I Like You Like This

by Heather Cumiskey

  Then Mrs. Myers’s face popped into her head.

  “I’m not afraid of you, Gillian. Take your perverted pals and go F yourselves!”

  Stunned, Toby and Leeza looked to Gillian for what to do next, neither of them noticing the color draining from the redhead’s face.

  Before they could recover, Hannah bolted away, praying they wouldn’t come after her.

  CHAPTER 37

  December 1984

  THE BLOOD BEHIND HIS EYES SEIZED HIS TEMPLES WITH A truth he could no longer resist. He’d made a business out of populating the town with addicts, and now, somehow, he’d become one himself. He had to get her back. If only he could kiss her again and be saved from this torture.

  He parked his car behind a white van a half block from her house. The swirling December wind wound around his car and rattled its windows and floorboards. He exhaled the cold air through his nose in two white puffs.

  Something in his chest was gnawing him over not seeing her. Nearly two weeks without her and he knew he was in love with her and longed to get her back—back into the fold of his arms, back where she belonged.

  Deacon didn’t know how he’d gotten here, but he knew the longer he was without her, the more it hurt. Nothing mattered anymore. He couldn’t sleep, just walked around at night thinking about her. He’d cut up the pictures of her as soon as she had left that day. He loathed his fucking horny self for keeping them.

  Finally, Hannah’s father’s car came down the street from the other direction and pulled into the driveway. Deacon’s lips parted, drinking in every inch of her. Her curly hair was wild in the wind as she pulled her down jacket around her. She was wearing his favorite jeans, the ones with the rip in the knee, and a pair of boots he hadn’t seen before. If only he could talk to her. But she disappeared too quickly into the house.

  Jade had found out from her cousin at the hospital where they had taken Hannah’s mother and sister the week earlier. He’d thought about trying to see her there, but decided to wait. Deacon knew a few junkies hooked on Valium, but he’d never come across someone’s mom or a little kid getting caught up in it. He wished he’d known sooner about the overdoses, helped her through somehow. Mostly, he wished he could still climb through her window and hold her like that time before.

  Deacon’s daydream came to a halt at the sight of the green Chevy two-door coming down the street. His gaze hardened, recognizing its driver; the same guy who liked to stare him down when he’d meet Hannah’s bus in the morning.

  “Fuck you if you think you’re getting anywhere with her,” Deacon spat at the dashboard. He watched Peter walk up to ring the doorbell with a thick book resting in his hand. Deacon flinched seeing the smile she gave him when she opened the door. The exchange was brief, but Deacon already had his hand on the door handle; he’d never been more ready to pummel somebody. But Jack’s voice came into his head: Never let them see you sweat, Little D. He stopped himself and released a long sigh. He crossed his arms over the steering wheel, feeling extraordinarily tired.

  “Just how do I get you back?” he whispered, his frosty breath floating away.

  CHAPTER 38

  “SO HOW ARE YOU HOLDING UP ?” MRS. MYERS ASKED HER after class. Hannah immediately looked around to see if anyone could hear them, but thankfully the classroom had emptied.

  “Okay . . . I guess.” Hannah shrugged.

  “If the rumors are true, you’ve been through a lot lately.”

  Hannah’s face dropped. Really, you too, Mrs. Myers?

  “Sorry, I should rephrase that,” her teacher said hastily, seeming to realize her mistake. “I heard about your mom and sister, that had to be scary for you.”

  Hannah nodded somberly. “Thanks.” She spun around toward the door.

  “Hannah, if you ever . . .”

  She glanced back and was struck by the softness in her teacher’s eyes. She took a deep breath. “I appreciate you looking out. Really, you’ve been great.”

  “The rest is up to you?”

  “The rest is up to me.” Hannah nodded and grinned.

  “Go.”

  Hannah headed to her locker, feeling slightly lighter but still spent as she did her best to ignore the occasional looks from her classmates. None of this matters anymore, she told herself, holding her head up and soldiering on like nothing could stop her.

  “Hannah Zandana!” It was the same loudmouth boy who’d been teasing her since freshman year. This time, he was standing with a couple of other senior boys near the water fountain. She turned back and caught them snickering at her and snapping their gum. Hannah clenched her teeth and charged right up to ringleader, the tiny hairs on her neck all standing at attention.

