Leftover Girl

by Bolick, C. C.

  I left the room, allowing a reluctant crowd to filter in.

  * * * * *

  As the last bell rang, the realization that Jes Delaney actually skipped school dwarfed the surrounding buzz of Friday. While other students were filling their backpacks and running to busses, I was pacing aisles at Save All. One week was far short of the eternity that seemed to have gone by. Five sleepless and dreamless nights painted a billboard of issues needing resolution. Most importantly, I wanted Bailey back.

  After rehearsing an apology on my walk from fourth block, I spotted her at the locker snatching books and jamming them into her bag. She slammed the door when I walked up.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey,” she replied, eyes fixed on the locker.

  “Can we talk?”

  “Let’s go outside.” Bailey led our way to the same bench we sat on the day she got her phone back from Chase.

  Our instant of truth came, begging for my speech, but all the practiced words hit a roadblock on the way to my mouth. “I’m sorry.”

  Bailey sat in silence, staring at the ground and kicking her feet back and forth.

  “You were right about Lisa,” I said, hoping to ease her anger, but more silence from Bailey crashed my hope. “I don’t know what else to say. Please tell me how to make things right between us.”

  “I know why you left with her and I can’t say one hundred percent for sure I wouldn’t have gone under the circumstances. That’s not what’s been bothering me.”

  “What then?”

  “Pade told me about him and Tosh. How you saw them the night of the game.”

  Reliving that moment was a layer of skin off my knee and a bandage soaked in alcohol, but I’d welcome the burning a thousand times for Bailey. “I can’t believe he told you.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I know you too well, Jessica Delaney.” Her voice filled with emotion. “I know seeing them had to be tearing you apart.”

  “But he’s your brother. That made the whole situation kind of hard to talk about.”

  “Pade’s a real idiot and I made sure he knows, but you still should’ve told me. Is that why you didn’t want me to spend the night?”

  “I felt as if my chance at Pade had become the golden ticket in a bar of chocolate all of Credence was waiting to open. And I couldn’t tell you, not after what you said at the game.”

  “Seeing that horror show had to be humiliating. I realize now you must really love Pade.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Bailey’s smile was sad. “You can’t fool your best friend, remember?”

  ‘Thank you’ was my silent prayer. Eager arms wrapped around Bailey as frustration mixed with happiness and made tears for us both.

  When she pulled back, her normal smile had returned. “I’m glad that’s over.”

  “Yeah,” I said, as the weight lightened. “All this time I thought you were mad at me for skipping school without you.”

  “I tried to be a good friend and talk you out of it. You’ve got to decide from there.”

  “Thanks for being a good friend, the best.”

  “No problem, I’m just sorry my own brother acted like such a guy.” Bailey stood and I realized we had to get going. “Trust me, I’ve been making him sorry.”

  “It’s okay Bailey. I’ll be okay.”

  “The worst part is he really likes you,” she insisted, as I shook my head. “If only you could see how upset he’s been over this whole mess. I don’t think he planned to kiss Tosh. What guy would want her?”

  Any guy. My voice leveled as I spoke, boosted by remaining dignity. “Please don’t go there.”

  * * * * *

  On Saturday, I slept until the afternoon. Remembering the gift from Chase, I rose and retrieved the small box from my top dresser drawer. I pulled the beanbag to the window and sank down near the floor. I removed the contacts Mom had replaced before school on Monday. Unlike the phone she’d found in pieces yet refused to mention.

  The first line of my new book showed crystal clear through the new lenses. ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged that…’ Ugh. I decided to read some of the notes, without success. Since I couldn’t understand a single word, the notes were zero help. The second page looked equally intimidating but no way would I give up. My eyes moved ahead line by line, slowly at first. The story was set when cars were just a fantasy, with the British kind of English phrases that reminded me of a foreign movie missing subtitles. Mrs. Pearson was right—it was a long read.

  Before I realized, the sun dropped behind the trees, forcing me to switch on the lamp by my bed.

