract so much unwanted attention. I sure as hell don’t try. I thought it would be different here. Apparently not.
When school is over, I walk outside to see my father pull up just down the block. I see Pax drive by me slowly, looking at me as he continues on. There is no expression on his face, and I can’t see his eyes, so I can’t tell what he’s thinking. I know he has to believe me, though. If he doesn’t, well, to hell with him. He was never a true friend.
I open the door to Dad’s old truck and climb in.
“Got the wood for the slats. You wanna help your old man get that bed inside before your mom gets home?”
“Her birthday is Monday.”
“Got done early. She may as well enjoy it over the weekend. She’s off.”
“Is the poly dry?”
“Sure is,” he says as he pulls away from the curb. “How bad was school?”
I don’t want to tell him it was as bad if not worse than it was when he got messed up, drove over the curb, and onto the front yard of one of my classmate’s houses. He was trying; he really was. I could tell.
“No big deal. Mom was kind of bad-ass today.”
He smirks. “Bad-ass?”
“Yep,” I say as I roll down the window manually and put my feet on the dash.
Dad chuckles and shakes his head. “So my Pammy was bad-ass?”
“I know, right?” I laugh and it feels good. It feels so good I laugh again and so does he.
~*~
We are carrying the bed in the front door when Pax pulls in his driveway.
“Straight up those stairs,” Dad directs from the back.
I look behind me before taking the next step, finding Yolo is lying there, his ears back and not moving. Dad looks up and shakes his head.
“Move it, cat,” he snaps at him.
He doesn’t move, so I push him away with my very tender foot. He hisses, jumps up, and bats at me.
“Stupid cat,” I say and hiss at him.
We get to their room, and I notice Dad has already taken down the old bed. “Busy day, huh?”
“Sure was. Felt good, too.”
Once we get the bed in place and throw the box spring and mattress on top of it, we stand back and look at it.
“Wow, it’s beautiful,” I tell him, smiling. “Now you have to make matching nightstands and dressers.”
“Easy, Hads. Yours first. Don’t overwhelm—”
He stops talking when we hear yelling—screaming, actually. He looks out the window and so do I.
I see Pax in Lana’s window, screaming, “No, no, no, no. Oh, God, Lana, no!”
Dad runs down the stairs, and I follow him.
Once in the driveway, Dad yells up to Pax through the open window. “You okay up there?”
“Help! Oh, God, help her. Please!”
We both run to the front door to find it’s locked, so I push the potted plant to the side, grab the hidden key Lana has grabbed so many times, and then open the door. Then Dad takes the stairs two by two.
He stops at the door to Lana’s bedroom, and I run into the back of him.
“She’s gone. Why? Why would you do this?! Why! Breathe, Lana. Come on, breathe, dammit!”
Dad runs to him, and that’s when I see Pax holding Lana’s limp body, rocking her as he cries, “Why, Lana, why! Breathe!”
My Dad takes her pulse and shakes his head.
“No! No, fix her! Fix her now! Lana, please breathe. Please, God, make her breathe!”
He looks up, past my dad and sees me, and then he buries his face against Lana’s blue one.
My whole body shakes, my stomach turns, and I sprint to the bathroom, throwing up over and over again. When I am able to stop, I wipe my face as the tears fall.
As I run out, my dad is giving directions to the 911 operator. I fall to my knees beside Pax and Lana, taking her limp hand in mine, holding it against my face as I cry.
“Wake up, Lana. Wake up!”
The ambulance is there in minutes, but it seems like forever before Pax is physically pulled away from her, and they take her pulse, then announce her DOA.
Dr. and Mrs. Jamison run in, and Dr. Jamison holds her while she crumbles.
“No, no, my baby, my baby! Lana, no. How could you do this to me, to us? How?!”
Pax stands shakily as they load her onto a stretcher, and her mother throws herself over Lana’s lifeless body.
“Ma’am—”
She looks up at the paramedic and screams at him, “No, you can’t take her. No!”
Then her eyes flicker up and she sees me. “You! You little bitch, this is your fault! Your fault!” she cries as she grabs Lana and pulls her up and into her arms. “She will pay for this, beautiful, sweet girl, she will.”
When Dad takes my hand and pulls me toward the door, I follow him out, and the police pull in as soon as we are out the door.