  “Dude, what’s your problem?” she challenged him. “You’re being annoying.”

  The loudmouth kid’s jaw fell to the floor like he’d just been asked a complicated algebra problem he couldn’t answer. He turned back to his friends, but they each looked the other way, leaving him hanging. Even the hallway quieted, but Hannah’s stare down didn’t falter.

  After a moment, the boy shrugged. “Ahh, I’m just kidding,” he said sheepishly. “Didn’t mean anything—”

  Hannah turned on her heel, swinging her hair behind her. She walked away without hearing a peep from anyone.

  When she got to her locker, she swung open the door and began surveying its contents.

  “Friday, Friday . . . what do I need . . . math . . . social studies?” she murmured to herself, filling up her book bag for the long winter break. Out of nowhere, one of her thick textbooks jumped off the top metal shelf, its sharp corner hitting her on the head. She rubbed the offended area a few times, and that’s when she saw it: a folded white piece of spiral loose-leaf near her shoe. She didn’t recognize the handwriting, but then again she wasn’t accustomed to getting notes from anyone.

  Whatever you do, don’t go to Gossamer Park with Toby, Gillian, or even Jade. It’s a trap. D

  Hannah mulled over the note on the bus ride home. An uneasiness spread through her belly, but she wasn’t sure if she should be worried or not. What did it mean, exactly? She glanced at the empty seats around her. The bus was unusually quiet for the day before winter break. The coven, too, was absent. Maybe everyone had taken off early for some Florida sunshine, or to Vail to ski. Must be nice.

  Stepping off at her corner, she immediately recognized the tan-skinned brunette from the park. She was leaning out of a blue BMW, smiling and waving at her. The driver, a preppy blond-haired guy, looked bored to bits as his passenger yelled to her, “Hannah! Hey . . . Deacon wanted me to give you a message.”

  “I think I already got it,” Hannah said, eyeing her cautiously. The sweet smell of pot wafted from the car, reminding her of the Halloween party.

  “He wants you to meet him in the park tonight,” she said, flashing Hannah one of her gleaming smiles like they were friends. Jade turned to the boy in the car, lowering her voice so Hannah couldn’t hear, then turned back with another smile. “Gill said meet at 8:00 p.m., I—I meant Deacon, 8:00 p.m., okay?”

  Jade’s misstep reminded Hannah of Deacon’s account of her getting flustered by the undercover cop coming back from the city.

  “So which is it, Deacon or Gillian who wants to meet with me?” Hannah’s eyes narrowed, knowing without a doubt that she’d be calling Deacon’s beeper as soon as she got home. She started to walk away.

  “Wait! Hannah . . . he’s doing this for you,” Jade called out, slamming her hand against the car door.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Deacon said he messed up and needed to do something.”

  “He said that?” Hannah wanted to believe her but questioned Jade’s motive and her loyalty to Deacon, not to mention her relationship with that redheaded terror. The girl really did play both sides.

  “Gillian’s really wiggin’ out, I’ve never seen her like this . . . she said some stuff to Toby that got him trippin’. You need to book it to the park tonigh
t, Toby is going to do something . . . and it’s bad.”

  Hannah dialed Deacon’s home number and beeper for over an hour, but there was no response or returned call. She raided the scant offerings in the fridge and tried to watch TV, all the while convincing herself she was better off staying home. It was definitely safer than showing up in that dark park alone, she reasoned. There was the note, though. But did Deacon really write it? Or did someone else . . . Gillian? No, that didn’t make much sense. She felt queasy, and the knot in her stomach was only expanding. She reached for the phone.

  “Peter . . . Hi, I need a favor. Can you come get me? Yes . . . now . . . something’s going down.”

  CHAPTER 39

  “STOP THE CAR ! STOP THE CAR !” HANNAH JUMPED OUT before Peter brought it to a stop. Leaving him behind, she raced to the same spot in Gossamer Park where she and Deacon had first made out under the big towering oak trees. She couldn’t hear their voices but she saw them in the distance, the breath escaping from their lips looking like white daggers.