  * * * * *

  Reading ran late into the night, followed by a deep sleep, and the most bizarre dream yet.

  My feet pounded along a dark hall while my eyes darted in search of an exit. An echo followed, getting closer, making my fear level spike. Click. Click. Click. Like heels. Someone was chasing me in heels?

  A narrow flash caught my eye and I turned, desperate to reach the light. My fingers traced the outline of a door as light spilled between the door and wall. Thinking fast, I stood on my toes and felt for a handle. Nothing.

  With alarm growing like the approaching sound, my hands scattered in search of anything to grasp. Relief flooded when my fingers grazed the square handle. Either the door was shorter than usual or I was standing at my normal height. I touched the handle and leaned forward, my nightgown no defense for a stumble into English class.

  Students leaned over their desks in silence, seemingly hard at work on an exam. I scanned my desk and Chase’s, both empty. As my eyes circled the room in search of Chase, another series of clicks cornered me in the open space and I spun around.

  Mrs. Pearson stared at me, hands on her hips. “Miss Delaney, find your desk.”

  My eyes shifted back to Chase’s seat. “Where is he?”

  “That is not your concern.”

  “Is Chase okay?”

  Her hands fell at her side. “This planet is killing him.”

  I awoke, fear squeezing me like the hand of someone desperate to be saved. After rising from bed and tiptoeing to the dresser mirror, I wiped glistening moonlight from my face.

  Worry for Chase made further sleep impossible, as did a yearning to replay the dream. Her words repeated in my head, but I heard only sorrow and bitterness. The resignation in her eyes burned to my core, like a flare at the dreaded limits of my memory.

  * * * * *

  “Are you sure I’m from New York?”

  Mom glanced up from the cutting board and laughed. “Where else would you be from? You’ve seen the adoption papers. You were there.” She held a strainer of cabbage leaves under the faucet. “We’ll talk when your father gets home. How about helping me with dinner?”

  “Cabbage and sausage?” I asked.

  “With homemade macaroni and cheese.”

  Hmmm. The only thing she made perfect, other than pizza. “Did you ever meet my real parents?”

  “Wait here,” Mom said and turned off the water. She lowered the strainer and left the room, her feet shuffling down the hall into her bedroom. When she returned, a faded shoebox hung under one arm. She removed the dusty blue lid to expose a stack of newspaper clippings, pictures, and official looking documents. She pulled out the stack and flipped through the pages, stopping on a stapled set she handed to me. “These are copies of your adoption papers. The Naples never came to the hearings. Your father’s attorney believed they left town instead.”

  “They really didn’t want me?”

  “Oh, honey, why think such thoughts? Those people had real problems. We’ve told you the story many times. You were placed in foster care after you ran away.”

  “But why can’t I remember?”

  “The doctors seemed to think you faced some sort of trauma and blocked out everything. Sometimes the mind finds unusual ways to protect itself.”

  Sounded like something Aunt Charlie would say. “I just forgot everything? When
will I remember?”

  “When you’re ready.”

  “Mom, that’s not helpful.”

  “The doctors told us remembering would be a long process for you.” She held my face with both of her hands. “Don’t worry. When we adopted you, your father and I were fully prepared to love everything about you. We’ll always be here to help.” She released me and extended a hand to the fridge. “How about a soda?”

  As she tugged on the black handle, I brushed my fingers over an article at the top of the yellowed newspapers. Familiar words framed a picture of me in the center, the same picture I’d pulled up online. My hands paused on a new headline. ‘Four-Year-Old Runaway Leaves Home After Father Threatens Mother.’

  “I thought we had some.”

  I scanned faster. There was a huge fight. He threatened his wife with a gun and fired. Jessica ran outside and down the dark sidewalk, alone…I jumped as a strong arm ripped the paper from my grasp.

  “Don’t read that,” Mom cried.

  “But it’s about me.”

  She collected every piece of paper and jammed the stack into the box. “Sometimes the past should stay in the past.”

  “It’s my past.”