I run to the bushes beside our house and throw up again and again. I then run inside and up the stairs to my room, dive on the bed, and cry. I curse God, the universe, and myself, and I cry some more.
“Hads.” My father walks over, and I sit up and grab him. Then he holds me as I cry. When the crying slows down, he pulls back and wipes away the tears with his large, callused thumbs. “I have to go talk to the police. Mom’s on her way. You’ll be okay. Christ, Hads, I am so sorry, but you will be okay.”
“She thinks it’s my fault. Maybe it is my—”
“Shh, it’s not your fault at all. No one even knows what happened yet.”
“She killed herself, Dad!” I cry.
“No one knows that for sure, and even if it’s true, you are not at fault, Hads.”
I lie back down and bury my face in my pillow.
“I’ll be back.”
~*~
I stay in bed all night, all day Saturday, and Sunday. My parents stay with me most of the time and check in on me repeatedly the rest of the time. Whenever they’re out of the room, I hear their whispers. I’m not sure what it is they are talking about, but I hear mention of a lawyer.
I’m scared. I’m nervous. I’m exhausted, and I am unsure what all of this means, but my gut tells me it’s bad. Really, really bad.
Lana’s dead. Why? Why would she do that to herself? I don’t understand. I just don’t understand.
On Sunday night, I decide to shower. When I come downstairs, they are at the table, and Mom has obviously been crying. She looks up and wipes away her tears.
“You need something, sweetheart?”
I walk over and look out the window that’s over the sink at Lana’s house.
“Did they bury her yet?” I ask as I feel goose bumps covering my skin.
“Tomorrow,” Mom answers in a whisper.
“Did she do it? Did she kill herself?”
“Yes, overdosed.”
“Why?”
“I assume she was sick, Hadley.”
I turn around and look at her, shaking my head. “She wasn’t sick, Mom. She was angry. She was angry at me. Mrs. Jamison is right; it is my fault.”
“No, Hadley. No, it was not. You did not kill her. She did that all by herself. She—”
“Because of me.”
“No more talk like that, Hadley,” Mom yells at me as she storms toward me and hugs me tightly. “Never again!”
Her losing it makes me nervous. I am so afraid she will have a breakdown like Dad. Right now, I am afraid, scared they aren’t telling me something, scared this will break them both. I may not have the strongest or most perfect family, but I have them, and as fear courses through me, I hold her just as tight
ly.
“Pammy, we need to talk to Hadley.”
“No, not now. Not—”
I pull away from my mom. “I need to know what you two have been whispering about. I need to know what has you so afraid.”
“Have a seat.”
I sit and watch my parents exchange glances, seeing fear in both of their faces.
“There is no easy way to tell you this, Hads, so I am gonna start by telling you we are going to fight with everything we have and everything we are.”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”
“The Jamisons’ are trying to press charges against you. They are saying that video caused Lana’s death.”
“They’re right, aren’t they?” I ask, pulling my feet up on the edge of the chair and hugging my knees, as if that simple movement is the only thing that can keep me together.
“There are no laws right now that say either way.”
“You said ‘right now.’ ”
“Your mother talked to a lawyer today, and he said it concerns him. He thinks it could be precedent setting, but that doesn’t mean anything. Right now, they are grieving. When they have had time to adjust and think things through—”
“How much time does it take to adjust, Dad? Huh? How much time? Because every time I close my eyes, I see her. I see her, and it won’t go away. So tell me how much time—”
“I have no idea, Hads. I am so sorry you are going through this. All I can say for sure is that we are here, and we are strong. We will fight against anything they throw at us.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Hadley. You are fifteen years old, and kids make mistakes.”
“I didn’t post it, Mom. I swear I never pushed send. Never.”
“And I believe you. I do. I promise, Hadley.”
“Hads, you have to be strong, too. No more talk of this being your fault. You need to hold your head high and—”
“How? I want to hide. I want to bring her back. I want to go back in time. I—”
“Hads, you can’t. You just can’t.” My dad grabs my hand. “What’s tails, kiddo?” I shrug. “Tails, you be you and don’t let it bother you.”
“I don’t want to go to school tomorrow.”
“You need to listen to me. You did not do anything wrong.” He takes both my hands. “You didn’t push send, Hads. You never would have.”