  It’s a trap—Deacon’s words echoed in her head. She needed to stay out of the light of the street lamps and move slowly and carefully; she couldn’t afford to fall or make noise. When she was most of the way there, she crouched low to the ground behind some large bushes for a moment or two, catching her breath and blowing on her hands to warm them. Then she moved closer.

  Hannah could hear them now as she ventured back out. She hid behind a huge oak tree where she was close enough to see what was happening. Her breath cut off sharply at the sight of Deacon and Toby circling one another like sharks on the other side of its massive trunk. The street lamps illuminated their faces, but Deacon kept walking in and out of the shadows, making it hard to read his face. From where Hannah stood, they looked like they’d come alone.

  Toby stopped circling and put up his hands. “I’m not here for you bro, where’s your girlfriend? Oh that’s right, you guys broke up. Pretty lame, dude, that sophomore girl breaking it off first.”

  “You’re not going to touch her. Gillian’s plan is off.”

  “She must have done something to really piss off our Gilly girl. She’s out for blood, bro.” He reached into his pocket, but came out empty-handed.

  “So you’re working for Gillian now?” Deacon sneered.

  “Nah, we have an understanding, that’s all.” Toby hesitated, watching Deacon’s face. “She knows what I want . . . I know what she wants.”

  “And what is that, exactly?” Deacon challenged, acting like he was already over the conversation. Hannah remembered him saying that Toby was about as threatening as a Cub Scout and not half as smart.

  “Gillian wants me to scare the crap out of Hannah to keep her from telling everyone whatever she knows.”

  Deacon laughed smugly. “Bet you don’t even know what that is—totally clueless!”

  Toby shrugged, his eyes steady on Deacon.

  “And the money for the abortion?” Deacon asked bluntly, his patience evidently waning.

  “I was never going to let her kill it—c’mon, you’ve got to believe me. I just wanted the money. Yeah, I said it. I wanted to see if you’d do one right by me.” Toby stomped the ground. “Guess what, you couldn’t even do that, bro!”

  “Don’t call me that! I’m NOT your fucking brother,” Deacon screamed.

  A shiver curled around Hannah’s ears. She’d never seen him like this.

  Toby began to pace. “What the fuck! Why do you mess with me when you know the truth?”

  Deacon leaned back and let out a low cackle, shaking his head.

  “It’s bullshit, D, and you know it. That’s why Kingsley tried to pay my mom off . . . sent me to that boarding school, same one old Pierre sent you. Remember, dude, not so long ago? But it’s all about appearances, isn’t it? Keeping me a secret to protect his precious election.”

  “More like his precious son!” Deacon shouted without meeting Toby’s eyes, his face now visibly upset.

  “What did you say?”

  “You heard me, you bastard! Your mom’s just some whore my dad screwed on the side . . . and out came her white-trash bastard child! And lookie here, history repeats itself: you get a girl pregnant. A bastard having a bastard!”

  “Stop it, stop saying that!” Toby rushed Deacon and threw him off his feet like he was sacking a quarterback. He landed a few punches to Deacon’s head.

  Hannah could barely stop herself from running out from behind the tree and throwing herself at Toby; she didn’t know how much she could take. Somehow, she had to help Deacon.

  Then Deacon shoved Toby away forcefully, putting some distance between them.

  Toby rose, staggering at first, and readied himself to go again. He reached inside his jacket.

  “Fucking bastard!” Deacon snarled, getting up slowly and wiping the blood from his forehead. “Just a matter of time until you cry and run off like last time—”

  He stopped short at the sight of the shiny metal now shaking in Toby’s hands. Hannah let out a gasp.

  Straightening his arm, Toby began to sob, wiping the snot from his upper lip.

  “Stop it! Stop fucking saying that!” he cried, stumbling backward and blinking furiously.