  “And one day we’ll have that talk. Just not today.” She rummaged in a drawer beneath the counter, retrieving a band, as if a quarter inch of rubber could keep me out. “Why are you asking these questions now? Have you remembered something new?”

  I swallowed hard. Would Mom freak if I told the truth? “I’ve been having really weird dreams.”

  Mom leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. “Everyone has weird dreams. But go on.”

  “I dreamed about my real parents arguing. About a gun. About running away. Now I know why.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “Jessica…” she said, but looked away.

  We stood in silence, a heavy fog around us. Voices flowed from the TV in the living room, with a round of clapping, followed by the twins’ laughter.

  Mom turned back and sighed. “Do you still want to help me with dinner?”

  “Sure.” At least she didn’t think I was crazy. Good thing I left out the part about the spaceship.

  * * * * *

  On the following Saturday, Mom took the boys and me to the library. She said it was good for us to get away from the ‘lonely without Dad’ house.

  As Danny and Collin disappeared between the shelves, I headed for the young adult books. I thumbed through some of the newest paperbacks, finding two with a promise of welcomed escape. Seated near a wall of windows reaching from the floor to a two-story ceiling, I opened book number one.

  After thirty minutes, I flipped to the last chapter. Yep, it ended just as I’d thought. Deciding to reshelf my disappointment, I grabbed the remaining title and my purse from the table. I passed two computers on my way to the index file, both ready for my search, but the wooden drawers called to me, each with a hint of the carved chest Mom left in Atlanta.

  I’d finished Mrs. Pearson’s assignment in one week, a new record in the thick old books category. Pulling out the ‘A’ drawer, I flipped to Persuasion. That title, like all the others by Jane Austen, was missing from the shelf. Frustrated, I made another pass and lifted a book out of place. A Tale of Two Cities almost found it’s home in the ‘D’ aisle, but my newfound confidence made the length seem appealing. And the fact that book was also on Mrs. Pearson’s list.

  I considered reading the first page by the windows, but feared I’d be unable to stop. Instead, I decided to find the boys and speed up our progress to the doors.

  Danny and Collin sat in the reading pit, an octagon bull’s-eye in the center of the children’s section. They smiled as I stole a spot between them.

  “What do you think about this one?” Collin asked.

  Danny grabbed my arm. “No, look at mine first.”

  I took A to Z Amphibians from Danny’s hand and my breath caught as I remembered a man reading another book with gold trim. My eyes closed as the twins picked through a stack of books on the floor. Their argument faded and another male voice filled my head.

  ‘Kay Ray,’ the man said, before laughing and surrounding me with his arms. From my seat on his lap, I couldn’t see his face.

  Collin was hitting my shoulder.

  My eyes opened, to the book in my hands, which were shaking. For the first time in eleven years, I’d remembered a real piece of my past. The experience felt nothing like the dreams haunting my nights for weeks.

  For seconds that seemed to span hours, my real father had held me tight and read without anger or sadness. Only the long forgotten nickname made sense. Kay Ray. The knowledge of him washed over me with the force of a tsunami. After the wave came a feeling of being loved unconditionally, the feeling I’d waited my whole life for. I knew, regardless of what happened between my real parents, my father had loved me.

  I opened the cover and read the words, trying to block the voice in my head. Collin was demanding I look at his book. When I glanced up, both held a book in each hand, but I hesitated to release the one in mine. The room spun as their words brought thoughts of yet another, a voice from the past still beyond reach. My own heart betrayed me with a closeness that grew, covering my skin like a warm blanket, until I noticed Chase. He leaned against the doorway, watching us like the last thirty seconds of a season finale.

  Chase approached the pit, eyes locked with mine, reaching the outer edge before Collin and Danny noticed him and scrambled to their feet. “Hey guys.” The boys talked fast, but Chase nodded as if he’d heard a lifetime of twin talk. “Jes was helping you find a book?”

  “Yeah,” Collin yelled, despite the glare of a passing librarian.

  Danny laughed. “Jes is the greatest sister.”

  Yeah right, I thought. Chase would never buy their act.

  Chase smiled and tousled Danny’s hair. “I bet she is.”

  Collin stared up at Chase. “Don’t you wish you had a sister?”

  For only a moment, I forget Chase once had a sister and smiled. The fading of his smile reminded me of the cold truth. My arms ached to reach around Chase, but in full view of the library and my younger brothers, hugging him seemed like a horribly embarrassing idea.

  “Chase,” Mrs. Pearson said from behind.

  “Mom,” Chase said. The room seemed to drop twenty degrees.

  She smiled at me. “Hello Jessica.”

  I smiled back but without enthusiasm.

  She spoke at least two octaves above her strict classroom voice. “Who are these handsome young men?”

  “Young men?” Danny laughed.

  “Handsome? That’s funny,” Collin said, and Mrs. Pearson gave them a sideways look.

  Mom approached the pit with a new cookbook in hand. “What’s so funny?”

  “Did you hear what that lady called us?”

  “Collin Delaney, don’t ever let me hear you call someone ‘that lady’ again. This is Chase’s mother, Mrs. Pearson.” She turned to my teacher, face aghast. “I’m sorry.”

  “All is well, Mrs. Delaney. I can assure you of my tough exterior.”

  Mom put an arm around each boy. “Please, call me Lorraine. I know we’ve only managed brief meetings, but I feel that should change. Chase has become like part of our family.”

  Mrs. Pearson read the top title in my hand and lifted her eyes to study mine. The darkness in her face scared me, but I didn’t look away. Her gaze returned to Mom. “You have nice boys, Mrs. Delaney.”

  Mom cringed at the mention of her name, or maybe it was the cold stress placed upon each syllable.

  “I suppose they look like their father.”

  Mom’s voice was soft. “Yes, they do.”

  I stared at the woman intruding on our family, and fear began to build. She must be powerful, like Chase. How could I ever tell Mom and make her believe?

  Then I realized Mom’s words bothered me more than Mrs. Pearson’s. She said the boys looked like Dad. Adults were always saying stuff that not
only pushed me past smiles and straightjackets, but also made me wonder if I looked like my real parents.

  I glanced at the twins, but couldn’t see how they looked like Dad. Maybe a little. Okay, more than a little. Mom and Dad both had brown eyes and hair, not the same shade, but a small spin of the color wheel didn’t lower my blood pressure, not when those were the very traits I’d been denied. I hated to admit how jealous I felt of Danny and Collin’s connection to our parents. Their tie was blood.

  “Come, Chase,” Mrs. Pearson said. “We have work to do.” As Chase walked away, she paused at my side. “You might enjoy that book, though probably after a struggle to begin. I assume you have finished the other?” With ten seconds and no answer from me, she nodded and followed Chase.

  A shiver crawled the length of my body as Mrs. Pearson’s heels clicked away. I was torn between curiosity and hatred for the woman, the latter mainly in response to her treatment of Mom.

  As if forgetting the last few minutes, Mom gathered the books Danny and Collin had pulled from what seemed like every shelf. Then came the argument over which five they’d each be allowed to check out. When Mom aimed them for the front desk, I fell in behind.

  “Got everything?” She smiled, but I heard the faint tremor in her voice.

  Did I imagine my teacher’s eyes, narrow and unforgiving, as if determined to upset Mom?

  Future Told

  An afternoon of storms left three hours without power and no chance to escape the house. I grabbed a flashlight and read the first page of my new book several times before closing the cover, unable to focus on anything except for Mrs. Pearson. Downstairs, the boys begged me to play Monopoly. Their constant pestering should have angered me, but I couldn’t hide a smile as their faces lit up after my ‘yes.’

  When evening came, the rain ended, and I tried everything short of a tantrum to get out of dinner at Aunt Charlie’s. I wanted to stay home and be gloomy. Alone.

  Following the click of our front door was my long held sigh of relief. I considered Mom’s words on her way out. “We’ll be right next door if you need us.” Maybe they’ll stay next door, I thought as guilt filled me.