  Deacon smiled sweetly, mocking him. Then he circled Toby, with his arms outstretched like he was some demigod. “What are you going to do about it?” His words came out dark and guttural, like he was possessed. “You think my father’s all that great? You’re smoking something. You can have the asshole, you fucking prick. Merry Fucking Christmas to you. You think he was ever there for me? Nine fucking years he let that woman leave me with that asshole! Nine. What makes you think you’re any different? My father used me to complete his perfect family picture. That’s right. I’m an accessory. He fucking never wanted me. Fuck, he barely talks to me. HE IGNORES ME!”

  Deacon flinched and hid his face from Toby. His shoulders fell and his pace quickened. He flexed his hands a couple of times, then lunged toward Toby.

  A shot sounded.

  “No!” Hannah cried as Deacon faded to the ground.

  “Fuck you, fuck you!” Toby screamed, tears falling down his face. He didn’t even look in Hannah’s direction. “All I ever wanted was to be your brother . . . for our dad to claim I was a Giroux too. A goddamn Giroux. He ruined my mom’s life. And you’ve ruined mine. Why?” He cried harder. “Fucking why? I just wanted you to be my brother, have a family . . . LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!”

  Toby doubled over with a low, grating groan that didn’t sound human. He smacked his head repeatedly and fell to his knees. Then he pushed the tip of the gun into his temple.

  Oh my god. Hannah tasted the sourness of whatever she’d eaten coming up her throat before her body heaved over. As she stumbled out from behind the tree, a branch snapped and the gun swerved off Toby’s head. She took off toward Deacon, but Toby intercepted her and grabbed her by the waist.

  “Let me go!” she pleaded. Think fast, think fast.

  “No one can know,” he said darkly pointing the weapon at her chest.

  “What? Stop this,” Hannah cried, unable to get enough air in her lungs. She swallowed hard, coughing. “Your father . . . Toby, your father would be so proud of you. You did him a favor. Got rid of the bad son and now the good son can join the family. Isn’t that what you always wanted—to be his precious son, take your rightful place?”

  “How would you know anything about it?” said Toby, eyeing her suspiciously.

  “Deacon told me. He’s been such a disappointment to your dad, walking around like some Goth, the high school drug dealer. Nothing but a low-life.”

  Toby shook his head. “Bullshit! I saw the way Kingsley looked at him.”

  “No, Toby, it was you. You’re the son he always wanted. Look at you, the smart varsity football player, perfect in every way. Handsome too, like your dad.” Hannah prayed that she hadn’t overplayed it.

  Toby looked around like he didn’t know where he was. He dropped the gun to h
is side and staggered backward, wincing and gripping the side of his head. All at once, his rigid stance caved, his knees sank again into the frozen ground. Just then, Peter sprang from the shadows and jumped on Toby’s back. The larger boy’s head smacked the ground.

  Hannah seized her chance; she hurled herself toward Deacon. His body was twisted strangely, and she immediately saw her own mother sprawled on the kitchen floor. “God, please not again,” she prayed aloud. “Please, God, help me!” She rolled Deacon onto his back and that’s when she saw it, blood spreading through his shirt on the right side of his chest. She pulled off her pom-pom hat and applied pressure. But the blood was coming out too fast. “No, no, no! You can’t die. Please, Deacon, hold on. We’ll get you some help. Please, please don’t die!”

  CHAPTER 40

  DEACON STIRRED AT THE SOUND OF HER VOICE. HIS EYES were slits as he tried to talk through the warm liquid pooling in his mouth. He managed a small smile for her. “Yum, nothing like the taste of metal.”

  “Please, don’t leave me!” Hannah cried, searching around them, calling out to the darkness, “Help us! He’s been shot. Somebody help!”

  “Hannah.” Deacon’s voice was weak. “Should never have let you leave.”

  “Please God, save him, please, oh God,” she cried.

  “Hannah, shhhh,” Deacon whispered, but she wasn’t listening. He wished he could hold her and for the pain to stop. Hannah knew everything now—all of his secrets—and she’d never been more beautiful.

  “Sirens! They’re coming, Deacon, they’re coming! I hear them. Stay with me. Just stay with me. Please . . . baby.”

  Hannah didn’t know how long she’d been holding Deacon’s chest before her legs grew numb underneath her. At some point he stopped responding to her, his face peaceful. It reminded her of their first time together, when she engraved him into her memory. She felt she was going crazy.